Bits and bobs

My whole life seems to be made of bits and bobs. Be it physically with all my crafting and jewellery stuff, or the various odd items I’ve accumulated over the years, or emotionally with a splodge of happiness and a tinge of stress.

My thoughts also come in bits and, occasionally, bobs or blobs. I used to say that while everyone else had a “train of thought” I had “a rocket-powered shopping trolley with a wonky wheel”. It isn’t too far off the mark but I think that a friend of mine nailed in on the head when he called me a scratched record as I tend to jump between ideas, thoughts and skip back to things I’ve mentioned before.

Like how, with this charming non-sequitur, I will go from discussing my inability to think in a straight line to discussing my one of my flatmates.

TA-DAH!
TA-DAH!

I’ve wanted to talk about him for a long time because he is the brains of our flat, not to mention half the fun sometimes. He is the man you go to if your printer is broken or you’re having computer troubles. Basically he is a god re-incarnated. You cannot have a conversation with him without some sort of animal noise being made. Be it an elephant, chicken or the ever rare and ever hilarious pig, there is never a dull moment if you happen to be in the kitchen at the same time. His dry wit, stories of his childhood and past escapades often have me laughing to the point where I have tears in my eyes. I like to think we share a bond though I’m probably just being a little over-dramatic after the fateful day when he knocked on my door and asked me “Will you measure my head to make sure it’s less than a foot long?”. Beautiful.

Last semester I was having  a really tough time and I just had to get out of the flat. So, I grabbed my stuff and walked as fast as  I could. As it turns out he was just coming home from who-knows-where and spotted me looking very upset. Instead of doing the thing that you’d expect, just saying “awwh, I hope you feel better soon”, the big gangly sweetheart gave me a hug. My heart still melts a little remembering it.

I’m gonna miss you next year, mate. You and your newly acquired cocktail kit, book and buckets full of alcohol.

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