This is my 101st post. Big dorky geek am I.

Last night I accomplished everything one needs to accomplish when visiting St Andrews:

Massive Balaka - check

Too much to drink - check

Lament how awful students are - check

Lament how awful but attractive students are - check

Lament how not a student anymore - check

Go back to someone's flat for "just the one" - check

Marvel how the barstaff at your local didn't notice you'd been away - check

Breathe immense sigh of relief that you don't live here anymore - check

Sigh with immense regret that you don't live here anymore - check

Remind oneself that the fat, bald almost 30-year-old isn't going to go home with the vacuous, sexy, over-privileged almost 20-year-old. - check

I went for a run this morning to clear head. It worked but it hurt. Try running carrying 3 stone that you shouldn't be and you'll know why. Bleah.

Fine dining tonight. Though it means I have to miss a party for someone I adore at a place that I love. Which is not supposed to be the case, dammit. Poo. Everything in my life should be neatly scheduled so I that don't have to miss the things that I love.

Now, for the ultimate morning-after-back-in-st-andrews-question:

What am I going to do for lunch?