hathycol: (sad romana)
[personal profile] hathycol
I am in Ormskirk. I am extremely incommunicado because my phone is less on the blink and more in a semi-persistent vegetative state and because I still haven't got my laptop hooked up yet. I intendd too today, except no one is in and I'm a bit afraid of the internet so I want to make someone else do it.

So, you know, I'm currently hacked into my father's computer account instead. That is fine.

I have cleared out my room, and later on I have to go to the charity shop. BUSY BUSY. My room is still about full to burst. As is the spare room. Dude, why do I have so much stuff?

Er, things are pretty awful here. They generally are, but because there are some things you don't talk about on the phone, apparently, they are a lot more awful than first surmised. AND HEY because you are my flist I HAVE NO ISSUE REVEALING ALL THIS.



So, firstly, let's start with Megan. She is a pain in the arse as per usual. She has broken up with her boyfriend, Mark, who has started an entertaining game of harrassment, including turning up at the front door and slashing at himself, phoning her up at 3am telling her he's about to kill himself, hacking into her accounts on the internet and other exciting things. I spent much of last night trying to phone the police, which Mum barely stopped me from doing, and then she spent much of the night pleading with me not to tell Dad. Dad, as I have said many times before, is a soft-hearted bloke but he has three fairly large blind-spots, and they consist of me, Megan and my mother. He would - and, to be honest, in my mind not undeservedly - probably beat the shit out of Mark. Because Mark is not yet sixteen, this is more illegal than it might otherwise be, so the plan is to not tell him everything.

Of course, Megan does not make life easier in all of this because she is, er, 17 years old and causing significant problems because of this. She is so ungrateful it frightens me slightly.

It probably doesn't help that Mum is, er, ill. She has a slightly suspicious lump that she has kept quiet about for three months (great thinking from the nurse, there) and finally went to the doctors for about two weeks ago. It is not serious - apparently it is a fermoral hernia or so they are 99% convinced - but she is still freaking out, which makes everything ten times more awkward than usual.

Er. Buggar.

Oh, and Megan's started smoking so I consistently smell like an ash-tray. FUN, THIS.

I should talk more about the excitingness that was my last few days at university, really, but I'm very bad at writing stuff down significantly later than the event. I thought Pirates of the Caribbean was absolutely rubbish, basically, and er, yeah, that's about it. Oh! And frozen margharitas are possibly the greatest things in the history of ever.

Um... what else? Okay, Colleen, let's be positive!

TV is great. Extreme Makeover: Home Edition marathons are possibly the most enjoyable things in the world. Dog is great. Food is free. Job interview on Thursday, to be a carer in a nursing home. OH I AM GOING UP THE LADDER. They're local and sounded desperate, so I'm hoping that they might be willing to take me on for the summer. Going to Cambridge in ten days. Megan is, at least, rarely in. Human Nature was ABSOLUTELY AWESOME.

There are straighteners here? That's positive, right?

... I am so not doing this again next summer. It's only been four days, dammit!
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hathycol

December 2016

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