Out on Friday night with some of our ‘new’ friends (and made some more as it happens, it was that kinda night).
Pondered buying a guitar (acoustic, I can’t play).
Saturday. A flight to London, the company of two very very lovely ladies, a cheeky wee night out, bed as the sun came up.
Sunday. A flight to Glasgow after navigating through several thousands of sodden people, bedecked in various ranges of Union Jack. Something to do with that old bird with the funny shiny hat thing…
Monday. An afternoon/evening/night with friends. The usual chats, and some of that honesty stuff I’ve talked about here before. Felt good and of course as they are my friends, they were very cool with it (and possibly want to know more).
Tuesday. Waking up happy. Then tired, and a little hungover grumpy. Parents returned from holiday and I pottered around my flat making more mess than I intended (I was trying to tidy up but got caught in ‘reorganise everything!’ mode).
Of course that’s not really what happened, but all that detail, the conversations, the revelations and realisations, the laughter and tears, the hugs, the smiles, the nerves, all of that is left in private.