Two weeks later

I heartily apologise for not updating last week - I went home for the weekend and subsequently consumed more alcohol in one day than I have in the entire time I've been here at Weir. Mum? I love you.

I never thought that I'd become someone as harsh and abrasive and uncaring as Sherlock, but apparently it comes with the territory - it's becoming more and more difficult to keep the little comments in my head and I'm afraid my Sociology tutor will hate me for the rest of the semester after the two little slips I had on Thursday.

I'm sorry. But she was just classic. Heavy black eye-makeup coupled with the black turtle-neck and black floor-length skirt; some people make it shamefully easy for others to insult them, the Science of Deduction aside. You could tell everything about her from the moment she walked into the room with the exclamation of "Fuck, I just had the worst tutorial ever - no-one talked!" And I sat down and went, oh, yeah. You're one of those people who still thinks smoking is cool. You're tutoring in Socilogy; I bet you're a Marxist and use people-watching as an excuse for being a loner. Heavily involved in the university's political groups, and now you think you're making a profound difference to the lives of us young and budding Sociologists. Guess what? Ten of us around the table are laughing at you on the inside.

It was when she told us she was doing her thesis on how narcissism makes perfect businesspeople that I let out the little Sherlockian "Oh, God" and when she said that people-watching makes for good Sociological practise and good writing that I went, "Oh, you're a writer, too? Why didn't I guess." She practically screams morbid poetry and short stories about how society drives people to suicide.

So that's my adventure in Deduction for the week.

As for life, I haven't had much of one. Between Psychology readings and frantic bookings of last-minute theatre ventures (thanks, Shaun - Peninsula was amazing) I've watched the entire first season of Doctor Who (the rejuvinated, 2005 version) after an incredible talk for the International Arts Festival by Who writer Robert Shearman (who wrote the episode Dalek) inspired me to rewatch everything. A lovely conversation with CaskettFanGirl on fanfiction.net featuring the words "you never forget your first doctor" I think epitomise my blatant Eccleston favouritism and also led me to discover that the first episode of Doctor Who I ever wrote was written by Mark Gatiss. Coincidence? Life is funny like that.

My habit of talking to myself is coming back to bite me - shut up, Nick - as is my two-second shutdown after I find something I want to file in my brain. Combine the two and you have me stopping in the middle of the street muttering "tack that above the fireplace downstairs" so that I'll remember where the nearest post-box is. In my defence, I remember it.

So that's been my week - not studying, reading fanfiction and largely forgetting to write my own, chatting to strangers with the same obsessions and insulting people I will later rely on for my grades. Next step: become a social recluse and only talk to people to tell them exactly how inferior they are.

Wish me luck!
-for you