as i lay in bed yesterday i thought of sir bedevere's description of his fallen lord: "aidless, alone and smitten through the helm." i don't actually claim to be smitten through the helm, but i was certainly aidless and alone and bloody tired. all the people i used to know are now G4s and have gone off to do research in far-flung lands and the ever-dependable supply of undergraduate singaporeans have dispersed for the summer. von, i thought wistfully, could certainly be relied on to help me move (and assemble wobbly tables,) always bearing in mind of course that i would have to humbly hear his views on the general ineptitude and lack of independence in the modern female and imprecations of the "can't draw straight line" sort. would he were here. and yeen teck is busy being downtrodden in new york, that i doubted he could come up for a weekend of heavy-lifting. i also reflected on the ungallant and unpatriotic behaviour of the graduate singaporeans, who, despite an appeal for moving help sent out earlier in the week, have been decidedly unmoved and unresponsive. in spite of all that, i am moved into my river street home. a shattered column, i now remember, was another expression of sir bedevere's, and quite appropriate to my present condition.