Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang's my arm.
It's Burns night. Btw.
We're cooking haggis, neeps and tatties.
(I get a wee one person sized veggie-haggis.)
So, Croatia. Amiright?
Actually very excited.
Friday night I went to GHQ, Edinburgh's big gay hotspot.
Fantastic night. Spent a fair majority of it dancing with some elderly queens.
Every time I ordered myself a gin, got the barman to made me an additional drink of his choice.
Such a gorgeous level of drunk. Was an unplanned farewell to alcohol.
I've decided to take some time off for a bit. I like waking up not-hungover. And also, feel on some level it was sending me a wee bit crazy.
Not tee-totalling, just cutting down.
Limiting myself to house-parties and special occasions. And, well - an occasional bottle of wine with a meal isn't exactly the end of the world.
It's a lenient resolution, but yes. A reduction nonetheless.
And Tommmmmmm, every time I open Chrome I get a thumbnail image of the Mongooses and a penis. It's very distracting.
This is a short one, as today has been fairly stressful.
Trying to sort out third year. So many conversations about stuff I'm tired of words.
This is what a haggis looks like in the wild.
I'm no kidding.
