If we'll make it back I'll renounce Jack Kerouak and all that romantic crap

I've made the Goldsmiths Women's Soccer team. [Warning: lil' bit of bragging to follow] I think what cemented it was the long ball, that high arching left-footed shot into the upper left hand corner of the net. It was so pretty. The field was easily the muddiest I've ever played on, so much so that my cleats were pretty useless as mud just continued to collect around them, caking onto itself, (mm....cake....) until it felt like I was running in ski boots. The girls seem great; they've got a vibe that is slightly reminiscent of upper-level AYSO practices what with the goofing off and teasing and such, but it was their first practice back, energy was high, ball skills were pretty strong, and although they play a less physically aggressive game than I do, they have no problem being slammed around. That sounded cruel, that's not how I meant it. I just mean that it's been so long since I've played with other women that I've since adapted to a style of playing which keeps me afloat in scrimmaches with guys- my ball skills usually aren’t as strong as theirs are so I need to make up for it with a stronger sense of the game and presence on the field, namely, as my Dad would say "body up". The result being that I then showed up to play briefly with a women's tournament team awhile back, who was then cranky with my excessive tackling. My point is, these girls had no problem with it, and that was, for lack of a better word, really cool.

I grabbed some chicken pita thing on the way back to the flat, showered, and my flatmate Rhys (pronounced Reese) knocked on my door and explained that he and a few of the others were going out to a pub where some friend of some other friend's former roommate's cousins' band was playing. We met up in the main hallway and headed out to the Montague Arms, a great little hole-in-the-wall, low-ceilinged pub with knickknacks all over the walls that ranged from an ancient scrabble set to a zebra head. The problem with those great little hole-in-the-wall-places is that the ventilation's not so hot. And everyone's smoking. Everyone. All five of us, me and a few other flatmates, in a booth. We also ran into a few people I'd met earlier, Americans Beth and Chad, who stuck it out with me for a half hour more and then walked back. Mostly it was just an evening for good chatting, which, after the soccer, was about all I had the energy for.

Still about all I've got the energy for as I can't seem to get a decent night's sleep. I'll fall into bed at 11, thrash around till 3 and then cat nap till 7:30. I'll tell ya, NyQuill's sounding pretty good right about now, although sometimes it inspires me to write the most creative emails...

First class today followed immediately by my first voice lesson. I'll letcha know.