Internet connectivity: SOD ALL, mostly.
Days to departure: 17.
The tease is the worst part: you get one or, if you're really lucky, two nights of 6-7 hours' sleep. But then it starts all over again. Worse than ever. Like last night.
Of course there is a pattern to this, and it correlates with whenever the hall's miserable little shits are absent. Those turds happen to live in 88D (Stroppy), 88I (Frenchie) and whatever that other room across the hall is (I can't be sure, because I've never seen him; I only hear him in the wee hours of the morning). As it turns out, all were away for the weekend, probably at home with Mummy and Daddy, being spoon-fed and coddled, having their nappies changed and getting a decent night's sleep. Which accounts for my own delicious, 8-hour sleep on Saturday night.
But they returned yesterday, with a vengeance. My first clue was the noxious cloud emanating from Stubby's room across the corridor. My second clue was the incessant ringing of his phone. My third clue was the very loud gathering that began -- BEGAN!!! -- at 11:30 PM last night, when Snoopy hosted a drinkfest as a prelude to going out for the night.
It was at that point I knew we were in for rough sailing. (Too bad I had run out of booze.)
All night long we heard doors slamming, loud conversations in the hall, people bouncing off walls, stomping and running down the corridor. Oh, and constant knocking on doors. Followed by more slamming of doors.
I also heard poor Kate, who had a job interview this morning, get up several times to knock politely and tell them to keep a lid on it. Naturally they all put on their best cod-macho poses for the petite blonde and said OK, but went right back at it the moment the door was closed. The security guard came and challenged Snobby over having so many unregistered guests in his room, but naturally the slimy little bastard lied through his teeth and said "We're just going out." Like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.
Of course, he knows full well that he can get away with anything and everything, because there are never any consequences here. Like Never-neverland. The worst that will happen is another Tersely Worded Caution Letter will be unceremoniously slipped under our doors, and life will go on as usual. Another valuable life lesson learned at university.
Needless to say I do not have two functional brain cells to rub together this morning, when I need it most to complete my FINAL ASSIGNMENTS, so I can move on to my dissertation. Today I am utterly useless, intellectually. Once again I will effectively lose one more day of my life trying desperately to get some rest, thanks to selfish little pricks like Snippy, who will continue to float through their days utterly oblivious to the basic human rights and needs of any sentient being on the planet. (I almost wrote "any other sentient being" but that implies they too have functioning sensory apparatus.)
I am also filled with a variety of mixed emotions, one of which is a strange, free-floating sense of being carefree and weightless. This is probably due to the natural high one gets from sleep deprivation. Or maybe it's finally sinking in that I am leaving this hell-hole in 17 days.
Another is a profound peace that comes from the decision not to have any children. Knowing that people (and I use the term in its loosest, most generic sense) like Stumpy are the next generation to run the planet reminds me that we have made the best possible choice; I would not wish my worst enemy to experience that, let alone my own progeny. That these spoiled, self-centered little oiks are now old enough to vote (but, thankfully, probably neither smart nor motivated enough) positively frightens the stuffing out of me. Global warming and other man-made disasters are bad enough as it is without pillocks like Stuffy further adding to the misery. Gasoline, meet match. Match, meet gasoline.
Then as soon as such thoughts enter my head I get a sudden rush of exhilaration: "Yay Mother Nature! You go, girl! Wipe 'em all out! Starting with residents of Q88 who are loud of mouth and bereft of intellectual capacity! Bring it on baby!"
And then I want to go to sleep and wake up to find it was all just one horrible, extended nightmare.
* * *
Given the craptastic, uh, "quality" of our internet connectivity, I cannot post any of the beautiful photos I've taken over the last couple of days -- sunny, springy shots of Green Park and Hyde Park and other oases of calm and natural beauty in the heart of London that I have been indeed fortunate to enjoy over the last couple of days.
So blame Digital Village Idiot if you get nothing but grumpiness here.
* * *
UPDATE: I found out the cause of this most recent late-night/early morning disturbance. Oh boy. Hang on tight, this could be a bumpy ride.
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