Must make self useful today. Must cash school bursary cheque so that money can be spent on very academic things like cab fares and food I can keep in my desk drawer so that I don't have to brave the stale-beans-smelling kitchen and try to make myself something while five other people who don't even live here are making their tea in the same area and won't get out of the fucking way and I have to keep apologising to them every time I want to them to move their arses so that I can get into the fridge because they're strangers and I'm British, dammit, excusemesorrythankyou, every time I get hungry, dammit. Must buy milk.
Here, have a flatmate:
Olli is Finnish. This is his door. He does Law.
(I wish that rhymed in my accent.) I don't see much of Olli and consequently don't have much to say about him. After all, I do lack imagination. Occasionally, he comes into the kitchen and stabs at the membrane of a microwave meal with his pocket knife. (Yes, pocket knife.) As he waits for his potato mush to cook, he stands directly in front of the oven, taking long, sober draughts from small, sensible cans of Heineken.
His loose, slow-flowing English is full of melodiously varied hesitation sounds. He has a flushed, diminutive, motor-mouthed girlfriend called Vicky who likes to throw beer around. He reminds me of Rainier Wolfcastle from The Simpsons.