Some kind of a thing

The owners of the university accommodation I was staying in for most of the year have charged me and each of my flatmates £62 for something in our communal area. As there isn't anything worth £248 in the whole freaking place, I'm a little suspicious. They also won't take questions about it over the phone, I have to write a letter. Fair enough, you might say. Is it still fair enough when I get the letter on the 28th and have to have replied IN WRITING by the 28th? Yeah, they are cuntos, and I'll be going in tomorrow to see them, methinks.

In other news, all of my supervisors are away, and I have no idea how to do the next stage of my practical work. Which is nice. So I've been doing nothing for over a week now. How hard is it to reply to a freaking email?

And so the search continues. Because apparently there isn't a double room in the city available from the 1st of July until the end of September that isn't full of barely post-pubescent boys, smells of curry and beer, or has windows falling out.

If anyone would care to lend me a tent for the duration, it would be very much appreciated.

Cheers.