Shoddy Cider

I've just recently acquired a taste for cider. Considering my age, it is surprising I didn't get into it earlier. Whilst most my peers where swigging cider and black at parties I could not be whined from noxious spirits such as Malibu and Archers. Yuck Yuck. How one's tastes change. Now, I will never touch a drop of anything vaguely artificial. Now I stick to fines wines (well, anything above the £4 mark anyway!) and cider or the occasional G&T.

My boyfriend brought home two mini barrels of cider tonight, both are disappointing. One is Cornish Scrumpy and is exceedingly sweet, sweeter than any of the alco-pops I used to relish. The other is Cripple Cock, which I guess suites its name - it's strong but that's about it. What a shame, there is much to drink, but no enthusiasm to drink it.

I do need something strong though, after the day I've had. I'm moving tomorrow and have only had the time today to sort out my entire flat. That included scrapping out the microwave and binning much too much unnecessary stuff. I hate 'stuff' and I thought I wasn't a hoarder, but how have I got so much of everything?

Need to relax, but I'm worried that i've missed spots that need hoovering and I desperately need my £450 deposit back in order to pay for my next set of fees. I'm growing increasingly anxious about an iron burn in the carpet of the bedroom - is there any way I can disguise it?
Who knows - I'll have to hope my land lady forgets her glasses when she comes round tomorrow!