So it’s 6.30am. My flight arrived at 3am and dearest BFF Datchel came and bloody picked me up from the airport like a pro. He had also filled my fridge with breakfast, lunch and dinner AND bought me a fan cos, you know, it’s like 40 degrees and shit. Anyway, I can’t sleep so I’m drinking expensive whisky out of a teacup and thought I’d crap on to you.
Low: Leaving Scotland. Saddest I’ve been in a Very very Long Time
High: Being told I had been upgraded, upgraded, from peasant class to Business then to First Class. Like a MOFO
Low: First Class on the shorter flight being less impressive than Business on the second
High: Drinking Veuve, Moet and Dom Perignon. A Lot.
Low: Australians no longer allowed to buy cigarettes duty free
High: I’m practically a part-time smoker now so I don’t give a fuck.
Low: Coming home to bills, bills and bills
High: Coming home to a gloriously tidy flat (thanks Yewie) and food and wine and flowers (thanks Dan) and also a terribly grateful and massively sookie cat who is giving me love.
Low: I can’t sleep. I need sleep. I think. And it’s far too hot. And I can’t wear my fur coat or my mittens.
High: No work for seven days. Pleasant.
Anyway, sod it. I’m making myself a bacon sandwich and a cup of glorious tea and maybe another whisky and there is Nothing At All you can say about it. So there. I may also have a valium. Cos that might work. Yes?