"What does not fit, does not go."

Okay, seriously Universe. Something is up with whatever the hell it is that you are using for your time keeping purposes. Because I promise you, I literally just came to Falmouth / Penryn. (Why the fuck are they two different towns anyway?)

It is only recently that I have succeeded in vaguely memorising the First Great Western bus timetables of all the important bus stops and have finally understood why the word "Bledy Maid" has nothing to do with periods. So, you can't possibly have the balls or the heart to tell me that it's time to leave for London already?

What am I going to do in London? (apart from living in an apartment, that is probably the size of a five star hotel's bath tub in Vegas and getting my ego Tai Chi-d to the ground at numerous agencies - in the hope of finding a placement- in the hope of that placement translating into a job.) 

London doesn't have mad hair raping wind or strategic sadist weather of the same intensity as Falmouth. You have to give the Falmouth weather Gods some kind of credit for having more mood swings than all the women of the world on PMS combined (Oh God, this is the second time I've mentioned the menstrual cycle. Great! Just great!). They generally decide to be sunny on each and every day before an important deadline and then shower their blessings exactly when you hand in and have plans to go out. 

Falmouth has also kept us all grounded and taught us spoilt young people the art of appreciating options by way of the spectacle called club I. There is no time wasted on a night out in obscurities regarding where you need to go to find drunk vulnerable people of the opposite sex. London is just going to ruin all this simple living high thinking attitude.

Damn. I am going to miss this place.

And just so you know, those pigeons got nothing on Seagulls.

(Meanwhile, amongst all the packing frenzy and emotional scarring resulting from having to discard one fourth of my wardrobe, Ana has been a great partner and support. When asked, how she was not panicking about this whole moving out situation and carrying all that luggage, she responded with a straight face, "What does not fit, does not go." 

And when told, "Shit! I just realised we are never eating in the Stannary again?", she said in a very non sarcastic fashion "Don't worry, we can come back, just so you can eat in the Stannary again.")

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to the Gylly beach to feed those seagulls with me pasty and stop my room from looking like Mount Fujiyama erupting clothes, after which I will have to check out for good, and two dirty scruffy boys will take over my room, so I am told.

Shitty blogpost. Shittier mood. Whatever.

Divya