And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you
30.06.08, 9:09 pm

Have just made a weird mashed potato concoction with cheese, sweetcorn and chorizo, and am now sat eating it and pretending that it�s a real meal. I�m also sat watching Andy Murray screaming COME ON at the sky. Haven�t made Mashed Potato Surprise since I was a student. I think I�m subconsciously pining for the old days, when life was simple and revolved around revising, drinking and moaning about gas bills.

Life is less fraught with hideousness since I last wrote, not least because I�m knobbing off on holiday on Wednesday for ten days and leaving the world of work far behind. Feel a bit uncomfortable splurging my work problems onto the Internet, but there�s basically been a big kerfuffle and Indie�s been off work with stress for two weeks as a consequence. I�ve had endless meetings about it all and am completely sick of the office politics. However, Indie�s back tomorrow and she�ll hopefully not quit work early as she threatened too, and stuff will hopefully be properly resolved. The work stress has completely exhausted me though, and has made me painfully aware that I need work to be as stress-free as possible else I just collapse and die.

Anyway, onto more fun things. Last Monday Indie and I went on a jaunt to Sutton-on-Sea, which was not as straightforward as planned as the sat-nav had a freak-out when we hit a new road and proceeded to take us in a big rambling circle. Despite this the drive was excellent, not least because we sang along to Frank Sinatra�s Greatest Hits the whole way. Once we finally made it we walked six miles along the sea front, paddled in the sea for approximately 14 seconds (jellyfish and Dawn�s phobia of the sea drove us back out) and ate ice-cream. Frankly, compared to work it was frickin� amazing.

Spent Friday night in Endcliffe Park playing an inter-floor rounders tournament in the rain. I was pretty damn soggy by the end. Incredibly, given our complete lack of rounders talent, we made it to the final, and the whole thing finished as a draw. We all bought a load of food and alcohol from Tesco beforehand, and I suddenly felt 15 again when a couple of CPOs wandered past and everyone promptly hid their alcohol under carrier bags and tried to look innocent. Ate too many sausage rolls and Walkers Sensations, and drank enough Diet Coke to sink a ship. On the crappy, irritating side, I only managed two games before feeling tired and shitty, and had to swap with someone and watch the other games. I then woke up on Saturday morning and could hardly move, as I had somehow managed to rip every major muscle group to shreds. I guess that�s just the nature of the beast. Did mean that I did literally nothing all weekend though, as I couldn�t really walk, and spent most of my time lying on the sofa watching Wimbledon.

My dad rang at the weekend and asked if he could throw away my Peter Rabbit plates. I told him that he definitely could not.

Dad: So do you want to take them?
Me: Not really.
Dad: So what should I do with them?
Me: Keep them in your house indefinitely.
Dad: What, forever?
Me: Yes. They are my childhood. YOU CAN�T THROW AWAY MY CHILDHOOD.

Anyway, I�m off to Paris on Wednesday on the Eurostar. The boy has told me, very patronisingly, not to forget my passport. I�ve spent the evening doing endless washing, and am now watching the fifth set of the Murray match. Ooh, he�s just broken Frenchie too. Right, I shall go watch this properly now. I�m back on the 15th.

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