my stuff
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another day another hangover
What a morning.
I woke up to a cold and a sore throat and a hangover and a sincerely shite amount of sleep under my belt. For some reason, when I'm late for my work my priorities go all over the shop and instead of running around putting on clothes or stuffing the things I need for the day into my bag, I run around putting nice photos on my notice board and trying on dresses that I wore to weddings 2 years ago to see how much girth I've put on in that time (note to self: A LOT, stop eating and drinking so much).
This morning, I decided that better than getting to work on time, I needed to tape some CDs to take on holiday. Yes you heard me, tape. As in casette tapes. I am the proud owner of a circa 1993 Sony Personal Stereo (with automatic turnover function - woooo!) and I'm not scared to use it. I like tapes, I like the clunk click of them, I like the fact that people on the beach stare at me in wonder as I stop, rewind, stop, play, listen for a bit, stop, fast foward, stop, play (etc. etc. etc) till I get to the song I want to hear AND there's something so lovely about compilation tapes.
Remember sitting in your bedroom for hours making up a compilation tape for the person you fancied or your best mate in London? Oh the days of sifting through magazines, cutting out pictures to stick on the box and agonising over how much time is actually left on side A - is there enough for one whole song or is it just enough for a silly short one? Oh the gamble of compilation tape life.
And then meticulously writing out all the song title and band names in really neat writing - "Bugger, I didn't get that whole song title on the same line, will it make a difference? What will X think of my handwriting? Is it sexy? Will it make X fall madly in love with me during double English? Oh fuck I've smudged it, now I'm going to look like a total twat and X will know I'm shite at kissing". Ah yes. The good old days.
Went off on one there. Tra laa laaaa.
So. Yes. Tomorrow I'm nipping off to Thailand. I am almost organised. I have 6 books carefully selected and a rucksack full of clothes that I'd never be seen dead in here (3/4 length white trousers anyone?) oh and of course my gorgeous sun hat that makes me look like the posh woman that lived next door to the sexy woman in 'The Good Life'.
We leave wet, cold, rainy Edinburgh at 9am and head through to Glasvegas for our flight at 1pm. It's a nice time of day to go on holiday, there's a sense of sheer smugery sat on the bus or train with the workers of the world. Oh ha ha ha - can you see my big dirty rucksack? Yes - I'm going on holiday? What's that you say - want to punch me in the teeth? Don't blame you a bit mate. Ho Ho Ho'.
Right. I'm totally wittering now. I'm going to go and do some work (see? was late for work, got in, put my computer on, went for a coffee, came back, typed up this. Anybody would think I actually didn't have that much to do!) and try to get wrapped up here at normal o'clock so I can go home and sort out some more music for my 2 1/2 week beach life.
I might update while I'm away. Most likely though, I won't and in case I don't - here's what I would have updated with:
Oh ya beezer it's really hot. So hot that I had to come into this air conditioned room and spend some time online.
Ah - why ruin it? I'll maybe surprise you.
Off I go.....Cheerio!
10:20 am - 27 February 2007
