It's still not done.
I woke up this morning to three things:
1. The exact same mess there before I went to bed. Brownies, elves, fairies, packing pixies: none of the above came in (no key needed) and helped me. Not even slightly. They didn't even pick my towel off the floor and hang it up nicely, so now it smells of cheese. There's a part of me - the part of me that looked under flowers for fairies when I was far too old to be looking under flowers for fairies - that's a little bit surprised, actually. And slightly angry. How was I supposed to do it? I was fast asleep.
2. An email from my grandparents. Please don't miss the flight! Love G and G. PS: Seriously.
3. An email from my mum. Your front door hasn't been locked for two entire bloody weeks? That's not funny. Are you trying to make me ill?
I'd like to say that I'm going to get up and pack and lock my door and sort out flight times right now, but there are a million other things I have absolutely no need to do first but will do them first anyway.
Writing this blog is just one of them.
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HOLLY MIRANDA SMALE
Writer, photographer, "rapper" and general technophobe takes on the internet in what could be a very, very messy fight. But it's alright: she's harder than she looks, and she's wearing every single ring she could get her hands on.
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