It just dawned on me this morning that I’ve lived in Bournemouth for over a year now – I moved down here on July 30 last year, just to take some of the attention away from my brother’s birthday. Oh, and because I got a job doing what I actually wanted to do, rather than being paid very little for writing about things I have no interest in or care about in the slightest. Or working in a shop. No, now I get paid very little to do something I am both interested in and enjoy.
It was tough coming down here, I have to admit. I didn’t enjoy living in Manchester as much as I would have hoped – I just don’t get on very well with the city, it’s too big for me. But I didn’t want to leave the north. Not because of any stupid north/south daftness, but because it’s up there where all my friends are and where my girlfriend is.
But hey, sod all that right? I made a Dransfield Move and did something to suit myself rather than anybody else. I now hardly see my friends from oop north and I only see my girlfriend sporadically. She’s here right now though, which is nice. MAKE ME SAUSAGE AND EGG, WOMAN(na).
But the year has gone in – as cliché as it may be – the blink of an eye. In fact, it’s gone so fast that I still don’t feel I’ve really settled down here or can call this place home of any sort. It doesn’t help that I am just an empty vessel of working, eating and sleeping, I must admit. Maybe the second year will be easier, and I’ll be able to actually go out and stuff? I mean, I’ve lived here 366-and-a-bit days but I haven’t ever been to a nightclub in the town. That’s just weird. The closest I’ve been is a late-night karaoke bar. Hmm.
Anyway, this isn’t going anywhere, it’s just a blog made up of my train of thought, re-arranged to make it more palatable to other humans. As you were.