the week in review

The beast is ill again. I dont know what the problem is, but she just doesnt seem to get better. A few days ago she just stopped eating. She hadnt been that fond of the fancy sushi cat food, but after three weeks on the diet (which did clear up the allergy on her skin!) she has completely stopped eating it. She wont even go near her food dish. And she has lost weight. She has stopped playing, and she wont come out from under the bed. So last night i paniced and called the vet, who suggested be try a different type of (even more expensive) exotic food. So today after work i went in to pick up the stuff. It is canned this time, and contains some odd mixture of rice and chicken, along with various other exotic things i have never heard of. So i brought it home and she did show some initial enthusiasm. She ate a few bites, but then retreated under the bed again. So i dont know what is going on with her little body/ brain. She seems profoundly depressed, and periodically emits these pathetic mews. And i cant cheer her up, she doesnt seem to even want me around. Wierd.
It was a long week, and i am very relieved it is Friday. Monday night i spent in a pub with paul and ian, drifting through various odd subjects and university news. This social gathering ended in paul’s study in the wee hours of the night/morning. I think the alcohol was a little dodgy though, since both paul and i felt like hell the next day, and we didnt drink THAT much.
Tuesday was spent trying to sort out my documents at the national insurance office. That place really seems to attract the dregs of society. The smell was almost overpowering and it hit me the instant i set foot in the place. While i was waiting i asked if i could go to the toilet, only to be told that “clients” were not allowed to use the toilets on the premises, but instead had to go to the public ones across the street, the moment i got to them i regretted ever asking for them. The place had no toilet paper, but rather had shit on the floor, alongside the syringes and other similar items. People were inside speaking a language that was most likely english, but of which i could barely decipher a word. I then had my meeting with the “officers,” self important and sad overweight women who asked absurd questions. I was amused that they apparently operate on the assumption that everyone who turns up in that place must be illiterate. You are not even allowed to fill out your own personal statement. Instead, you dictate your minilife story to the “officer” who writes it on the form in the first person and then reads it aloud to you. Then you sign. And if you cant sign, you make and X! I couldnt believe it. I could barely restrain myself from bursting out into laughter at the whole process, especially as i could see they were making obvious errors in the report....agh!
Wednesday i was dragged out drinking again, this time by a romanian who, i have learned, lives accross the courtyard from me. He has more CDs and DVDs than anyone i have ever met; i have seen shops with less. His whole place, floor to ceiling, is covered by CD shelves, all of which are full. His collection must count in the 10,000+ range. He belongs to some wierd professional internet pirate system, and can get any band or film in seconds. Literally any, i tried to stump him with obscure groups...but he found them all with in one minute. He is a film studies Mphil, so i guess i shouldnt be too surprised by such saavy, but still it was amazing.
Thursday i stayed home and fumed at my italian school group.gRrRRRrrR
Tonight I am going to an after-the-fact burns party, complete with haggis and godknows what other delicacies/atrocities. Just in case it is truely inedible, i have made a large plate of indian food, and i am consuming it as i write. I dont really feel like going to the thing though, i am exhausted and i would prefer, old lady that i am, to stay in bed;;; but i havent been given the choice, the tickets were bought for me by ian, and i have been ordered to appear, at least for a few hours. The event is being organised by the ministerman from the shetland islands who lives on the other side of the “secret” door that goes into our corridor, so i imagine a tweedy affair and a burns poetry reading....