Odd day yesterday. Paraded twice through the streets of Camden waving palm leaves, the second time in pouring rain with a donkey singing "When the Saints Go Marching In" (as in we had a donkey with us, and we were singing, not that the donkey was singing. That would just be weird.) Where this was perhaps a nice example of harmless English evangelism, complete with Salvation Army brass band, I can't help feeling it was rather lost on the usual suspects of Camden Town, most of whom probably just assumed that what they were witnessing was the result of yet another hallucination. Fuelled by my Inner Christian, I then bought a kebab for a homeless person on the basis that he was from Preston (well, not his fault) and it made me feel nostalgic.

Shock news: Prince Harry seen in lap dancing club! Er... the guy is in the army. Not that I'm saying that all soldiers frequent the likes of Spearmint Rhino, but would the headline "Soldiers seen in sex shop" (apart from having, I feel, rather fine alliteration) have made the news? I think not. Of course, we'd much rather have a prince who sat on his arse in his barracks while his mates went out and had fun. Which would really help the image the palace seems to be trying to create of Harry being treated just the same as everyone else.

Trying to get back into the habit of being at work following my extended (well, 10 days, which is the longest period of leave I've ever taken) holiday. Trouble is, all our students are on holiday too, and it's tough being a student adviser when there are no students to advise. To fill my time I am looking into mortgages. This makes me feel old, yet I still don't feel mature. Tell me, Older Readers, will there ever be a point when I wake up and think "Ah. I've grown up." I hope not.