Well, actually, I don’t have a clue where I’m going, or who’s going with me, who I love or not is a little irrelevent, and nor do I have a clue who I’ll marry, so the old song is a not terribly pertinent, but very pretty if you know it. Sadly I can’t remember what it’s called but it’s an Irish folk song and rather wonderful.
Anyway. Tonight I am going to a party in the middle of nowhere, a beautiful house, all rambling gables and tree-surrounded leafy huge garden, and then leaving terribly early having not drunk a drop and having also done some fire poi. I am then going home on the train and will be arriving home horribly late – take a book and hold on tight to your bag, think I. Then tomorrow I am ringing my tutor to Discuss My Options, and possibly then going up to Uni Town to Discuss My Options Further.
I was rather looking forward to my last few days at home, sadly – I would have passed all those exams and, stress-free, would have spent the time with P and his friends relaxing, there would have been a reasonable amount of beer and pubbing and sunshine and autumn and things. I was going to have a fire evening, it was going to be beautiful. Then I was hoping to go and say with P in P’s Uni Town Elsewhere which would have been wonderful – several long days together with no responsibilities and no reason to get up or go to bed early or late or anything, a chance to experience a whole new city, and a lot of fun, really, before going back to my Uni Town for the new year; now it half looks like I’ll be in Uni Town or Home Town and I’ll have a million things to sort out and it’s all going to be rather stressful. It’s not that I don’t deserve it, I do, entirely, I’ll admit that. I was ill, yes, but I’m also lazy and arrogant.
Right now I just want to curl up in P’s arms and forget about all of this just for a little while.