bind

There was a bloody tarmac mixer outside my house last night. Making the most godawful racket. Was it running on a fucken genny?

Christ.

As a result: I am flippen cranky. Two days ago, I was prancing about in heels, an orange tan, skirts. And was feeling the love in a big way.

And now – another cold snap, the tan is now a light peach, the coat is back on, and despite a solid effort of pistachio and water quaffing, my love handles are still saying hi to random strangers that walk past.

Fuck. Let me just say that I am not feeling the love at the moment.

Say you find someone a little bit attractive. Just in passing, and you think ‘oooh, hang on a sec….’ Then suddenly something happens, things seem a little off, and you’re suddenly repelled by the whole idea? You wake up, and in the flick of a switch, you think, ‘Oh dear God, no.’

You feel a bit ill, and wonder how on Earth you ever found them endearing? And how blatantly you feel opposite, literally overnight?

In the same grain – and it’s happening to me simultaneously – you start finding someone else unbelievably smoking.
You’ve always found them smoking, maybe.

You find all their jokes funny and you start dreamily thinking of them starkers/doing bad things with you/what heels you’ll be wearing when you next see them.

I’m not even talking about Richard Hammond, although it has to be said, he isn’t exempt from my thoughts. [Are you insane?]

Both feelings are equally as torturous. One makes you want to vomit, the other makes you want to fly.

I feel like I’m flying and vomiting at the same time.
Reminds me of a particularly hair-raising flight I had on Kulula once. Not to mention wreaking havoc with the emotions.

’m not looking forward to Mozambique. Not yet. I’m not looking forward to summer, I’m not looking forward to my birthday next month, I’m looking forward to my next real travelling adventure. Need to escape.

Two months until I go to Ireland. Oh hail ye leprechaunic Guinness-swilling hot man-things. It’s for work, but it’s going to be fun. I’m also deciding on where I should pop over while on the trip – I have to fly via somewhere.

Maybe Spain for a few days?
Maybe London for a few days?
Maybe Provence and Paris for a few days?

It’s time to start another tapeworm, adhered to my wall with segments that fall off, as each day passes by.

Sigh. I’m really in a bit of bind at the moment.