Mmmhmm, a guy in my psychology class - Geraint - died on a night out with friends. He was run over on the Kingsway - a road with about 6 clubs and several pubs on it, which is long and straight, and so boy racers like to tear along it in their wannabe-gangster type cars. It was so weird to hear about it second hand - a friend asked if I'd been to his funeral, and at that point I hadn't even heard he had died. Guess I should have read the newspapers. It felt really bad because I used to chat with him and stuff, but I wasn't exactly friends with him. When I finished school I figured I'd never see from him again because he'd be off in uni doing whatever. And now he doesn't get to do that.