Isle of Wight
I hate my father.
He has taken us on another pointles holiday to see far-off relatives. This time, it was the isle of Wight, although they actually live in France – logical, or what…
I spent the trip sitting doing nothing, playing on a laptop, being bullied by my uncle and using my cousin as a translator for my other cousin.
I want to write more but I can’t bear to recall it all; a measely excuse…
And then a stupidly long journey home. The waking hours and the travelling time don’t work out as worth it.
And then its off to France tomorrow, which should be good. Hopefully full report when I get back.
Holiday »
You are just depressive Sean
Fair point I suppose…