Flowers of romance...

To a wedding 'do' at the University of Hull. Much talk about how this used to be the Student Union back in several people's day (around 20 years ago? Apparently the IRA used to appeal for support at the entrance, as did the Socialist party, while the gig by Argent appeared to be a highlight), although now the very un-SU-sounding Staff House is a nicely carpeted venue with very funny staff, urging people to "grab your own cream" when they poured coffees. It was a good way to while away the afternoon and, as struggling poverty-stricken writers, we were pleased to see a plate full of proper food in front of our respective hungry eyes (I also accepted the very tempting "Do you want some more 'tatoes, love?" offer when it came my way). As it was a wedding 'do' we were asked repeatedly when we will marry, such is folk's desire to attend a party in new clothes. We ended the day by taking home a flower display for the dining table.

So, after Big Brother urged its viewers to vote out the people they didn't like in the house, they're now putting four of those annoying, obnoxious, flatulent people (selecting from those not embroiled in legal action) back in. How very silly. Still, my current television gripe at the moment is Channel 4's dreadful Law of the Playground, which is taking nostalgia to new lows, mainly by foisting the not-interesting-in-the-least reminiscences of Justin Lee Collins (left), Allan Carr, David Mitchell and a host of other C-listers on its unfortunate audience. "Small chairs, assemblies, bullies, corporal punishment, school dinners, test tubes in chemistry lessons, giggling at sex education, plimsolls, short pants, PE in vest and knickers and shouts of "fight, fight, fight", what's that all about?" asks a dismayed Lee Collins every week, forgetting what the point of the programme is. I think the point of the programme is to show that, no matter how untalented and desperate for television exposure these 'celebrities' are, they can still empathise with our ordinary and mundane formative years. But the show rumbles on with no apparent end in sight ... There was a lot of talk about boys masturbating in the library over photography books (eh? is that a public school thing?) while "Do you remember the assembly when the headmaster announced that one of the pupils had been diagnosed with leukaemia/knocked down by a bus outside the school gates/given a detention for injecting heroin rather than play hockey on the frozen tennis courts?" and "do you remember that teacher who was a complete and utter bastard but I saw him in Asda the other week and he was a lot smaller than I recall?" are just four possible 'highlights' from the weeks to come.