Sunday, June 12, 2005

Er, waiter? Where's the side-order of panic and terror at the concept of going on holiday out of the country? Aah, here it comes...

SHITTING FUCK! WHAT THE CHRIST AM I DOING!!

That's much better. Actually, I'm only at the lightly terrified stage of things, it's sort of the negative version of the anticipation you get as a child on the day before Christmas Eve, when at around 2:00 in the afternoon you think to yourself 'but tomorrow's not even Christmas Day! That's years away!'. There had been a plan at some point for me to come down to my parents yesterday and I'm glad I didn't, much as I love them dearly I needed to be in my flat until the last reasonable moment in order to avoid The Fear as long as possible.

So today I trained, bused, then trained again down to my parents (doncha just love weekend train track maintenance?). We leave at midday tomorrow to go by Taxi to Ashford to join the Eurostar. We then go somewhere, change trains, go somewhere else, stay the night, then get the train down to somewhere in Austria.

Oh sod off, I'll explain it better in retrospect when I'm back.

I think I puzzled my Dad when I explained that as far as my mind is concerned, the only thing that qualifies is when I spend the time alone in my flat, so in that sense my holiday begins when Dad takes me home Friday week. Until then I will be at varying levels of tension. This is very much a working holiday, of a kind, for me.

See you later then, but until then, go to this page from Tranniefesto, go down the page to 'Just for Fun' and enjoy the 'Orbital Versus the Latest Season' Doctor Who workout.

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