7.40, sunday. comatose since about two this afternoon, now simply ravenous: haven't had lunch, breakfast, nor dinner the previous night. of course, the previous afternoon poach and i had eaten at a place called mother's, a no-fuss local favourite in new orleans, where the oyster po-boy/file gumbo/turtle soup/etc were absolutely knockout and after that we didn't want to budge. actually, even then i didn't eat much, as i still can't now. my stomach seems to have taken the opportunity to downsize, traitorous thing. now how am i supposed to eat my char kway teow and orh luat when i go home? speaking of orh luat we had heaps of oysters, at a restaurant/oyster bar called felix's on bourbon street. bloody good too.

can't stop yawning. got in at about eleven this morning, had to deal with the mess that i left behind which was rather worse than i thought. i always said a falling book would do me much harm one day, and now it has. william gass smashed a beautiful teacup once, and frank mccourt bruised my leg. another time the knox brothers gave me a bad fright and upset some papers, and thurber nearly broke my old laptop cover, but by far the most damage has been done me on thursday morning. i had been writing furiously since i woke with a gasp at 3am and got my essay mailed off just before 5, just enough time now to call a cab for my 6am flight. i was diving into clothes when the book plummetted and crashed into an abandonned bowl of somewhat-jello mix. somewhat cos it was really a half eaten bowl which i'd filled with water so that it'll wash out better the next day. liquid jello was everywhere, including on my keyboard, which was the first thing i saved of course. the cab was on its way, i threw wads of tissue everywhere and using a paintbrush cleaned under the keys. no time for anything else. once i was sure the laptop would live i grabbed my things and ran out, ran back for a hat, ran downstairs, the cab swung into the bus stop, and off we went, got to the airport at 5.35, set off the metal detector ear piercingly, and then got my plane. the long and short of it is, when i came home today, as i had feared, everything was stuck to my table by a thin red glaze - cups, bottles, books, stationery, an apple that has been sitting around for a while - and only through much wrenching did they come loose. i would like to take everything off the table and pour boiling water on it and wipe everything off, but i have got a carpet and i'd ruin that. it will probably takes weeks of slow scrubbing.

new orleans. or, as the man behind me on the escalator at the airport was telling his small daughter: "no, it's one word. nawlins. only outsiders call it neuw orleeeens. but i was born and bred here, so you call it nawlins too." our three days were more or less characterised by happiness in the day and frustration in the night. my toes were tappity in the french quarter and i have developed a mild obsession with porches when we were walking around the garden district (where we also walked past what we're told is the best restaurant in america.) took a tour of three cemeteries with a woman called cukie and understood exactly why they were called the cities of the dead. would have liked to go to oak alley plantation too, but the tours were too expensive. bought a furry hat at the french market, had beignets and coffee and shared a muffaletta on the river bank and would have liked to go to sleep there, in the warm sun and light breeze. went to the cabildo and nearly got locked in the museum because we were upstairs till closing time and couldn't get out until we found a security guard to unlock a door. wanted to get a tarot reading from one of the many street fortune tellers and palm readers, but also thought i didn't really want to know. bought a beautiful copy of the wonderful o and some children's books in a bookshop. rode on the st charles streetcar, but think no city should be permitted to call itself one without a more reliable transport system. has anyone ever heard me say tamade? i thought not. standing on the streets they were coming off my tongue fast and loose when they stopped the streetcars for the bayou classic and you had to follow bad directions on signs walking and take a shuttle bus to get out. cabs apparently light up when they have passengers and don't when they're empty the illogic of this simply staggers me. the occupied cabs taunt you and you can't see the empty ones till they're practically upon you. calling a cab is worse than not calling one. traffic is unspeakably bad. i'll never complain about not being able to get a cab in singapore again.

AND i've seen harry potter 2. it was not at all as well done as the first, i think it'll be harder and harder to make the movies, as the books get more complex, the movies become a montage of scenes rather than a coherent story without gaps. but all the actors, especially the three children, are delightful. by the way that soundtrack is going to be a classic. john williams is it? very good. one day it will be known the world over the way the star wars theme is. daniel radcliffe is excellent although the other two aren't as good as they were in the previous movie. tom felton just gets better every time i adore him wonderfully sneery-evil. (btw someone should tell the americans what a house is. i saw usa today describing a house as a kind of english fraternity house. *hand over eyes* ) sean biggerstaff, as always, very cute. we need to see more of him. christian coulsson, like su-lin warned me, is a disappointment. but lucius malfoy was - *struggle for air* - a million million times better than i expected. oh that voice! is just too much for any girl to bear. he is UNBELIEVABLY hot. *more air* now, where does the queue start?