Don't go breaking my heart, Mr Landlord Man. Accept the fact that my bank reference will be shit (I've already explained this to him, he seems to understand the situation) and realise that I'll always pay my rent and be a great tennant.
My lovely father has gone in for an operation today. I found out this morning when I checked my mail - I never knew before, and I haven't a clue what he's having done. He's sent rather a lot of money to my mum to buy me a laptop for uni.
I start on Monday - you wouldn't believe how excited I am! The nerves are creeping in now, like tendrils of sickness through my stomach. Going through all that having to make new friends again. Telling people why I want to do what I want to do. A lot of people can't grasp why I want to go into palliative care - that I want to help people, the people who know they're going to die. I want to help them have a last little bit of life and help them make those last few days as easy and comfortable as can be. For as long as there isn't a cure for cancer, there will always be people dying awful deaths from the disease. And there'll always be people needed to help them. That'll be me.