A girly holiday is our chosen plan. Betty, Steph, Sarah and myself are ready to hit the white isle for a second battering after last year's drunken antics. This time, with a little bit more money, a year's worth of preparing our livers, and an even more desperate need for a tan.
This time however, things are different. I'm excited to go away, but there are things pulling my back. Ties I've made. Things I don't want to leave, not even for seven days. Excitement in the air, a tear in my eye and euros in my purse, I'm ready. Well, okay, that's a lie. My suitcase isn't even packed. The flight is Monday afternoon. I literally finished shopping for stuff today. I'm very, very disorganised and it's totally not like me, at all. My camera isn't free of photos, my iPod isn't stocked up with new songs, my money isn't properly sorted. I'm out of sorts. It hasn't quite hit me properly that I'm actually going away. Part of me still thinks it should be January or something. Madness. Let it begin.