Quotes. Etc
I am currently at my parent's house, in East Sussex. I am eternally grateful for them living here. It's a blessing to be able to escape London (although, I must admit that it was more of a blessing in my earlier life (note that wasn't 'my previous life'), when escaping London was so much more needed. My current life at 4c Charlton Road is hardly an epic of debauchery), and sit on the train, pass though the suburbs, and burst into the green countryside.
I love it.
I love trains actually. But not nearly enough to spot them. I like to be on them. Not under them at all. Although, having never actually tried that, I can not speak from experience. It might be quite nice. Doubtful, but you never know.
Anyway. I am here. It's sunny outside, and I'm in a pretty good mood. Things are just good right now. I seem to be surprised at this every day. Not that I'm normally full of hate and dread, but I just seem to be constantly happy. Christmas is coming, which is great. It means I'll see all my family (bar my uncle, who is currently in the process of driving to China. Yes - driving. I should point out here that he's driving from the UK. Not, say, Nepal, which isn't quite so far, but would also probably make a conversation point. Probably). But I can go pick out the tree, make food, drink wine, decorate the house, and just really let myself go.
One year, I decided to see just how fat I could get. I normally put on a fair bit of weight over the 3 days of feasting, but I try (to some extent), to control it. However, in the year in question, I decided to just really eat. I mean eat. To the point of not being able to move. I love food, and I hate having to say no to that extra helping just because I physically can not fit it in my body. It doesn't seem fair. So, I trained myself (I suddenly wonder why I'm telling you this. I sound increasingly weird).
During November, I ate whatever I wanted to eat, whenver I wanted to eat it. Chips at 3am. Snickers at 5am. Kebab at 12. Fried chicken for dinner. Sausages and mash at 9pm. You get the idea. Come Christmas; boy, could I eat. It was amazing. I had thirds. And all the trimmings. Not to mention chocolate, nuts, and pretty much anything else that would fit in my mouth. Shortly after Boxing Day, I began to feel extremely poorly. The first night of non-indulgence, I had terrible dreams and sweats. It was actually quite disgusting. I bulged over my jeans, my skin was awful, I'm sure I stank of grease, and my Mother didn't recognise me.
Anyway, having returned to my normal weight, I vowed not to do that again. But I am tempted, just for the experience. I can recommend it as well. It's a great relief to just eat and not care.
I have seriously gone off track here. I have no idea why I wrote that......oh yes; Christmas. My good mood. I will not be eating for England this Christmas, although I will, no doubt, put on a few pounds. Unless it's like Christmas 4 years ago when my Mum gave me food poisoning, which, in the course of one night, caused me to lose all the weight I had just gained in the 2 days preceding. Quite handy; but not recommened.
ANYWAY! Jesus Christ! Back to the point.
It was actually a very short point I wanted to share. I just had lunch with my Mum, and we ended up talking about what kind of moustache I'd have if I were a man (NO idea how we got on the topic), and she said that she liked the one, and I quote, "...that man, Tom someone, had in that movie...what's it called?? 3 Funerals and a Little Baby??" How great is that. Talk about an attention getter.
It's almost as good as what I was singing to myself the other day, which was, 'Say A Little Prayer', by The Mamas and Papas. But instead of, 'Stars shining bright above you..', I sung, 'Stars brighting shite above you..' Interesting.