Cross your fingers for me...

It's gone. The envelope has been sealed, the contents checked a hundred times. Even in my sleep; I woke last night with a terrible but unfounded fear I forgot to sign something. Applying for postgraduate courses isn't easy; the amount of hoops you need to jump through, forms to fill in and references to obtain, it feels almost like an entrance exam in itself.
So it's been sent and Cardiff should receive it just in time. My personal statement has been worked and reworked; I'm hoping to pull off another memorable statement like the one which got me into university despite my poor A-level grades. So cross any spare things you might have, fingers, toes, legs, if appropriate, and wish me luck, because I really want this. I think I've come a long way this year already; I want to keep this dream alive.
Here's hoping I get accepted.

My first...Valentines

I've never really done Valentines before, but it seemed a good excuse to spend a whole day with Dai so after many conversations about if, what and where, we both took a day off, (as it was a Wednesday, which we both have no official committments for) and I did nothing!
We had a massive lay in, lazed about and watched DVDs and ate toast. We both made cards because we're silly and gave each other chocolate, (although we both said no presents, we both turned up with chocolate).
In the evening Dai disappeared and made me a yummy meal; organic soup with bread to start, a main course of grilled peppers stuffed with corguettes and mushrooms, served with field mushrooms with ginger, and followed by vegan chocolate mousse and strawberries. Very impressive, Dai had done extensive research to find vegan recipes online. It was all delicious. I'm a lucky girl. We shouted at the Brits for a bit but I did absolutely nothing all day and felt very lazy. Dai said that that was the point. In any case it was great and I was very spoiled. As usual!

It's gone - it's back - oh, and it's gone again...

Well. The past few days have been what's known as 'very odd'. Wednesday evening I was at home. It had been quite a long day at the office. The boyfriend turned up probably about eleven. My car was parked just around the corner, because the parking in my street is difficult to say the least at times. I check my car everyday pretty much, but usually drive it no more than once a week. I needed to replace the headlight bulb before I went to a gig on Friday night and home to Plymouth on Saturday, but it would have to wait until the paper was put to bed.
Thursday morning was a bit of a rush, but we set off for the office about half ten. I was working on the pages layout when I got a message over MSN from my brother. The police had called the house about my car, saying it had been abandoned. Completely ridiculous. Ok, so I hadn't driven it for four days, so what? You'd think the police would have better things to do. I called Penny, and got her to check the car was ok. It wasn't there.
So I called the police. The car had been found in Morriston (a place near the industrial estates in Swansea) at 1am. The boyfriend saw it when he arrived
in the evening; and I was certain I'd seen it in the morning, but that morning, I hadn't looked. When I thought back, I didn't remember seeing it. That would be because it wasn't there.
The police took sixteen hours to get in contact. They then took a further six hours to tell me exactly where it was. But a few minutes later they rang back to tell me it had been stolen again.
I wasn't that upset about the car; well, I was, but I accept that as a car owner, it happens. But I was pretty pissed off it had gone again. As far as I was concerned, the police had let it get nicked again.
I was not impressed. I called everyone and told them they wouln't see me this weekend, and cancelled all plans for the gig.
Dad wanted to come get me, and I was feeling really homesick, and nearly let him. But I decided that just in case the police got back to me I should be here. It was a good plan. I was reading the Sunday Times on my laptop in bed, as is my habit on a Sunday morning, when I got a call. The police insisted I came and recovered my vehicle. I had to call my intern with a car, Spooky, to come give me a lift. It took forever to find the place. I'd asked the police about the condition of the car; they thought I'd need to tow it, although they couldn't see any body damage. So I called the RAC. They agreed to come out.
But; although the ignition had been unscrewed, and the steering lock broken, and the lock ripped out from the driver's side and a dent in the rim of the front driver's side wheel, it was ok! It started, no problem. the RAC checked it out and told me it was safe to drive. It had battery, and petrol. I bought a stoplock, assuming the car wouldn't lock, but it does from the inside, (although it's still a little more vulnerable) and of course the alarm still works. Fortunately the boyfriend has off street parking, so I'm borrowing that until I can get all the bits and pices fixed. I'm thinking about having a plate welded over the hole where the lock was; I haven't been able to open my car from the driver's side for months anyway after a former but botched screwdrivering attempt.
The new plan is to go home this weekend instead. I'd given up on my car, and cancelled the insurance due to go through on it...guess I'd better see if they'll take me back! what a weekend. I was going to really work on my dissertation as well...funnily enough concentrating has been difficult. Now. If it's possible, I'd like to have a really sodding boring week; no bombshells, no disasters, nothing. Can we manage that? I doubt it...but I'll try.