I hate this time of year

The Dutch are gone. We saw them off at the airport yesterday. I took a picture of them all with my parents before they headed through the departure gate.

It looks sort of ropey - I still don't know what I'm doing when it comes to my parent's digital camera - but it's the first we've got of them all in a while so it has sentimental value.

Once they had gone through the departures gate, they waved from the other side. I took a picture of that too, only to have a security guard (alas, not a hot one) coming straight for me. He made me delete the picture I had just taken in front of him, or else I would have had to give up the camera. Thankfully he left the rest alone. My father got ratty and asked him if he thought we were terrorists.

Now I have nothing to look forward to except a very shitty January, laden down with exams. Normally I'm optimistic about heading back to Brighton. This time, Urrgggh. Even the prospect of hot n' horny no-strings fun doesn't have quite the same allure.

Well, maybe...