Last weekend Paul learned how to count to 100, which could be an odd statement, if I forgot to mention that he learned to do that in Polish. Although sums are still a bit of a problem.
I found that I could talk (‘What do you mean?! You talk all the time!’), and I was told that I thought too much and that I should stop thinking, cause it was all very simple really, if it felt right then it was right and this feels right and that’s that. Which was exactly what I needed to be told.
And I made my amazing boyfriend sandwiches for work thinking that as long as I have that atavistic need to feed him, everything is all right (which, quite suitably, is another thing he learned to say in Polish).
Tuesday, 30 September 2008
Friday, 26 September 2008
Thursday
1.
I got fed up with not knowing when the deadline for submitting my PhD for publication was, nor what other documents I had to provide and fed up with waiting for answers, so I decided to nag. This time the university press did reply (miracle!) and provided all information required, which I read with great care and attention and decided that was that. The deadline was on the 30th (that’s bloody Tuesday!), and yes, my edited text could be ready by then (if I didn’t do anything else until, but that was not going to happen) but they also needed a presentation of its academic values (which also could be done, even if I had no idea what I was supposed to write) and the endorsement of the Head of Faculty on the application letter. And there is no way in the world that one could be done within three working days I had left.
So that was that. I had blown it. I should have worked more. I should have nagged earlier. Now it was too late.
So I went down to the lounge, put the TV on and watched two episodes of Scrubs in total dumbness and resignation.
Then I went back upstairs and managed to get hold of my supervisor… who told me not to worry, she was going to take her copy of my PhD to the publishing committee’s meeting, fill in an application form and get the Head of Faculty to sign it.
“Oh…” I gasped with cautious half-relief “but your copy is not edited!”
“Don’t worry, you’ll do that once they’ve decided to publish.”
WHAT?! All these hours spent trying to make it on time, hard work, stress and all?! WHAT?!
“But, but… it’s more than 300 pages, you said 300…”
“You’ll just have to cut it down slightly to some 350 pages.” she said in the same time.
WHAT?! All those things I have already cut out with bleeding heart to get it under 300 pages, why? It already IS under 350 pages! WHAT?!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. And relieved. Because after all I haven’t blown it. Because it’s still all on. But still. Seriously!
Anyway.
2.
After all that I was relieved but still shaky and there was no way I was getting back to work, not with all that information, and I needed to calm down first anyway, so I started surfing on the Internet, which eventually led me to the Times Educational Supplement website, where they publish all the job ads for teachers. I put in all my criteria without much hope, after all I had checked it the day before, and there it was: “French Teacher, permanent contract, secondary school… Milton Keynes.”
I had always thought that at one point I might have to consider moving to MK, I also said I was going to let life decide – apply for jobs both here and there and see what I get first.
But this made it real. There is a job running, I am of course going to apply, and then I might get it, and then I will have to move, to a place where Paul is the only person I know, and I’m not scared of turning my life upside down for my own fantasy, been there, done that, was fun, but this, this is scary!
At that point I could distinctly feel an impending panic crisis come down on me, so I went out, got a bottle of wine, poured myself a huge glass and just sat there waiting for Susanne to come around so that I could properly vent.
3.
Susanne was coming around cause we were going to the Yardbird for a jazz gig as part of my birthday celebrations. We had some dinner (I had forgotten lunch in all that upheaval), I had another glass of wine and we sat there talking, or rather I was talking, and gradually calming myself down. By 7.30 we were all ready to go and just waiting for a friend of mine who was going to give us a ride, and I had just decreed that if I had not had a heart attack today, I was probably safe for ever after, when the knock on the door came. So I went to open… and there stood Paul.
Apparently, my first reaction to my boyfriend’s surprise appearance was: “Oh fuck!”.
But it really was all about the tone of voice. Really.
4.
At the Yardbird I’ve managed to get drunk on two pints of beer.
After we got home I cried a bit and then had a full blown głupawka (which is that state where you get into fits of uncontrollable laughter over things that really are not that funny at all – no other language has a good word for it).
And then I lay sleepless next to my snoring boyfriend and tried not to start freaking out again.
But all is good.
Life knows what it’s doing.
At least I hope so.
I got fed up with not knowing when the deadline for submitting my PhD for publication was, nor what other documents I had to provide and fed up with waiting for answers, so I decided to nag. This time the university press did reply (miracle!) and provided all information required, which I read with great care and attention and decided that was that. The deadline was on the 30th (that’s bloody Tuesday!), and yes, my edited text could be ready by then (if I didn’t do anything else until, but that was not going to happen) but they also needed a presentation of its academic values (which also could be done, even if I had no idea what I was supposed to write) and the endorsement of the Head of Faculty on the application letter. And there is no way in the world that one could be done within three working days I had left.
So that was that. I had blown it. I should have worked more. I should have nagged earlier. Now it was too late.
So I went down to the lounge, put the TV on and watched two episodes of Scrubs in total dumbness and resignation.
Then I went back upstairs and managed to get hold of my supervisor… who told me not to worry, she was going to take her copy of my PhD to the publishing committee’s meeting, fill in an application form and get the Head of Faculty to sign it.
“Oh…” I gasped with cautious half-relief “but your copy is not edited!”
“Don’t worry, you’ll do that once they’ve decided to publish.”
WHAT?! All these hours spent trying to make it on time, hard work, stress and all?! WHAT?!
“But, but… it’s more than 300 pages, you said 300…”
“You’ll just have to cut it down slightly to some 350 pages.” she said in the same time.
WHAT?! All those things I have already cut out with bleeding heart to get it under 300 pages, why? It already IS under 350 pages! WHAT?!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. And relieved. Because after all I haven’t blown it. Because it’s still all on. But still. Seriously!
Anyway.
2.
After all that I was relieved but still shaky and there was no way I was getting back to work, not with all that information, and I needed to calm down first anyway, so I started surfing on the Internet, which eventually led me to the Times Educational Supplement website, where they publish all the job ads for teachers. I put in all my criteria without much hope, after all I had checked it the day before, and there it was: “French Teacher, permanent contract, secondary school… Milton Keynes.”
I had always thought that at one point I might have to consider moving to MK, I also said I was going to let life decide – apply for jobs both here and there and see what I get first.
But this made it real. There is a job running, I am of course going to apply, and then I might get it, and then I will have to move, to a place where Paul is the only person I know, and I’m not scared of turning my life upside down for my own fantasy, been there, done that, was fun, but this, this is scary!
At that point I could distinctly feel an impending panic crisis come down on me, so I went out, got a bottle of wine, poured myself a huge glass and just sat there waiting for Susanne to come around so that I could properly vent.
3.
Susanne was coming around cause we were going to the Yardbird for a jazz gig as part of my birthday celebrations. We had some dinner (I had forgotten lunch in all that upheaval), I had another glass of wine and we sat there talking, or rather I was talking, and gradually calming myself down. By 7.30 we were all ready to go and just waiting for a friend of mine who was going to give us a ride, and I had just decreed that if I had not had a heart attack today, I was probably safe for ever after, when the knock on the door came. So I went to open… and there stood Paul.
Apparently, my first reaction to my boyfriend’s surprise appearance was: “Oh fuck!”.
But it really was all about the tone of voice. Really.
4.
At the Yardbird I’ve managed to get drunk on two pints of beer.
After we got home I cried a bit and then had a full blown głupawka (which is that state where you get into fits of uncontrollable laughter over things that really are not that funny at all – no other language has a good word for it).
And then I lay sleepless next to my snoring boyfriend and tried not to start freaking out again.
But all is good.
Life knows what it’s doing.
At least I hope so.
Wednesday, 24 September 2008
“Debussy is a wanker”
I ruled as we were clapping vigorously at the end of the first part of the concert.
“Oh… but I love this piece.” said Paul.
“Well… he just doesn’t have enough balls” I said as if that was any better – but in my defence, I had been drinking for solid 7 hours by then, as Shell and Preet had unexpectedly started off my birthday celebrations right after noon, and we all know that if you start drinking at lunch time, the only way not to give into a severe somnolence that could make you sleep through your own birthday is to keep drinking. So I did.
Nevertheless, I was still relatively sober, not sober enough however to avoid getting seriously emotional during Rachmaninov’s 2nd Symphony, but I guess getting emotional kind of is the actual point of it all.
I was also not sober enough to refrain from sticking my hand under Paul’s nose claiming that this is what being at the Symphony Hall smelled like, and that I would be highly unimpressed if they put a different hand lotion in the loos. Although by that time it was all his fault, as he fed me two more glasses of wine at the concert.
He’s also already discovered that I’m ‘a little weird’, as he kindly puts it, so I guess there’s no need to worry.
“Oh… but I love this piece.” said Paul.
“Well… he just doesn’t have enough balls” I said as if that was any better – but in my defence, I had been drinking for solid 7 hours by then, as Shell and Preet had unexpectedly started off my birthday celebrations right after noon, and we all know that if you start drinking at lunch time, the only way not to give into a severe somnolence that could make you sleep through your own birthday is to keep drinking. So I did.
Nevertheless, I was still relatively sober, not sober enough however to avoid getting seriously emotional during Rachmaninov’s 2nd Symphony, but I guess getting emotional kind of is the actual point of it all.
I was also not sober enough to refrain from sticking my hand under Paul’s nose claiming that this is what being at the Symphony Hall smelled like, and that I would be highly unimpressed if they put a different hand lotion in the loos. Although by that time it was all his fault, as he fed me two more glasses of wine at the concert.
He’s also already discovered that I’m ‘a little weird’, as he kindly puts it, so I guess there’s no need to worry.
Monday, 22 September 2008
Some more on hair and minor panic crisis
“Gah!” I gasped, standing in Craig and Ann’s bathroom yesterday morning (well, afternoon), washing my hands. I gasped, because I had just glanced at myself in the mirror and spotted a streak of grey hair on the very top of my head. I gasped, and then I examined my head with great care, in case I was wrong, but I wasn’t, it was definitely there.
Oh God.
I composed myself as best I could, but then as soon as the boys were out of the room, I pointed to my head: “Look Ann, grey hair, right here!” Ann examined my head with great care and confirmed the presence of the horror. “All Paul’s fault” she ruled and we both giggled, but quite seriously, if I get a streak of grey hair just because my boyfriend omits to include me in a rice and naan order, then I’m in trouble. Cause then imagine when something actually wrong happens! I mean, soon I’m going to be back at school! I’m going to turn completely grey in no time! And I have nothing against grey hair as such, I actually think it looks dignified and am not planning on dying mine, but it’s way too early, I’m not even 31! (at least not for one more day, but that’s beside the point.)
Later on, back home, when Paul was in the shower, I made Carina pull the horror out of my head. There were all two of them.
But somehow they had managed to look like a whole streak.
I think I’m having a mild case of birthday panic…
(Explanatory note: Craig and Ann are friends of Paul’s, with whom we went to the Lake District and to Alton Towers and several other places.)
Monday, 15 September 2008
No, I’m not Russian…
Meeting your boyfriend’s former colleagues can prove quite entertaining indeed (if you don’t count having the “And what are you up to? – Oh, I’m in supply for now. – Oh… don’t worry, something will come up.” conversation one time too many).
There was this one girl (that Paul claims having talked to maybe twice in his life) who spent a good moment telling me what a lovely bloke he was, speaking veeeeery sloooowly indeeeeed and checking if I understood her every once in a while. I was a bit puzzled until I spotted a coin on the floor, and she insisted I kept it ‘as a souvenir from England’. Then it dawned on me: she thought I was one of the Russian exchange teachers their school was hosting and well, that I had just pulled Paul at the party!
‘Dear, I’m not Russian’ I chuckled ‘I’m actually Polish’.
‘Oh’ she said, with a puzzled look on her face and the conversation faltered. And then, when she finally figured it out, she told me – with that exalted insistence you only get when someone’s had one drink to many – what a lucky lady I was. How could I disagree?
The girl who got the job we didn’t get was there too, and she was feeling quite insecure around us, poor thing. But, nice people that we are, we were very friendly and all, having agreed behind her back that comparing what she’s got out of that interview with what we’ve got out of it, we’re definitely much better off (as, from what we hear, many people both staff and students regard her as the evil lady who took Paul’s job).
As for the rest of the weekend, here’s one for you:
Although I have to admit that keeping this thing airborne for longer than one minute was beyond our skills and knowledge. But we’re not giving up and one day it shall fly properly, cause we’re smart and it’s not – after all, it’s just a kite!
There was this one girl (that Paul claims having talked to maybe twice in his life) who spent a good moment telling me what a lovely bloke he was, speaking veeeeery sloooowly indeeeeed and checking if I understood her every once in a while. I was a bit puzzled until I spotted a coin on the floor, and she insisted I kept it ‘as a souvenir from England’. Then it dawned on me: she thought I was one of the Russian exchange teachers their school was hosting and well, that I had just pulled Paul at the party!
‘Dear, I’m not Russian’ I chuckled ‘I’m actually Polish’.
‘Oh’ she said, with a puzzled look on her face and the conversation faltered. And then, when she finally figured it out, she told me – with that exalted insistence you only get when someone’s had one drink to many – what a lucky lady I was. How could I disagree?
The girl who got the job we didn’t get was there too, and she was feeling quite insecure around us, poor thing. But, nice people that we are, we were very friendly and all, having agreed behind her back that comparing what she’s got out of that interview with what we’ve got out of it, we’re definitely much better off (as, from what we hear, many people both staff and students regard her as the evil lady who took Paul’s job).
As for the rest of the weekend, here’s one for you:
Although I have to admit that keeping this thing airborne for longer than one minute was beyond our skills and knowledge. But we’re not giving up and one day it shall fly properly, cause we’re smart and it’s not – after all, it’s just a kite!Friday, 12 September 2008
On how I won a cruise to Caribbean
For a long while, my parents had to call me simultaneously on my mobile and my land line so that I would know to answer the latter – the phone just didn’t ring. On top of that, speaking to anyone for more than 5 minutes resulted inevitably in a back pain, as the only way you could position yourself while on the phone was squatting on the stairs, where you would also necessarily be in the way of anyone trying to get from the lounge to the kitchen, and who sometimes inadvertently kicked you as passing by or spilled their drink on your head.
So a couple of weeks ago I have finally decided to go buy a new phone. I opted for wireless, so that I could have my transatlantic counselling sessions comfortably lying on my bed and so that my flatmates were not forced to listen to my occasional highly vocal disagreements with my parents. Unfortunately the phone came with very short cables, so I had to redecorate the entrance by sticking them to the floor with bright blue masking tape, which was the only potentially appropriate thing I could find. But that was not the biggest problem. The biggest problem is that now it won’t stop ringing.
‘Hello?’ – ‘You have just won a cruise to the Caribbean…’.
I don’t want to go to the Caribbean and I don’t want to know what I would have to buy to actually go, I want to sit down and concentrate on my work, if you don’t mind/eat my dinner in peace/whatever else I was doing when you decided to force your recorded emotionless message on me.
‘Hello?’ – ‘Can I speak to [insert my landlord’s name]?’
Not discouraged by the lack of ‘please’ at the end of that sentence I reply politely: ‘I’m sorry, but he doesn’t live here anymore.’
And the guy just hangs up!
‘What the f*#& happened to ‘thank you’, ‘sorry for disturbing you’? Learn your manners, stupid knob!’ I bellow down the dead line.
Happily I am home alone so my flatmates are not forced to listen to my highly vocal expression of disagreement.
So a couple of weeks ago I have finally decided to go buy a new phone. I opted for wireless, so that I could have my transatlantic counselling sessions comfortably lying on my bed and so that my flatmates were not forced to listen to my occasional highly vocal disagreements with my parents. Unfortunately the phone came with very short cables, so I had to redecorate the entrance by sticking them to the floor with bright blue masking tape, which was the only potentially appropriate thing I could find. But that was not the biggest problem. The biggest problem is that now it won’t stop ringing.
‘Hello?’ – ‘You have just won a cruise to the Caribbean…’.
I don’t want to go to the Caribbean and I don’t want to know what I would have to buy to actually go, I want to sit down and concentrate on my work, if you don’t mind/eat my dinner in peace/whatever else I was doing when you decided to force your recorded emotionless message on me.
‘Hello?’ – ‘Can I speak to [insert my landlord’s name]?’
Not discouraged by the lack of ‘please’ at the end of that sentence I reply politely: ‘I’m sorry, but he doesn’t live here anymore.’
And the guy just hangs up!
‘What the f*#& happened to ‘thank you’, ‘sorry for disturbing you’? Learn your manners, stupid knob!’ I bellow down the dead line.
Happily I am home alone so my flatmates are not forced to listen to my highly vocal expression of disagreement.
Happy Friday!
It was a good week, a seriously good week. I have done loads of translating and the editing work on my PhD is finally progressing properly too, this to a great extent thanks to Naomi, who talked me into buying A.S. Byatt’s ‘Possession’ during our hunt for the perfect dress a couple of months ago. I started reading it only this week and it puts me into a proper academic mode, so exactly where I need to be right now.
The big news of the week is however that it is official now: we’re going to Aix. The tickets are bought and we shall arrive to the land of wine, cheese and sun in the last week of October. I am so excited that I’ve had trouble falling asleep for a couple of days, as my brain is in a full planning mode now. Can’t wait!
And now it’s Friday, I have a proper sense of achievement and Paul will be here in a few hours. The bookcase will get assembled, the light bulb changed, friends will be seen and maybe we’ll even have time to finally fly that kite?
The big news of the week is however that it is official now: we’re going to Aix. The tickets are bought and we shall arrive to the land of wine, cheese and sun in the last week of October. I am so excited that I’ve had trouble falling asleep for a couple of days, as my brain is in a full planning mode now. Can’t wait!
And now it’s Friday, I have a proper sense of achievement and Paul will be here in a few hours. The bookcase will get assembled, the light bulb changed, friends will be seen and maybe we’ll even have time to finally fly that kite?
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
On gum infection and my independent self sufficient persona
I am happy, really, I am. Most of the time, I lightly swing through a day with a smile on my face and a happy song in my head. But for last two days I’ve been unexpectedly and without a reason dipping down into pits of sudden gloominess, and than struggling out to climb back out.
As I find it all seriously annoying, I’ve decided to figure it out but none of the potential reasons I came up with seem to provide a satisfactory explanation:
I have a lot of work, so much that I have to stay glued to my desk all day long unless I want to work over the weekend too, which I don’t – but a lot of work means income which I can use to finance my language classes and my trip to Aix, so I actually should be glad. And it isn’t as if I had been glued to my desk for ever (it’s been only two days since the weekend, when I wasn’t glued to anything at all) and it isn’t as if I was secluded (cause there is Shell and Preet is back from India now).
I don’t have my own classroom (read: I don’t have a job) – but I’ve already come to terms with that and decided to be philosophical about it, so there is no reason why I should un-decide that now. Maybe if there was nothing else I could hang on to, like it was back in May, but there is plenty.
I have an infected gum around my wisdom tooth, which tends to wake me up at night, therefore messing up my sleeping patterns, and I suppose that that could partially account for me being slightly downbeat.
I am missing Paul more than I would like to admit to, which seriously annoys my independent self sufficient persona.
And that’s it.
Hm.
I think I’ll blame it on the gum infection and get to work while listening to Elvis, before my independent self sufficient persona gets alarmed all over again.
As I find it all seriously annoying, I’ve decided to figure it out but none of the potential reasons I came up with seem to provide a satisfactory explanation:
I have a lot of work, so much that I have to stay glued to my desk all day long unless I want to work over the weekend too, which I don’t – but a lot of work means income which I can use to finance my language classes and my trip to Aix, so I actually should be glad. And it isn’t as if I had been glued to my desk for ever (it’s been only two days since the weekend, when I wasn’t glued to anything at all) and it isn’t as if I was secluded (cause there is Shell and Preet is back from India now).
I don’t have my own classroom (read: I don’t have a job) – but I’ve already come to terms with that and decided to be philosophical about it, so there is no reason why I should un-decide that now. Maybe if there was nothing else I could hang on to, like it was back in May, but there is plenty.
I have an infected gum around my wisdom tooth, which tends to wake me up at night, therefore messing up my sleeping patterns, and I suppose that that could partially account for me being slightly downbeat.
I am missing Paul more than I would like to admit to, which seriously annoys my independent self sufficient persona.
And that’s it.
Hm.
I think I’ll blame it on the gum infection and get to work while listening to Elvis, before my independent self sufficient persona gets alarmed all over again.
Monday, 8 September 2008
Haircut
After a few minutes of a discussion concerned with pros and cons of laminating different stuff, I said I needed a haircut.
‘You should laminate you hair’ said Paul, being silly. ‘I’ll put it up in my classroom with a tag saying ‘les cheveux blonds’'.
I chuckled and we changed subjects, but then I actually did go to get a haircut. And I will never forget the hairdresser’s face when I protested as she wanted to sweep the floor and proceeded to collecting what she’d cut off my head.
‘It’s a private joke’ I said, as if it explained anything ‘I need to laminate that’.
‘You’re weird people’ was her only reply. I suppose there wasn’t much else she could have said.
‘You should laminate you hair’ said Paul, being silly. ‘I’ll put it up in my classroom with a tag saying ‘les cheveux blonds’'.
I chuckled and we changed subjects, but then I actually did go to get a haircut. And I will never forget the hairdresser’s face when I protested as she wanted to sweep the floor and proceeded to collecting what she’d cut off my head.
‘It’s a private joke’ I said, as if it explained anything ‘I need to laminate that’.
‘You’re weird people’ was her only reply. I suppose there wasn’t much else she could have said.
Thursday, 4 September 2008
Putting in place a nice routine
Feeling much better today, maybe because it’s the first morning where I’ve woken up without a headache and managed to do so before 10, maybe because tomorrow’s Friday and I’m going to Milton Keynes. Probably both.
Anyway, this week has been all about organising my weeks for the months to come – going back to the gym (dear God I’m in pain, but it is a nice kind of pain), finding out about language classes, and coming to terms with the fact that I’m in a weekend relationship now, which is okay, just needs some getting used to. So if everything works out fine, it will be Monday night German, Tuesday night Spanish, Wednesday night Body Balance and Thursday night Body Pump. So I will be busy, but it’s all good, it’s all what I always wanted to do and never really could afford doing, so hey, I may as well. Add to that weekends with Paul and meeting up with friends and it looks like this year is going to be the exact opposite of the last one – I am going to have so much life that I’m not sure I’ll be able to cope! But, if you ask me, it’s about time.
Anyway, this week has been all about organising my weeks for the months to come – going back to the gym (dear God I’m in pain, but it is a nice kind of pain), finding out about language classes, and coming to terms with the fact that I’m in a weekend relationship now, which is okay, just needs some getting used to. So if everything works out fine, it will be Monday night German, Tuesday night Spanish, Wednesday night Body Balance and Thursday night Body Pump. So I will be busy, but it’s all good, it’s all what I always wanted to do and never really could afford doing, so hey, I may as well. Add to that weekends with Paul and meeting up with friends and it looks like this year is going to be the exact opposite of the last one – I am going to have so much life that I’m not sure I’ll be able to cope! But, if you ask me, it’s about time.
Wednesday, 3 September 2008
And so it's September
When I said I needed life to go on, I meant I needed to go back to work. Unfortunately, for now there’s nothing on the supply front cause the kids are not back to school until tomorrow. But what I really want is my own classroom and being around people who do doesn’t help being philosophical about it.
Fortunately I have translations to keep me busy and also the PhD that I have to edit for print and the deadline’s dreadfully close now. I was supposed to have the whole summer to work on it, needless to say, I haven’t touched it, or almost.
Life going on mainly takes the form of house improvements – I have a functioning land line now, a desk (inherited from Paul) and a chair (that I skilfully assembled myself) and a bookcase – finally, after a year of keeping books in boxes and on piles. The problem with the bookcase however is that I can not assemble it on my own, so for now it is just lying there in its box, like a mean reminder of life actually not going on.
On the other hand, life seems to want to be going on rather quicker than I’m ready for it to. I’m fine with short-term plans and organising my life for the months to come, but I’m not sure I’m quite ready to make Christmas plans, and I am making Christmas plans, and there’s still almost 4 months until Christmas, why the hell would I be thinking about Christmas now? I mean, planning Aix for the half-term was far from being obvious and I’m still not 100% sure I made the right decisions, so Christmas?!
Fortunately I have translations to keep me busy and also the PhD that I have to edit for print and the deadline’s dreadfully close now. I was supposed to have the whole summer to work on it, needless to say, I haven’t touched it, or almost.
Life going on mainly takes the form of house improvements – I have a functioning land line now, a desk (inherited from Paul) and a chair (that I skilfully assembled myself) and a bookcase – finally, after a year of keeping books in boxes and on piles. The problem with the bookcase however is that I can not assemble it on my own, so for now it is just lying there in its box, like a mean reminder of life actually not going on.
On the other hand, life seems to want to be going on rather quicker than I’m ready for it to. I’m fine with short-term plans and organising my life for the months to come, but I’m not sure I’m quite ready to make Christmas plans, and I am making Christmas plans, and there’s still almost 4 months until Christmas, why the hell would I be thinking about Christmas now? I mean, planning Aix for the half-term was far from being obvious and I’m still not 100% sure I made the right decisions, so Christmas?!
Monday, 1 September 2008
Summer is gone
It is September 1st and the summer is officially over, although technically it will still be summer for a few days. Yet, the school year is starting, Paul is in Milton Keynes and I’m sorting out my paper work, meeting my agent, working and setting back into my single routines while trying to get used to sleeping alone again.
It was the best summer ever and I am a little sad that it is over, but I think I have been ready for it to end for a little while now. I think I need life to go on and life doesn’t really go on when you’re on holiday, regardless of how many exciting things you do.
It was the best summer ever and I am a little sad that it is over, but I think I have been ready for it to end for a little while now. I think I need life to go on and life doesn’t really go on when you’re on holiday, regardless of how many exciting things you do.
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