Enough

with the lesbians I hear you say. Alright. It's just, you know, exciting. And I am a Tiger.

I tell you what else is exciting, coming back to London. I've been in Liverpool for a while and whilst I love it with all my heart, it feels like I am trapped in some suburban nightmare when I'm at my Mum's. It's a place where people actually care about what next door are doing with their petunias, TV only has 5 channels and people still write down phone messages on the fridge.

My Mum is really becoming a powerful Christian. And my Stepdad continues to turn into a sort of full time gambler, without the spiralling fixation with drink, drugs and high class prostitutes. He likes a late night whiskey though and loves a good swear. It is possible that he is turning into the anti-Christ and my Mum is the risen daughter of Jesus and that the the ultimate battle between good and evil is being fought out in some sort of modern morality play in a semi just outside Liverpool.

But life there is so different, and it really feels a bit suffocating. I think because it reminds me of being so bored growing up, waiting for the next cricket match to begin as the sun baked down on the concrete alleyway next to our house and afternoons went on for days.

Saw my Grandparents. My Grandad was on good form. "What was your last exam?" "Occupational psychology". "Oh I see. (Without pausing) Well, better than Constipational Psychology I suppose".

Quite.