I live on a diet of c-words

What news from the west?

Balloons! That's how they're luring new students in. Sadly I could not find the source. Feels like years since I been there and it's like coming home and going on holiday at the same time. The freshers are generally pretty rubbish though I did see the cutest guy with all this scruffy hair and sideburns but he was with his mammy. D'awww. Also seen was a woman with a motorcycle that had all this wild hair and thick braces (I do so love braces) and a man with a permanent one eyebrow up and one eyebrow down. Flooded a small area with CVs since my last interview went so miserably. Classics is still wonderfully cosy and History's door is still too high for me to reach the latch. I'm in two days next week for registration and then it's back to uni, a week on Tuesday. I am ridiculously happy at the thought. Not least because I can justify my pass again and take buses everywhere. Everywhere within the G zones anyway. My hair is an explosion. Fireworks on my head. I tell you I walked down Kelvin Way over the bridge and far away, thinking fairy tales, dreaming mythology, singing philosophy. My leather stinks of rain and second-hand smoke and my hair is Chanel, the only perfume I dare risk on my skin (I am influenced by girls in bowler hats, yes). It smelt like impending rain. The Subterraneans was a terrible film yes but there was a scene with the arty redhead telling the frenchie to stay away from the writer. Once the novel is done so is the love affair. Well I finished my novel and I fell in love. This is all I can make out scrawled on the back of a half-printed scene.

"Do you love me, Sophie?"
"No point in that question."