Home

I'm finally home from Yale, and have been for a week, and while I meant to be all good and attentive and documentarian when I was there I quickly realised that it was me and not some other person that owns this blog so I slammed down my laptop, laughed and went and bought another bagel – because you really can't have too many and that is a scientific fact.

So, I'm really not going to go into everything that happened and how freaking wonderful it all was, and how I'm now making my partner call me THE GREATEST PLAYWRIGHT EVER just because my ego is riding at an all-time high and I want to hang onto that shit for as long as possible, and how Americans get such a bad rap for being all arrogant and stuff when really they are just the nicest, smartest, most generous people in the world (No, the American Tourist Board did not pay me to say that, but you know, totally open to talk about it) and how I got to meet all people that have been my heroes for as long as I could remember and how it was all just 'pinch yourself Shannon, because this may never happen again'. No. Not going to do that.

But Yale people, you fucking rock*.

 

* Feel free to use that on your brochures. No. You're welcome.

Fun

Conversation with my nephew Matthew at 5.35am on Sunday morning:

MATTHEW: Aunty Shannon …

Aunty Shannon sleeps

MATTHEW: AUNTY SHANNON!!!!!!!!

Aunty Shannon wakes up.

AS: Yes?

MATTHEW: Are you awake?

AS: Apparently.

MATTHEW: You want to come and see all my Thomas the Tank Engine toys?

AS: I'd love to come and see your Thomas toys but I seem to be lacking the will or desire to get out of bed.

MATTHEW: Okay. I'll bring them to you.

Thanks Matty. I never knew 5.30 on a Sunday morning could be so fun