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Come on now darlin' you've got something I need
2008-08-22 | 8:52 p.m.

I'm meant to be packing for tomorrow. What I have actually done so far is get out one pair of cords, one jumper and some pyjames and dumped them on my bed. It's like I'm expecting them (as well as everything else I need to take) to magically float up, begin bobbing through the air, and pack themselves into my rucksack. Who knows. I think I'm just grumpy that I don't have glow sticks.

So I am being picked up at 7.30 am tomorrow and...that is the extent of my knowledge! Obviously I know we're going "camping in Glastonbury" and coming back on Monday, but I have no details. The truth is I secretly rather like it like this, as I can travel down in wide-eyed wonder and it'll all be a lovely (or horrible) surprise when I get there. I will be going to bed tonight aquiver with anticipation.

Just under a week ago I thought I might not be going camping anywhere. On Sunday I drove over to Hitchin to have lunch in a pub with my dad, stepmother, and elder and younger brothers. It was fine until the little brother insisted I play football with him. Now, I had been aware for a couple of days of some pain in my right foot, but had not thought that much of it. So there I was bending it like the proverbial Beckham when my foot became engulfed in a cloud of agony and I limped back over to my family. And then I discovered I couldn't move my big toe. AT ALL.

Lovely as it is to admit, I have big feet and prominent tendons in them. My big toe tendon had completely disappeared, at which point I got very worried and a bit squeamish, asked my dad where it was (because obviously he had inside knowledge of it holidaying in Mexico or something) and upon examining my foot he said 'The tendon's knackered.' I don't think he realised quite how much this upset me but I kept a brave face (i.e. put on my sunglasses to conceal the fact I was shedding a few tears. Who the fuck wants to have a knackered tendon in their foot?) and then shortly after that we parted company and I made the decision to go to A&E with my foot.

My biggest fear of going to A&E is the risk of seeing someone come in who's suffered a mega horrific injury. Like a swordfish stuck in their eye or something. Luckily I got seen within 15 minutes and had it ascertained that my toe wasn't broken, just injured. It still hurts a bit now but the tendon is slightly more visible, albeit twisted and misshapen. I don't think straightening it out with a mallet would be the wisest of plans so I'm just going to have to be patient, I think.

What else to write about? Oh yeah...remember the groom's friend who ended up coming back for a non-party at Blondie and my hotel room last week, after the wedding? I better backtrack a bit...I've actually known him for a number of years from various barbecues, birthday outings and suchlike of Tori and Pete and their mutual friends. That's not to say I knew him massively well, but enough to chat to.

The day after the wedding, Blondie had to leave early as she had a bikini wax appointment to get to in Oxford, so groom's mate and I ended up lazing in the hotel room and talking for ages before I gave him a lift back to the reception venue where he'd left his car.

Cue buggering home and shortly thereafter becoming Facebook friends. And cue the Facebook messaging. I think I knew it was coming but in a message last night he asked if would be interested in 'getting together sometime' for a drink or something when he's back from a trip to Spain.

Surely I should be happy about this, yeeees? And I am very flattered. But...I don't know if I could ever see him in a romantic capacity. He's good looking and I get on with him but sometimes you just know, don't you? So is there any point?

Unfortunately because he is so nice I'm finding the prospect of saying 'no' a very difficult one. It would be so much easier if he wasn't a close friend of Tori and Pete (Tori love, btw if you're reading this, if you could possibly have a BBQ in a couple of weeks that would be a way around it!). I really need to reply before I leave tomorrow.

But seriously, someone could probably ask me out on behalf of their pet donkey and I would find it hard to say no, because...oh, fuck knows. But I should probably work on this.

Still, I'm enjoying what life's been throwing at me lately, foot issues aside. I want to spend this weekend not worrying about crap and I am very sure copious amounts of Somerset cider will assist in this plan. Bring on the Glastonbury.

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