Guess what I did this weekend?
Read five Shakespeare plays?
Found part-time employment in order to save me from the vicious clutches of my overdraft?
Sorted out that whole business about telling the university I still exist and I'm studying certain modules?
All wrong. Layla and I built a house.
Okay, a cake house. But it's still pretty impressive, for your common or garden sponge. Admittedly, the second storey was a bit dodgy, we had problems getting the chimney straight, and there was some sort of subsistence problem going on that we cleverly disguised by shoring it up with chocolate fingers and relocating it to the freezer for a bit, but that's nothing more serious than the hazards of living in an average student house. In fact, this house is probably better built than ours, with a red front door, a solid roof, diamond paned windows, and flowers round a fetching porch structure that I am assured is south facing. Perfect for a young family or mature professionals, this house needs viewing to appreciate its full potential.
I'd be accepting offers over £100,000, except for the fact that owing to the carnage caused by a 21st birthday tea party, this house sadly is no more.
However, its tragic demise was greatly enjoyed by all, for which we must offer up our gratitude. (You may deduce from that last sentence that I did manage to get through my Jane Austen reading.)