windemere | (no subject)

I am alive. Sweet God, I am alive.

I am never going north of Parry Sound again. I am too fond of civilization. I have no idea how the Kentners stay there for TWO WEEKS. It is like being abandoned on a desert island, except it is not nearly that warm and the water is a hell of a lot less nice than crystal clear ocean. Dad was not amused. Mom is getting too old for this shit. I, at least, do not have to find an excuse to not go back next year.

I have decided I hate wind. Wind and me are not friends.

So, we got talking about Scotland, because the Kentners leave for Scotland a week before I do, and they've never been their before either, but they have been to England/Ireland. So John was regaling me with probably slightly less than true tales, but they were funny. And then we got talking about accents. Even though he's been to Ireland about five times, he still can't understand the Irish accents, so he says he's not holding out hope for the Scots. And then he comment that even Scots who have left the country for a few years can't understand them when they go back for a visit! And to prove the point he said his doctor is from Glasgow but moved over here a few years ago and can't understand half of his family back home.

And that's when I lost it. Because, really, how was I not supposed to?

I'm sorry Kate. I'll try to be stronger in September.

I missed the hot water the most.