| if you've all chosen to get emails whenever I update this, it's your own fault, really.. I like this: 
uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.. bed. |
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| do you like my new photo? that's me pretending to give my brother a piggy-back.. yes. |
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| I like deleting things.. sometimes I delete a lot of things.. |
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| aren't snow patrol really really good.. yes, yes they are.. I've eaten a lot of haribo and it's 2:30 in the morning and I have lectures in the morning but I love you! xx |
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| (started this at home but our internet has been down at uni)
I’ve decided to do an annual post to try and squeeze myself back into some of your lives, once again unashamedly trying to boost numbers for my funeral. I know you’re not too roused by the potential of this piece of literature, but those less experienced fans, for that’s what having read thus far you are, I’d like to update you a little on my current frivolities.
To date, I have had 3 driving lessons. All of which have been 2 hour in length each. I have still not yet been allowed on the roads, and my talents are being kept confined to the local trading estate. My driving instructor clearly does not share my appreciation for my personal flair when it comes to driving. This may because I exclaim ‘CAR!’ when one approaches, my skills are shown in their best light when going over speed bumps, or perhaps because I talk, forget, signal, rush, cancel signal, clutch down, clutch up, mirrors!, windscreen wipers on, squeal, windscreen wipers off, signal the wrong way, cancel that, signal the right way, clutch! change gear! Swing around the corner and then stall trying to ‘pull up on the left’. I just don’t feel he trusts me.
Anyway, if he won’t get me on the roads, then I may as well do my part, so I’ve taken my theory test, after much late night cramming and answering every single question in the bank of 916, I actually passed. Although this is likely to heighten my belief that I could control a vehicle without complete obliteration of myself and the motor in question, I was quite relieved when I passed.
I’ve been appreciating some sumptuous tunes as of late, this could be due to my being ambushed in at home by uni work or the guilt of not doing it. When at home alone, I like nothing better than to jive in my jambies, although jiving is neither my expertise nor is it required for listening to the likes of Snow Patrol or Coldplay. But when alone, cooped in for an extended period of time (Tuesday to about Saturday, unless you count a quick trip to the end of my road on Friday evening), I start to have strange thoughts. If I had to live on the product of my creative repressions for a living I think I’d have to spend longer on my own.
But I’ve now returned to uni. I’m to purge three years of my life at Durham University for those that don’t know, to work for a scarcely professional salary with small urchins. When I arrived everywhere seemed desolate, but sightings of other people gradually increased to bearable numbers despite the palpable absence of certain people. Medically inclined flatmates alas have exams this week, and although I endeavor to empathise, I must confess I can only think upon my own boredom and solitude.
Upon this note, I bid you all farewell and good night, I must stir in the earlier-than-noon hours of the morrow, and sense having sleep may ameliorate the chances of this actually happening.
With love and hugs and kisses,
(Boi! Boi!)
H xx
P.s. note to brother – why go to the zoo when you’ve got Google Images?
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