My family are awesome.

Have I told you guys that? They drive me mental, but they are awesome. They are the lovely people enabling my upping sticks and moving.

I swear these posts will get longer, and less pointless. But packing is so over whelming. In theory all I have to do is box up the stuff for the charity shop first then divide my worldly possessions into two piles. One pile is coming with me to my room till may and the other, much larger pile, is going to be stored.

What actually happens is, I hop into a room full of hope armed with my note book, pens and boxes, then slump and start doing something really random, usually cleaning. Which does help, but I'm no further forward with my packing. At all.

I am now at least the proud owner of some proper jamas, they have flowers on. Shut up, they are fluffy and from primark. The flat I'm moving into is known for its Open Sofa policy, flashing some poor, hungover random while I stoat about in a massive teeshirt and pants of unknown origin simply wouldn't do. I will however still insist on offering them mashed banana on toast.

Now just to make the fear that uni will turn round and say "Ha! No sorry we've change our mind!" go away...

And pack.