hurrah for home..

manchester is too much for me right now. manchester still has, it would seem, a shelf-life equal to a semester, with me. i cannot seem to convince myself that i want or need to stay there longer than thirteen weeks. this week i was pretty much pissed off with everything. new things and places and people are not so good in my subconcious brain, when it has gone over the thirteen week threshold, into the assumed southward migration of the school holidays. after that point my head expects family, open rows, honest discussion, frank expression of love, thousands of years' worth of mutual understanding, and genuine concern for one another. my house in manchester this week was more or less none of these things, for one reason or another. marie and the scene in the movie of my life that was the most eerily reminiscant of little women than anything anyone could've scripted, was the one oasis. until last night, which involved a lot of laughter. although marie and i did get cooking rage. and i cried because i burnt my finger. thats when you know you're tired.
i feel like i am allowed now to investigate the post-manchester path i shall tread. i have thought that for a week or two now. maybe somewhere that takes a two-week public holiday every thirteen weeks or so?
good one