Itchy Feet

It is so quiet here tonight. Just still and silent and smelling like spring. The moon was full last night I think so it's still beaming in through the window in all it's glory and majesty. There are no cars, no dogs barking, just the odd sound of a ship's horn in the harbour. Soon it will be spring and we will be back to wearing jeans and teeshirts and thongs with not a care in the world.

Missing Argentina lots at the moment. Missing my little crew over there, just kicking back sharing a mate, talking endless shit, eating empanadas, cruising around BA feeling at home. I can almost afford to go back for a little while but then maybe I think I need to get myself to Europe first since I haven't been there? God damn itchy feet. I've been back 5 minutes and I've got them again. I think most of the time itchy feet is not so much about wanting to travel, it's more about wanting to run. This is very true of me. When things start going really well I generally try to fuck them up in some way. I wrote the book on self-sabotage. Well when we go to the Barringtons I shall walk barefoot on mossy ground and plunge these itchy feet into a rock pool and try to chill them out.

Come on Monday morning. I am so ready for you. This week is going to fflllyyyyyyyyy!