A Belly Full of Words

So we went to Sainsbury’s cos G had something like 9000 nectar card points; which equalled about £50 worth of free food shopping so yaaaaay big food shop time.

Date night.

Quite frankly, it could have turned into a big grumpy mess because it was a Thursday evening and I’d been stuck in an unbearably hot meeting room all day and was in an all tired and PLEASE HOLD ME kinda mood by the time I got back to the flat.

You don’t need to go to the other side of the world to experience that ‘getting away’ feeling that’s so good for the soul.

It always amazes me how incredible this little island that we call the UK is. It’s so easy to be dismissive of the country you are born in, tossing it aside for the other wonders of the world, not really considering that you’re living right on top of a wonder. We all need to start paying attention. Who needs to pay all the money and use up tons of annual leave when there’s so much of the UK to be explored, all within a weekend?

This trip emerged out of one of those nights where you get so comfy in a pub, that it looks like you’re probs gonna move in and never stop drinking that glass of wine. You know the sort. Where you put the world to rights, get progressively drunker and finish off with the hideous realisation that you have somehow got to get yourself home with that unnerving feeling that you may have forgotten how to use your legs. Our trip to Canterbury was one of those ideas that emerged as you start inhaling wine from the bottle; one of those ideas where you’re so convinced it’s going to happen, you dramatically declare that you’re putting it in your diary, only to have forgotten about it by morning.

Cept this time, we didn’t forget about it. We booked it. Look at us adulting.

Things have been quiet over at this little corner of the internet for the past couple of months. Which is basically because my world exploded a little bit. That’s a metaphor for everything going a bit mad by the way; my house didn’t tragically blow up. Although there was an incident with a gas leak... but that’s a story for another day.

So where to start?

Well, I suppose we could start way back in September 2013 when I moved away from my beautiful city of Bath and back into my childhood bedroom. For a year max. That’s what I said (lol).

Or at the beginning of 2015 in mid-January, a dark, wet and cold night; I went and met a guy I worked with for a drink. And he’s still here (in my life, not the pub). I don’t think he’s leaving.

Or at some time towards the end of last year when I decided I needed to find a new job. Mainly because my wage packet wasn’t correlating with my life plans.

Yeah, let’s start there.

My mum has just raised the topic of Rolos. I've already forgotten how or why.

Do they still make Rolos? Used to be Kate's favourite when she was 3. 

Oh so that explains the addiction. I blame the person who was feeding them to me when I was 3.

Sorry. I'd banned such things by the time your sister was born but you and I bonded over chocolate buttons. 

You see, this is why my sister is vegan and I can't stop eating puddings.

I thought it was okay as long as you were happy... you liked cake... 

And Rolos...

Broccoli made you cry... 

Still does.

Remember I said I couldn't stop eating Rolos? Yeah, well, now we know who is to blame.