I have made the bold (and not at all foolish) decision to once again grow a moustache. Unfortunately the relentless heat means that I cannot bear to grow a beard, and must thus eschew the handy social safety net that this normally provides when embarking on such a task. Hopefully I will have timed it so that when I depart for my home-stay in a couple of weeks time I will have a magnificent Clark Gable-eque upper lip with which to wow my adopted family, rather than the current pre-pubescent Hispanic street kid look that I am currently sporting.
When I got back from school this afternoon I found the usual letterbox full of junk mail, and upon opening my front door found that this had been targeted too. I was just about to throw the offering article in the bin when I realized that it had something to do with a parcel being delivered whilst I was out. Not that you would actually have realized it from the piece of paper, given that all it had written on it was my name and postcode. Sadly when attempting to ring the hotline and arrange a delivery no one picked up, meaning that I have all night to sweat over how I am going to structure my request for a delivery in the late afternoon, oh joy of joys.