Keep Calm and Carry On

Well, it's been a while. But lets face it - none of you are breathless in anticipation for my every entry anyway. Are you?

(And this is the part where you all sign my guestbook to assure me that I am in fact well loved and you'd all miss me if I stopped writing because of a freak finger-breaking accident, or something.)

Sometimes I just need validation.

Check out Paul, another one of my university cronies. He's what we call a mature student. That's 'old bastard' to thee and me.

Actually I'm grateful he's there. I don't feel as old relative to the other students. And it's always fun taking the piss out of the fact that his teenage years were spent amidst the horror of the 80s. And though he denies it, I'm pretty sure he had big 80s hair and quite possibly a mullet.

Anyway. I didn't mean to be quite so vehement there. (Actually, that's bollocks. He deserves everything I say. He'd say something equally bad about me...)

Go look, though. It's funny.

Anyhoo. Not long until easter break. I'm at that time when I'm looking forward to going home. I haven't actually seen my parents this year yet, which is weird. And I miss my cats.

My friend Jo came down to Cardiff on Friday. We got hideously drunk and spent the evening hugging and saying how much we missed each other. Which is true, but I do have a disturbing habit of getting very tactile when I'm drunk - very disturbing, considering I normally despise casual touching. I tend to want it to mean something (like, oh, sex is imminent) or it isn't worth it.

But those are my 'issues', which I must learn to deal with.

Or get myself a therapist who will tell me it's all OK and I'm not really cuckoo.