I'm no Judith Chalmers, but at least I try

Ahoy there. I’m terribly flustered. I’ve also not written anything on here in quite some time. I apologise most profusely, but this blog isn’t really going anywhere. You know this. I know this. Brian Blessed knows this.

Aaanyway, here’s the LOWDOWN:

The rail networks have made a considerable amount of money from me.

I went to Derbyshire for a short while and sat in a cave. It was nice but my cat’s halitosis is getting out of hand. She opened her mouth and everything good in the world died.

I then spent a few days camped alongside a stretch of Welsh sand. It appears I took much of it home with me, stashed away in various orifices. I’d always wanted an exfoliated cervix.

I returned from the beach with a gammy eye and a frazzled red triangle for a nose which people no doubt attributed to a grog addiction. There was just about enough time to don my prole attire before I headed out to London to seek my fame and fortune.

London is a ridiculous place. For London folk, cufflinks are a genuine shirt accessory and not a pointless coming-of-age gift. You learn to love the protective film of filth that accumulates throughout the day. Everyone knows someone famous. You gladly pay eight pounds to enter what is essentially a pub that plays music at an increased volume. Mojitos are a real drink.

I’m now in Cardiff for the last week EVER. I’m tired of living out of rucksacks and gallivanting around here, there and nowhere. I’m a filthy nomad and leave a trail of pants, make-up and despair wherever I go. It’s time to establish some sort of base camp. For practical reasons, this’ll have to be where I grew up: the charming Derbyshire town of Ashbourne.

In Ashbourne, the only thing that punctuates the whistling of the tumbleweed blowing through the empty streets is the sound of locals sharpening their pitchforks. Perhaps I’ll go mad and end my days weaving baskets out of spaniel hair or something. I’m quite frightened that I’ll never leave.

That’s the news so far. To summarise: I’ve avoided reality for long enough and now it’s time to stop being a twat and do something worthwhile.

My life is curiously devoid of socks.

Goodbye. x