get funky
have spent the day in some kind of funk.
i'm not quite sure exactly why.
but in retrospect, jetlag probably has something to do with it.
although i'm keeping usual british hours, i'm cream crackered.
i love my family VERY much...but sometimes, if i'm being honest, i have difficulty with my responsibilties: sometimes, i might wish for a different life: perhaps one without children, a farm etc... one with more 'freedom'?
the general stuff of mid-life crisises...not that i'm there yet...
these guilty thoughts pass by.
especially when i think about how empty my life would really be without them that surround me.
i know the grass is always greener.
i'm right where i wanted to be: i have everything i could/should want...and now i'm here, i know it's wrong to wonder if i want something else?
some say i'm never happy with what i've got and i'm always looking for that something else.
i don't think that's true.
balls: i've just remembered my mate crispin telling me about 'paradise syndrome'...ur...
perhaps i'm not writing too eloquently about this.
perhaps i'll stop writing about this.
we were supossed to be going to our friends: tara and lee's place for lunch today.
but unfortunately one of their kids was running a temperature and mrs.perou didn't want to risk maximum getting ill in his first week at his new school.
instead did the weekly shop at tescos.
mrs.perou said 'that till girl was very generous with the school vouchers wasn't she?'
'no', i explained: 'we earnt them'
excluding cider our bill came to £220(ish) which disturbs me.
after a roast chicken lunch, we all went down to the beach for a while.
then me and maximum played 'hunt the football' (that z hid) so we could later play football...but the football is gone.
so we played 'baseball' (ish) instead.
whilst trying to find the football, we did discover the 'killing zone'.
presumably 'black' has been half eating birds in the summer house.
it was like a gore-fest, splatter movie in there.
RSS Feed (big images)
RSS Feed (thumbnails)
Photo diary system by Jan Schjetne