Arvon

On Saturday I spent more than 9 hours travelling from the depths of Shropshire back to Ipswich. I got stuck with Richard in Birmingham New Street for like, two hours, my phone ran out of battery, I ended up at Ely station, realising only after about twenty minutes that there wasn't another train to Ipswich for more than an hour and a half. I stumbled into the phone booth, called home and got my Dad to pick me up by sobbing (I totally hadn't meant to cry, I'm such a loser). The journey was hell, and once I was by myself it was just boring boring boring. But you know what? It was worth every second, and would have been worth many more.

I was travelling back from an Arvon course, which had been incredible. Somehow, it was my third - I've been on two others, all three through (somehow) winning fyp a number of times. I don't know if I'll ever get to go on any more - I mean, hopefully I will, but I can't really afford any and it wouldn't be the same anyway. The fyp ones are always so incredible because everyone's about your age and you're thrown together and they turn out to be awesome so you end up with great friends that happen to be into poetry. Sigh. Obviously I was incredibly lucky to win as many times as I did - 3 - so I've had way more than my fair share of being an idiot at the Hurst, but still, I'm sad that that was my last time.

I think I was going to regail stories about the course here, actually, but I don't really know what to say. I don't think it'd be all that interesting to people that weren't there, although I do urge all of you to play Adverbs the next time you're at a party. It's magic. Try 'sadistically' or 'morbidly' if you really want to have a good time...

Anyway this blog post is a bit nothing but I largely wanted to let you all know that I am alive, if not well then passable and that last week was one of the best weeks of my life (along with the other two courses, naturally). A proper, thoughtful blog post coming soon - promise!