I can't believe I'm going back to England again tomorrow- I don't feel ready at all. There were so many things I had to do this half term- write my personal statement, start my applications for drama school, find material for my English classes and plan a whole term's worth of work...
It's not like I went out a lot either- once again I arrived in England penniless and had to spend most of the week on my mum's couch, drinking tea and watching reruns of Come Dine With Me. I don't understand what happened- I planned on saving up loads of euros, so I could pay my mum back the money I owe her for the flights, visit my friends and family in Liverpool and buy myself some English treats to take back to Paris...
By the time I stepped off the plane at Manchester airport, I had fifty euros for the entire week, which shrank into a measly thirty five when I changed it into pounds.
The money I earn is Paris is like Fairy Gold- I seem to have a lot of it to spend on champagne and croissants when I'm here, but as soon as I try and leave France it crumbles to nothing in my purse. When I opened my purse at the bank, I swear there was actually a layer of glittery dust at the bottom of it.
Maybe France is my Fairyland: I spend my days playing make-believe games; the gold I earn looks like Monopoly money and disappears as soon as you look away; and the streets are lined with gold-dusted chocolate tarts...
They say you're not supposed to eat the Fairy Food or you'll have to stay forever.
But this time I am DEFINITELY moving back to England. I know I say that every year but this year it's different, because I have The Plan. The drama school thing might not work out, but it's better to try, don't you think? How can you live your life not knowing? I don't want to get to sixty and be miserable because I always wanted to try drama school and I never even tried. At least if I audition and I don't get in- I'll Know.
My mum seemed quite supportive at first, when I told her The Plan, but then she took me for a long walk in the rain and started asking me what I expected to happen after drama school.
"You like going to Ibiza, don't you? You like nice make-up, don't you? It's not fun, you know, when you can't pay the gas bill and you have to ring up and ask them if you can pay a little bit this month and another little bit next month."
My mum is obsessed with me not being able to pay the gas bill, she brings it up every time we talk about The Future. I'm not an idiot, I know what happens when you don't pay the gas bill- one year at uni I lived in a hideous slug cave in the grimiest part of Liverpool and our gas was on the meter and we never topped it up, so we were very cold a lot of the time and we couldn't use the gas stove and we had to boil the kettle to run a bath...
Of course it wasn't fun and I will try really hard to avoid such a dire financial situation, but must this be at the expense of doing what I really want to do?
It's fucking terrifying. What if I make a decision now that I live to regret? Shall I try and get a sensible job, or shall I go to drama school (if I get in, of course) and get into more debt? I think that training somewhere like RADA or Guildhall will open up a world of opportunities. I want the credentials, as well as the experience.
What am I more afraid of? Not having the experiences I want in life, or not having the security?
What if I get a job that I don't really like, buy a flat somewhere crap, and then get run over by a bus?
The truth is I do live in Fairyland sometimes...
I was going to add a 'but' but I can't think of one.