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Feb. 5th, 2006 11:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyI found another folder, so more crappy snippets later, no doubt.
I've just been out to a '50s night, which was... well, it's lovely to have an occasion for which I'm appropriately dressed. I always feel out of place, but tonight it was in that good way. I wore brogues, brown herringbone tweedy trousers, a hideous geometrically patterned black and white nylon fifties-shirt, a V-necked green jumper, and tweed jacket. (God, I'm cool.) And they played marvellously chirpy music, and they sold me tea, and I didn't have the slightest inclination to drink. It was rather lovely.
Realisation of the night - things can be because of me, without being my fault. This is comforting.
I don't know what I'm going to do next year, living-wise. I could probably find people to live with in Cardiff, but I really think I've come to the end of my time here. It's nothing in particular that's caused it - I still love the city, and I'll definitely be coming back because I want to see baby Spike grow up, but it's never been home and that's becoming more apparent as I go on.
I've yet to work out where home is. It's not Southampton, and it's not Winchester, 'though I love both of them dearly. (Southampton more for my family than anything, 'cos to be honest it doesn't have much to recommend it). Cardiff was a place to call home for a while, but it's definitely not where I'll end up. I'm thinking I'll try somewhere north, next. York is calling, although I've never been - sometimes I get feelings about places, and it worked for Winchester and Cardiff, so maybe I'll go visit it soon, and see.
It's going to be terrifying, of course. I won't have anyone to live with, and I'm not terribly good at looking after myself without people to remind me. I'm not any good at starting conversations, is the thing. And I'm not sure I want to go somewhere where I won't end up going out anywhere, or making any friends, or doing anything except for disappearing into my own head. I suppose I can but try it and see.
I've just been out to a '50s night, which was... well, it's lovely to have an occasion for which I'm appropriately dressed. I always feel out of place, but tonight it was in that good way. I wore brogues, brown herringbone tweedy trousers, a hideous geometrically patterned black and white nylon fifties-shirt, a V-necked green jumper, and tweed jacket. (God, I'm cool.) And they played marvellously chirpy music, and they sold me tea, and I didn't have the slightest inclination to drink. It was rather lovely.
Realisation of the night - things can be because of me, without being my fault. This is comforting.
I don't know what I'm going to do next year, living-wise. I could probably find people to live with in Cardiff, but I really think I've come to the end of my time here. It's nothing in particular that's caused it - I still love the city, and I'll definitely be coming back because I want to see baby Spike grow up, but it's never been home and that's becoming more apparent as I go on.
I've yet to work out where home is. It's not Southampton, and it's not Winchester, 'though I love both of them dearly. (Southampton more for my family than anything, 'cos to be honest it doesn't have much to recommend it). Cardiff was a place to call home for a while, but it's definitely not where I'll end up. I'm thinking I'll try somewhere north, next. York is calling, although I've never been - sometimes I get feelings about places, and it worked for Winchester and Cardiff, so maybe I'll go visit it soon, and see.
It's going to be terrifying, of course. I won't have anyone to live with, and I'm not terribly good at looking after myself without people to remind me. I'm not any good at starting conversations, is the thing. And I'm not sure I want to go somewhere where I won't end up going out anywhere, or making any friends, or doing anything except for disappearing into my own head. I suppose I can but try it and see.
