It's 8:40 in the morning. I'm going to Camden today. It's hillarious because I have so many different duties, which all need to be done but without clashing with the other ones and... nevermind, I'm talking crap.

See the thing is, I'm going camping in Cornwall on tuesday. This is very good. Fantastic even. Cornwall is the one place I feel most at home. It's odd. I have never lived there for any period of time, I was not born there, I don't even have family there. It's just that Cornish air tastes different. That's all there is to it. Cornwall is clean and beautiful and you can see the stars because they aren't blocked by fucking light pollution.

Annie wonders how easy it would be to take mushrooms with her to Cornwall given that it's a 5 or 6 hour drive and I wouldn't be able to take them until after my dad had gone to sleep. How well do they keep?