I just had an amazing day and an amazing night, the sun is still hiding so it must be time for bed, but there are things I need to blog about tomorrow, I'm sorry I've been so shit recently, too many things on my mind struggling to escape through my writing. Let's just say my heart is very torn, between London and Paris. I'm scared that London will crush me, but if I stay in Paris I'll never know...
Also, what am I going to do with my life? Would someone would like to pay me to dance around their garden dressed in a velvet cloak, telling fairytales and singing folk songs, occasionally rapping and doing strange voices? Please can someone pay me to do this? I'll be like a garden gnome but 100% more energetic, surely there must be someone out there rich enough to hire a full-time storyteller and all round whimsical attention seeker to live at the bottom of their garden??
I'm a massive dickhead aren't I?
Why am I though?
I don't even realise I'm doing it most of the time.
I better go now before I say something ridiculous.