Had a few "firsts" in the last 48 hours. Quite unexpectedly, we went out clubbing Tuesday night! All the physio-therapy students on my floor wanted to celebrate after taking a test that day. After a few rounds of Ring of Fire the drinking game, and watching the boys iron their shirts in the kitchen (Euro boys are so cute when they dress up!) we hopped on the old RV1 and went to Covent Gardens where is was £6 to get in and only £1 for anything to drink all night. We got hammered obviously. It was my first time out with the gang, my first time to a club, and the first time to not go into the lab the next morning. It's weird to not be in a professional setting where I have to come in everyday, but that's the trade off for no longer getting a salary: a lot more freedom! So it was also my first time to bum around with all my flatmates during the day. That was a lot of fun too.

After carrying Ross home because he was too drunk to walk or talk (first time in a mini-cab!) and putting him to bed, it was my first time to call a security officer to break into a room and check on a friend. By 9pm the following day, no one had heard from him or seen him, he didn't show up at his football match, he wouldn't answer his phone or return our texts, and no one had ever seen him that drunk before, so I got worried he had choked to death on his own vomit or something. Thankfully he was fine, and had just gone to Fullham for the day and his mobile had a dead battery. As we ended Wednesday night all cuddled up in Michelle's bed watching the O.C., I said, "We hadn't heard from you all day, the obvious conclusion is that you were dead!" I realized how absurd it is, but better to be safe than sorry right? Wouldn't you want to have the kind of friend who would check on your rotting corpse?