There's No Place Like Home

It's been a while since I last wrote a post. I've been slowly sinking in a pool of despair and MLA referencing, but I'm officially half-way through my dissertation and the end is finally in sight. I'd planned out the entire month of April to ensure I had half a hope of retaining what was left of my sanity. The plan was to spend the first two weeks at my desk until I had at least a solid first draft, to go back home to Wales the next week and force everyone to proof read it, and then spend the last week sleeping soundly, minus the looming prospect of antebellum-themed nightmares.

I made it to the 3rd of April before I abandoned that plan entirely and booked a train ticket home.

I decided to be very sneaky about the whole thing and surprise my loving parents by turning up on their doorstep two weeks early. So, last Saturday, after five hours of public transport and a taxi ride, I burst through the front door, ready to spread joy.

"Surprise! Your favourite child is home!"

My father, who had been napping on the sofa, looked like he was caught somewhere between thrilled and terrified. My mother appeared at the top of the stairs a few seconds later and merely said,

"Shh! Your brother's sleeping."

Clearly the favourite child had been there all along and was currently sleeping off his night shift in my bed.

As much as I wanted to collapse on the sofa, enjoying the novelty of warmth and cleanliness (student houses are grim to say the least), it was my cousin's 18th birthday party that night. I had just enough time to stick some rollers in and don some fabulous shoes.

Family gatherings are always eventful, but they are downright dangerous when Dave the Laugh, my older cousin's boyfriend, is there. He lurks around the house, waiting for the opportune moment to swoop in and top up your drink, which sounds great, but, in reality, borders on deadly. On this particular night it led me to declare,

"I'm going to town!"

I do NOT look like the older cousin...

Yes, I was going to crash my little cousin's first night out. And in Station Road of all places. I have plenty of good memories of Station Road. But I was 16 then. And fishbowls were on sale.

Totally unprepared for a night out and two and a half bottles of wine worse off when I thought I'd only gone through one, I had to borrow a handbag. And a phone. And money. But off I went with my cousin and her friends, totally oblivious to the fact that I had somehow become the uncool, old person.

Thankfully, I wasn't the only uncool, old person in Station Road that night. Hayleigh was there with some of our friends. I wish I could describe the level of gleeful screeching that occurred when we spotted each other at the bar. I imagine it's the kind of noise you'd expect to hear if dolphins were reunited after 20 years apart. Dolphins on crack. And perhaps even more shrill than that.

It wasn't long before my cousin had ditched me (I swear, I used to be cool!) and Hayleigh and I ended up in a bizarre after-party in a nearby hotel. It wasn't so much a party as a random collection of people arguing over which drinking game to play while I insisted on slurring through stories about last year's adventures in Europe. All I know is, a Scottish man was wrapped in a blanket and there was an excessive amount of gin.

And, in a nutshell, that's the story of how, on my first night back in Wales, I turned up on my parents' doorstep at 4am and came to spend the entire following day curled up in a ball, cursing Dave the Laugh.


But, before I go back to my cave of despair and dissertation-writing, I'm going to do a little shameless self-promotion. I've set up a Youtube channel (yes, in spite of my technophobia) dedicated to me talking about beauty products, and generally making a fool of myself in front of the camera. So here's my latest video if you want to take a peek.

And, because I have such little faith in my ability to actually use the computer, I'll post the link to the channel...just in case.

Youtube Channel