Home Alone: Not the Film

I've never been afraid of being in the house or flat by myself- except maybe one time when I lived in a bedsit in a rough area of Reading and there was an earthquake AND a giant punch up outside my not too stable flat door, but those were exceptional circumstances.

Lots of my friends are terrified of being in their homes by themselves, and will go to stay with their parents if their boyfriend is out for the evening. I think it's quite a sad situation. I've always kind of enjoyed my own time in the house, even from when my parents started leaving me alone at fourteen or fifteen. Though I guess we did have a pretty big dog.

Anyway, tonight I've spooked myself a bit. The boyfriend has gone out, and I'm at home because my leg is awful again. I just went to the bathroom, and our shower curtain was pulled across the bath and fluttering in the breeze. It was like a scene from Psycho or something. I guess he put it like that to dry it, but for a moment I couldn't bring myself to pull it back. Spooked.

Then I had to go and check the house for intruders.

Now I've established that everything is safe, I have my pizza in the oven and Julia and Julia ready to play. I decided to go for something warm and light hearted as opposed to the thriller I was planning on. My imagination is clearly already running riot down a dark path. Let the voyage of self discovery via French cuisine begin.