I need to pack for Ibiza- I'm going to Liverpool this afternoon and flying from John Lennon Airport on Saturday. Tonight I'm staying with Amy, then tomorrow I'm seeing my friend Anna who had a baby a few months ago (she got a bit annoyed on Facebook because I referred to the baby as 'it', I do love babies but I see them more as little animals than little people) and on Friday night I'm seeing my dad and my nana.
I feel really mean only going to my dad's house for one night, but I really didn't want to spend too much time away from my mum. Also my dad's house is a mad house. About a week ago, my oldest half-brother, who is nine, was trying to hold his breath until he fainted and he succeeded, knocking his two front teeth out on the way down.
Last time I stayed over I was really shocked- all the kids stayed up until midnight, even though it was a school night, and my dad and his girlfriend got drunk off cheap cider. Jeremy Kyle, here we come.
Shitting hell. I need to pack. I haven't even started yet and I need to get the train about half two.
Mez hasn't payed my resto wages into my bank yet, she messaged me to say she'll pay them in today though, so fingers crossed. If the cheque doesn't clear by Friday night I'm not going to Ibiza. Also, I'm assuming my French bank card will work in Ibiza, but if it doesn't...
I feel a bit stressed out. I have also received some letters from a Debt Collector's company about some stupid internet thing from when I was in university. They want me to pay them £175 apparently. How did they get this address? I vaguely know what they are talking about, I think we left the flat before the 12 month contract was up and it was getting difficult to get the money off everyone I lived with over the summer, so I just stopped paying it.
Fuck. Fuck. Calm. Calm.
The good news is, Mez has my cheque. All she needs to do is put it in my bank and in France, cheques can take one day to clear.
The bad news is that in the meantime, I have eight pounds to get me to Liverpool and buy sun cream and velcro rollers for Ibiza. Yes, I can confirm that Hilda Ogden will be making an appearance in the White Isle this summer.
My mum is sitting in bed, reading.
Surely she can lend me twenty quid until I get paid? Or thirty? Let's say forty?
I'm going to make her a cup of tea and then as I put the cup down besides her I'll put on my sweetest smile and then I'll fall to my knees and beg her.
I don't think I'll get another chance to blog before I go to Ibiza so goodbye, have a lovely week and pray that my cheque clears in time!!