Day 7

Day 7: So this is it. A week on my own and only superficial scarring that I'm told will eventually fade. Well, the physical ones anyway.

It's natural when you come to an end of an important period of your life to feel nostalgic and look back, some may say, through rose-tinted spectacles. In my case the effect is caused by bloodshot eyes and probable concussion but anyhoo.

I'm sure when I meet Jay at the airport tonight she will overlook the wild beard, staring eyes and ragged clothes. It'll be like she never left.

I'm quite proud of myself really for keeping the house (mainly) in one piece, it was tough. There were good times, bad times and some downright dangerous times but we pulled through. I say we because without Frenchie and the dancing fox I would have likely gone mad.

I will of course update this journal to let you know how it goes, but until then I bid you adieu.

P.s. He's right you know. I do smell of spoons. How odd.