Non-fiction Interlude

Well, I’ve been down at my dad’s since Tuesday with painfully sporadic internet access.  Stealing a few minutes to do an update.

Tuesday: Drove from Durham to my dad’s.  Got halfway down the motorway and Small Son decided that he was going to throw up all over the passenger seat.  Which was nice.  He managed the second half without so much as a hiccup.  Most peculiar, but… we got here, anyway.

Wednesday: Overcast, gloomy day, but brightened up long enough for me to find my way into the darkest depths of Kent, where I had a very nice lunch with some very nice people.  Lunch sort of turned into all afternoon.  I don’t think I outstayed my welcome… at least, I didn’t get kicked out the door – and it was just really really nice to sit and talk to people who I feel I gelled with instantly.  It was, quite frankly, brilliant. 

Thursday: We did the family visiting thing.  Trip to see my dad’s cousin, then over to see Small Son’s other grandad, who conveniently lives quite close to my dad.  Again, nice day and stuff. Sort of had a blip when I went into the shop that my mum used to work in.  I hated it. I hated it.  It felt like the whole heart of the place had gone.  I’m not ashamed to admit I came home and cried.

Today: We went to Brighton!  Yay!  I used to go to Brighton all the time with my own grandparents and it was kind of fun how we took exactly the same route as we always used to.  Had a nice day, spent very little money (I’m good at that) and then came home.

Tomorrow: Who knows?

Sunday: Drive home, probably for more vomit gymnastics.  Then back to work Monday, but I’m off again Friday for a wedding next weekend.  Then a full week… then it’s the first LRP event of the year.

I love my dad.

But I want to go home now.  I miss Dearly Beloved.  I miss the cats, I miss Ghost Cat, I miss my own sofa, my own house, my own life.  I love my dad ever so much, I really do.  But he and I are so different that sometimes I’m convinced I was adopted.

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