There's a scattering of leaves on the pavements and blackberries in my backyard and I think this is the longest time I haven't blogged for.
It's been almost a month. I've been on holiday for two weeks with my mum and my brother, a proper beach holiday, in Spain. My mum booked it ages ago, luckily before I was offered a job otherwise I wouldn't have been allowed to go (no holidays during the three months probation period, which coincidentally is up this week).
I never even finished blogging about Paris. It's too overwhelming to work backwards and write everything I've been meaning to blog about these past weeks, so I'll start by typing up something I scribbled down while on holiday. I might make notes on it too, as if I am the editor, commenting on my own thoughts as I write them down and read them back to myself at the same time, like a Mental.
Maybe I will develop split-personality disorder and my all-encompassing egotism will segment my identity into the writer, editor and reader of a make-believe magazine, a relatively new title called My Thoughts. I could even write in letters of warm praise and hatemail when moved to. Let's hope I don't.
Talking to mum about her sex life while we stood in the sea (ed/me: I really hope she never reads this), having the careful conversation a teenage daughter and her mum would have, only not exactly in the roles you would expect. I had nothing to contribute to the conversation, only the mysterious smile I have perfected, which I throw at my nana when she says ARE YOU COURTING? YOU WANT SOMEONE WHO'S KIND, A KIND FELLER. I CAN'T TELL YA THE LIFE I HAD WITH HIM. EY? SO ARE YA COURTING?
How to say I am all dried up? 25 and all dried up and finished? I have let my belly hair grow wild and free (ed: true), why not? My best option now is to work really hard and Concentrate On My Career so that one day I can afford to keep a young gentlemen.
I won't need him all the time, but when I do he'll bloody well be there. That's what I'll expect from all the holidays, new clothes and headshots I'll be shelling out for. Of course he'll be attracted to me as well (ed: keep telling yourself that sweetheart)- but the financial incentives mean I don't have to worry about him being unreliable. We have an arrangement. At least, that's what I'll yell at him one day from the shadows of my villa in Monaco.
Not at first. I'll try to be breezy, at first.
I'll swill my drink around, so the ice cubes clink together like a diamond in a loose setting (ed: nice simile, pal).
"Leaving already?" I'll ask.
It will be intended to sound casual but will come out grudgingly and accusatory. He'll reply, trying to placate me in the beginning and then fuck it, he's had enough now, he's told himself he can't do this any more. He can't quite believe it as he grabs his bag and walks away from-
"The best thing that ever happened to you!" I'll yell.
But he'll be gone and I'll be alone, with just his name hanging in the air for company, before it fades forever. (ed: my heart bleeds)
At least I don't have to worry about that for a few years yet. Talking of dating or NOT dating...
Before I left London I met B in Regent's Park after work and we lay in the sunshine, working out how to set me up a Tinder account on her iPhone. Eventually B cracked it and we had hours of fun, swiping yes to the right and no to the left. We started chatting to people we'd matched with and carried on all the way home on the bus. Suddenly it was time for B to get off the bus, taking her iPhone and my Tinder account with her.
"B, you'll stop chatting to boys now as me, won't you?"
"I might have a little play." she said.
And she did!
Bloody hell, I've gone on a bit. It goes on for pages and pages... mostly talking about how I was ill before I came on holiday. I'll tell you in a couple of sentences what I have somehow managed to stretch into hundreds in my notebook.
The night before I went to Spain, I was supposed to get the train to Manchester. Thirty minutes before I finished work, I felt really dizzy and my balance went funny. My vision was blurred and I got really confused. I tried to walk out into reception and couldn't walk in a straight line, then I fell over a bit. I started to panic because I was worried about getting the tube in rush hour with my big case.
The girl on reception and the office manager saw I was ill, sat me down and called the NHS helpline. Then someone tried to make me eat chocolate (in case I was low on sugar) and I had to scramble to the toilet to be sick.
They called a car to take me to the station but traffic was so bad and we almost didn't make it. The driver was overtaking everyone and getting yelled at by taxi drivers. He shouted back at a couple of them "She needs to be at the station for 6!"
I made my train and fell asleep straight away. When I woke up I felt better for about five minutes until the itching started. I've had it since my birthday and it's a mystery. Sometimes it wakes me up in the night and I can't sleep, it's like a burning sensation all over my body there's no rash, no redness, nothing.
Sometimes I'll wake up in the middle of the night and spend an hour looking on the internet, searching for 'itch with no rash pins and needles'. So far I've convinced myself I am diabetic or anemic and in the cold light of day, I'll think I'm probably having an allergic reaction to something I've eaten.
As for the dizzy sickness...
The day before I had my episode at work I'd eaten a piece of chocolate cake that was ten days old, so it could have been that.
On the bright side I am very tanned and I had a lovely holiday!
Oh and by the way- I deleted Tinder as soon as I got back from holiday. It is definitely not for me. I don't want to chat to people I don't know through weird messages. When people ask me 'how are you doing' and 'what are you up to' I really have no idea what to say.
These are the fundamentals of conversation and I just cannot be arsed with them. Roll on the villa in Monaco.