Where's my £20?

Today we had to officially re-register for the pharmacy course, which meant that we all had to traipse up to M floor of the Richmond building at 10am and wait in a packed corridor to be let in 2 by 2. The point of this little exercise was to check our details were up to date (which incidentally they could have done without my presence by checking SAINT, the main university records) and to extract £20 from each student. I was less than satisfied with what I got in return for my hard earned cash which was infact this crappy booklet.
The £20 is meant to pay for practical schedules and lecture notes and such, which we may or may not receive over time. I just feel that I have been cheated out of my money as I have nothing to show for it and, afterall, aren't our tuition fees supposed to pay for this kind of thing.


To correct my earlier whinges about my halls of residence, they are by no means as bad as I thought they would be, I quite like my room even if the walls are kinda thin. My only issue is that they have stopped providing toilet roll so you have to buy your own and look a bit special as you try to hide your handful of tissue as you head to the bathroom. However this would still affect me even if I had got into my first choice of halls, apparently only the private halls and the halls on Laisteridge Lane get the privilage of toilet roll these days but they have to pay at least £10 extra a week for it.

Ikea: Scandinavian for Hell hole

I went to Ikea today to replace the things that got lost and broken in my previous years at Uni. It's a nightmare of a shop! Firstly there's the fact that you have to walk bloody miles around their silly grey path that weaves about everywhere so you end up walking at least twice as far as you need to. Secondly if you, as I had done, have looked through the catalogue and decided what you want then good luck finding it. It's not even as if you can ask the staff were to find it because once you have finally managed to locate one (though finding rocking horse poo would be an easier task) you can't even ask them where to find the item because the Scandinavian names are seemingly unpronounceable. If ever you do find the range of products you pre-selected you find that there is an entire range of almost identical products bearing the name you scribbled down with very little to tell you which is the reasonably priced product you desire and which product is the one that the costs 3 times more than the item is worth. If by some miracle it is clear which product is which, I found it was only because those "bargain bowls" are only suitable for use by a family of pixies they're so small.

Once you have found, and identified your items you only have a further 3 miles to find a checkout (and an exit for that matter I'd hate to be there in the event of a fire) where half the staff at the are pretending that their tills are closing. Once find someone who is serving and join a queue you always happen to be behind a customer that spends 3 hours finding their purse in their handbag and deciding which credit card to pay with, followed by an agonising 2 hours while they try to remember their PIN with a grotesque self satisfied grin when they eventually remember it as though you're meant to give them a round of applause for the finale. You're just wondering whether to give up, put your stuff back and go home empty handed when it's finally your turn. The cashier scans your items, you pay with the correct money (some of us realise that checkouts require payment and have already totalled up how much we have spent and prelocated our payment) then you realise that they don't even give you a damn carrier bag so you just have to prey you dont drop your stuff on the way back to the car.

I'm baffled as to why some people appear to be so fond of this shopping hell!

Sour Grapes

Apparently I am to be living in Kirkstone Halls something I was never happy about, and there are apparently NO spaces to move me into different halls. Some would argue that this is my own fault as my application was handed in about a week after the deadline. I however believe it wasn't entirely my own fault, since I would have handed in my form months earlier had I not been waiting on other people to make the inevitable decision to move into halls. You see we hoped that if we handed in our forms together we would be houses in the same flat or block in halls of residence. It turns out that since our application was late Kirkstone was the only place available for us. This I accepted I didn't like the situation much, but at least we'd all be in it together.

It now comes to light that both parties are now bailing on me, one is filling a place that another friend has given up in favour of private halls, the other is planning on moving into a friends house. I however am now trapped in my contract for a place that I utterly dispise on my own. I guess I am kinda jealous that they have people round them to help them out of the situation. Mostly I'm just disappointed and kinda upset that they've left me on my own, when I waited for them in the first place when they were stalling. I guess it'll teach me to think of others, apparently they don't reciprocate the favour! Thanks a lot.

Whinge over.

On a lighter note I had fun at Martin Mere on Monday we saw and feed lots of ducks and geese and even played in the adventure playground. =P We then went back to Stefs house for food and watched "Chicken Run" followed by "Wallace and Gromit: A Close Shave".

Boredom

Sitting on your arse all summer really makes you appreciate having a job. Employment is a lot less boring and a lot nicer on the bank balance. I can't wait to get back to uni, I'll get Mike back and I'll have something to do with my time.

Tomorrow I'm going to Martin Mere with the Daved Collective to see some birdies, should be fun I'll enjoy actually doing something for a change! =)

So short and sweet entry because nothing much has happened and because I want to go to bed.

The National Accident Helpline

I got accosted by one of those guys accident solititor type people in town today. It's just irritating I must have "Talk to me I'm a MUG!" tattoed on my forhead. Anyway I don't agree with all this I'm hurt so i gotta get money for it philosophy. If i fall coz the floor is wet its MY fault for not looking where I'm going. If I burn my mouth On hot food or drink its my fault, I knew it was hot when I ordered it and I'd complain if it arrived cold. Its just an excuse for a greedy society to try to scam some more money.

Anyway rant over the world aint so bad, the rest of my day went pretty smoothly, the woman in the bank was actually helpful and everything today.