I think I'd be rubbish in a war. I'm not very good with pain at all. Also I'm supposed to be a pacifist, although anyone who's seen me enthusiastically visit a military museum/play war games on my computer will know that I'm not a very good one. I've realised, anyway, that the height of all agonies is the simple mouth ulcer:

Especially when one eats a grapefruit. Or an orange.
The novelty of being unemployed is wearing thin. There's nothing language-based in the West Midlands. Which is OK, since I want to leave the West Midlands, like many other people in the West Midlands, but I've got to be able to afford to leave. Which I can't do if I've got not job. CIRCLE OF MISERY STRIKES AGAIN. I have revamped my CV. It looks amazing. And fancy and everything. And I've finally got rid of my work experience in 2004, which was with the Liberal Democrats. I think that's probably why I haven't had any success so far.
I need to do something interesting soon. I am dangerously bored. I wrote and published another book about Dylan the woodlouse. My sister, who is studying English (not Russian, disappointingly), worked out that it contains all the elements of a tragedy.
I have been out of the house, though. To try and avoid madness. I went to Chepstow. My dad and another sister were scuba-diving there. I looked around the town and was excited to discover a GUN FROM A GERMAN WW1 SUBMARINE. I'd had a cob on before that. It cheered me up.

One thing I like about where I live is that you can hop over to Wales more or less whenever you feel like it. I might try and learn Welsh. For the 14th time.