The water is also nice and warm, and because it wasn't very busy we were there less than an hour because we weren't waiting for people to get out of the way before we could swim. Much better. The only downside is the showers are rubbish. They give out fairly strong, ten-second blasts of cold water. I may just wait until I get home to wash my hair next time...
Overall I think I prefer Moseley Road for sheer ease of use and productivity, even though Cocks Moors Wood is more convenient.
In other news, I'm beginning to hate the summer for another reason than the heat - which thankfully this year hasn't been an issue; in fact it's positively cold this morning. (This time last year I was already dying from the heatwave, and I seem to recall moving into the flat just under a year ago [now, that's scary!] on one of the hottest days of the year...)
No, the reason I am disliking the summer this year is I work in a Department where everyone is rich enough to go on holiday to nice places. Which is depressing. I've booked a week of leave because I'm exhausted (I've been on my own and battling against my typing going missing for about eight weeks or so), not because I have somewhere special to go. And it's just a bit depressing when people say "DId you go anywhere nice?" because they naturally assume that a week off = a holiday somewhere.
Er, well, I went to the shops and it was nice because they were empty... What am I supposed to say? Do I look like I can afford to go somewhere nice? With these split ends and these clothes which are probably nearly ten years old?
I need a holiday. The week off is nice enough (glorious sleep, time to do things...) but I would love to sit somewhere warm, with nothing to do except drink in lovely scenery and perhaps the occasional tour, no obligations, no nothing.
Except a) we can't afford it and b) Paul can't get the leave. Also c) I feel like a beached whale at the moment, and would be incredibly self-conscious on a beach full of annoying, stick-thin 20-somethings flaunting the fact that they can wear string bikinis without rolls of flab all over the place.
More to the point, this year is the 15th anniversary of EuroDisney and it's something of a family tradition to go every five years - it started accidentally, but they do or add something special every five years to celebrate, and I really do want to go. It's possible to find a cheap option and I could probably scrape together the money from the savings account (which was started with the intention of getting a holiday), but my mum can't afford it either. Paul doesn't want to go to EuroDisney anyway, so it should be just me and my mum, but then David'll probably decide he DOES want to go (he wasn't making noises about it either way when we last discussed it) and I'll just feel like a spare part.
It's not going to happen anyway, so I don't know why I'm even worrying. I shouldn't want to go to EuroDisney so much at the age of 25, but there's something quite wonderful about going to a place where you can be as childish as you like without anyone judging you. You get to be a kid again for a couple of days, or live inside a black-and-white movie, or just lose yourself inside the fantasy of being a pirate, or a princess, or a knight, for the shortest of periods. I love it, and it means a lot to me, and not being able to go this year is upsetting.
I just hoped we'd be able to afford something this year. As it stands, I can afford precisely nothing. Our bills are going up from £55 and £38 to £59 and £55 respectively (presumably because of the boiler breaking over Christmas and having to use the gas fire all the time, not to mention the portable heaters eating power like it's going out of fashion) just when I'd managed to reduce my frelling bill payments, and even though it's only an extra £8 a month overall each, it's still a lot of money... probably just as well I'm £20 better off as of July because choir's finished until September, but, y'know, it's a pain.
Just once I would like to be able to splash out on some clothes which aren't for work, or a DVD or a CD or a book, without feeling guilty about it. I want to go to Alton Towers, dammit, and it's too expensive. The last thing I bought for myself was some shoes for work, clearly the pinnacle of excitement. I'm sick of it, and I just wish I knew where all my money was going. More than likely on prescriptions and food.
*sigh* Bored yet? I know whinging about it doesn't help, but it's all I can do. I've spent the past year and a half recovering from my period of crazy, and lately I can start to feel it ebbing back. Which, really? Is the last thing I need right now. It's difficult enough trying to keep on top of my sanity without the added worry of where the heck my money is disappearing to.
It will all get better eventually. It's just... so frustrating. And it isn't helping that this BCC Single Status malarky is a big mystery in terms of what we're going to get paid (assuming they ever take their heads out of their rear ends long enough to work it out), and I may well have the added stress of trying to find a new job on top of everything else.
Money sucks. I vote we abolish it.