licorice is great, truly.
on our way back from uni, ilundi and i agreed that our professional lives resembled a tipped-over tin full of spilt change, bits of string, paperclips, buttons, old used erasers, loose keyrings, tiny pencils you can't sharpen without losing a nail, and exhausted batteries.
why is it so difficult to find a piece of cardboard with glossy and matt sides? if only there were proper paper shops in maidstone.
a week to go. deadline. oh no.
insert panic-stricken face here.
in other news
big L's birthday card: