"Orchid" is not a euphemism

The Good news: This morning I got a checque for £500, coutesy of Oxford University, as my parents earn below the threshold for full fee remission. I could just kiss those turn-of-the-century socialists if they weren't too busy turning in their grave. Actually, I don't want to express an opinion here, because it's a topic I'm under-informed on, though my views could be described as left-wing- I'm most concerned by the threat to the independance of the admissions offices- I don't want to see universities admitting moronic millionaires just to balance the books. Well, much as I like the alliteration in that sentence, the real issue is whether geniuses who are the children of third-world immigrant shepherds end up getting a ,Tesco Blue-Stripe education.

So anyway. Bad news:
This morning, after a weekend of disuse, my bike lock had it's coefficient of friction go from "a bit stiff" to "absaloutely bloody rock-solid". Liberal use of cooking oil dealt with this crisis, but I'd still have preferred not to find out about it 15 minutes before my first lecture.

Today's title was inspired by this Penny Arcade cartoon, and also the fact that Mansfield College had a mean saturday night on account of the Orchid Ball. I'll give you a link that is almost certainly obsolete by the time you click it: www.mansfieldcollegeball.com/. If you interpret "orchid" as it's meaning in the original Greek, well, let's just say that "Orchid ball" is tautologous.

The English Dictionary: a shocking secret on every page.

So I went to my first ever ball. Photos happened, but I'm not planning to put them anywhere you can see them, you voyeur. Suffice to say I was wearing black polyester as befits a man. Basically, for those who havn't had much expereience with formal dress, I can say that the aim for women is to make sure they look different from all the other women present. For men, the aim is to make sure they look exactly the same as all the other men present. So anyway, in the proud tradition of men everywhere, I was sitting on the sofa eating a sandwhich while my female housemates flustered about applying paint and putting contact lenses in. John Hegley would not approve. Anyway, a consequence of this effect was that I got to play "Calm in the storm" when the taxi arrived five minutes early.

The ticket included 8 free drinks- two beers, two cocktails, three spirits and a glass of champagne. I only claimed three of these in the end, which marks a restarint typical of post-A-Level Nathan. However, it would appear that my pre-A-level life has given me a respectable innoculation as compared to certain other housemates.

I sense I'm on thin ice here, so let he hurridly say that no-one embarraesed themselves: nonetheless, enunciation and behaviour on sunday morning gave the perceptive clues about some people's tolerance for alcahol.

Anyway, our quad (lawn) had a marquee on it which housed a succession of live bands. Some were from the "If we play it so loud they can't hear, they'll think it was good" school of thought. It's like serving drinks so fantastically cold you can't taste them to disguise the taste of e-numbers. I'm looking at you, Fosters. Anyway, I did actually quite enjoy "The Red Roots", who I can't track down. I think they were actually friends of friends of a student here. I also liked the Bollywood Brass Band. Bizarre, but it's the kind of music that makes you feel cool and global, as well as being kind of groovy. It's a brass band, which is kind of Pensioner, but it's Bollywood, so that's OK. I'm thinking of getting a CD of theirs. That, or perhaps I'll just download more bhangra and world fusion in my periodic MP3 raids (all legal: a future blog will explain).

My goodness, I've been here a long time. Oh, Distraction, have mercy on me. I really can't think of anything else to say about the ball.

There was also candyfloss, which was cool.

Song in my head: "My Descent into Madness" by Eels