Dolly nights

This evening was insignificant in every way, perfectly chilled and yet the very safe memories I’ll think about in years when I look back on what my twenties resembled.

One of us went to Starbucks and then proceeded to moan about her cramps. The other went on a passive aggressive run and had to have restraint in not retching from eating a pint of ice cream half an hour earlier. Delightful. Lidl was a feature, uneventful and random as ever with running jackets and vegan cheese and carrot wraps. They don’t sell gluten free pasta. Sad times.

The fire alarm almost sounded when making tea as I cooked and burnt frozen sausages. Unremarkable but a travesty of a way to serve Lincolnshire sausages, I shed a silent tear at the unrelenting care put into the process. Bags were packed; wetsuits, goggles, deluxe toilet paper and scented candles are overkill fore centre parcs. I filled the bathroom floor with more water than there was in the shower basin. Curled up in my nail varnish stained sheets we talked, bawled and watched cringe worthy moments reminiscing in the past. More ice cream (Ben and jerrys Tony’s chocolonely) was consumed. Nails painted on a sketch book and a bed made at 12.09. Beautifully mundane, peaceful and unremarkable all in one clean sweep. I like unremarkable.