There isn't a line from a song worthy enough to grace this post.

I'm taking advantage of a quiet moment while Sam's in the shower to try to write something worthwhile. Its Sunday here and if you stand in the kitchen or the bathroom you can hear the churchgoers next door singing. I would have kind of liked to see that, but only to take pictures and say 'they were singing! For Jesus! ahahahaha!!' so i don't think they'd let me in. A seed of an idea has formed, we may when we go to sarah's cook them Sunday roast, sweet sweet Sunday roast. In a pub, with a half, sweet sweet Sunday roast.
We're sort of winding down to come home now, and starting to get all nostalgic even though I'm trying quite hard not to. Its inevitable how you have to follow the holiday nostalgia pattern, first half always goes unbelievably slowly, the middle bit is the self-conscious 'ooh blimey this is the middle bit' and the last bit is all about reminiscing about the two other its. Me and sam even got all misty eyed when we were at Supreme Trading on Friday, God knows what we'll be like at the airport. Maybe we should ask the happy clappers.