Last night my friend, Kate, taught me - albeit briefly - how to play tennis. i remember playing tennis once when i was about 7 years old, chunky, and at a summer resort (shout out to Isaiah Tubbs). As such, i was running around the court like a headless chicken and bashing the ball against my racket like a spastic child.
Nevertheless in between spastic ball bashing sessions, i got to thinking about something Kate said to me recently. We might have been completely intoxicated (most likely) but she basically commended me for moving to Glasgow with next to nothing. Swaying from the red wine, she observed, "Jen. Babe. You've really done something. You moved to Glasgow and you made a life here". This being the UK, and British people not really prone to such emotional nakedness, i was quite touched. Really, i was because up until this point, i wasn't quite sure if other people - particularly my British friends - knew just how hard it was. However, 1 year and 2 months later i think, "fuck, why didn't i move sooner?!"
That all being said, however, i did spend last Saturday morning watching Canadian Heritage Minutes feeling a bit homesick. Totally fucking worth those four hours though!
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