Friday, 22 February 2008

Pie and chips

Mmmmmm, pie and chips. It was such a pleasant suprise to see the chippy still open after another long walk home from work. It meant I wouldn't have to eat any of the disgusting chips and dry chicken from the KFC inspired chicken place around the corner from my house. I suppose I shouldn't be so suprised that it was still open past eleven o'clock, being placed directly opposite the only pub that was about 2 miles away from everything else, it would make sense to stay open until late.

I walked by the pub in perfect time to see a fight break out. Loads of angry drunks were parading about outside shouting at each other, then the next thing I knew someone got hit and went flat on his back. The guy who hit him must have some punch because the guy on the floor was out cold.

So now i'm back at home and the house is empty. It seems everyone has decided to go away this weekend, myself included. I'm getting the coach back home to London tomorrow, and it's because of that that I was a little later getting home tonight than I should've been. I a coach tickets through the internet and needed to get it printed out. I was going to use my housemates printer before he left but I kept forgetting, so on the way home from work I stopped off at uni to use the computers in the "scriptwriters" room and print the ticket off.

For those who might be reading this and are not scriptwriting students, and don't go to Bournemouth university, we get 24hour access to the buildings providing we've paid the £5 deposit for a key fob. Us scriptwriting students have our own room to use. When I got in the room tonight there was another student in there, maybe a 1st or 2nd year cos I didn't recognise him, and I don't know how long he had been in there but the room had the smell of a room that had been lived in. Like a teenage boys bedroom, it stank of sweat and stale farts, it was rank.

I miss using the writers room. Most of the writing on my 60 minutes script was done in there last year during the Easter holidays. It was the best environment for me to work in because there were too many distractions at home, and the fact that I had put the effort in to walk all the way from my flat into uni made me write with more purpose. I wish I could do that now, but due to a load of bureacratic bullshit the room is often being used for lectures and seminars during the daytime. When the room was first made it was never supposed to be used for that - but that little promise only lasted a couple of terms.

When I finished up in the writers room I had to walk the quiet corridors of Weymouth house. It can be quite eerie walking around there at night. There were no lights in the stairwell, and you could occasionally hear people moving about. When I realised who they were, I suddenly thought that I had good reason to be a little anxious. There is one particular group of people that you are almost guranteed to find in Weymouth house at any time, day or night, and they dwell exclusively on the ground floor of the building. They are the Bournemouth University Animation students. No single group of students are as likely to go postal as these guys. Imagine spending 3 days solidly working on something and what you have to show for it is about 15 secs long? (and I'm probably being optimistic by even saying that). What if one of these guys decided to snap as I'm walking through this empty building and jumped out and bludgeoned me to death with an iMac? (a part of me would actually sympathise with him, because I've worked with those iMacs in the writers room and they are a fucking nightmare. Actually it would be weird if I was killed by an iMac because I've had so many violent fantasies about putting my fist through their smug little screens, it would be almost a strange twist of fate if they were used as instruments of death on me.)

But fortunately no animation students decided to attack me this evening. They probably have some time to go yet before their deadlines. I'll be sure to keep clear of the uni when their deadlines come around.

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