Tomorrow I go to a place called Wilmslow, in Cheshire (also known as Manchestershire in my head). The reason for this is a reunion with some peoples I spent three years growing up with in Barcelona some twelve years ago, but still have very fond memories of. I hope it will be fun. I hope the visit itself will be fun but I know for a fact that the car journey will certainly not be fun at all. Travelling in a small car with my mother and grandmother (who's coming along for the ride and to visit her twin sister who also lives in Manchestershire) and as much as I like both of these ladies the fact remains that the car journey is four to five hours and I will perhaps go insane as I absolutely despise long car journeys. Seriously, it would probably be quicker to travel to France and back (if we ignore that little obstacle along the way called the Channel), including the time it takes to stock up with cut-price wine, beer and spirits from the nearest hypermarket in Calais.

My dad and his wife were kind enough to take me to a tapas bar today called La Tasca or something like that. It was nice. I ate tapases...tapi...tapas'...whatever the plural of tapas is. Meh. Also, the bastards that live next door to my dad (I know because I'm a nosey bugger) have a TRAMPOLINE in their garden. A real trampoline! I longed to go round under the pretense of being a friendly neighbour so I could bounce on it for a few hours and maybe even try doing a back drop without worrying snapping noises occurring in my neck, which was what used to happen when I did trampolining at school. I never had the courage to put my plan into action though. Still, I mentioned how I will be buying a double bed for my house in September and it just so happens they have a spare, which I can have. So now not only will I not have to sleep cramped when I have friends/m'bloke/stray animals round to stay but I can joyously use it as a trampoline for as long as it amuses me (until it breaks, like).

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