2/8

It was the last of our bands in the park. A signal for winter weather to come and summer holidays to start. An equal mix of preschoolers, over 70's and winos attend, united in their capability of leaving behind wet patches. Winos, preschoolers and old folk got up to dance and I was left wondering which way to dive if any should fall over.

I have plans for the Summer. Even though I will be hard pushed to fit them into the uncustomary 5 weeks instead of the usual 6. I fully intend to sound track each and every one of my last few blog posts, keep the house a little tidy and finally complete my application to do a Masters. This Masters thing is quite important to me, I would like a real qualification, instead of an honours in the Art of Procrastination. However this year I have achieved a decent hair cut which for me is no small thing.

One, two, three and I'm back in the room. Pulled back from a far fetched dream of a mortar board perched over perfectly, funky hair. I'm grinning, clutching my doctorate, 'Come to me my pretties let me in to your mind, it won't hurt a bit'!