The Holiday.

It didn't start well.  Surely no-one should spend the morning before a holiday they're supposedly 'excited' about sobbing into their Mother's shoulder?  And definitely surely not when they're twenty?

Well, there I am; defying the norm again.

However, I'm proud to report it wasn't quite the wall-to-wall cry-fest I'd expected.  I'm back and I'm still in one piece. I can also think of at least three occasions where I was genuinely happy and the voice in my head which tells me that I definitely need to be at home now had shut up for a while.  This, in my head at least, is a success.

1. When we played a game called 'Buzzed Out' where you have to describe a word of phrase to other members of your team before the buzzer goes off.  I like words.  I like this game.

2. When we went swimming and the adrenaline was really running and my friends were all there and we were all having a really good time together.

3. When my Mum texted to ask me how I was and she was expecting a reply, I think, telling her how miserable I was and how I couldn't cope and please could she come and fetch me now? and I could reply saying that I wasn't having too bad a time.

I'm not saying I was ecstatic all week, but it was definitely an improvement on the last time I went away, during which I thought of nothing but counting down the days, hours, minutes and seconds until I could go home.  And I'm too experienced to expect perfect straight away!