Shockingly, events of the past week have unravelled leaving a trail of chaos and fun.

Where to start?  Its always hard for me to pinpoint a particular place to start my stories. 

The boys parents have left for sunny shores for three weeks which means a house to ourselves.  I miss my life of doing what i want and when i want.  Leaving mess about and knowing no one can shout at me.  Breaking things, turning up the music loud and having noisey sex with no fear of waking some one else’s bloody parents.  I have been relishing in the fact i feel a grown up again…granted im just a temporary lodger in someone else’s place…but the point is still marginaly similar.

‘Do you realise, we’ve basically made this place our own and feels like we are living together’ the boy said to me.  Its true.  We have been going out for just over a month, me rather reluctantly stepping into this situation and constantly morning the loss of singledom, but we have become ever closer.  I can’t actually remember not going out with him or not having him at the end of a phone to chat to every day.  I go to bed with him and wake up with him and it feels normal. I feel strange.  Its all happened very quickly and thats a very scary notion.  Like a train out of control on the tampered tracks but i dont feel im heading towards anything disasterous for once.

He rung me on thursday to tell me he’d had an accident on his superbike.  I ran up to the end of my estate where it had happened and he was sitting on the floor looking very stunned.  Im not the best person when it comes to things like this…fears of past events come flooding back and terror takes hold of me.  I ring an ambulance, i speak to the paramedics…stef is slightly dissorientated.  The bike is in pieces.  A four grand beautiful bike which i nick named the mistress, smashed to smiterines on the side of the road.  He’s loaded into the ambulance while they ask him questions.  My dad turns up and i burst into tears.  I speak to the boys boss who keeps ringing as hes late for work.  I give him a piece of my mind and later events have unfolded to make me believe that i may have freaked his boss out slightly.  Whoops.  I talk to the police officer, having not seen any of it and arriving afterwards i was pretty useless but managed to blurt out infront of everyone ‘he’s getting rid of that fucking bike and when he gets the all clear im going to fucking kill him!’  The policeman walked off and the paramedics nicknamed me killer. 

The William Harvey was inept as usual and sent him for scans on his spine and legs.  Then proceeded to tell him to go home.  Ive had him hobbling about like that for the last week and boy is he milking it.  Ive banned the bike because hes a total lunatic on it thinking he’s Valantino Rossi.  So what ends up happening, he fixes my car and tax’s it for me, buys me petrol and credit in return for me taking him at 7 every morning to tunbridge wells via geriatric road!  Then i have to pick him up about 11 every night.  4 trips to tunbridge is not the way i wish to spend my life, but he did pay for everything so i have to love him for that.

I turned 24.  It happened.  No tampering with driving licences, just the inevitable acceptance that im getting old.  Reflection makes me sad so i try not to do it.  What have i achieved?  Countless failed romances that have left me brutaly scarred, uni drop out, no job, money and a car that is actually illegal to drive till its taxed.  For the first time in my life im at a loss as to where and what im doing.  I fear i will forever be in ashford having babies and getting married and working a dead end job because its what im used to.  I think id perish if i did that.  Most of my friends had babies when we were young.  I got over that, they were chavs, it was bound to happen, but now my paired up friends who are my age are having babies.  What the hell?  When did we become family producing age?  Bf, flat, baby, possible marriage all by 24.  Whats the rush?