On the train today, a man walked by me carrying a box of Corn Flakes. They weren’t Kellogs, just Tescos’ own brand, but it seemed to sum up the past week; there’s probably a perfectly good explanation for it, but it’s both confusing and amusing at the same time. You see, like most people do at Christmas, I went home to spend it with my family, and, like most people, I grew increasingly bored until I was ill and tired, and I had to work the next day, and suddenly wished I hadn’t spent the whole week watching whatever was on Sky Plus and playing endless rounds of Wii Tennis (my score is 1145 now. Suck it Dad!).
Of course I enjoyed going home. I got proper food for the one week out of 52 in the year, I don’t have to worry about bills or money, or anything apart from making sure I don’t spark another argument about Life, the Universe and Everything with my brother. And I get to see my cats, who are hilariously at odds with one another, with the younger constantly pushing the older one into lashing out, then springing away and doing whatever passes for cat laughing. But without a PC, the time that usually passes all too quickly when I’m at Uni starts to drag, and by the time I’m on my fourth film of the day I know something’s up. Hell, I even ended up watching Spiderman 3. Yuck.
So I’ve returned, with a ludicrously heavy bag filled with coffee and food (the usuals) and a load of books, dvds and a drawing tablet (the unusuals) to a cold house, an empty fridge and a bin full of rubbish that I was too lazy to empty before I left. Of course it’s colder now, so the trip to the bins was that much more annoying, but whatever. The point is I’ve got my magic box of internet and chat programs back, and my keyboard. It’s lovely, and black, and sleek, and musical. Oh, pretty words, how I’ve missed regurgatating you onto a page.
I’m a little bit ill, which I’m sure the large jar of JellyBeans to my right isn’t helping at all, but darnit if they aren’t a little bit addictive. I think it’s the sugar or something. I like the blue ones, but not the black, and whoever thought that cinnamon was a good idea for a flavour was a bloody idiot. And the snot ones are disgusting.