Keep Calm and Carry On

Went out with Scary Jane last night. I hadn't actually seen her since September, so it was time to make the effort.

I got drunk. 'There's a surprise' I hear you all cry. But it's different with Janie. I need to get drunk. Drunk enough to cope with someone whose life went so far down the toilet she never thought she'd be able to climb back around the u-bend. Drunk enough to be sympathetic without wanting to give her a good hard shake and tell her not to be so gloomy. She has the right to it. I don't have the right to snap her out of it. So I play the listener - as I have done so often in the past, for a parade of different women. Turns out I'm sensitive, or something. Nope. I just don't know what to say in response - just let them keep talking. That's just the way it goes when I'm at home.

I bumped into some other people I know. I'd forgotten what it was like at home - no comfortable anonymity. I can walk into most bars on any night of the week (it was a Tuesday for crying out loud!) and meet someone I know.

I want to go back to Cardiff. It feels like I'm a guest here. Not home anymore.

Not sure if it will be again.