Who would have thought organising a memory competition was so much hassle? Still, it's nearly all finished now, so assuming I can find a hotel in Cambridge, everything should go all right. I've been trying to think of all the worst-case scenarios that could happen and prepare for them, but I bet something drastic and unexpected happens, like a shark attack, and everyone blames me for not having provided shark-proof cards to memorise.
I had a weird dream last night where I was a newspaper reporter (except for one sequence where I was Archduke Ferdinand) travelling by taxi to cover some distant news story, but in order to get there I'd told the taxi driver that I was going to cover the taxi drivers' convention in a town slightly further away in the same direction.
And another dream in which I was a football player for Burton Albion, which is quite cool - I quite often dream that I play for Boston United, but this is the first time my subconscious has caught up with where I'm living nowadays. That dream also involved travelling to a distant game, come to think of it. There's probably a deeper meaning behind the whole long-journey motif there, maybe I should see a psychiatrist about it. Or about my many, many other mental problems, perhaps.
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