Everything is so fucking weird and I feel so fucking helpless.

I'm back from France. Everything there is OK. The school seems nice, and the place seems fairly alive, though not all the time. There are even some people who are friendly. And we've managed to sort out any major problem with the flat before I went. But, its still so fucking difficult because I don't feel like I can do enough, and Cath is obviously worried about being isolated and lonely, and I'm sure it will get easier with time, but right now, right this second, its not easy. It just seems wrong.

Oh, by the way, if you consider yourself a friend, and you didn't take a few minutes to at least wish her well... Fuck you. No, no, seriously. Fuck you. For the rest of you that did, thank you.

I watched this Tennis for Retards... sorry, Superset Tennis on Sky. The whole point is they play one set, because people have short attention spans. They've got some skirt hosting and giggling through an interview with Tim Henman how this is making tennis more sexy, while players come out to entrance music and are allowed to question umpires and go to the video replay. Serve is determined by a small game ("Let's play "Serve...to serve!" like some demented Roy Walker) while the MC asks for the audiences opinion as to who won first serve, before the offical result is broadcast, and interviews the coach while the players warm up about how they think "their man" should play. Who sold out? Everyone sold out. Tennis isn't some board game you can repackage with bright colours and a new set of pieces every Christmas. The drama is the game, the rest is just salad dressing. You know, the sort that you're not sure whether you should eat, and the odd times you do, its made of plastic, you know, biting slowly at first, and then with a relaxed determination disguising the cretinosity of your mistake. It may not be rock and roll, but then neither are Girls Aloud, and nobody seems to be getting rid of them.

Speak soon

Craig