Autumnal antics

So I told you that I'd blog more often. I suppose I lied. I have been busy, though, and because all of these Google accounts are rigged together, having to log out of my blog to check the wretched society email and vice versa is a chore. So there are the excuses.

My life is rushing along at its usual London pace, and though I will say I have killed some malnourishment gremlins, I'm still such a bloody cheapskate. Rent and water are due and I typically pay on the last possible day before the court summons arrives. I need more clothes and a new phone, but it'll probably be January before I get any of those, knowing my standards. I still only ever top up £5 at a time on my Oyster.

This year's autumn has been quite delightful, however. I usually see autumn as a time for sighing, as a time for "oh God, here it comes, six months of eternal darkness and cold." But it's wonderfully mild at the moment. On a misty Hallowe'en morning (contradiction much?), I managed to revel in some relatively high humidity during a training session on the Hampstead Heath Extension. Probably a mistake that I wore a cotton tee, then. Another thing I like about autumn is the colours. In Regent's the other day, walking up towards Primrose Hill, the sea of leaves on the broadwalk was rather beautiful, and most tempting to kick up. It's quite a romantic time of year, much more so than any other season. Why couldn't saint Valentine be buried on 14 November instead? It would be so much more fitting.

The races have well and truly begun. I've only done one full distance (8km) cross country race, and being on Parliament Hill, a wonderful landscape but admittedly not my favourite course to run on, I could probably have done better. This week I have two; one in Richmond Park and the other in Woodford Green. Here's hoping for improved performances.

Speaking of performances, the performance of a certain football team from N17 was almost non-existent today. I hate moping about football, it is so sad and pathetic. But I can't help but feel the negative emotions when everyone in the room is pouring scorn on your team. "I told you they were shit, Baz, but you didn't listen to me." Baz doesn't particularly care. His team doesn't promise trophies year after year and fail to deliver because they have more realistic expectations. And what, pray tell, is "shit" about being fourth in the league? Okay, immaturity over.

I apologise here to Bob Geldof, because I simply can't wait for Monday when I will have this silly Spanish essay finished. Better go finish it, hasta luego.

Back in the hood

I've been back just about three weeks, and just getting back into the swing of university life, that is to say malnourishment, constant infatuation and procrastination to name three. Work? Pah. I'm in London, back in town, in the hood, you know. It says that I haven't blogged since 5 September. I suppose it's so my mum can't read up on what I'm doing. ;)

I've got a slight problem that I don't think I mentioned before, an identity crisis of sorts. My house is currently in NW1. Last year I lived in NW5. So I can safely say my borough is Camden. But what's my postcode? Changing postcode to me is like changing a football team. I think I might call myself a NW1er for now, and sell myself back to NW5 when I graduate. How stupid, really. Only someone like me could seriously worry myself about something like this.

I'm daytrippin' in Manchester tomorrow, with the old relays that pop up every twelve months. There's only three men, yes, but three. The team is six in total. Two legs each, maybe? The Met League in Ruislip is looking ever more attractive now. Maybe I should drop out of the event myself, having co-organised our team for it. I suppose I'm going to have to get used to this whole dropping out thing.
Which brings me on to my next pet dislike: indecisiveness. If you don't want to come to a race or an event or a social if you're asked, fucking say. Don't say "I might be there" because we all know that you'll give us pseudo-hope and then you won't turn up. I don't care if you say "no". We're a society, not a school. It's annoyingly worse in men than women. I asked a girl if she was coming to a social and she said "no, it's the Fresher's Ball". Fair enough. I asked a bloke and he was like "maybe, but you know it's the Fresher's Ball, might be tight for time.." I almost wanted to punch the "no" out of him.

Ahh, that's better. Now for the nice bit; I love my housemates. I think I have three long-lost brothers in this house. They are like my family here. So maybe one of them's still in bed and it's midday, so what? He doesn't have a lecture. I really feel like I've made good social progress since coming out of school, and that's saying something for someone like me. I'm also one of the "token white guys" on the UCLU Pakistan Society, the pride. :)

I promise to blog more often. You have my word.