Where there's pizza there's cake

It's Saturday evening and I've been back since Friday morning. To be honest, I haven't got a whole lot done, other than washing and unpacking. When I say unpacking, I have to make it clear that all I have done is take stuff out of my bags and kind of spread it around a bit. The putting it away part is tricky. It involves making decisions about where things should go. Well, putting stuff somewhere, anywhere is kinda easy, coming up with a reason for it to be in that place is where I come unstuck. So I have a nice sea of travelling crap spread over my bed, bedroom floor, office and other rooms variously hanging, flopped, screwed up, piled and shoved.

Having a dicky foot has given me the perfect excuse for idleness; I can't go shopping, I can't go to the gym and I certainly can't tidy up. I had tried to do some shopping online, but have been screaming at Tesco and Ocado, so bravely gave up and ordered pizza. Now I have ordered pizza before, and I have occasionally received a freebie, maybe an extra topping or some cold garlic bread, but this time I received some cake. Kind of threw me that one. I mean, how did they know about my relationship with cake? It was kind of a cheesecake thing with like toffee stuff and nuts. Very pleasant, but with pizza? Things have changed since I've been away.

Things like me wanting to go to the gym. I actually do want to go, honest. Not because it's January, not because I'm fat and unhealthy and not because I know I just plain ought to. These are incidentals. The reason I want to go is so I can play football. I loved playing football in Malawi (for those reading this sentence in puzzlement, I have to make clear that football is the important bit, not Malawi), in a way that I never thought I would; it's been so long since I got genuinely, heart-pumpingly excited about anything and football did it. I'm not sure what was more surprising, me being excited, or me being actually pretty good. There's a real difference between kicking a ball about and playing a proper match, in a defined position, against moderately good players. I really want to play it again, but seeing as I was completely fucked before I'd jogged from kick off to my forward position, I think I need to get myself a bit of stamina. Hence the trip to the gym. Need to get my foot sorted first though. GP on Monday I fear.

How do I feel about being back? I'm genuinely looking forward to sorting my life out if I'm honest. I'm almost excited. I think impatient would be a much more appropriate word. Gotta go, things to do...