I need to clean up my damned bed. I share it at the moment with, from what I can see just sitting here: a small pile of newspaper clippings, a java text book, two copies of the play we're doing, assorted pamplets from when I got my credit card and phone banking set up, a copy of the complete works of Shakespere, all my notes for maths, some clean clothes that are sitting there waiting to be put in the cupboard. I think that's pretty much it. There is room for me on there somewhere. Honest. But I really do need to clean it up.