Gonna eat me a lotta peaches. Or so the song goes. No peaches here, no ninjas either. Mini apples. Maybe because they're not ripe yet. I et 'em anyways, they were delicious, everything tastes better when it's pinched from an orchard at one in the morning. Shhh...
So I ran from London, back to cousins house in Tidworth, Andover. It's fun (cheap) staying with her, really really fun (cheap). I cooked, for the first time in my life, spaghetti bolognese, cheese-y meatballs and lasagne. Yes! Me! Cooked! Double you tee eff. In return for the under-cooked, over-salted chow, cousin took me to her workplace, the British Army barracks. I saw some huge fuck-off trucks, a couple of tanks rolling through (but I didn't photograph any because y'know, if a man in a tank objects to being snapped, he'd retaliate purdy hard) and a whole bunch of soldiers (the term used was 'squadies') who made me uneasy with that traditional English greeting. "You awrite mate? You rite?" Having a man in uniform ask me that, it makes me feel like I've just done something wrong. But I was awrite, mate, and and they let me off with a warning.
Aparrently REM are splitting up.
The nightlife in Tidworth consists of Tesco's, which is a supermarket so doesn't really count. I'm pining for London again. Something very attractive about having a pub next door to the pub you're drinking at. I'll stay here til Monday the 19st, then go to the country. I mean, the proper country, where they grow the cows for my burger.
.......
Heyyy, it's Monday! Amazing how time flies oon the internet. Off to a little town, sorry, village (pronounced vii-ladge) called Middleton Cheney, to see my motorcycle (pronounced motor-sickle). Yay, the fruits of my labour are nearly ready to be sat on :] Til then I'll survive on stolen fruit of other peoples labour. And some lovely Australian wine that I bought at a post office.
