You can't imagine my joy, on the day in which I'm confined to the lecture hall for the longest consecutive period, when at 11am this morning (whilst I was literally on my way out of the door) my Liberty Flights arrived.
It was a genuinely beautiful moment and, had he not been middle aged and balding, I may have been inclined (in my exuberance) to snog the face off our dear Postie.
Tomorrow marks one week since I exclaimed that I was to give up tobacco, and 24 hours since I actually decided to stick to it - you see these, admittedly slightly inelegant, barrels of flavoursome wonder are brilliant.
Not only will I no longer smell like the wrong end of a tramp's trousers but there is a distinct lack of fucking around with e-cigarettes, just twist and inhale, which means I'm never again to be spotted running between George Square and New College desperately rummaging around in my pockets and subsequently face-planting onto the pavement.
[Obviously, the latter will deprive many of Edinburgh's Hipster populous of their morning quota of laughter but I'm sure they'll catch sight of themselves in something reflective and become suitably distracted.]
Oh dear, I decided at the beginning of this detour I was going to try not to devote another blog to smoking so I'll move briskly on.
I'm feeling a little off at the moment - you see my past seems to be seeping little by little into my present. A number of people I had just about mentally made peace with have re-appeared out of the woodwork like so many itchy, crawly, bitey things and this displeases me greatly...
I have fallen into my own artistic trap it seems.
The act of remembrance is (in theory) simple enough, but I neglected to realise that - being that these people are still very much alive - it cannot be purely on my own terms and eventually they are going to rise up, pop a head round that hypothetical 'door' and throw in their ten cents as to my re-telling of events.
It is inbuilt into me to dislike being told I am wrong, especially by people who I wouldn't cross the road to piss on if they were on fire but as yet, all is quiet from their camp.
They drift on the peripheries of my consciousness and Facebook friends list.
Paranoid delusions or no, I feel it is only a matter of time.
Annie.
<3
It was a genuinely beautiful moment and, had he not been middle aged and balding, I may have been inclined (in my exuberance) to snog the face off our dear Postie.
Tomorrow marks one week since I exclaimed that I was to give up tobacco, and 24 hours since I actually decided to stick to it - you see these, admittedly slightly inelegant, barrels of flavoursome wonder are brilliant.
Not only will I no longer smell like the wrong end of a tramp's trousers but there is a distinct lack of fucking around with e-cigarettes, just twist and inhale, which means I'm never again to be spotted running between George Square and New College desperately rummaging around in my pockets and subsequently face-planting onto the pavement.
[Obviously, the latter will deprive many of Edinburgh's Hipster populous of their morning quota of laughter but I'm sure they'll catch sight of themselves in something reflective and become suitably distracted.]
Oh dear, I decided at the beginning of this detour I was going to try not to devote another blog to smoking so I'll move briskly on.
I'm feeling a little off at the moment - you see my past seems to be seeping little by little into my present. A number of people I had just about mentally made peace with have re-appeared out of the woodwork like so many itchy, crawly, bitey things and this displeases me greatly...
I have fallen into my own artistic trap it seems.
The act of remembrance is (in theory) simple enough, but I neglected to realise that - being that these people are still very much alive - it cannot be purely on my own terms and eventually they are going to rise up, pop a head round that hypothetical 'door' and throw in their ten cents as to my re-telling of events.
It is inbuilt into me to dislike being told I am wrong, especially by people who I wouldn't cross the road to piss on if they were on fire but as yet, all is quiet from their camp.
They drift on the peripheries of my consciousness and Facebook friends list.
Paranoid delusions or no, I feel it is only a matter of time.
Annie.
<3
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