Chocolate

In my dreams everyone's altered. Anything from voice to hair colour to gender. People's eyes become all important, take up the entire picture, pulsate, embrace, take. I walk along a beach and watch the sky splash against my hair. I find myself naked in my old school, casually pouring jugs of multicoloured liquids onto my jabbering teachers. Other times, we're sniffing tictacs and eating flowers. I find myself sitting under mushrooms as various friends inform me in unison of the life-changing news which will and shall be said as soon as I do something... The light is often dark, and the concept of truth does not exist.

My mother just came in and gave me a chocolate from See's Candies, which ought to have been a candy from Willie Wonka's. It was white chocolate on the outside, which is why I had never tried it before. However, once in the mouth, you could taste the pastry, the cooked apples, the cinnamon, the exact replica of the perfect bite of apple pie, probably one made with granny smith's. I always knew they were magical.

My mother, by the way, hit her head really hard and now has memory problems and her vertebrae hurt. She can't be bothered to go see a doctor. She took me out to lunch and I had something called 'fillet de loup' which was sea bass and was amazing. She had a salad with tuna on it and ended up eating mine.

Last night I made a tomato soup. I roasted tomatoes (1kg cherry tomatoes, red and yellow, idealy the ones you buy on the vine, and when you pull them off you can leave the little green hats on them) and a chille in an oven pan with olive oil and seasoning for about 12 to 15 minutes, during which I put 2 roughly chopped red onions in a pan with olive oil, which I also added 4 tbs of balsamic vinigar to. Then we put the cooked tomatoes into the sauce pan, threw the whole thing into a blender with a load of basil, at which point I realised I'd forgotten to put the four crushed garlic cloves into the original roasting pan, so I put some garlic paste into the mixure as well, and then da da bung some sort of cream stuff on the top and all is well.

Vivi was proud of me. The measurements on here are so that I can do it again after I've lost the recipe. It reminded me of tomato juice and pumkins seeds, not in taste, but in concept.

My grand shopping excursion with ma mere ended up with me buying a watch, tissues, duvet cover and toothpaste. Apparently I don't actually need anything for university.

Newbury's funny. If I notice someone I almost definitely will see them again 10 minutes later. A woman with long auburn hair driving a bright green van covered in flowers. A french woman with huge dark eyes. A man who looked just like Clement Freud paying his bill next to a half finished meal, and then appearing in Sainsbury's with a bottle of wine.

I quite like it here, choosing pictures and curtain rails for the new rooms, the victorian terraces at the other end of town which look exactly like the houses in Skins, Donnington Castle which seems to have a strange night life and always has great views, people who randomly yell compliments meant as insults at me and there's enough bikes to make it feel like it's going somewhere. I'm even getting used to being alone all the time, to not having to get anywhere by any time, to having to be creative in my attempts to alleviate the dullness. Maybe it's going to be okay.