A painting of me

A Prologue.

   26 March 2004, the wee hours

I’m waiting for Simon and Steph to come over now. We’re going to go to Fed shortly. I don’t know how I feel about going. No one loves Fed Hall more than myself, but all I can think about is my compilers assignment. I think it’ll be a fun night out.

The compiler is still not really doing anything of substance. We’re close to crossing that line when it does do stuff. That’s all I want. I’ll feel much less stressed once I know it’ll compile something, anything.

Shima’s walked to meet Matt and Durshan at the bomber. I’m hoping they decide to go to Fed too.

 

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