The only reason I've not deleted this is because, frankly, it's four o'clock in the morning and I'm so tired I can't tell whether what I've got here makes much sense, or whether there's anything that's worth keeping and using for something good. I either write fiction when I'm wide awake, and I'll delete it almost straight away because I can't stand the sight of things I've created, or I write when I'm so tired that I can't focus on anything, which turns my writing from "vaguely structured" to "where is this going I don't even-".

Maybe it's time to try and sleep again.

( Pending! Deletion! )

Mostly for my own benefit, and the benefit of people who would otherwise seek to try and steal my identity, these are my travel plans for the month of September.

2^nd September: Fly to Guernsey from Exeter, arrive at about eight o'clock in the morning. Spend the day running around Guernsey like a headless chicken, possibly armed with a camera and dangerous quantities of sugar. Meet up with Miss Freddie when she arrives at about half past four. Check in at airport for last flight from Guernsey to Alderney. Celebrate my return to Alderney by either (a) having some food, (b) having a drink, (c) falling asleep or (d) a combination of the above. Seeing that (a) and (b) inevitably lead to (c), (d) shouldn't be too hard to achieve.

9^th September: Fly back from Alderney to Guernsey, arriving once again at around eight o'clock in the morning. In fact, eight o'clock in the morning seems to be a popular time for travelling. Wait at airport with Miss Freddie, as she's flying back to Stanstead from Guernsey, although I can't recall what time her flight is. Then meet up - hopefully - with lokean and company.

16^th September: Fly from Guernsey back to Exeter, leaving at eight o'clock in the morning. This is the cheapest leg of my journey, costing an incredible £9.99, and I should be back to the relative safety of Exeter in time for lunch.

Thankfully the visit back to Alderney is relatively short, which should mean that I'll be leaving just as soon as the "isn't it nice to have Mark over to visit" feeling is wearing off. It will be nice to see my family again, but trips back home never seem to go quite according to plan. There's something about the island that makes me feel rather depressed and irritable, which inevitably means I wade into arguments that, really, I should just get up and walk away from.