All I want to do is run around having water fights with him, drive down to the coast with him and talk about politics and film. I want eat ice cream with him, I want to turn up the radio and sing out loud with him, I want to just be with him. I want to fuck his brains out.

But, here I am back at the boarding house on a wet Sunday afternoon. I’m sitting on the floor, propped up by the end of my bed. I can smell Lexi, she has quite a distinctive smell, like perfume and grass and a hint of Marlboro. My hair’s wet because I had to carry my suitcases up the drive way (a long way, a very long way) as my father “didn’t have the time to run me up to the front door”. bullshit. And the water’s dripping onto my sunburnt shoulders, it feels like knives. My shorts and shirt also got very wet, but I took them off. They’re now lying in a soggy heap on the floor - I really should dry them out….

I don’t know why I’m posting this. I’m just sort of making observations. I suppose it’s just because I miss him so much, and being back here is so strange and unreal. I need to just affirm in my own head that this is the norm for the next three weeks. There are some year nine brats arguing downstairs, their voices are painful to me.

Yes, and to add to the general downtrodden, defeated mood I have a maths exam tomorrow. For which I have only revised about three hours, two of which with Alf and not very productive at all. He is very good at maths, but cannot understand why I just don’t get some things. I miss him a lot and I only left his house about four hours ago.

Oh, here comes Saph, she has Oreos and three cappuccinos from the coffee machine. I love her right now, bye. xxx