Procrastination, and being Poirot.

There has been a mystery plaguing my life recently. Every so often I'll be in my room, which is downstairs at the front of my house, and I'll hear some knob walking past playing the guitar. The whole idea of this has baffled me for months. Who just casually roams the streets playing the guitar? And if it's a busker, aren't they supposed to stay in one place, like outside Debenhams? I have recently experienced the utter joy of discovering who the mystery strummer is...

He is a tramp. Tonight when I was walking home from my friend's house, I saw that he had attached himself to two men who smelled like a brewery and instigated a singalong. Heart-warmingly, the men had engaged in said drunken singalong, instead of beating the shit out of him. This is one way in which Chester is different to Wigan.

So yeah, the solving of that mystery was the 'being Poirot' part of my blog. Now to the procrastination part, which I ironically put off until after I'd wrote the Poirot part. I will do literally anything, except my dissertation. In the past week I have cleaned the whole of my house, attended yoga, worked, watched Big Fat Gypsy Weddings, stayed in work for three hours after my shift ended, and gotten drunk. All as opposed to doing my dissertation. And now, I'm updating my blog, something I haven't found the time to do for nearly a month, instead of doing my dissertation.

Another thing I have done in order to avoid doing my dissertation, is watch one of my best friends dress as a woman and deliver 'her' dating profile in video form. I give you, Joshinda. The epitomy of hilarity.