Fatal attraction

So last Thursday I packed the car, whacked Fleetwood Mac into the CD player, put my right foot to the floor and headed towards the M6. Just under three hours later I was back in Chester and began getting ready for what was guaranteed to be three crazy days.

Chester is one of those places that is, well, for want of a better word, lovely. Every time I come home the clogs turn and the words ‘I can’t wait to move back’ spill out of my mouth. The only fear is that after having three amazing years there, would moving back permanently ruin those memories? Would it be better in the long run to move to a new area code and continue life?

Becky and I stayed in the new travel lodge and armed with a gigantic box of chocolates, a bottle of champagne and some flowers we made the perfect couple. Shame about the small issues that we ate so many chocolates we (I) were close to regurgitating the entire box, the champagne lasted all of 10 minutes and it was 24 hours before the flower saw any water. The only things missing were our beautiful men and a few more pairs of shoes.

So we went out, met up with people we hadn’t seen for at least a week and were students for the last time. Minus the head banging, kebabs and Ikea trips it was just like old times.

The tears we all held back (apart from a small spell in Watergates during a bit of Ridin’ Solo- but it was our end of uni song so that’s acceptable) which was a surprise to us all. Obviously people may have been crying behind closed eyes, but it would be worrying if they weren’t. As you can see, deep and meaningful babbling is slowly creeping back in.

On Friday we hit the SU, which meant that a very passionate (note the sarcasm here) conversation with a guy who I had unnecessarily hated was finally aired. This left an odd sense of relief and admittedly he needed credit for letting a total stranger shout at him.

Then it was time for bed and after two nights of constant camera clicking, Becky and I plodded back to our hotel in the rain. I then kissed a stranger, fell asleep and dreamt I was somewhere else.

We checked out of our room at lunchtime, by which time Becky was 100% hangover free and I was missing my big comfy bed like never before.

And so this brings us back up to date on Sunday the 7th of November, in a cold house, still tired, with my cat pawing at my laptop and trying to read what I’m typing.

This rate I’m guaranteed to die a touch tying, cat-loving, spinster, whose best friend is her Blackberry and whose cooking skills can barely produce beans on toast. Ahhh, to be young, free and single. What a joy.