No, it wouldn’t. I’m happy at 29 thanks, Beach Boys.
Fun fact, Wilson Philips covered that song and it sounds like a festive jingle for Argos. That’s the problem with faultless harmonies, y’all sound like a Christmas Carol if you’re not careful.
Anyway, here I am. I’m just about to take some time off from work to not go on holiday. Simply desperate to have a break, yet too lazy to organise a holiday outside of my flat. I’ve yet to plan my four days of freedom, but I reckon it will include:
A bit more gaming
And another dose of gaming
Watching new bake off from behind the sofa.
I’ve taken to listening to Mariah Carey – Emotions, when writing. I find her subhuman range extremely motivating, and it pushes me to write and write and write. Semi coherently.
This morning I am in The Diner, Ganton Street looking like a damn hipster waiting for Ajeet. Typing away at my shitty blog on my iPad, drinking a damn flat white and a Bellini, what has my life become? Actually, it’s starting to feel more of a life, actually leaving the house on the weekend further than 1 mile away feels fab, it’s been a tough 6 months.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been busy on my weekends. But not many mornings like this. I could get used to it, a lady who brunches with fabulous people. A lady who sits in coffee shops all day working on her magnum opus “500 toppings that work on toast”. A lady who knows all the words to Baby got back but doesn’t embarrass herself in public by singing it. Yes. I could be her.
Yet, I am instead a pretty much a teenage boy with regular sized boobs, wearing a Zelda Tshirt (hiding said boobs) with messy (but not in a hot way) hair, listening to early 90’s music.
Ah, it’s not so bad. If I was well behaved I wouldn’t be drinking booze before 11am.