Boob Touching

I’m a wreck. Last night started well enough. Zoe Hall looked bloody gorgeous when she turned up at the Indian and she sat next to me, which was a complete result. I didn’t even find the food that ghastly although to be honest I didn’t eat that much of it. Brings me out in sweats. I did, however, fail to hold back on the wine intake and polished off the best part of two bottles. You know what girls a like – bloody lightweights when it comes to booze consumption. Hopeless.

After dinner Zoe convinced us that we should buy some gyppo cider from the offie on the corner of West Street. The guy in there will do anything if you bung him an extra fiver so we clubbed together and invested in four litres of White Lightning. Bloody lethal. We took ourselves down to the park by the A-Road and polished the lot off between the six of us within 45 minutes. Managed to get a bit of time alone with Zoe on the way back. She let me touch her left breast through her sports vest. It was heavenly. But she wouldn’t even snog me, the frigid cow. I’m so dissing her for the rest of term.

By the time we got back to the boarding house I thought I was going to die. My head was spinning but I thought I could save myself from mortal embarrassment by just getting to my study and turning out the lights. Unfortunately it wasn’t to be and I threw my guts up out the window just as Mr Jameson was walking past with his dog Trixie. Poor old Matron’s roses ended up covered in diced carrot and I’ve got to write her a letter of apology. Hargreaves has also banned me from further supper leaves til the new year. Bastard. Still touched tit though so not all bad..