I just got a feedback-function. Feel free to scrawl and scribble at will all over my property. At last, you may fire back at me, when previously you could only "let the pelt of jagged hail, the drench of dirty water, bespatter you unrebuked."

Got myself a shiny new guitar (nylon stringed with cutaway and pickup) today. And went to learn Xing Qing and Hui Dao Guo Qu right away. What I really want to play though is Joe Pass' slinkily nuanced chords, next to Ella's aged mellow throttle of a voice. I've lost the magic touch. My fingers stumble, stubbily, curl and contort only if I harrass them hard enough. Still got the ear for aberrant chords, though.

How many Chinese pop songs use this progression? C, G/B, Am7, G or C/G, F or Fmaj7, C/E, Dm7, G(sus4)? A lot. To name three: Hong Dou, Liu Xing Shen Ling Yu, Hui Dao Guo Qu.

OK so in the fifteen minutes I have before I go to the Design School to be finally reimbursed for Sonsie (my impoverished ex-editress, it turns out, couldn't quite extract the necessary funds from the business department, and so has to pay me back herself), I'm going to pay H a belated tribute to his exceptional hospitality and culinary savoir-faire throughout my London excursion.

Belgo, a Belgian refectory with industrial chic, where I had moules-frites, a far, far cry from the real stuff. Not quite half as slippery enough, and starting to show signs of congealing into that most tragic of seafood-related catastrophes: turgid shellfish. Busaba Eathai, another comradely community (incidentally, did you know that "tong2 zhi4" is slang for gay partner in Chinese?), where I tackled a large HILLOCK of green curry fried rice. And that lemongrass ginger pressé! We badly need more soft drinks like that, and none of those rubbishy radioactive day-glo liquids with names like Radical Raspberry and Bodacious Blueberry. Khan's, which I'll pass over because H doesn't believe set menus offer a fair representation of the chef's prowess. Paul's tarte au citron which was good, but this being London, there was (probably delusionally) something missing, and was waaay too expensive.

Isola, a huge glorified basement of a restaurant where I had a spectacular salad: tomato, basil, red onion, broad beans, croutons, garlic, olive oil. And then THE best pizza I've ever had, and austerely topped with only rucola and parmesan. Then that same day a free (unpaid for) dinner at Strada, where I was bowled over by THE second-best pizza I've ever had, bubbling over with buffalo mozzarella magma, salami, artichokes and rocket. And (oh God will the ecstasy ever end) a stunning dessert of stunning simplicity: affogato, an iced vanilla nougat iceberg dribbled over with a shot of Illy espresso, to be savored (but quickly) while it melts away right there in the bowl. Food always tastes better when there isn't enough of it...and especially when you have to stave off competitors. I had to fend off a ravenous C - subtly of course.

The Duck Place was notable only for its duck, but such duck it was! Thickly stratified with wobbly ribbons of fat. Apparently it's not roast duck, but deep-fried, or it's roasted and THEN deep-fried, I forget which.

Mandarin Kitchen had proper zui4 ji1 and their signature lobster keong-chong sang mein was excellent.

That's about it; if I've omitted anything you feel was undeservedly left out, lemme know H, and we'll work something out.

[How do you pronounce Kristin Kreuk? Kr-UHH-k, de la façon francaise? Kr-OY-k, like in German? Kr-OO-k? Kr-EEYOO-k?]

More respite from Annenberg: Grilled sandwich from Hi-Rise with wingspans of Portobello, the festering reek of Gorgonzola, bacon, onions.

I'm sitting in front of my computer, looking out of the window at the flurry of furry white clusters and wisps sweeping across the sky (Nabokov has it best: "slow scintillant downcome"), while Ella and Louis croon "Stars Fell On Alabama". And for a moment, I picture a cosmic conflagration, an astral armageddon, celestial bodies ablaze and plummeting to earth, a flaming landscape, people being pummelled by asteroids, pyroclasts and other projectiles...

(Happiness is this, she thought)

I'm having the same stuff for lunch. The baguette has self-petrified. B thinks I may have mono (what is that, anyway?), but I can't be bothered to trudge to UHS in this divine weather.

The record stops. I put on A's Rhapsody in Blue, which makes a fitting soundtrack to snowfall. I must be imagining this, but the tempo of the snow flurries seems to fluctuate, stately and temperate during the sotto voce piano cadenzas, feral and frenetic during the full-orchestra reprises. Branches periodically collapse under the weight of deposited snow, creating a powder bloom in the air, and then this too flutters down to the ground in a shower.

Ah, I know, Debussy would make the perfect soundscape for snow. Now, what can I eat to fit in with the theme? Oeufs à la neige?

One day in JC2 assembly, after the death of two canoeists (sailors? can't remember) was announced and a minute of silence was requested, the most rapid pencil sketch of rain (Nabokov again) fell onto the bowed heads. The heavens wept. A pathetic fallacy in real life.

So Thursdays I have Expos from 10 to 11, and then I'm done. I squirmed around on my bed for a bit, wracked by phlegmy coughs and little sniffles, and then I made the cold, windy but sunny 15-minute walk to Bread and Circus off Central Square. I'd thought that I'd just grab some small lunch/tea things, but I ended up tottering back to the dorm under the weight of three big paper bags. I assembled lunch/tea:

Baguette, organic
Olive oil
Tomatoes, Canadian
Bocconcini, fragile bouncy balled foeti swimming in amniotic fluid
Assorted olives
Roasted red peppers, something wrong about this, suan-meish; bad vinegar?
Parsley scallion hummus
Honey dijon kettle chips (only 1.19!)

I passed on the Dalmatian tapenade.

Not a very economical option though; having spent 42 bucks on effectively nothing (these were nothing-groceries, little indulgences to fill my spare time and stomach space, smallish canapé/antipasto items, as opposed to real-groceries, like whole chickens, large pieces of offal, bundles of bak choy, etc). Still, I am assured of nice breakfasts for at least the next two days. Baguette (a little stale by then, but no matter), ashtray of olive oil (found a use for it at last!), couple of choice olives for salt counterpoint, glass of juice. Austere early-morning luxury away from Annenberg.