Thunderbozz

The long-awaited return of my deposit from last year's house has finally occurred, and in celebration I've splashed out on a brand new record player. I don't have any records, but that's because they're all at home. In the meantime, I'm having to amuse myself by helping convert my housemates' vinyl collections to digital. Speaking of new, I've also sorted out our Setanta Sports subscription, so there's now some decent sport on the telly. The only problem with a lot of the games is that they clash with my hours at work. Something's got to give... I'll let you guess which one.

I've just finished reading Ian McEwan's Enduring Love . The critics' reactions printed on the back cover largely agree that the book is "a page-turner, with a plot so engrossing that it seems reckless to pick the book up in the evening if you plan to get any sleep that night". Sorry, Alain de Botton, but I have to disagree on two counts: Firstly, I literally had to stop reading and close the book after each chapter to decide whether it was worth carrying on with. The narrative is self-indulgent and unashamedly elitist, and feels like little more than an excuse for McEwan to prove how clever he is. Secondly, despite all these delays, I still polished off the novel in an afternoon, so Goodness only knows how long it takes de Botton to get through a decent-sized tome. Why did I stick with it? Well, now I don't feel so left out when people on my English course discuss it (most read it at A-level); I know I'm a fast reader and that I could get through it

Rilo Kiley – A Man/Me/Then Jim Here's a strange thing: for the last few weeks, I've never slept in of a morning because I can't be bothered to wake up; I haven't bitten my fingernails; I haven't posted as much as I usually would on here. I think it's because living up here in Sheffield over the summer – and it's definitely living , not just staying – and the independence that comes with it has been a genuinely positive thing. Yes, the money's tight and the job's a bit rubbish, but being in the house for the calendar year (not just the academic year) has shown me the best the city can offer and brought out the best in me, too. Which is nice .

I had the bottom set of train-track braces fitted to my teeth yesterday, which, some discomfort aside, hasn't proved too painful an experience thus far. The experience of having had one set in for the best part of a year (more?, I really can't remember) has helped. The only slightly embarrassing feature is that while the bar running across my top teeth is now practically as straight as an arrow, the wire on the bottom set looks like the rises and falls of the stock market on a particularly turbulent day of trading. In a strange way, it looked less obvious with just the wonky teeth.

And what a ten days they've been. Since the beginning of July I've been living in our new house (with new housemates) and so far everything seems to be working out splendidly. The general consensus seems to be that I've landed the best bedroom, although in fairness I agreed to have the last room left, so they've only got themselves to blame. It's only a few minutes walk to Broomhill, so our old haunts are still in stumbling distance, Crookes is just up the hill and the University is even closer than before. All in all, I'm pretty chuffed. It's also been a busy week thanks to work, emergency shopping trips ( "Erm... has anyone got any knives or forks?" ), dentist appointments, meals out, poker nights and a trip to the (rather impressive) Kingdom Embrace nightclub in town. Tomorrow I'm having a brace fitted to my lower teeth, which I'm dreading (especially as I have to start a 9-hour shift straight afterwards), but there's birthday celeb

Can a concert change the world? Take into consideration the statistic that yesterday's Live Earth event burnt more carbon than 3,000 Britons do in a year, and admit that most people were just there for the music, not the energy-saving crusade... it's very much a case of que sera sera .