After my post this morning I went to shower, checked my post and happened to notice my bike wasn't where I had left it. I walked around the garage in my dressing gown looking for it - no sign.
Hmm.
So after my shower I went walkabout looking for it.
I found it.
Chained to someone else's bike, outside, Odd. So I wrote a note requesting that they unlocked it, and chained it to the fence. By 8pm it was free, so I took it back into the cellar - then realised they had stolen my basket.
Bastards.
Anyway, following a thoroughly miserable day alone in the flat (would have gone into town but my face is sun allergied at the moment) I broke open the bottle of white mum bought me.
Tastes good.
With my chocolate easter egg and Sammy online things are looking up.
I'm wondering though, why when we are alone or stressed we think of people we loved. I'm not thinking of my last boyfriend, nor the one I was with the longest. I'm thinking of that all-important first one who I can only assume is not interested in talking to me. I keep wondering what would happen if I told him I still loved him... although I clearly don't, it's just a chemical need to feel close to someone and he was the only one I've felt amazing with.
I wonder what brilliant things we would get up to in this city, how we would laugh at problems rather than sit alone and wonder why I bothered coming out. He would dispel my thoughts of self doubt, encourage any ideas of adventure and push me.
Then I think that although it would be lovely to be with someone with his energy, intellect and honesty, I'm here on my own. I got here on my own. I made the decision to come here alone.
Okay, so I'm not living the high life or surrounded by friends, but hey, it's going to get there.
Sometimes though, I want someone just like him.
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