A heavy dose of atmosphere

The Traveling Bug that scuttled back and forth across my brain last week, making it impossible to concentrate on the silly amount of essays I had to do, has crept under a twig to hibernate. And in its place, that familiar homecoming feeling: the tiredness; the train-carriage cling; the unquestionable need for beans-on-toast; the longing for a bath, pyjamas, my own mattress.

No matter how fleeting the stay away or how amazing the getaway: Toss your keys on the side, flick the light-switch to regret the chaotic debris of last-minute packing panic, and The Feeling is upon you, its lethargic arms wrapping you in an oh-so comfortingly safe embrace. It is The Feeling that makes me sure of my own sense of Home. I know for sure, that wherever I end up in the next few years, when the Urban Edge starts to cut and my retinas pave over with concrete, there'll be nowhere better to escape to than a country walk, complete with real mud, trees, and a full flask of coffee.

It gets sadder to leave GP every time.
(I read that sentence again and noticed that it sounded rather like the diary entry of a raving hypochondriac; therefore to clarify GP=Boyfriend rather than General Practitioner)

Indulging my sentimental g-spot by sulking and sighing and glancing back five times to catch his last last look, is no doubt self-destructive. But I've watched too many rom-coms not to appreciate a good, heavy dose of atmosphere; the spring sunshine and brilliant sky beaming down on a university setting - with all its connotations of education, of independence, of new beginnings - and students passing by indifferent to these two loved-up souls entwined in a mutual moment of Goodbye.

Saturday was chilled. Smoking on a pair of rusted metal containers floating on a trippily, prettily rippling canal in Manchester. (It was even better it the dark, when you couldn't see the shit drifting along on the tide.) Honestly, being out at night is one of my favourite things. Single-filed lamp posts shining on flickering black water,  headlight snail-trails on a far off motorway, and meagre moonlight spilling over cobbled pavements; these are wonders in their own right. The geese were fucking annoying though.

To end this post I will leave you with something Professor Brian Cox told me today via the miracle of television. Apparently, all the atoms in our bodies were originally formed in the heart of a dying Red Giant.
Which means one thing...

We are all made of stardust.

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Sweet dreams,,