Surviving...just

I am at present sitting in my brother’s Paris flat with some strange people from the reception giving it a check before he leaves. Unfortunately for me I cannot understand what they are saying, but from their tone of voice I assume they are diagnosing someone with a terminal illness (“It is very sad” the man says, “He only has five months left.” “Oui, the parasite will chew through his brain, and then his face will finally implode on itself,” replied the other receptionist.). But for now I will go back to where I left off last time, and explain how it happened for me to be in Paris, and the hullaballuhas that led to this.

The Marchwood Village fete was very entertaining, despite the fact that someone said something very derogatory about my state of mind, owing to my attire. There are photos of me dressed up as a monk on facebook, so if you are my friend on there you may view them and then laugh at the hilarity of it all. When we dressed the shop for the Harry Potter day, we also dressed up as the Weasley twins; which was equally embarrassing, though the small children seemed to find us amusing. Evidence of this may be found also on facebook.

I have had some temporary jobs, which has mostly been packing the newspaper supplements into the Hampshire Chronicle and the Basingstoke Gazette. It isn’t bad, but it is mind-numbing and tiring, when standing up for six hours. It was not as bad as the washing up I had top do at the Dibden Golf-course. The other people there may have assumed I was a mute, but anyone who knows me well could easily explode that theory.

My parents went away for two weeks leaving the house to us. We did not have any wild parties that were posted on MySpace, causing the all the delinquent youth of the surrounding country to descend on our small New-Forest cottage. We did have some friends round and we also had a picnic. The picnic was a very pleasant, I baked some scones (which one irksome and persistent pony seemed to enjoy).

Then we went camping at Soul Survivor (a youth Christian camp). The weather was wet, the ground was muddy and the wind was cold, but I really enjoyed it. My spiritual life was definitely deepened and it its well worth going to (this year was my fifth time of going).

I will finish the journey to Paris when (and if) my brother stops nagging me. He was saying that I have been hogging the computer, while I distinctly remember cleaning his toilet while he was on MSN. Mmmm… someone’s story doesn’t add up. But I am a forgiving brother, which is lucky for him, seeing as I’m cooking his dinner tonight.