Blimey. Has it really been two months. Howdy! And apologies to anyone kind enough to drop by only to find I've been a tosser about writing.
What a two months it has been. Went to San Diego to watch my best friend be quite possibly the most beautiful bride I've ever seen and to have the chance to pal around with friends old and new. I loved San Diego -- the beach and the sun and the chance to terrorise others behind the wheels of a car. Also didn't mind meeting James and having my first picnic-on-the-beach date (oh, those summer nights). It was also quality time with my mum -- she really is home even though she's not in the house I grew up in.
Shortly afterwards I flew to Edinburgh for the Fringe festival and the madness that follows. Saw a fascinating, but extremely vulgar play, Stitching, and a foot-stompingly fun Slovenian folk band, and managed to keep pace with Andrew Lazenby who can make a walk across town an athletic adventure. Also indulged in some Scotch Whiskey, the variety of which is truly amazing. From the caramel smoothness of Balvenie, to the smoke and peat of Bowmore, it has a diversity of most people mightn't recognise.
Two weeks later, I flew back to Mykonos for seven days of beach and sun. I was hoping it would have the same restorative effects it did last year, but I quickly got bored of being by myself on a small island lacking new adventures. Unfortunately, there was no German distraction, or new exploration to undertake, and my hotel was filled with a disconcerting group of Christian lesbians that filled the pool with loud testerone-charged chatter.
Currently, my father and his partner are in town -- discovering how easy it is to get lost in London. My father's wearing a cast on his foot and I think is finding it difficult to get around. I've discovered that it's fairly difficult (painful) to walk very slowly. But we're off to Paris this weekend, which I always find exquisite. Hopefully, they won't be daunted by the French.
Next weekend I'm off to Norfolk with some of the Edinburgh gang for a weekend in an 18-century refectory to celebrate my birthday by donning 60's clothing and a London crimelord persona to take part in my first murder mystery. It promises to not be boring.
What a two months it has been. Went to San Diego to watch my best friend be quite possibly the most beautiful bride I've ever seen and to have the chance to pal around with friends old and new. I loved San Diego -- the beach and the sun and the chance to terrorise others behind the wheels of a car. Also didn't mind meeting James and having my first picnic-on-the-beach date (oh, those summer nights). It was also quality time with my mum -- she really is home even though she's not in the house I grew up in.
Shortly afterwards I flew to Edinburgh for the Fringe festival and the madness that follows. Saw a fascinating, but extremely vulgar play, Stitching, and a foot-stompingly fun Slovenian folk band, and managed to keep pace with Andrew Lazenby who can make a walk across town an athletic adventure. Also indulged in some Scotch Whiskey, the variety of which is truly amazing. From the caramel smoothness of Balvenie, to the smoke and peat of Bowmore, it has a diversity of most people mightn't recognise.
Two weeks later, I flew back to Mykonos for seven days of beach and sun. I was hoping it would have the same restorative effects it did last year, but I quickly got bored of being by myself on a small island lacking new adventures. Unfortunately, there was no German distraction, or new exploration to undertake, and my hotel was filled with a disconcerting group of Christian lesbians that filled the pool with loud testerone-charged chatter.
Currently, my father and his partner are in town -- discovering how easy it is to get lost in London. My father's wearing a cast on his foot and I think is finding it difficult to get around. I've discovered that it's fairly difficult (painful) to walk very slowly. But we're off to Paris this weekend, which I always find exquisite. Hopefully, they won't be daunted by the French.
Next weekend I'm off to Norfolk with some of the Edinburgh gang for a weekend in an 18-century refectory to celebrate my birthday by donning 60's clothing and a London crimelord persona to take part in my first murder mystery. It promises to not be boring.
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