Man cannot live on Brioche alone

I've had a terribly productive few days, super productive. I think it is down to the vast amounts of brioche I have had for breakfast, and as a mid-morning snack, then second breakfast and finally for a pre-lunch warm up. It's been a brioche packed time indeed.

I was so invigorated by the brioche that I finally told my flatmate I was moving out, I thought it would be like a break up with wailing and gnashing of teeth but he took it rather well. Things haven't been perfect for a while now between us, he didn't like it I had friends around and he kept leaving me little notes with 'tips' and 'hints' on them but we did have some fun times, he has not been the worst flatmate by a long stretch.

I'm moving out because I'm going to live with T.P., in a flat with rooms and doors and everything. I'm really looking forward too it. She doesn't have any interest in watching football, she likes my cooking and she promises to walk around in her pants a lot.

What more could anyone want from a flatmate? I just hope she doesn't try and eat my precious brioche.