Had many many weird dreams last night. The last one before I woke up properly, which I feel should be preserved:
I was sat outside my tent at Reading Festival - which was being held in both Sub-Saharan Africa and the Winnall Moors - feeding a pygmy llama chocolate hobnobs, when Michaela Strachan appeared, shouting through a loudspeaker because someone in the next campsite had conjured the Dark Mark.


In comparison, my day was pretty ordinary. Croissants and smoked cheese for breakfastlunch, then walked into Oxford along the river. We timed our journey well - the sun was shining and it was beautiful. We went downstairs in the Oxfam Bookshop for about 3 minutes, came upstairs and the sky had gone dark, and it was pouring with rain. Took shelter in the Ashmolean, where we people-watched and tried to make each other laugh loudly in silent rooms. I totally won at that game.

This is G's best noble statue impression.