Escape from London....for a bit.

I haven't been home for 10 nights, and neither have I been away. I have simply had reason after reason to stay in London....seeing friends, late nights, being too drunk to travel, being too sober to travel, and not being arsed.

I'm actually quite scared to go 'home' as since I last went back so much has happened. For one, I have a new job, and for two I've decided to move to London...oh yes I have.

Why? Well, the truth is, if you live in Brighton I feel you ought to embrace it. Visit galleries, view the open houses, see bands in their embryonic beauty, go to the Duke of York because well, it's the Duke of York, visit comedy clubs, walk by the sea, basically make the most of it. Last time I did this? Bloody ages ago. It's now a fly-by-night place that I arrive in, unpack my bags, throw some washing on, go for dinner, try and catch up with Anita, re-pack and leave. I haven't loved Brighton in the way it deserves to be loved for quite some time, and although I'll miss the people horribly, I'll not miss the feeling of not doing the place justice.

So I wonder how this move will impact on the friends I have made in Brighton. After a year of commuting, I am comfortable with the fact that an hours journey each way, even within a day is not too bad....but some of my Brighton friends are very much Brighton based, and I'm worried that luring them to the big smoke is going to be difficult....but I guess friendships that are meant to last will do so, and ultimately, what's an hour on the train.

Anyway, I have a few nights in Brighton coming up to get back up to date with things. Steve has flown off to Boston for a few days, and given what's happened this weekend with his sister (recently returned from rehab so no prizes for guessing) his timing could not be better.

We had an awesome night out on Saturday. We went to a dinner party which descended into utter carnage. I got so wrecked that I decided I had a great singing voice (I was encouraged I hasten to add) and I insisted on singing acapella to a whole room of people....cringe cringe. Worse than that was what I was singing....crowded f**king house people. Not good. Even worse, I was sick, and then carried on drinking....twice!

During my singing, Nick one of the attendees at said dinner party bit his own tongue so hard that it had a big chunk out of it, and he sat there dribbling blood for ages, into a little pool around him. No-one batted an eyelid....too pissed. Poor fella. Bet that hurt on Sunday.

Will we ever grow up? Nope.