Like A Summer Rose It Needs The Sun And Rain

I seem to be returning, like a fool to his folly, or whatever the quote is, to the infamous diary-style blogging. Old school. To the max. No diggity. No doubt.

I have been left on my own for a week or so. Both of my flatmates are separately winging their ways to seperate Mediterranean islands for holidays. This is a popular week for holidays. I know there are several people at work who have decided that now is the ideal time to go away – and just when the weather seems to be getting better.

I won’t be joining this people. My holiday will be taking place towards the end of August and therefore I have the place to myself until their returns.

Also, I’m not going to an island. Unless something unexpected comes up.

So what shall I do, with this time I have on my own?

Well, in a rather boring confession, I’m planning to use the time to do a little sorting and tidying. I’ve already found a nice pen that I thought that I’d lost. Like I said, not very exciting.

When I was younger and my parents went away, I’d gleefully run around the house shouting, and then settle down and do whatever it was that I would normally have been doing given the situation, time etc. There’s only so many times you can piss with the bathroom door open before it becomes boring.

Likewise leaving socks lying around everywhere.

Also I can no longer have the delightful possibility that someone, consumed by boredom, decided to do the washing up. Never mind.

There is beer in the fridge and there’s some eggs that need to be eaten. Disturbingly there is a also a mini-pork pie, which I intend to present to a complete stranger at some point this week. Or I might throw it out of the window and see what happens.

Just as long as I don’t start pole dancing in relation to the title of this post a la Kate Moss I should be okay.