Pulling an all nighter

So, the countdown is on to another trip to Poland.... Now that I live in the sticks I have decided to splash out on a minicab to whisk me into Victoria, to pick up the coach to the airport at a very reasonable 2.40am. My flights at 6.10. Lovely.

Off to a wedding outside Gdansk which I'm nervous about to say the least. Not only do I have to meet the parents again, having reneged on my promise of January to have "learnt Polish" by the time I returned, I also have two days of mingling with people I don't know in a language I don't understand. Oh, with gallons of vodka thrown in. I don't know what I'm more concerned about - the language barrier or my ability to last the pace....

I'm sure it'll be fine - another step into the unknown but it's character building. And I get to be a date at a wedding for the first time ever which is nice. Maybe at some point I will manage to turn up to such a function with my girlfriend and the mutterings amongst the senior family members might die down.

I've taken the late night as an opportunity to sort out my room. It's massive, as previously mentioned, and I had this image in my head of some sort of studio apartment-style room displaying my interior designing, young professional bent. In reality, it looks like a living room that someone is using as a bedroom...

I've resisted the temptation to hook up the piece de resistance - the telly - and it is remaining in its box until Monday when I will have a whole day to savour it, seeing as I have to scrape my broken body onto the return flight at ten past nine on Monday morning after two days of toasting the happy couple. I'm impressed with my willpower on the telly front - one day I might try and direct it towards quitting the fags.