Now I don’t want to sound like a London snob but what I am about to say will have this effect: there is nothing to do in Chichester. I’m a little bored already. Sunday was spent sleeping and drinking tonnes of water at Easter dinner while everyone else smugly tucked into their champagne and wine. Monday was spent outside the cathedral in the sun, then moving onto the beer garden of Whetherspoons for a sneaky pre-4pm drink. Went Hogshead in the evening, listened to both the Razorlight and Kaiser Chiefs albums on their jukebox, graciously got picked up by my little sister and taken home.
Today was a day I was a little dreading – my last haircut ever with my favourite hairdresser in the whole world. He’s leaving the hairdressers to go somewhere new and miles away. Now I gave him the site address of Popstar Feets and I’m a little worried he may click through to here from it so I can’t enthuse about just how beautiful he is for too long but needless to say I’m gutted. Talented, beautiful and manly hairdressers are not easy to find. I may cry. He sometimes straddles you a little when he cuts your fringe.
Renting out ‘Confessions Of A Teenage Drama Queen’ and indulging in a little Lindsay Lohan healed my broken heart a little. It is truly amazing how big her breasts are. The film is less racist than ‘Mean Girls’ but still not entirely morally sound. The lead character, Lola, tells lots of lies to get attention and then gets annoyed when no one believes her truths. She doesn’t really overcome her lying and own up, instead she sulks for a while, stars in the school play and works out a way to prove that her latest story was real. My film geek friends complained all the way through it, desperate to watch Oldboy or the directors cut of Dawn Of The Dead. Oh well, you can’t educate pork as my dad says.
Tonight there are people trying to convince me to go out to Chichester’s only club, a barn in the middle of a field that plays Bon Jovi every week. I’m tempted but have to be up at 6am tomorrow, so it may not be a good idea. I do have a great dress to wear though, so maybe I should go.
As gar as gigs go this week I can’t remember what else I’m doing aside from going to see Art Goblins tomorrow at the Rhythm Factory. So excited about that. Mr Swish is being a boring old sod and staying in to watch the footie instead. Well, his loss, its going to be loads of fun.
For now, with my last 13 hours left in Sussex I am going to indulge in my mother’s decadently big bath, loads of bubbles, a glass of wine and read Lolita (which I managed to pick up for £2 in my favourite bookshop – baaaarrrgaaain). I will let my mum cook for me and let my dad drive me into town, then sit in the pub with all my friends and get upset about how much I’m going to miss them until the next set of holidays come round.