I've spent the day watching 90s french pseudo-noir film. I can swear a blue streak in french now, but I have no idea how to write my essay... [Ink] some of us still shop that way in France - "Avez vous this dans un large?"

[st d] Changed for technical reasons to Le singe est sur la branche, because apparently otherwise one has a monkey enclosed within a tree (boo! hiss!)

[nights] It was great - I got to the airport in Rome and suddenly realised I'd completely forgotten that I'd need to learn another language. The week consisted of pointing at things and hoping they spoke English. Shocking. :)

All 12 housemates have arrived, strongly opinionated in the interview process I hope they still will be. The house looks wonderful, it is smaller, cramped and set up for confrontation. And tomorrow any housemate that loses the task does not get their suitcase! My expectations are high after the cosy-cosy niceness disaster of last year.

Gay people, extroverts, a posh girl, a homophobe, a man in a thong and a transsexual (did I understand that right?), most of whom seem to be students or activists of some kind, or office workers. Personally I think that Stuart, the posh blonde girl and the straight little adorable scousish lass will all get eaten alive within the first week. But I don't know if I can bear to watch to find out...