I was lying awake last night thinking about time, and I realised that I go to Norway in one week (yay!) and that I turn twenty in eight weeks. How is this possible? I don’t feel remotely twenty. I feel more like 15. I don’t think it helps that since I got back here I have not met or spoken to anyone under the age of 40, and mostly they were over 60.
Last night we went to a whist drive. Mum and John go quite regularly but this was the first time I’d gone and I really wasn’t sure I wanted to. It wasn’t too bad but as I’d expected everyone except myself and my mum was grey-haired and most of them spoke in Welsh, and they all played very well and very fast and I felt a bit out of place. I did win a Christmas pudding in the raffle, though.
I was planning on going into town today but I didn’t wake up until 11 and the buses go at 10.30 and 3.30 so maybe I’ll just go tomorrow. I will spend today making plans for what I’m going to do in London! I want to see a film and a play and eat chips and eat pizza and eat Subway sandwiches and Burger King and I want to walk down Bond Street and visit Notting Hill and go on a river boat cruise and skate and basically I won’t actually have time to do all of these things so I’ll have to go to London again soon 🙂 It seems mad that it’s as cheap and easy to get to London to do these things as it is to get to Shrewsbury.
There is something in the attic above me which is buzzing miserably. It might be a wasps’ nest, which is why I am not opening the attic hatch and trying to let it out.