I am adapting slowly to the harsh northern climes. I've been back about a week and it seems slightly less weird than it did last time I wrote. I spent a few days in Oxford cowering under a duvet, until my parents arrived with a big woolly jumper, which helped me face the outside world slightly better than I had previously been doing. (I got rather overwhelmed and had to be pacified with pizza.) Then we went to my grandparents' and I was fed lots of sparkling wine, and then we came home and I henna-ed my hair and made a lasagne. My life seemed so interesting last week. Yesterday we went to the Lake District to see the other grandparents, and there was more wine, and today I went to Morpeth and bought some cuticle sticks. My life seemed so interesting last week.

Still, I'm off back to Oxford tomorrow (there may be yet more wine) to see friends and then heading to Paris on Sunday, assuming I can find a means of transport from Oxford to Luton Airport. There are photos of where I'll be living here, and it's nice to have the prospect of a welcome meal and social thing to introduce me to the country, rather than spending my first night alone in a brothel and being woken by chickens at 4a.m. ...

Nothing unusual, nothing strange
Close to nothing at all
The same old scenario, the same old rain
And there's no explosions here