What a tiring day yesterday was!!

I was driving for about 6 hours, and for someone that rarely does any distance over about 10 miles at a time, driving about 150 miles is quite a big thing!

We had to collect Sissy from her friends house in Clapham, then get from Clapham to Brighton, and then from Brighton back to London (I got lost three times, but not badly, missing turnings and having to double back, that kind of thing, hehe)... I ended up coming home the long way round as I missed the turn-off for the M25 (how, I've no idea, but I didn't even see a turn-off for it on the M23... stupid motorway!).

I was completely knackered when I got back home, then I got over-tired and got to bed at about 4am and slept like a log until 1pm (apparently I was dead to the world and refused to wake up, so Mum just left me there! Haha.)

I think that the only one that in anyway enjoyed the journey was the car! It charged the battery... well at one stage I was doing 80mph as I was just so desperate to be rid of Sissy... (she was in an appalling mood, mostly hangover induced, I think!) so it had better have charged the battery, LOL! Seeing as it was a bank holiday, and by the time we got to Brighton it was 6.45pm, nothing was open, so we didn't even get a stick of rock whilst we were there, nor any dinner. Somehow it felt wrong to go all that way and have nothing to show for it apart from a dead bum for sitting in the same position for so long! I didn't even manage to take any pictures (and for me that's bordering on sacrilige!).

I seem to be really getting into blogging/journal writing lately. Maybe it's because that it seems to relieve the boredom that I feel a fair amount of the time. Or maybe it's because I've finally found some kind of outlet for my frustrations and ideas. I feel that I can write about things in a blog that otherwise I'd just bottle up and leave to fester in my brain. Writing them down and getting them out into the open seems to make me a "lighter" person, mentally anyway. Sometimes I just ramble on and on about nothing very important (like now) but it really helps me... when my Dad was in the pysch unit the last time, the doctors there recommended that he keep a diary of his thoughts and feelings, he never did, as he's not a big reader or writer... he does so out of neccesity and not pleasure... both of my parents are the same (which makes me wonder just where my love of the written word came from? I can only assume that it jumped a generation from my maternal grandmother as she loved books as much as I do... thank you, Nana, rest in peace, love).

I also think that a lot of my journal entries come from the weird tangents that my brain takes when I start thinking about things properly. Sometimes I wonder just what the hell brought about some pages of writing, as the start of an entry often times has nothing in common with the end, LOL!! I have no idea, and to be honest, I don't much care. I just know that writing down all the crap helps me to deal with it... I just wish that I'd realised this years ago, the amount of problems that I could have chronicled and learnt from, and I didn't, makes me equally sad and angry!