{ you're the fifth drink before a long drive. }

In short: I suck at timing my travels.

In long: I have about half an hour before I actually have to leave the house. I'll pack the laptop up in fifteen minutes but then I basically have to... sit around. For fifteen minutes. I'm catching the 8am bus so I'll get to the station superlatively early for my train. Except. Well. If I get there early enough, I might just take the train that comes before the one I have actual reservations for. This is good because it means I might actually catch my connect at King's Cross. I have no idea what the Tubes are like today. (Ugh.) Hopefully everything will be smooth sailing. My bags are heavy, yo.

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Last night, The Flatmate and I watched up to 1x10 of Lost (the episode which ends with Charlie and Claire being confronted by Ethan). The Flatmate was drunk on three mugs of red wine (yeah, we're so classy), and T and N were downstairs - also drunk - with a friend of theirs. I packed whilst The Flatmate slept on the bed, then we went down and got embroiled in further socialities. I didn't go to bed until 3am, and, yeah, I'm totally feeling it.

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Anyway! I should get to the Fen by 1pm the latest. (I don't really know why I feel so compulsed to call it "The Fen" these days; it just feels like that's what I miss rather than other things. Which. I don't even walk in the flipping fields, guys. I use footpaths and eschew contact with nature.)