My blog affiliate, my carer, my best friend (one of).
I didn't really know what
to say on our last night. I
felt like a bloke, shuffling
my feet and hugging tightly.
I'm gonna miss Starbucks after
work and cigarettes at Henry's
and pints at the Bun Shop and
our pulling pact for Fez. Ooh,
and the stories we tell about
the cunts we know and the
people we like and the
ones where we don't give two flying fucks.
I might even miss you taking
the piss a little bit. Lolz.
I think one of my fondest
memories is sat
swigging Blossom Hill at
Grantchester Meadows and
just talking books. Shit-y,
female flick books. It
was nice.
Just look at us. Haven't
we grown? I can't believe
how much you terrified me at
the start of Hills Road.
(By the way, I
got so mope-y when you left. You
would have wanted to
slap me. Ha).
Muchos lahv-os and kiss-os and snuggles
(but no tears, 'cause
I know you hate them).
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