hhhhhrugh

I'm absolutely whacked! And on Sunday I get to take a 10 hour coach journey with two changes to go back to my job on Monday, where I will have to... go in early due to the peculiar confluence of circumstances that would otherwise give me half an hour to process the whole month's overtime. So I'm probably getting some overtime pay.

I'm really nervous about going back to my job. It's not an easy job (and it pays shit) and before Christmas I had a whole pile of stress about my performance. I know I'll be going back to the busy time as well so that makes it worse. I've been wiping myself out on walks and artwork lately and I'm really not sure I have the gas in the tank to work, and run all my games, and wrangle my landlord.

Being A Physical Wreck Of A Human Suuuucks.

i'm lucky

and drunk! Also drunk.

Anyway. I was born in a gorgeous corner of South Wales, to parents who wanted to take me to explore it. I proceeded to move to the east of England - which kinda sucks, although the wages are higher there, but does mean one wonderful thing.

It means that the coves and ridges and highlands and beaches of my region of South Wales are both deeply nostalgic and deeply novel to me. Every time I go it's special, because I can't go there just any day, but it's also bone-deep familiar. I get to holiday in the place I was born and like it sucks that my day-to-day environment is so dull? But it does mean that those high sand and limestone cliffs and rolling sea-winds will never become mundane for me, now.

I was at Rhossili today, the Worm lying sullen in a cloud-grey sea and the sheep vibrant with fluorescent pink crests. It's a landscape I painted my adolescent pains on - somewhere there will still be the deeply depressing lyrics that weren't meant to be about what they were - and a landscape I return to over and over. The high hills, the dramatic sweep of the coast, the old wreck, and always the Worm's Head across the bay. It's timeless and still... new, in its way.