Tuesday 10th August

I spend a lot of today wishing I was somewhere else. Luckily, this time it's not because of the kids across the road singing their hearts out. Even if they were, I wouldn't have been able to hear today as we have the windows firmly shut against the slightly depressing early August rain. My colleague Georgie is off to the Edinburgh festival for a couple of days from tomorrow, and having spent much of my lunch hour catching up on blogs by the likes of Richard Herring, Andrew Collins and my fellow Royal Holloway survivor (and now comedian) James Smith, I can't help but wish I was there.

I know I wrote last week about how horrible the festival makes Edinburgh when you're used to the place being mostly free of visitors, but I can't help but envy her opportunity to soak up the atmosphere and see brilliant little shows and generally get pissed around people earnestly looking to have a good time. The pang of jealously gets so bad that I actually go on thetrainline.com to check out prices for the upcoming bank holiday weekend, when K will be at the Reading festival, in an attempt to sort out a quick trip up there. It's too expensive and I soon come to my senses - but I realise that I've had a few moments recently where I've wished I was wallowing in the distant aura of one of my old haunts. Today, it's the idea of spending a little time in one of my old favourite Edinburgh pubs (the Brass Monkey, the City Cafe) - but at the weekend it was my early teenage years spent getting the number 19 bus from Folkestone to Canterbury to spend the afternoon shooting my friends at Planet Lazer before buying some dubious metal album from Our Price. It could just as easily have been a session at The Bell in Bath or The Happy Man in Englefield Green - but I suppose when you spend your life moving around you have a lot of places to be homesick for.

This evening, being Tuesday, is supposed to be spent taking an invigorating swim at Park Road, but since the weather is so atrocious I manage to convince K that my evening would be better spent catching up with my blog and cooking her a delicious, peppery bolognese. I feel guilty for not going swimming, but promise that I'll make it up on Thursday night.

I get home from work and get dinner sorted, then sit in front of the telly with the new netbook and catch up on writing - while catching up on last week's Would I Lie To You? and the much-delayed crime special of You Have Been Watching. Stupidly, I fail to take into account the fact that K might want to watch these shows, so when she gets back and we've watched Shooting Stars, I end up sitting through You Have Been Watching for a second time. Luckily, Brooker and Iannucci make me chuckle again while I get to indulge in my minor crush on Josie Long. Until K notices, that is.