Wales was good
I had a lovely weekend at home in Wales, as mentioned previously. Our journey there was marked my the presence of two know-it-all would-be boxing pundits, one of whom fell asleep with his hand on some other blokes knee.
In an effort to relieve boredom Louise and I initiated a game whereby you name a celebrity A, then the other person has to name a celebrity B such that the first name of B begins with the last letter of the surname of A. for example:
Axl Rose > Edward Woodward > David Hasselhoff > etc…
Of course, the flaw in this game (besides the obvious - it’s shit) is that so many surnames end in Y but so few first names begin with Y. We thought of Yasmin Le Bon, Yasmine Bleeth, Yusuf Islam, Yvette Fielding and Yuri Gagarin. Any other famous people come to mind? (And no cheating by using Wikipedia or - for shame! - scanning through Heat magazine.
Though I had unkind words for Wales a few years ago (there is nothing there for a teenager with no car nor driving licence), now I’m all grown up I like it more and more. Perhaps it’s because I only ever visit, and have forgotten the things that made me want to move away in the first place.
One thing sure has changed - the capacity of my stomach. You see, my Mum is very much like Mrs Doyle from Father Ted, in that she is always (ALWAYS!) cooking. If you’re not eating, you’re either unwell or you don’t like her cooking. I love my Mum’s cooking but she makes so much of it, I feel like that guy from Se7en by the time I’m finished, as I feel incredibly guilty leaving food uneaten - a mentality I’ve probably acquired by my Mother’s doing. I just can’t see good food sent to the compost heap. I can say, without hyperbole, that when I’m at home I eat at least twice what I usually would. Living away has obviously shrunk my stomach (thanks to hideous slop for meals while living in halls, plus the fact that one tends not to overeat when one is paying for it…).
Louise and I had quite a serious discussion about moving to Wales once my contract finishes in two years, and she’s a doctor. We like living in London but the cost of living is crazy for anyone thinking about owning their own place (and I do. A lot.).
It’s gutting to know that, for the rent I pay, I could afford the repayments of a £192K mortgage. Unfortunately, no mortgage providers will go anywhere near that amount on a 22 year old fresh out of uni and a single income, and I’m nowhere near saving up the 10% deposit one would need. The silly property prices rule out any of London’s surrounding counties either, hence upping sticks and heading up the M4 is looking an increasingly attractive option. (Though not SO far up the M4 such that parents would pop in without warning. I still like my independence)
I have four weeks off starting in August and I can’t wait. I like my job but I’m feeling a little bored at the moment and a break would do me good.
Over and out,
Math
PS - I’m digging Marek’s adventure in the Far East right now. More please.