I ran away recently. I felt like life was taking the p**s out of me. I also felt like a massive rubber band was holding me back from doing things everyone else seemed to be doing. So I packed a bag, my passport, my charger - although I wasn't answering my calls to anyone I still needed to know that people were calling. I thought about Scotland, Holland, and Malta, but I only made it as far as Oxford Street.
The instinct to run away transformed into an impulse to spend. Clothes, shoes... lunch. More clothes more shoes, gin and tonic. More clothes, shoes, coffee.. I flanked out by the time I got to Spitalfields and rand the boyfriend I left that morning in such a huff and asked if he could help me cary my shopping home and he did, as usual very understanding of my mood swings, he gets a cadburys cream egg.
Turns out I didn't need to run away, just needed a bit of me time and a bit of a blow out. Note to self - need to learn how to downscale from what I think is happening to what actually is. It's like yesterday morning when I got a letter from Virgin Media I panicked and ran to the shops to get a bottle of wine (at 11am) to find it was just small leaflet in a large envelope. Curse you Richard Branson!
The clothes and shoes will no doubt stay in the bag for three weeks and then be the victims of shopping in reverse. I do it for the buzz, I have no room for more clothes or shoes - my bedroom looks like a car boot sale.
No comments:
Post a Comment