Kilt and céilidh

I spent the last week in Edinburgh, attending my sister's wedding and seeing the sights. I'm pleased to announce that, at the request of some very kind ladies and gents, I did indeed dance at the céilidh (pronounced kayley, it's a Scottish knees-up), at the expense of my ankle but not my enjoyment.

I'm sure photos will be going up, so you'll get to see my already-stunning seester looking radiant in her wedding dress. If that's your sort of thing. There will also be photos of my father and brother in kilts; if you're reading this, Mike, discretion will cost you.

I'm back in Cardiff now (after a pig-awful journey that was 7 or 8 hours, and 2 hours longer than it needed to be). I'm moving house in one week, so I've got to get on with packing and such, all while trying super-hard not to think of anything, because thinking makes me feel all confused and worried and I don't want that right now.

I really hope I get a dentist appointment soon... I'm so sick of this wisdom tooth being 'partially ruptured'; it's had at least 3 years to get its act together and has utterly failed to do so.

In other news, I'm going to be posting some short stories to Idle Scribe. I submitted them as university work and got pretty good feedback, so do have a read if you're interested.

Ice cream makes everything better

What a peculiar day. My seminar tutor and I had a difference of opinion. He spent ten minutes defending something that I wasn't intending to attack; pointing out that there's no point my being here unless some things are wrong and some are right. I know that. I'm no relativist. But I didn't see how that equated to me being wrong and him being right, and it would have been just wonderful if he could have explained that part.

So, I felt quite got at, zoned and, and drew cartoons on the back of the poem instead. A girl in my seminar group said how ridiculous it was for him to attack the one person who actually contributes stuff in discussions. And now I'm worried that I might a) go completely silent, b) disagree with him on everything, or c) nod and smile at everything he says until he cries or something. I bought comfort ice cream on the way home. I'm buying too much unhealthy stuff these days, I feel all fat and gross. Boooo.

That was quite rubbish. And now I'm home with an essay to finish, and that's quite rubbish too, but I'm in a much better mood than I was due to a rather odd phone call I got from Gavin. He's gone mountain-climbing with his friends (Ben Nevis apparently, well done them), and the following was a conversation between myself, Gavin, and Stu.

Hey honey!
Hi girl, how are you feeling?
Better thanks. Done emo-ing now.
Have you met Stu?
Errr don't remember...
Say hello.
Ok, hi!
Hello! I'm in my pants!
*laughs* Great. Is Gav in his pants too?
No. He's not looking.
*couldn't make this bit out but I swear I heard the word 'twitching' in there*
Ok honey I'm gonna leave you to it...
Alright sweetie. Love you, bye!

So that cheered me up, and then I went downstairs for some trashy sitcom action and more ice cream. Ah well, back to that essay...