My sisters and parents invaded my room to wake me up today. I hate that, and it reminded me why I'm so pleased I'm at Exeter for my birthday. The stocking had the predicible joys of socks and tights and chocolate and strange facewashes and things which it always brings, minus the odd japanese fan which it had taken to carrying until this year. Church was mostly empty, a plain, pale, simply decorated and quite beautiful room in which a few large families of curious people huddled, and a few lonely elderly people dotted the pews. The preacher was obsessed with opening presents. We sang the hyms which I quite like from Christmas, except at the moment I can't sing. Christmas lunch was as expected. The walk became a sledging experience. The presents included a colourful watch which I shall treasure, an Ejyptian bag I rather like and some speakers which I needed.

I bought my seven year old sister a camera with my other sister and she loves it. She's been making movies which make me realise how much we ignore her, and taking photos which are unique as from her viewpoint. I'm overjoyed with having bought her it. Holly's glad I gave her Vogue, when really I only bought it to have something to hide behind whilst travelling (although I could, in the end, not bear to do that as it's too awful for words. Call it a magazine? It's just repetative photos. The ones without people in are okay, but the blank eyes, medical mouths and slim noses are horrible).

I need to book what I'm doing in Cardiff. Fuck. I need to get my reference from a seminar leader. I need to write a personal statement about why I want to go to America. I need to read a load of books. I need to see so many people, if they let me. I need to do things. I have such an easy excuse not to do anything today that it makes me realise how much I need to do.