It's been a while. A lot has happened which I won't go into, but I'll let you know of the events of the past week or so, which has, quite possibly, been one of the most eventful (and happy) times in my life.

I'll start with Friday morning. Having got my exam results a couple of weeks ago (six As, very surprised), I receive a letter from the head of my department at the university. Basically, he was congratulating me on winning the award for achieving the highest combined mark in two of my subjects, and with that congratulating me on winning an award from an accounting firm. Nice one, Franco! Anyway, it said that I'd hear from the firm in due course, but I think the prize is £150, which is very nice.

Fast forward to Friday night, and we're out on the town. This twentyone-year-old girl sits down next to me in the pub, and starts talking to me when my friend goes to the toilet. This is the first time this has happened to me, so it's a bit of an alien experience. A bit like the time when I had to make myself dinner, which eventually comprised of beans on toast with a cheese slice on top of it. Scrumptious, it was. Anyway, I'm drifting...One thing leads to another, and we end up kissing. But no more, for my friend ups and leaves without warning me (his girlfriend came in, sprinted off, so he goes after her), and so I leave Miss Twentyone-Year-Old with her friend.

Saturday morning, I wake up to find another letter from the head of department. This time, he's written to congratulate me for achieving the highest mark in the year, and in so doing winning the pricewaterhousecoopers award for accountancy. I didn't even know this award existed, so it came as even more of a shock. Once again, they'll contact me in due course. Everything I touch is going well.

Saturday night, and I'm going to a house party. It's my friend from school's birthday, and so I opt to go, even although it means meeting up with people I used to go to school with. In fact, not a lot of people turned up, and so I had a relaxing night with beer and cider as my drinks, not so much of choice, but rather of convenience. I don't get served alcohol at the off license, because the lady doesn't believe I'm of legal age, and the night is saved when she decides to make up her own laws and let my friend buy it for me, which is illegal (if her perception of legislation is anything to go buy).

Sunday night, and with my gran not getting out much these days (a bit like myself, it must be hereditary), I decide to go with her and my mother to bingo after my work. Who wins? Jacques does, and it's £243 in his back pocket. When will it stop?

Well, Monday was largely non-eventful, so we'll leave that out (briefly, I went to a local pub after having a meal to celebrate my cousin's 25th birthday). Tuesday (today, obviously), I go into town, as the Manic Street Preachers are signing copies of their new album, "Lipstick Traces: A Secret History of the Manic Street Preachers". To prepare for their visit, I consider carving "4 REAL" into my arm, just like Richey Edwards did so famously for the NME cameras after a gig in Norwich in May 1991. After much contemplation, I opt to go one step further and wear my Hatful of Hollow t-shirt. It scares them, and the queue, a lot more.

And what a queue! Two fookin hours I waited, and it was over in five seconds. They were all very pleasant; Nicky Wire even opted to shake my hand, despite my reluctance. Sean Moore didn't, but I decided to shake James Dean Bradfield's hand, for he's the singer and, well, y'know, he doesn't wear skirts. Poor Richey. I wonder where he is now.

Anyway, the album might be going on eBay shortly, with a reserve bid of £20. It's an opportunity to make a profit, so why not? I'll keep it for now, though. As a footnote, I bought a Smiths video and eight Joy Division badges from eBay, so, as Adam Sandler once sang, "Love Sucks".