Basketbawful-ly good, as it happens.

Considering that I don't give two hoots about basketball, I'm really enjoying reading Basketbawful, especially the Livin' Large section, which details the university year that our narrator, Matt, spent rooming with a basketball 'scholar' from Holland, Mat. It's a window on a whole other world, and it's very sharply written: the perfect ingredients for a great blog. Not only this, but it's tender too Check this.

I know it's been my tendency to ridicule the feelings I had for Aimee and the way I behaved while in the throes of first love, so I should also point out that that was the happiest I had ever been in my life to that point. In fact, I had prior to that never believed I could be so happy. So while my sappiness was embarrassingly sappy, it was the best and most honest emotion my 18-year-old self had ever felt. Life is tough. People should always be grateful for whatever euphoric happiness they can find. And I'm happy I got to experience the crazy.

What hooked me in, most of all, is that he's a Meat Loaf fan too. We're a rare and special breed.

However, a fight almost broke out when we were cruising around in Greg's car, a sweet-ass 1957 Chevy Impala. Meat Loaf's "Paradise By The Dashboard Lights" came on, and we all sung it together up until the woman's part. At which point Gauvin continued singing. By the time Gauvin belted out, "would you take me away, will you make me your wife," Greg was freaking out.

"DUDE," he yelled. "YOU DO NOT SING THE CHICK'S PART!"

Gauvin realized his faux pas but refused to back down. "Whatever. I can sing whatever part I want."

Greg's eyes bulged. "THE GIRL'S PART? SERIOUSLY?!"

Great stuff.

I went out for a short, fast ride down to the Mersey, then along the TPT. It was a glorious evening, and I was riding right into the falling sun. I love my bike so much. Not so good, though, was that I caught another bloody snakebite puncture in a rough patch, and had to push back from the Bridgewater Canal. Punctures bum me out big style. I wonder how much a cycle pressure gauge costs. Time to get one maybe?

Free food! Twice!

The cute Spanish girl behind the counter in Starbucks gave me a banana when I ordered my latte this morning. If we were cavemen, that would be a kind of flirting.

Dr Jim called. “Hello buddy! I’m in Leeds, and I’m heading to the Trafford Centre on the way home to Chester. Fancy a cup of tea?” Hell yes, of course I do. I explained about the new house, and how to find it, then nipped off early from work to make sure I was home in time.

“I’ve got you some housewarming gifts,” he said, brandishing a pair of bags. Glorious Welsh cheddar! A pork pie! Gourmet olives! Red onion marmalade! Ginger biscuits! Thanks a million Jim, how very generous of you! We popped up to the Quadrant to get some bread, and then had an al-fresco cold tea. We talked through the Lions, their performances so far, our dream teams so far. It was wonderful to see him. He’s been studying like a bastard as well recently, though towards a much more noble end.

I collected my bike from Whalley, and cycled home in the sunshine. I was hoping to run into Ryan, but he was out.

Mock mock

A morning of revision was broken up by a brief turn out to Clare's for an hour at her barbecue. Woody and Clare, Ollie and Z-Box, Chubb and Steve, Max and Wallis, and Paul were there. I hadn't seen anybody in ages - studies before buddies, right? - and I was a little overwhelmed to be faced with so many all at once. Only Milney was missing from five-seven. What a sweltering day. It wasn't easy to tear myself away, but I did, and pedalled off home.

My mock mock exam went pretty well. I wrote about sampling, and about evaluating a research proposal. Checking through the model answers was reassuring. I think I'll do okay tomorrow in my real mock.

Cycle killer, qu'est-ce c'est?

The start of it all

A sure way to make your ex think that you're totally mental is to text them the lyrics to November Rain - link - at quarter to one in the morning. I did that last night. I woke up with no memory of sending the message, but there it was, smirking at me in my sent items like a little brother that has caught you wanking. "You should be ashamed, you're very naughty." I keep letting myself down, and badly. Shit.

I went round and signed the contract at the new place first thing. I took the bike but I should have left it at home - I was quite probably still drunk after all that booze yesterday. Ben was weird again, but I'm not living with him, am I? The back tyre was totally flat by the time I got to Didsbury Pointless, so I pushed it home from there. Durex came round to help me move the largest and heaviest of my things today. He was stunned at just how little stuff there was there. It was partly because I'd not pulled my finger out and packed everything. It's partly because I don't own much. Two loads of the Ka was plenty. As we went past 46, we went crossed paths with Phil in his silver spaceship car that can fly. Durex started talking about BMWs on the way back totally independently of seeing Phil. So it starts! Durex and I sat down for lunch in the Battered Cod, which was lovely, and then watched the Liverpool game in the Red Lion. That's the Withington I'll miss most, I think. Battered Cod and Red Lion.

Later I went to town to meet Robbie, who's been ill. On the bus there, I ran into Chubb and Z-Box, who were off into town to see some friends. It was lovely to see them on the way in, and I was overjoyed to see them on the way back too. They seemed more drunk than me. I had a chicken burger on the way home.

Red red wine... goes to my head

I went out on my bike to deliver my Christmas Cards. I used magazines to make the envelopes. I went to Dunk's, Kate's, Pippa's, Clare's, Beaver House, Tall Trees, Old Lansdowne, Cally and Ali's, and Liz's. My bike started to get a flat back tyre as I was nearly home. I rode down Wilbraham Road between Kate's and Pippa's, and down Wilmslow Road between Pippa's and Clare's, and had got pretty close to some rather large vehicles, a skip lorry, a dustbin lorry and several 42 buses. I thought it would be more stressful than it turned out to be. To me as a pedestrian, a cyclist seems tiny next to these behemoths of the road, but as a cyclist I felt bigger and somehow better equipped to handle life as part of the traffic. Must buy a helmet!

Paul was gone when I got home. I boxed a few more things, CDs, extension cables, and built a pile by the door. Paul gave me a guitar and a playstation. He doesn't use them anymore, and I use them all the time. It makes sense I suppose. At around four pm, a massive sense of impending dread and doom swept over me. I'm really leaving Everett court. Fuck me. The evening was one of TV and red wine. Lots of red wine, actually. A half bottle from Thursday night. Another bottle bought with dinner, pizzas from Iffy's. As I watched Mastermind, I noticed that one of the contestants had chosen to specialise in Jonathan Creek, so I texted Rigby. And I got a reply! It said, "Ha ha, who is this?," thought when I identified myself there was nothing else. So it goes. There was and an ill-advised third bottle too, bought at 10.15, in the middle of QI, also from Iffy's. Fifteen regular size glasses of wine. Roughly. A haze. I don't remember how I got into bed.

Bike

I've just bought this bike for twenty quid through Gumtree. I love Gumtree!