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Checking in again. IT's still really weird, only this time I feel more unbalanced than anything else: everything's a bit skew-whiff and feels wrong. I think I may have become a Londoner completely - the paper here seems a bit too right and jocular (!) and I miss The Guardian. Which, given the level of subbing and Burchill, is a fairly strange thing. Everyone seems a bit weird here, and I've sunk back into that parent-child relationship which I had dreaded. I've seen none of my friends yet - probably their scheduling stuff, I guess - and am feeling more and more glum and weepy about not being able to see certain people in the UK. You're all being lovely, though, which is reassuring and very helpful. I need to do something about my head, though - I feel a big eggshelly at the moment, and it's Not Good.
I'm sorry to whinge, I really am. I just wanted to tell someone, y'know? It's Sunday afternoon and my parents are out at an antiques fair. My brother's at work and the idiot dog is downstairs. And I can't get myself to shut up. |
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