I should start the blog by saying that all is not well in the kitchen. Betsy has, well, take a look:



We're not entirely sure what to do. She just growls and spits at us if we get try to go near her. Boris (the microwave, for those who don't know), on the other hand, is still going strong, so we can have warm radioactive sandwiches. Boris says: "Iz good, dah? Who need Betzee?".

'The Great Frank Zappa Experiment' is going well. After listening to his music for about 40 hours, we're just about starting to appreciate it. The experiment ends just before midnight on Saturday, by which time we hope to have figured out the deep philosophical meanings behind his lyrics, such as why Mr. Zappa wants to "ram it, ram it, ram it, ram it up yer poop-chute," -- assuming there are any at all. On with the experiment -- "Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay".

It has been suggested by some that we are (or ought to be) slowly going mad. I was about to "poo-poo" this idea ("An entire platoon, brought down by poo-poo!" - Ed), until I found Peter sorting the coins into piles of 179Ft (the exact price of a loaf of brown bread), and wrapping them in cling-film:



I later found myself jumping around like a kangaroo as a means of light exercise. I'm sure this is all inevitable behaviour when you place an anthropologist and a physicist into the same flat. Peter even did some secret filming:



The bush people seem to be quite active tonight. The scary noises just keep getting louder until they get fed:



That's all for now.

- Philip + Peter

P.S. A certain Mr. Nash sang to us through Skype, without realising that we were broadcasting the lot: