Once again it’s the middle of the night and I’m not doing a very good job of convincing anyone that I’m not an insomniac. I’m not an insomniac, I just want to be writing a blog post right now. Before this, I felt like playing the guitar. Before that I felt like singing.
I’ve noticed that all of the things I won’t do during the daytime for fear of being told to ‘shut up’ get done overnight. When I’m the only one awake.
Now things are making more sense. Also, yay! I’m not depressed!
Anyway, moving on from my revelations about why I’m nocturnal; I have an announcement to make.
I made it to London and back! On my own! Without having a panic attack! I took the tube!! I was pretty hyper for most of the journey(s) (or at least, a small part of me was. The rest of me was bored stiff sitting on a coach for three hours).
Oh yes, and I saw my boyfriend. It was great; we watched The Lion King and he took me to Camden Market and we ate KFC on the street and got stared at like we were hobos.
Not all at the same time, obviously.
And we also took his dog for a walk and someone tried to buy hashish from us but we didn’t have any so instead we tried to help him with his addiction by saying we didn’t know where to get any. Which is genuinely the truth; contrary to popular opinion, not all teenagers in London have a never-ending supply of drugs on them, like some illegal form of the Magic Porridge Pot.
I have no idea where that just came from.
However, I am now slightly haunted by the image of the Magic Porridge Pot alternately spewing out drugs (and making its owner extremely rich (and even more extremely high)) and drowning a village in porridge.
I hate porridge.
*NB – this is why I shouldn’t write blog posts when I’m tired. I’m going to sleep, before I destroy any more children’s fairytales.*