Well, I've had a little time...which made it easy...had a little time, to work things out....

*ahem*
:-)
Well, my parents will have been away a week tomorrow, no one to my knowledge, at this point in time, is dead, not even the parrot; despite my parents being in an earthquake, and us having a barbeque.

Survival is all about planning, and keeping a clear head...
Staggering about the beach...with a can of lager in one hand...in the sea, laughing at the people spinning fire round their heads.
Yes.
I truly am alive.
That was the barbeque, anyway...

The earthquake probably wasn't quite so amusing.
My sister's boyfriend is back, bringing with him pieces of Mt Vesuvius and general Italian paraphernalia.
(...there's a 'natural disasters' theme to this posting, did you spot it?)

I've been wandering around all over the Island instead of taking the bus, which, seeing as I'e just had 3 years of not walking anywhere, is good. Especially as I spent a lot of that time drinking and not doing exercise.

More...when.

*yawn*
Damnit, this should be a period of partying, and generally kicking back and chilling out and other phrases.

Instead, I'm sat on the net typing this, it's absolutely pissing it down (with rain) and my parents have just buggered of to Greece for two weeks, leaving me with a millet-fetishist parrot and a sister who wanders around the whole time worrying about her boyfriend, who, just to rub it in, is ALSO on holiday.

On the other hand, I'm now free to sleep in/make mess/stay in dressing gown all day without someone sighing sadly as I pass by on the way to the coffee...
:-D
Yup, it ain't all bad.

Well, what the hell am I going to do with the house for two weeks? The almost-girlfriend looks like she's coming to stay at some point, and the weather won't be like this all the time, so, parrot-permitting, I'll be spending some quality time on the beach...one plus of living on the Isle of Wight, hey?

More soon, when I'm either in a mood to moan, or jubilant about something or other.
Hmmmm, not too soon then?

I am 22, and marooned on the British equivalent of Alcatraz...the Isle of Wight.

My name is Stuart edit...and the story of how I came to be here is a long one...about 22 years long, in fact.
I'm really only wrting this because I'm curious about the concept of a weblog...I have random thoughts most of the time, so I expect I'lll be putting a fair amount on here.
Keep posted.