(no subject)
Hmmn. Almost 2 months since my last post. Below is the amendment...
JOB
Job is going well, though terrifies me every single day. I am responsible. I am in the deep end treading water, learning to swim. I am eating lots of cheese and pickle sandwiches and drinking gallons of water. I am wearing skirts and shoes which are falling apart. I am enjoying silly banter and the home-baked goods of my collegue's kick-arse wife. I am making money, I am exercising my poorly-neglected brain, I have routine.
FLAT
After two months of searching it came down to the week before we moved out, when we found a flat. The flat is good. The flat is very good. I celebrated its existence by losing my memory and filling the toilet with the contents of my stomach. It was fun. I still feel relieved we finally found it. It also makes the trip to work shorter so now I only have to get up at 7am. Nice. Oh and Darth Vader still guards the loo roll.
GARDEN FEST
Thursday saw the annual festival to end all festivals. Every year Iain M's back garden is filled with the (sometimes worrying) sounds of my friends performing. The rules are if you go to garden fest you have to perform. You can perform anything you want; from a song to a poem to a game to a trick to a dance to a lasange. You might question whether or not lasange is a performance art but since I failed to tell my terrible, terrible old jokes and I didn't get everyone to make a magic circle it'll just have to be. There were a few other people there too but since they didn't perform at all, apart from the person who wore pink trousers (which is an act in itself) they were really intruders. I didn't really mind but I think it maybe put some people off. Either way garden fest remains to be the festival to end all festivals.
SILVERSANDS
Hangovers were cured by the brisk biting saltiness of the cold North Sea. Good ice-cream, bad burgers and warm Irn Bru were also involved... and lots of frisbee. Also, I thought I'd broken my toe by making a giant waving man in the sand but it turned out just to be staved. Also, some people were sunburnt. Also, we went for dinner at the pub after but my mussels were boiled to death. I know that's the whole point of cooking them but this was just overkill. Despite this we left them a mammoth tip but then ran over some bicycles (with minimal damage).
MY BROTHER'S WEDDING
The wedding is next week. We haven't bought the present yet, I haven't learned my reading, my dress is still covered in haggis grease from Burn's Night, I don't have any shoes/handbags or other girly accessories... Still, it is going to brillant, I cannot wait. The new Mrs Dowswell is excellent.
And that's pretty much where I'm at.
JOB
Job is going well, though terrifies me every single day. I am responsible. I am in the deep end treading water, learning to swim. I am eating lots of cheese and pickle sandwiches and drinking gallons of water. I am wearing skirts and shoes which are falling apart. I am enjoying silly banter and the home-baked goods of my collegue's kick-arse wife. I am making money, I am exercising my poorly-neglected brain, I have routine.
FLAT
After two months of searching it came down to the week before we moved out, when we found a flat. The flat is good. The flat is very good. I celebrated its existence by losing my memory and filling the toilet with the contents of my stomach. It was fun. I still feel relieved we finally found it. It also makes the trip to work shorter so now I only have to get up at 7am. Nice. Oh and Darth Vader still guards the loo roll.
GARDEN FEST
Thursday saw the annual festival to end all festivals. Every year Iain M's back garden is filled with the (sometimes worrying) sounds of my friends performing. The rules are if you go to garden fest you have to perform. You can perform anything you want; from a song to a poem to a game to a trick to a dance to a lasange. You might question whether or not lasange is a performance art but since I failed to tell my terrible, terrible old jokes and I didn't get everyone to make a magic circle it'll just have to be. There were a few other people there too but since they didn't perform at all, apart from the person who wore pink trousers (which is an act in itself) they were really intruders. I didn't really mind but I think it maybe put some people off. Either way garden fest remains to be the festival to end all festivals.
SILVERSANDS
Hangovers were cured by the brisk biting saltiness of the cold North Sea. Good ice-cream, bad burgers and warm Irn Bru were also involved... and lots of frisbee. Also, I thought I'd broken my toe by making a giant waving man in the sand but it turned out just to be staved. Also, some people were sunburnt. Also, we went for dinner at the pub after but my mussels were boiled to death. I know that's the whole point of cooking them but this was just overkill. Despite this we left them a mammoth tip but then ran over some bicycles (with minimal damage).
MY BROTHER'S WEDDING
The wedding is next week. We haven't bought the present yet, I haven't learned my reading, my dress is still covered in haggis grease from Burn's Night, I don't have any shoes/handbags or other girly accessories... Still, it is going to brillant, I cannot wait. The new Mrs Dowswell is excellent.
And that's pretty much where I'm at.