"Mmm"
15th September 2005, 10:28 pm

I've drank the good part of a bottle of wine, so forgive anything that sounds a little too drunken and rambling. Currently in Notts with the grandmother. Her driving is still as appalling as ever:

Me: *flinches as we nearly crash into another car*
My gran: Where the hell did he come from?
Me: He was there all the time, we nearly ran into him as you turned out.
My gran: There are some awful drivers about.
Me (non-commital): Mmm.

Then later...
My gran: He hasn't got his lights on!
Me (bored): No, no he hasn't.
My gran: *Starts flashing her headlights like a mad thing as the offending mini goes past*
Me: He's probably wondering what the hell you're doing.
My gran: There are some awful drivers about.
Me (non-commital): Mmm.

"Mmm" is my standard reply at the moment. It's very handy when my gran starts banging on about the total number of frogs currently living in her back garden, or how they've just built a load more student flats on Station Street (I KNOW, YOU POINT IT OUT EN ROUTE FROM THE TRAIN STATION EVERY GODDAMN TIME. PLUS, I DON'T CARE ANYWAY!) Bless her, she means well. I think she misses me.

We went out for a meal tonight, which was kick ass. The wine was very pleasant, and made me really quite sociable, so hopefully my gran won't bitch to my sister about me being all "introverted" when they next speak. The camp bed of doom still awaits me though.

Day... 4 of the hormone battle, and I'm continuing to fight bravely. Still haven't come on though, and if I wasn't so full of not caring I'd be worrying more that my uterus was faulty.

Lisa rang me from the airport this morning to say au revoir. It pleased me greatly, as I was a bit gutted when she said she couldn't ring me last night (due to the whole world coming round to say goodbye), as it meant that I wouldn't get to speak to her. She'll now be in Toulouse, probably asleep. I shall fly over and visit her as soon as I have enough money, and feel strong enough to handle the rude French civilians.

Okay, better go socialise with the grandmother some more. She is rather lovely, despite the incessant nagging and the forcing me to eat my cake off a real plate instead of a saucer. My explaination of "But it's still flat, it does the same job!" was answered with a dismissive "You're not living in a student house at the momemt." My reply of "Aww come on, I've eaten a sandwich out of a bowl before, it's fine!" was completely ignored. I don't think she was too impressed with my etiquette.

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