The Parting Glass

I’m not ready to go. Mum and Dad are arriving at ten-ish tomorrow, and I’m just not ready. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m escaping from a shithole that has sapped my creativity and half killed my social life, and I’m dancing a fucking jig about it. Literally. Well, I was a few minutes ago, as Flogging Molly sing on the stereo. But I’m not packed. I don’t have enough boxes to pack all my gear in, so Mum and Dad are bringing more with tomorrow. I’ve done the washing up, I’ve put as much as I can in boxes, and there’s really not a lot left to do except wait for tomorrow, and the inevitable fight to get everything in the van. Wish me luck.

And now, some timewasting, I think. I’ll lift a whiskey to getting the fuck out of here, and then I think it’s time to abuse this broadband connection I’ve paid for and hardly used. I’ve never really done much in the way of on-line gaming, so I think I’ll see if this Dungeon Siege thing works on-line…

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