Given to Fly

Hello campers and greetings from the village! We are now getting the nods of acknowledgement from the businesses around where we live; smiles from Costa people, nods from pub people, phone numbers from barmen ok so that last one hasn’t happened… yet.

I got asked to leave Iceland (the food place not the country, not sure what you would have to do to piss Iceland off but apparently the food company is easier to anger; just the wrong type of ID…). That issue took two letters and finally I now have to accept I must give in, they repeated their age-checking ID policy twice and I don’t think they’ll get into further discussion. The rights and wrongs and complete insanity of asking a thirty year old to produce a birth certificate, or student ID instead of proof of date of birth, escapes me.

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Tell you what, moving house is a stressful bitch isn’t it?

Not so much the packing and the unpacking because that just has to be done, I mean more that one day everything is settled and the next your life is in boxes and people and trampling all over the place coming in and out of your own previously peaceful bubble… then you get to the new place and the same thing happens then but that’s okay because that’s a new place and you haven’t constructed your fuck off worldbubble there yet.

A week on from all that and it’s as worth it as I thought it would be. The location is amazing, I can leave and return under my own steam without curbs, no steps in the way and no need to get a taxi to do even the smallest of journeys.

In short, it rocks. It’s another world, miles away from the issues I had with the other one and it appears to have lots of yummy gay men here too. Taxi for Simon? Not this time.

Claire and myself, we absolutely made the best choice for ourselves since we decided to go to Spain last summer.

I have to go. I have 10 minutes left on my library computer usage and I haven’t even looked at porn yet.

… Turns out you can’t do that on a library computer. Been asked to leave quicker than expected. Shit.

Peace, Love and obvious jokes

Moultyx

Sometimes I forget that I can’t walk. It was worse when I was a kid, which is funny really because back then I could walk a bit!

There was all the epiphany’s I had during therapy, where I realised I was an amazing person in my own right, I had to keep hold of the friends I had because they were the ones around for life,  and once I cracked this sexuality thing and looked in the right direction I’d be unstoppable. Most of my therapy was me realising all this stuff while the woman was doing the talking, me nodding and wondering what I was going to get after the session from the weekly ‘reward’ trip to the chippy.

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