I've just finished reading dear friend J's blog, and I must say I heartily agree with her on the subject of holidays. We all desperately need one. This morning was the fifth consecutive morning that I've been woken by my alarm at 6:30 am, only to hurl it across my bedroom and fall back to sleep for another blissful thirty minutes. It's all to waste really, as it leaves me about fifteen minutes to stagger about the house trying to remember where I put the bloody umbrella. Because of course, this is England darling, and we need rain to make tea, and to grow our daffodils.
My parents have taken to suffocating me recently. They seem to think that me lying and skipping the odd rolling study or maybe having a smoke in the kiddies park is abnormal behavior. To be perfectly honest, I only lie to them to protect them. if they knew what larks I actually got up to they may disown me. Which in itself could be a blessing in disguise, on the other foot, I only have ten quid in my bank, so being kicked out isn't ideal.
And they completely overreacted to me not going to RSP. My stepmother got so wound up I had to slip her a sedative in the form of my fist.
No, don't be ridiculous.
I have no idea what I'm going to tell them about this weekend. The plan is that me, J and L all swan off to a friends house, who happens to have his house free of parents. The fact that the friend is male is not a good start.
Last time I lied about my whereabouts, my Dad caught me straight away. I don't like lying to him, I actually like my Dad, he's an alright bloke. I just wish he'd give me a bit of leash sometimes.
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