French

I'm home! Back to my all-too-familiar surroundings. My house, my bed (oh man, I've missed my bed!) and my neighbourhood. I feel absolutely disgusting. I have just returned from a week of solid partying and drinking and I am absolutely completely exhausted. I have a sore throat, a cough, a cold, my body aches, my right nipple has been bitten by a mosquito and swollen up, my skin is dry and my shoulders are peeling from the sunburn. So yeah, basically, I'm a complete mess right now. But boy, that was a fantastic week and exactly what the doctor ordered, although I can see myself having some serious holiday blues over the next week or so. I need to book up my flights to Boston ASAP so I have something to look forward to.

I have Death Cab to look forward to I guess. Although I haven't invited anybody, and I have two tickets. Part of me wants to invite Annie, because, well, it's Annie. Sure, she's a pain in the ass but at least I know it will be just two friends hanging out and I think she would really appreciate it.

So, my holiday was quite literally the most relentlessly fucked-up week I have ever had. From getting in a cab and driving half an hour away with two Dutch girls, to sleeping with a French girl I had only met half an hour earlier, to getting absolutely mortaled on the boat trip, to being dubbed the 'Virgin Slayer', it was one rollercoaster after another. And the 'Captain Cuddles' persona was born. See, there were a couple of girls I met on holiday who I didn't really want to sleep with, so we ended up just having a spooning session and chatting. Of course, the other lads mocked me, hence the moniker was born. 'Captain Cuddles'. Hey, I've had worse nicknames! And I do love a good cuddle.

So I got back today at around 1pm, and since then I have pretty much done nothing. Put a load of washing on, had a power nap and put the photos up on Facebook. I plan on spending as much time as possible this weekend sat on this very sofa. I have gaffer-taped the remaining cigarettes so I won't be tempted, and I'll pop round the rents tomorrow and give them to my Mum. No more smoking, and no more drinking, at least until the end of the month. I don't want to see a San Miguel ever again in my life.

So now Magaluf is all done and dusted, it is all about travelling. Monday I'm back in the office and it's back to working my socks off and saving as much as possible. I need to take it easy with the anxiety and everything, but the way I look at it, it's not so much the amount of time I spend in the office, rather the amount of time I don't spend relaxing or enjoying myself. There's nothing wrong with living hard, but I need to make sure I go out and enjoy myself. Work hard, play hard. May next year I'll be jetting off to Thailand and I'm hoping the time will fly by.

Leigh was absolutely fantastic this week. We are very similar and we got on like a house on fire. I think it could be the start of a great wingman partnership. We both wear our hearts on our sleeves and we both like to talk about everything and anything. He really made a great impression on me, so I think that this new friendship is one of the best things to have come out of the holiday. "ROOMIE!!"

Anyway, emotionally, I'm pretty much void at the moment. I don't really feel like I have anything on my mind, perhaps because physically I am in such a state, I don't have the energy to do anything. It's nice to go to bed and not sit there and ponder the world. I feel like all I want to do right now is sleep, sleep, sleep. I'd say the last week I've averaged around 4 hours a day, split over two sessions. So I probably didn't hit REM sleep at all throughout the holiday. That's seriously unhealthy. It's now 12:25am and I'm about to hit the hay, and I don't plan on getting up anytime before 10am. It is going to be pure bliss.


Luke