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Aug. 27th, 2015 07:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolAbout two weeks ago I started having terrible anxiety dreams about having to move out of London. Awful. I kept waking up really cross and nervous and freaking out about having to leave the life I've built for myself.
I realised last week it was the prospect of going back to Ormskirk for the weekend. Ah well.
The good thing is that I survived, as did Richie, and Megan's party went well. It was in what can only be described as a Proper Grim pub, the kind with carpet on the dancefloor. I accidentally ate meat ("The quiche is vegetarian!" *bites down on quiche* "Except the quiche Lorraine"), drank lots of really cheap drinks and at one point danced to Shake It Off with my Dad. I didn't dance with Dad at my own wedding, for goodness sake. But it was ace.
I woke up the next morning having a PROPER FREAK OUT because I had no memory apart from leaving the pub but vividly remembered not being that drunk. Turns out my future brother in law shut a door on my head. Still, Drunk And Or Concussed Colleen was kind to Morning Colleen, as I took off all my make up, sorted out my hair, and neatly sorted my clothes. Apparently I went home, drank two pints of water and quietly went to bed. It's all good.
But yes, I don't want to move back to the north, not for now. It's not that I don't miss people up there. And I recognise that London is dirty, and it's always busy, and the only way I'll be able to afford a house is by becoming a high class hooker, and it takes me forever to get to work. But I love the pace, and the food, and the people. I like my job, and my flat, and my life. So, yeah. Anxiety dreams.
I realised last week it was the prospect of going back to Ormskirk for the weekend. Ah well.
The good thing is that I survived, as did Richie, and Megan's party went well. It was in what can only be described as a Proper Grim pub, the kind with carpet on the dancefloor. I accidentally ate meat ("The quiche is vegetarian!" *bites down on quiche* "Except the quiche Lorraine"), drank lots of really cheap drinks and at one point danced to Shake It Off with my Dad. I didn't dance with Dad at my own wedding, for goodness sake. But it was ace.
I woke up the next morning having a PROPER FREAK OUT because I had no memory apart from leaving the pub but vividly remembered not being that drunk. Turns out my future brother in law shut a door on my head. Still, Drunk And Or Concussed Colleen was kind to Morning Colleen, as I took off all my make up, sorted out my hair, and neatly sorted my clothes. Apparently I went home, drank two pints of water and quietly went to bed. It's all good.
But yes, I don't want to move back to the north, not for now. It's not that I don't miss people up there. And I recognise that London is dirty, and it's always busy, and the only way I'll be able to afford a house is by becoming a high class hooker, and it takes me forever to get to work. But I love the pace, and the food, and the people. I like my job, and my flat, and my life. So, yeah. Anxiety dreams.
