Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Home Is Where The HobNobs Is

On Friday I am going home for a week. (I told the family I am going home tomorrow night so I can have a night out during the week like a Normal Human Being Who Is Over The Age Of 13).

These are the things I will embrace and wail happy, happy tears over when I get to England:
-delicious food
-average food that hasn't been microwaved five times already and carried around in a sweaty child's lunchbox all day by the time it gets to me
-roast dinners/italian food/chinese take-away/chilli, spices, fat, salt, black pepper, fresh basil...
-pizza/chips/kebabs/deisgusting junk food
-nice tea with fresh milk in a clean cup, with a HANDLE (my au pair family really do take thrift to a new level)
-clean sheets in a comfortable adult-sized bed
-cheap alcohol in clubs
-bouncers whose ideal boy to girl ratio in a club is not 0:0
-cheap but fabulous high, high heels in St John's, Liverpool
-clean hair that doesn't feel like sticky carpet because Parisian water does something mysterious and sinister to English au pair hair
-fake tan
-false eyelashes

These are the things I will do ASAP:
-get my eyebrows threaded
-get my hair cut so I don't get mistaken for a Morman
-get very dressed up, go into Manchester with £15, come home at whatever time I like horrendously drunk yet still manage to cook myself spaghetti bolognaise
-stand in my room naked, either to moisturise or to breathe in and critically observe myself in the mirror like a vain, self-obssessed person in possession of an opaque door
- tell everyone that Paris is great and that there are no probs, having the time of my life, aren't you jealous of me and fantastic job/living situation?


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