Last night was Wild West Night at work - or, for the kitchen staff, Look Like an Idiot Night. Hideous checked shirts, jeans and hats all round (provided by my brother, who actually wears a hat like that normally). It was quite a laugh, actually, and nowhere near as humiliating as I had expected - in fact, typing it up here is proving to be the worst part. From Susan's point of view, though, it was a bit of a disaster as a grand total of twelve people turned up, so we had nothing much to do, and I ended up being paid my hourly rate to sit down and take part in the pub quiz. I still find jeans to be the most uncomfortable item of clothing ever (apart from maybe a straitjacket) - they do loosen up after walking around for a bit, but when putting them on at first it's like wearing Andrew Melville bedsheets.

I earned a surprising amount over Easter, and am now back in St Andrews to spend it on Tesco sandwiches, Empire pizza, and other vital nourishment. The journey down had a slight disaster, because after I had safely transported my computer over half the country, my dad dropped it when picking it up (via the easily detachable front panel) to take it out to the car. The wires to the inside weren't happy about that. It wouldn't turn on at all once I got down here despite his attempt to reconnect them, but after opening it and reconnecting the wires to the cryptically-named pins inside it was miraculously resurrected. I'm fantastic.