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Sunday 5.1.03 | Where to start? Firstly, with the rather scary fact that it is 2003. Shit. This means lots of things. My final year at university starts in 9 months. Theoretically, I graduate next year. I am 21 this year. I believe that this is the age where one is meant to start being vaguely mature and stop being a complete child. Oh well. Resolutions? Nope. Suppose number 1 should be to get off my arse and make some of the damn things, but I never keep them and this just serves to depress, so better that I just sit here in the gutter of my life and enjoy the fact that I'm not going to be refurbishing myself this year. :-) I did something blindingly intelligent before I went and changed my flight back to Nice too (actually, no, I can't let that lie stand; I changed the flights, but on the clever suggestion of my slightly more down-to-earth brother) so that I'm not going back tonight having arrived into the UK yesterday (into Bristol too, just to enliven things); instead I'm flying back on Tuesday night. This wonderful for many and multifarious reasons, but one of the main things is that I get to sit on my arse today and do Sunday things and don't have to rush about flinging things from case to case and can generally just be lazy. Going back into lovely London tomorrow afternoon for various bits and then have all day Tuesday to pack. Rah. Sure you will be sublimely glad to hear that I came back from Morzine with all limbs in tact. Was a really good week. Felt like I was going to die up the mountain, not so much because of my chronic unfitness (actually, I'm in better shape than I thought - very pleasing surprise) but the altitude played with my tubes and for a few moments near the beginning I really couldn't get enough air in, but I procured myself an inhaler to replace the one I had years ago -I was diagnosed with asthma when 16 but it it's so laughably unserious that I don't even know where my old inhaler is- and after that I felt rather more billowy and airy. Always good. Narrowly missed skiing into a tree one particularly fraught descent and completed a diarrhoea-inducing mission into Switzerland and back one day (this included, he shamefully admits, getting a chairlift down a run instead of up it because, well, I would have died otherwise) so it was cool fun. New Year's Eve didn't really happen because we were all so incredibly knackered - I was in bed by 9. Pathetic, I know, but I've always thought it's a bit of a non-starter anyway to be honest. No chance of getting wasted and singing in 2003 because everyone was snoring and besides the only free booze flowing was the lovely Airtours wine, suspiciously named 'Nos belles Vacances,' retailing normally about about 12p a bottle. Actually, the more I drank, the more palatable it became - not just over a few hours, I mean, but my tongue seemed to get so used to being violated by the stuff that by the end I was almost looking forward to opening a bottle in the evenings - so mustn't bitch. And Morzine itself is stunning - nestling within the Alps, lovely little wooden chalets belching out smoke from small chimneys in the evenings and creaking with age. The place is open in Summer for walking holidays, so I shall be back without a doubt. So a good holiday. And another six weeks in Nice in manic dissertation-mode to get my arse in gear and get the damn thing written before I move on and set my sights on Berlin and relearning all the German I have forgotten. A challenge to relish.
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