Fuck.

 

 

You all.

 

 

Fuck you all, that is.

 

Perfect word to start the new blogging year with. Especially because I ended the previous one with love.

 

A very warm welcome to Gill who has figured out where to find my blog. Welcome, luv, but please keep shtum about it, will you? This anonymity thing is beginning to freak me out: enter “husten and blog” on google, and there am I, on the number 1 spot.

 

Fuck.

 

Anyway, to all the people I met and hadn’t seen like for years: I was so surprised, going home, away from the UK, away from me fishing town, to find that those in the know about me blog were so supportive, so positive. Especially T and Mandie.

 

Thank you all very much.

 

Fuck.

 

A summary. 

 

Para: was really good to see you, you never judge, just like Jaakie, very British! Never got that Grant Hart CD. Any chance for another one?

 

Mr T: some of my posts embarrassing? That’s our education, our past, buddy. The fucking schools we attended. Get over it.

 

Mrs T (incidentally, another A, and even less incidentally, the best A of them all): So much more we could have talked about, so much more we could have said, so much more we could have laughed about. But I was drunk. Ish. Was trying to keep the conversation going. Flowing. And I know, I know, kids and all that + pregnant + Husten drunk. What do I know? Apart from that I love you two (three/four) to bits.

 

Mr and Mrs T: as I said, I love you two to bits. Next time, you find a nanny, then a nightclub, hey? I wanna see you so hungover on a Sunday morning, you couldn’t give a flying fuck anymore about reading The Observer. Or making it to Brussels to go to Paris.

 

Jaakie: it was as usual. Exhilarating. Adventurous. Poisonous. You not being able to take your drink. Ending in an argument. With me. About the Iraqi taxi driver. About ourselves. The way it’s always been. The way it should be.

 

Hanne: next time, attack me more, I love, and can take it. But you have some serious issues as they say in England. Almost as many as I have. 

 

Shoey: what a fucking fantastic Christmas we had. Full of worry, full of alcohol, full of shortage of heat, shortage of water, shortage of money, full of shortage of presents for you all. Won’t forget that one for a while. 

 

Pitte: have you fucking found me blog now, or are you still pretending? (Great day, congratulations and all the best, by the way)

 

Mandie: “Shut your eyes … “. So easy to be with you, just like with Pitte. As if we have seen each other only yesterday. Makes it very special, as you know, as we both know.

 

T: it was great with Christine, wasn’t it?  When she gets better, for fuck’s sake, don’t go to Ireland, Canada, Mexico, the Antarctic, wherever, just come to me fishing town.

 

 

Thank you all for reading me.

 

 

She packs it away

 

…

 

She puts, oh she puts the weights into my little heart

 

 

 

So do you.