Sonny

Apparently some people thought that this blog had run its course; that, having made it through a year since my time down under, I no longer needed the shoulder of this blog to lean on and thus could go out into the world, once more footloose and blog-free.
Since you're reading this, you might have guessed that this is not the case.
It's certainly true that I had originally intended this blog more to document the effects of reverse homesickness and the challenges presented by returning from a year living abroad, so that it might be deployed by future people in a similar situation. However, I found that I settled back into my old routine so unnervingly easily that this site quickly became just a broad-strokes substitute for my old one, the title of which no longer seemed appropriate.
Anyway, the sum of the above paragraph is that no, I do not intend to stop blogging just yet.

That being said, I was finding myself with a dearth of topics on which to discourse; I have done so little of note lately that it seemed like admitting defeat to blog about it, if you see what I mean. I didn't want to admit to you guys how much life had stalled for me recently. But then I was taking an evening constitutional and the song below came up on my randomised music player, and a blogpost planned itself out before my eyes, including this incredibly wordy preamble.

Now, if you clicked on the video above, you'll be aware that that is possibly the saddest song ever written, and may now be fearful of the content to come, but I assure you, I was inspired by the title and nothing more. Fun fact: I very often pick a title first and let my writing flow from that, even though Mrs. Weatherill always used to tell me off for doing it. Some small insights into both my writing process and my attitude towards being told what do do there.

The main reason this post is called 'Sonny' is because the main piece of news it will relate is that I have (temporarily) moved in with Joseph, my once and future heir. Joseph was in both my debate club at Sixth Form and my Freshers' Play group in 2011, and thus is the young mind I have helped to nurture most fully and thus the closest thing I have to a son. 
This latest abode is the first I will be paying for entirely with my own money, instead of my parents footing the bill. This is annoying because obviously it takes a big chunk out of my finances ('finances' is my new least favourite word), but is also a blessing because for once I will not have to put up with my mother insulting my sense of decor, my choice of accommodation/flatmates or my housekeeping abilities. I have informed both my parents quite clearly that, since I now no longer live under their thumb, there are new ground rules for their visiting:

1. There are to be no criticisms, no matter how veiled, of my lifestyle.
2. My mother may not start cleaning up without asking. I don't care how bad it is.
3. They only enter rooms that I say they can, and do not poke around in said rooms.
4. They will be limited to three questions per hour, unless otherwise explicitly stated, and these may not relate to:

• My love live (or lack thereof)
• My hygeine
• What I plan to do next

My mother did not see the need for these rules, but then my mother also doesn't believe she's a critical person, so I guess she'll just have to deal.

My fortress of criticism immunity is sadly not going to last very long, as I plan to leave Edinburgh shortly after the Fringe, as I imagine I'll be sick of it by then, especially having worked Full Time as a waiter during the Festival. Yep, I start, for the first time, full time work on Thursday (technically, I start tomorrow, but Wednesdays are my days off, so I start with a doss): I am terrified by this prospect, because I can only imagine that it will render me exhausted, grumpy and creatively dead inside.
I've recently started writing a new play, partially to honour those of my friends who have recently left or will do so soon, and also to test this hypothesis: if I can get back from working for eight hours and then motivate myself to write something, I know that I may still be able to pursue my dreams even while making my way in the world. Here's to hoping.

Also, Esmond said a while ago that he was feeling neglected on the blog, so here is an entire paragraph about him.