Having said a tearful goodbye to Garton, I arrived at Gareth's in tears. He took me under his wing and suggested a weekend in the country might be just what I needed. Our next Big Adventure. For Gazza and I are making quite a thing of going on adventures. Conveniently, this is also part of my big plan for moving into a new chapter. Less getting drunk with Cesca, more rambling, escaping, discovering and happy snapping with Gareth. Less getting drunk with Cesca, more reading. Less getting drunk with Cesca, more yoga. You get the idea, Kim MK 2008 is bloody wholesome.
So, I better find my passport, I'm off to Wales! Whoop whoop! Meeting some of Gareth's family as well. We took a tent so we could spend one night at one with nature and one night with Gareth's grandparents.
First night was lovely, I ate my body weight in sunflower oil, and it was great. I eat so many salads it was lovely to live by my Dad's rule 'don't reject anything given to you when you are a guest' - OK! Brilliant, I can eat all this fried food and it's just me being polite. It was heaven.
Avril, Gareth's nan, made me instantly at ease with her warm smile, soft Welsh accent and mammoth albums of Gareth before he got blessed with good looks. One picture in particular was worth considering thievery for - because the world of facebook needs to see it.
Next day we camped beside a lake, beneath the trees (fluttering and dancing in the breeze...). It was so beautiful, serene and perfect. Not another camper in sight. To work up an appetite, we decided to walk the perimeter of the lake.
Pretty sure, as we battled bog after bog, that it was Gareth's idea. After each bog had been crossed it was a toss up whether it was worse to carry on or go back, knowing how many were behind us and hoping there were none ahead.
What more could I have asked for to take my mind off losing my wing man, my Cesca, than the sight of my boyfriend chasing after and trying unsuccessfully to grab hold of a sheep's horns? It brought a little tear of happiness to my eyes.
Back at the tent I collected firewood in my bare feet while Gareth...I'm not entirely sure what he was doing. His hair? (I later found out he'd gone to clean his muddy shoes and had fallen in some brambles). As I collected the firewood I was taken back to my times with Dad, collecting and chopping firewood on the Isle of Wight, him teaching me the best way to use an axe, a spanner, a jack... and I missed him. I always miss him when I'm doing something he'd be proud of. I don't miss him when I'm in the pub because I know he hates that side of my life. But when I'm flexing my guns picking up massive logs, I know Dad would be proud.
Everything was going swimmingly - long walk, bbq, sunset, roaring fire.
Then, from nowhere, a man clad only in black appeared from nowhere, huge binoculars around his neck.
Just the two of you? he asked nervously as I jumped out of my skin.
Gareth kindly took it upon himself to tell the potential rapist that yes, it was just the two of us, and we had no reception on our mobiles and in case he needed to know how long he had to torture us before anyone noticed we were missing, we weren't getting picked up until the morning.
You can't have a fire here, he said. Ok, we'll put out the only sign from afar that we're here, then you can rape us in the dead of night. Yes? Yes, that's fine, you can stay, he says, walking away.
Don't get spooked, he says as he turns back. Lots of weirdos out tonight.
With our fire extinguished and my imagination running wild, we retreated into the tent.
'Funny how he didn't have a torch, Gareth points out. And he wanted to know if we were alone. And we told him we were. And that we had no reception. Brilliant!
Every rustle made me jump as every horror movie I'd ever watched amalgamated into one, fine, gruesome killing of me.
We tried to go to sleep but the tea towel I'd brought instead of a duvet and the napkin I'd brought instead of a mattress meant it was the most freezing and uncomfortable night I'd ever endured. Every time Gareth moved and I lost the warmth of the spoon, my temperature dropped a further five degrees and at times I wondered if we'd make it through.
So you can imagine my delight at waking up alive.
I came home smiling.
Yes, an era came to an end on Saturday. But the new one is going to be just as fun, as I become one of those adults who wakes up without a hangover on Saturdays. Ok, not every Saturday. But I would like to regularly wake up without a hangover. That's my new aim.
That and to get guns like Madonna.
"The composition of my soul is made, too great for servile, avaricious trade.
When raving in the lunacy of ink, I catch my pen and publish what I think."
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