Merry Christmas

from self and someone else...

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I don't show pictures featuring myself, but this was a MUST, as my british fellows would say ;D

I hope you are all having a lovely holiday, or at least not terribly horrible.

Love,
xx

Once Upon a Junction

It's one o'clock in the morning and I'm about to turn the lights off,  as tomorrow, someone undetermined is likely to appear at my door at an undetermined hour.

These past days I've been very very busy, not busy-but-here-with-Lizzy, as it is usually the case. Luckily I love plannings and I kind of have plans b, c, d, and z, because Ithese past days I've had to use them all, changing from one to the next one moment to the next.

Summary: it's my last night in my London home, where, since Thursday, no one but me is living in, and where I wasn't supposed to be by now either, but well, plan c. Tomorrow I'll be moving to a little hotel near Victoria, in which I will stay until Wed, the day I fly back home. Woohoo.

I was going to tell you about my last bus ride on my 87, or my way back home through the Common, or how ridiculous I felt when I felt -ahem- a knot in my throat as I was paying at Tesco Express for the last time. You know, the sort of silly things that only someone who is already nostalgic, even before leaving a place they don't really, really, really want to leave -oh, saudades..- can think about on their last night.

Against all odds, I don't feel chatty, though. Not really. But I wanted to, I don't know, leave something written, somewhere, about it. You've already read what it says there, on the right, about the written word. So, there.

Good night.

The Basil Allegory

Current Mode Warning: Abnormally silly and a bit under the weather (aka leave now that you can. Seriously).

So, I feel quite...withered, today. I also feel somewhat guilty as well, beacuse I know I spend my hours doing god knows what and I never find time to come in here. So I've thought hey, why not spend this wonderful babysitting evening spreading the black wings of misery in here? Or something like that. (NOTE: the wing thing came out of nowhere; I wonder whether it's time for me to start writing thrillers, or for you to leave te blog right now and go to Manhattan or any other less withered place).

I'm watching Basil, who is right in front of me right now, keeping me company while I eat my third pizza in less than 24 hours. I've decided that I'm not taking a last picture of him (I also decided that it's a him). Apparently, with all the moving countries drama and all, Basil turned to be a collateral damage. I confess that it's not like I've been taking care of Basil or anything, basically because it was V.'s job, and also because I don't really believe in plants, nor pay much attention to them. I just ignore they are alive, I think. 

That's the reason why a couple of days ago, when I really took notice of Basil again after a while, I was a bit shocked.

As you already know, I'm terrible at taking care of plants, because neither I like them nor I understand them, but of course, the fact that I don't always acknowledge them doesn't make them less alive. Therefore, never had I imagined that one could feel actual loss when you see your little plant clearly dying and with no prospects of salvation. Funny how I didn't know that Basil had become my little plant. In a way.

It was a couple of days ago when I first realised. I was casually passing by the table when I noticed that although Basil's leaves and upper stems seemed to be healthy green, the lower parts were a bit brown. I kept on inspecting it, and it was then when I realised that Basil' roots were really brown and withered. I've never liked the colour brown. It's the worst colour of them all (except in jackets and boots, but that's another shallow story for another more shallow time).

I felt like I've been told bad news, I swear. This might not mean an awful lot to you people who don't really know me, but trust me that that's a huge first. In a very childlike attempt to do something, anything, for Basil, I ran to the tap and filled a glass with water. He drank it in one gulp. I assesed the situation and ran to the tap again for a second glass. He drank it all too. I was hesitant about a third one, so I just half refilled it.

I took a look at him again, and I realised that, no matter how many glasses of wated I filled, Basil had long passed the point of no return. 

I took Lizzy and my phone upstairs, and surprisingly started to cry.

Ok, maybe it wasn't all for Basil. Maybe it was because I have an exam and I'm slightly tense. Maybe it was because the taking of the exam means the end of my staying in London and, no matter how much I want to not-acknowledge the fact, or how much I want to see the situation from happier points of view, the truth is that my conscience is a bitch. And she knows that the truth is that I don't want to go back to Spain.
Maybe it was also because of the B.'s leaving a week earlier than they told me in the first place, rendering me homeless less than a week away from my leaving. Or about them leaving at all. Or about lots of other reasons that shouldn't be shared on an internet blog.

However, I know that in part, I was upset about Basil. Because we arrived in here almost at the same time, and we are kind of parting at the same time, too. Just my luck, the only plant I've ever cared for in my life ended up being a fan of allegories.

So now, before taking my gloomy mood upstairs to continue with grammar and damned phrasal verbs and collocations, I'm goingo to give Basil a couple of glasses of water. I will be doing the same until the day I leave my keys on the table and close the door. Don't care if I just have an plantless plantpot.

PS: And now please go and have a drink or something; your system is in dire need of balance after this entry. 

By Public Request: Why I Don't Like People. Episode #8392

Although I have little time to be overly friendly with the keyboard, I've enjoyed a lot reading the Drawing Room comments, so I'm going to tell you about this other time I also decided to hide my heritage on purpose, and for no other reason than to annoy fellow spaniards. This one took place around...two, maybe three years ago.

Victoria again, Underground this time. I spot the only open info desk -the station has works in progress everywhere-, and I walk unhurriedly towards the last person in the queue. Suddenly, when I'm already slowing down to stop behind said last person, two human beings, He and She, with little and quick steps, push me a bit and stop just right before me. I have to stop in my tracks to avoid collision, and the person behind me bumps into me as a result, too. I say my sorrys while He and She smirk, as if what they just did is not childish, but the ultimate proof of quick wit and cleverness. 

'Spanish', I sadly think. And not only because Spain seems very small and we all look familiar, but because well, the behaviour is sadly familiar too. At that very moment, He and She start to speak, Spanish of course. Apparently they believe themselves clever and quick-witted -just knew it- but they are not as clever with English and London Underground general functioning. 

They start to look around. They look at us, we look Spanish too; nice compatriots that will want to help them. The very moment I read relief in their eyes, I open my mouth and start speaking, English of course, with all the British accent I can master. They look at me again, thinking that maybe they weren't right, and mumbling something about asking someone else. Mierda, I think they say, too. Minutes later they leave the queue, and I regain my spot and my language. 

Moral: As a general rule, and especially if you find yourself standing on foreign ground, refrain from being an arse without having a good reason.

Why I Don't Like People. Episode #928374

 Current Mood Warning: incensed/ashamed/incensed

Victoria Station. Platform 10. Waiting for my train to arrive. A couple stands next to me, young man and woman, both dark haired and both carrying several shopping bags. Both laughing at something. Going against my instincts, that whisper to me that a) they are Spanish, and not the nicest pair exactly, and b) I should run the further the better, I stay where I am, which is where I can take the most convenient coach for my platform at the Junction.

Just then, I start to catch what they are laughing at. They're laughing at everything and everyone around.

"Look, look at that one. She really looks like a whore, in this cold weather and looking like that?!"

"And she'll be thinking she looks so hot..." *insert crude comment about virility -which I personally question- and lack of attractiveness*

"And what about that guy...he looks like someone kicked his nose...maybe someone did, going out in that hair. Is that a wig??" 

And more merry laughing.This went on for about five minutes more.

Uff, I think to myself. Because my instincts had also warned me that they were, most likely, mocking something / someone, although I was hoping I was wrong.

Suddenly, She finds me there. I don't look back, just keep staring at the rails, because I don't like them and because they are mocking for the sake of it. As many others, one might think. True, but these two pieces are Spanish and I am being tainted by association.

"That one is Spanish," She says, apparently not realising that that one, as in me, is within hearing distance (or not caring, to be honest).  He looks at me. 

"Looks like she could be, but she hasn't looked. If she were Spanish, she would have looked at us already." 

"Trust me when I say that that one is Spanish" *she makes a gesture with her hand to catch my attention* "Eh! Eh tú!"

With all the calmness and British accent that I can muster, I finally look at her, confused. "Pardon?"

"Nothing, nothing" she dismisses me in very bad English, not even looking at me, and turning to her companion once again, smirking.

"Nah, you were right. She's an English bitch."(Nah, tenías tú razón. Es una inglesa gilipollas.)

I keep on staring at the rails, put my earphones on, and try to ignore the fact that the train is approaching and they are standing really, really close to the edge.

Two Spanish Londoners in Windsor

Current Mood Warning: ancient 

Highlights of our visit to Windsor Castle: 


- Tombs. LOADS. Henry VIII and Jane Seymour, George VI and Queen Mother...
- St. George Chapel in general
- Catalina de Aragón's bible. Wow
- Pistols and swords of all kinds
- Amazing furniture and rooms and...
- Audioguide in Russian for Miss V. 
- Stamp on ticket that allows me to visit Windsor for free for a year. 

Not bad indeed. 


Not so bright parts of the trip: 


- Me wondering about the castle's whereabouts while surrounded by its towers. What can I say, it was too early for me to be a person. 
- Miss V. and I wandering from café to café, to end in a Costa...
- Loss of yet another item of clothing, one glove this time. 
- Pictures NOT allowed inside Castle. Killed me, but didn't want to risk eviction. 



Another lovely trip. I am sadly suspecting that this has been the last one. Only three more weekends left to go, and no money to go to Scotland -fail- Cambridge or Liverpool -I'm the shame of my Beatles-fan family. 


Have a nice Sunday, lovelies. 

Myths and Legends. Episode #1

Seeing as I had planned to come in here to whine about my plans getting ruined by the rain, I'm starting the Myths and Legends series, because I just remembered that a) I said I'd do it, and b)London has nothing to do, sometimes, with what they say.

The first one being very obvious:

Myth #1.  IT'S ALWAYS RAINY IN LONDON, AND THE SUN OUT IS A RARE OCCURRENCE.

Myths and legends usually have a tiny microgram of truth running through their words, and in this case is plain to see that this one has it. But.

London weather changes at lightspeed. In Cádiz, when rain it's forecast, it's RAIN what you get, and you know that the next day, and possibly the next after next, you won't be able to leave home just walking with an umbrella, because it's just not possible. Not here. In here, when rain is forecast, you go and look at the skies and said sky is blue. "The don't get one right", you think, uniformed, about the Weather Forecast.

However, if you happen to look up again ten minutes later, they sky is dark grey and it's deluging. It doesn't matter, though, because then minutes more and you'll have blue sky again. Madness, I'm telling you. 

On the other hand, London rain it's nothing like ours. Anyone who knows me in real life knows of my ancestral hate towards rain. Rain turns me into a very unpleasant creature. Or used to,because, and I'm so pleased, I have managed to finally ignore the rain, meaning that I plan going to places without caring whether it will rain or not. Because most of the time in here, it's drizzle, and I can do drizzle with my little rainhat, or just the raincoat hoody.

Regarding the sun, it's not exactly true either that there's no sun in here. Ok, it's not andalusian sun, far from it, but I do see the sun almost daily. Less bright, yes, which is a win for me, being slightly photophobic/astigmatic person.

PLUS, dry cold weather, which means no allergy, less layers and fantastic hair. Yes, underlined. Win win. 

Therefore: 

Myth #1: FALSE 

 

Quick and Hasty Entry Because I Don't Really Feel Like NaNoing

 Current Mood: slightly lazy distracted

So I've decided that I could come in here and be keyboard-friendly and mentally organise stuff, while telling you in passing what's going on (crucial info for mankind's continuity as you will see).

• I need to catch up with my NaNo; we're on day 3 and already behind.
• Share my Halloween party photos. 
• Share my last Jane Austen's House photos. 
• My nose is completely blocked and I'm currently making such a Medicines Mix that I will probably end up running to the nearest Walk In Centre (which is in Parsons Green, so a good run) sporting twelve different types of allergic reactions, two of them still unnamed. 
• Haven't done English homework. I always do, so I hope this is one of the times that Will, my teacher, asks for it and forgets about me.
• Today a friend of M.'s -the father- has come to stay overnight and I'm having a bit of a challenge trying to a) look decent and not like the refugee I always look like at home and b) unimpressed by his gentlemanism and well, his stares. If I looked like, say, Monica Belluci, I'd probably be naturally unimpressed. But I'm clearly not Monica, not by a long shot, so it's sort of strange (especially when, again, I'm sporting my refugee look).
• Ollie just threw up on me, again, but it doesn't matter because the whole stuff was dropped on top of an already existing base of previus fluids. 
• THE WHOLE BOX OF FIENDISH FANCIES IS GONE. I need my fill. I'll try and post a picture of them, although I think you might guess just by the name. 

I'm off to my freezed attic again -I had to turn the heating off because my nose was feeling specially not ok today. I'm bleeding almost constantly lately.

Let's see if I can do something of use.

Happy Halloween!

Current Mood Warning: excited 

So excited. My first real Halloween, I mean, on anglosaxon land, where Halloween hasn't been copied, badly I must add, in schools and neighbourhoods. Over here, I've been seeing ads, shops decorations, costume shops more packed than the tube at peak hour, etc, since the beginning of October. 

While I'm typing this, feeling bad due to the massive cold I've been passed on -AGAIN- and fully immersed in The Nebula, I can hear the sounds of firecrackers that remind me that today, people all over London are having a ball partying in costumes, whereas I am here feeling like a rag and with a scary-looking face too, but for other reasons. 

I'll try to edit the entry because well, even though I'm not invited to any party today, I spent three hours and a half at a Halloween party for kids last Thursday. Not the same, I know, but better than nothing. 

TO BE CONTINUED ... ?

Smile, and Enjoy The Ride!

Current Mood Alert: reflective

It might not be verbatim, but that was the idea. 

I was merrily sitting in the bus today when I noticed a sign on my right, with the infamous Acid smiley. The sign kindly informed me that I was being watched and recorded by a CCTV at that precise moment, so all I had to do was smile and enjoy the ride. Ok.

I had been told about loads of cams all over London, but the thing is that I had never seen one before. If I must be honest, this fact is not a a very relevant data in itself. I'm not very good at focusing on certain details of my surroundings like, say, my parents passing by me on the street, or what colour was my aunt's dress at a wedding, or whether there are two, three or none streets between mine and the bus stop. Foggiest. 


I'm good at person-related details, though. But ask me what someone was wearing today, after spending ten hours in a row with them, and I will have no idea. Chances are I probably won't even remember what I myself was wearing. Honest. 

So, as I was saying, it's not strange that I had never seen one in all my time here. But suddenly, and after my mind was alerted by the sign in the bus, more and more cameras started to appear as if by magic. Actually seeing them, not mistaking them for birds or something. And in the strangest places ever, like on top of a statue in the middle of a park. Amazing. 

I guess that what was going on here was the Screw Theory. Ok, I've made the name up, but I did read somewhere that, if we were asked how many screws we saw today, we'd probably say none, but the next day screws would start appearing everywhere, just because we would be looking for them, unconsciously. 

So now I have questions. Are they really of any help? Are people safer because of them? I mean, unless there are two or three police officers carefully crouching inside the CCTV, ready to jump out in case I get mugged in the vicinity of said cam, do I really need them?

Well, I did some research, and I've read that they've actually helped to identify and catch many offenders and all that. And well, that's great. But I'm not sure about the costs. Not money, but privacy. I get nervous at the mere thought of being watched, silly as it may sound, because nothing more effective to look suspicious than trying to specifically show how much not suspicious you are. 

But seriously. Don't know.  

Will have to ask some native on the matter.

Of Classes, Fancies and Lovely Little Men

Current Mood Warning: pleased. Very.

Back from my second CAE class.

After a bunch of emails to and fro, on Tuesday I went to ELT and finally paid for the few weeks I'll be taking the course. She had to ask the teacher, a Will person, if he didn't mind my tardiness due to aupairness, and as apparently he said he didn't, it was ok for me to join. 

My clues were: class C4. Teacher: Will.  Upstairs.  So I went upstairs --almost breaking my neck in the process, because I was late and clumsy--, in search of class C4 and this Teacher Will. Didn't see the sign, but I peeked through one of the doors. Teresa was there, so I cleverly surmised that she couldn't be Will, so the other one it was.

General First Impression: I think I did the right thing, as I've enjoyed these two classes a lot. On Tuesday, the first thing they did was a role-play in which my day was getting worse and worse as it went on. I had to spoke to an angry driver, an angry colleague, an angry boss, an angry teacher -actual teacher-, an angry flatmate... It was good. Not the best thing for a newbie to be doing two minutes after having introduced herself, or maybe the best thing, for that same reason. 

Classmates: All girls class again. There are two Spanish, by the way, which is a first. To my right there was this one girl called E. Very nice, but I feel that she's the trying kid in the class. She looks like she could interrupt every five minutes to discuss something she's not sure about, or in disagreement with, or whatever. I'm in for fun times, I believe. I've also met the rest today. A lovely German named L., an italian-colombian called G., two As, Hungarian both I believe, and M. and R., which I think must be Romanian or something.  I was speaking to them for a while during the break, especially G. and L., who seem to be sort of friends, and then with the spanish girls, who are so different from each other. One shy and quiet, the other one strong and fun. Fun times, indeed. I really was missing attending to classes. Professional distortion anyone? :D

Teacher Will: Good stuff. I thought he was going to be someone else, but nope, I haven't seen him before at ELT. He doesn't mind my tardiness at all, which is a bonus point. And classes good so far, he seems to be an animated teacher.

It's kind of strange, though; even if he doesn't look exactly like it, I'm sure he must be younger than me. Not awfully so, but still a strange feeling for a teacher, to be taught by someone younger. He had a huge book on the table today, which is always nice to know about a teacher, that he's not scared of huge books. He also looks the debating type, seeing how he explained today the almost nonexistent differences between two adjectives; I bet he could spend hours debating semantics, or politics, or whatever, actually. And for some reason I can picture him being, if not a teacher, I don't know, a police officer, or firefighter, or being part of a rescue team, and  physically he looks kind of sporty, though not the Hulk exactly (not too tall for British standards; he actually kind of looks Scottish to me. I'll ask him someday).

All in all, I'm happy with the class. 

And well, in other unrelated news:

--> Fiendish Fancies are dangerous, DANGEROUS, because I can't stop either eating them or thinking about getting more and eat them. Do they deliver to Spain? Hmmm. Tomorrow first thing, trip to Co-Op/ASDA/Sainsbury's.

--> I am so officially in love with J.

"Would you like to sit with me and watch Fireman Sam?"
"I'd love to, J., but I'm busy making dinner."
*comes to the kitchen* "What are you cooking? Pasta?"
"Yup, it's pasta today. Pasta and tomato sauce."
"I have an idea! You put the pasta now and then you sit with me and then you check on the pasta after a small time."
"Mm..could do that, yes, but I need to give Ollie his bottle, too."
*disappointed and frowning* "Tomorrow I'm telling mumma that SHE cooks dinner so you can sit with me."
"Maybe mumma wants to sit with you while I am making dinner, J."
"But I want to sit with you. I have mumma all the time, you will be leaving one day."
"I'm going to be around for a long time still, J." *not exactly the truth, but..*
*J. takes my hand* "Sit with me, please..."

What did I do? I hugged him, kissed his unruly hair, put the pasta away and sat with him and Ollie to watch Fireman Sam, of course. I mean, what else was there to do. Lovely little man.

Ok, Ok, Advanced It Is...

Current Mood Warning: suspicious but accepting. 

Highlight of the Day:  I finally went to ELT to enquire about English classes.

My original plan was to try and take the FCE -First Certificate in English- exam in December, so I wasn't in a real hurry. I mean, I think I have level enough for the First without needing too much help. And the more classes, the more money I had to say bye to, so, in a bold move perhaps, I didn't go immediately to book a place for me in September.

So, I went there and spoke to Teresa about my plans. Teresa is the name of the woman who is always managing student issues at ELT, and the one who told me straight away that I was a very ridiculous person and a not very clever one at that for wanting to do the First. Ok, not literal perhaps, but she told me that I should definitely go for CAE instead  -Certificate of Advanced English.  

She also told me that they didn't have any places left for me in FCE groups, but still some for CAE, in the evenings, which made me suspect that the whole thing wasn't so much about my English level but about my purse...Nah, not really, but, you know. 

At this point, the Principal, the man I had always say hello and bye and never before spoke to me while in Secretary, suddenly spoke: "So, what you are trying to tell Teresa, in perfect advanced English, is that you don't see yourself as advanced, am I correct?"  What did I do? I started to laugh, out of embarrassment I guess, and partly because quite frankly, sounded ridiculous indeed.  He asked me if I had 50 minutes to do another test, I said yes, so test I did. In about 25 minutes.

And well, apparently I did well, because he told me something about highests scores and all that, and recommended me to a)trust his many years of experience and b)to take the CAE classes in the evenings. 

And here I am, kind of happy of being 'advanced', and kind of unsure about classes and evenings. I usually am busy until 7pm, and classes start at 6.30. And ELT is about 20 minutes from home. And it's dark...  

Anyway, I told them that I would think about it and tell them something tomorrow morning. And here I am, thinking about it and trying to know what I'm going to tell them tomorrow morning. I think I'll say yes. I really had fun with Sania and conversation class, I miss that.

I will also miss my Elizabeths once I give them to her, but well, I can always save more for my travels. 

Ah, decisions, decisions.

70

 Current Mood Warning: vintage

Today, in many webs here in the UK, not sure about out there too, you can see a little picture with glasses.

Shameless Beatles fangirl that I am, and despite having always been more of a Paulie girl, I've been thinking and listening to John -and the rest of the band- all day, so I thought I could come in here and talk it out. 

This video of a sixty something Ringo Starr wishing Happy Birthday to John, Ringo style of course, has made me realise that 70 and John Lennon don't go well together. Clash. As his friend says, can you believe? 

Mini Entry Because I Don't Feel Like Going To Bed. Take #2

Current Mood Warning: wondersome (not sure about this word existing in real life, but in my mind it fits).

And I wonder: how can it be possible that I haven't seen a fox yet? All my aupair friends have seen loads and I've seen none. 

It is also true that I might have passed by them and assumed they were just fat cats. But I don't think it probable. I don't remember having seen cats either, now that I think of it.

Ok, so. Tomorrow, the promised Jane Austen chronicle, especially dedicated to my Jane lovers at the Little Cake Club. 

PS. ONE entry during August and FOUR entries during September is a shame and a dishonour. From tomorrow on, cyberposting should lead the way. 

A Bunch of Pictures and Some New News

Current Mood Alert: energetic

10.45 pm. I can't believe I've been back in London for nearly two weeks and still no update. Could try and think about good excuses, but the truth is that I was lazy to do it. 

List  Of Things That Happened Laterly:

- I have more working hours. 

- I have more money for said extra working hours.

- I've been chilling out under the London Eye and apparently I might change my mind and give it a try.

- I've taken another picture of Basil and her friend Orchid.

- H. speaks twice as she did in June.

- O., the newborn, has digievolved and now he looks like he ate his old self.

-Summer is no more over here, we seem to be in September or something. 

- The bus failed me for the first time ever, a fact no one believes because apparently what was strange is my never having problems with it. 

- There's a new clothes and thingies store inside my beloved ASDA, aka a new world of cheap possibilities.

-And I finally took more pictures. 

Here you have some of them so you can see how awesome is this:

Pub near St. Paul's Cathedral. 

St. Paul's

London Eye from Big Ben

Classical in Covent Garden, with the most animated musicians ever. They even had choreos while playing.

I'll try and upload more. The thing is that I'd rather take videos than pictures, more real and all (and no matter if my pulse is not ready for surgery...).

Have a nice day. 

x

29ºC. And Some Pictures.

 Current Mood Alert: HOT

I can't believe I'm i my London attic the same way I'm usually in Cádiz every summer: suffering from sticky hot weather which prevents me from sleeping or doing anything in general. 30ºC today I think it was. With no sea in sight...

After coming back home with my feet twice their size and fully roasted, I proceeded to the rummaging (rummage? Mm...) inside my suitcase, which is still half-packed. And apparently I forgot to bring summer clothes. Perhaps I wasn't 100% sure I would be still here by summer, or perhaps I wasn't aware that this kind of days existed here. I was wrong, on both accounts.  

I wanted to go out and buy some emergency items, but really, between 1 and 5pm, my free hours, the temperature out there was not inviting me to do half an hour return trip under the sun. With no summer clothes on, don't forget the aim of the trip. 

So I have nothing Londonish to report. I've taken some pictures, though. Look, look:

Big Ben from Trafalgar Square (I didn't have the foggiest idea you could see it from there):

Basil (proper noun for me): 

Harry The Vacuum Machine (yup, it says 'Henry', but for some reason in my head it's been Harry since the very first day and it's been impossible for me to change that). Don't tell me you don't feel like vacuuming all day long, if only to see his funny little happy face:

Victorian money at the British Museum:

What else, what else...my room the day I arrived. You can see the towels set too (doesn't look like this any more...):

From my window:

Me being bohemian at Hyde Park making some squirrel friends by doing something you shouldn't do, this is, feeding those squirrels:

More and better tomorrow, when I will also tell you about my five weeks Advanced Conversation course that I've booked. Highly interesting topic for people who's not me, I'm sure.

Take care,

xxx

Two Lists, Bridget Jones and Cristiano Ronaldo

Current Mood Alert: chattyish, sort of.

What a long day this is being, my imaginary friends.

As there is no way internet lets me finish The Dogs Whisperer, I'm doing a list of things good and so-so of this my last day of freedom being the owner of a house in London.

List of Good Things That Happened Today:

- The washing machine worked fine.

- The dryer worked fine* (->*after texting V. asking about what I could be forgetting, because it didn't exactly work at the beginning).  

- Basil still alive.

- It was such a nice and lovely day, and people were crowding in the parks doing about everything. A very lovely and springy atmosphere.

- I have found a fantastic new plug adapter (mine was crap with thin plugs and this one is not). 

- I've been watching Dancing With The Stars AND enjoyed it. Not that this is a good thing per se, but I do like to watch dancers and this particular couple was brilliant.

- The Mentos Fruit pack hasn't three little packs inside, but FIVE.

- I didn't get lost while walking to Harrod's.

- The Murder, She Wrote episose that I was watching this morning and whose resolution couldn't see because I had to go, not only was being aired when I came back home late in the afternoon, but it was mysteriously in almost exactly the same scene I left in the morning. This is Cosmic Magic, no other way of seeing it.

List of so-so Things That Happened Today

- Oyster eat all my money and now I'm a bit worried about how much it is eating.

- My right knee looks like a bun after loosing balance on the stairs of a Top Shop in front of Harrod's, and I'm not sure about the frozen peas working as they should. Hpmf.

- I've been eating too many left overs (pizza, pasta...) and now I'm paying for it.

All in all, good day.

Oh, and while having dinner, I finally remembered the dream I had last night and that I couldn't remember.

I was in a church, because someone was taking his first Communion, or a wedding, or some church-related event like that. So I see that in the altar, Cristiano Ronaldo is sitting there, in a velvet and gold chair, and next to him there's a priest, but not your regular priest, but someone who is the spitting image of Palpatine (if you don't know who is Palpatine, go google it, you shameful creature xD).

At this point I want to clarify that I like Cristiano Ronaldo ZERO.

Anyway, CR looks at me, and keeps on staring for a while. Sudddenly Palpatine looks at me to, and starts gesturing for me to go to him. Since I don't like CR one bit and I'm clearly suspicious of a priest looking like Palpatine, I try to look distracted while thinking why the ceremony I'm attending, whatever it is, doesn't start.  Suddenly, Palpatine starts walking towards where I am, his face not truly friendly, but mostly angry. I look at CR back, imploring with my stare to help me and stop Palpatine to get any closer; he smiles beatifically and ... can't remember anything else.  Thank god.

xxx

PS. In other unrelated news, today I saw Bridget Jones. The movie one. Honest. You can't imagine how much HER she was. Same hairstyle, same complexion, same walking, same rosy cheeks...EVERYTHING. Well done, people styling her for the movie (although Bridget Jones is a brunette in the books).

For a couple of seconds I was tempted to follow her and start a casual conversation about tops at TopShop, but my knee was hurting and, quite frankly, I doubt it was a good plan ;oP

My First London Cold, Blackbirds and Basil.

Current Mood Warning: descriptive


It's 4:51 pm according to Big Ben, although time is something relative here in London. I've been awake for what feels like two or three days, but it's just 5 pm. Or maybe it's that I've got this silly cold that came out of nowhere and have entered The Nebula again. 

I'm halfway through my third week in here, although it's not really counting. My host family has gone on holidays for a week, to Greece I think, which means I'm home alone. Well, not really alone. Basil is here, too.

Basil is an actual basil plant that I have to keep alive for a whole week. Never in my live I've been able to keep a plant alive, so I might be slightly obsessed with Basil's daily looks. I keep on checking on it, looking for the smallest traces of an inevitably and untimely death due to inadecuate maintenance.

But to the point. The only sounds I can hear are birdies, blackbirds, and the 37934547 airplanes flying over our Common. But not. One. Kid. NOTHING.

I'll talk further about them, but so far I have to say that V., the mother, is a very very nice woman* (*opinion subject to last minute changes), and she told me that I could bring someone here if I didn't want to be alone or something. The truth is that, so far, they treat me very well and I don't work half of what other aupairs I know do.

I'm going downstairs to take my medicine, and to see if the blackbirds are still partying in the garden, under my window.

 x

The Whats and Whys of Once Upon a Junction

 Current Mood Alert: blah

After two weeks of living here, I have found, at last, some time to open the blog that I so happily promised before leaving.

Clapham Junction is the busiest railway station in all England. Or that's what they say, anyway. It is also located in my new neighbourhood. Because I'm now a Londoner. Not in the imaginary way I've always been, but in fact and truth and reality (brutal improvement).

But before getting blog dirty, I'm going to put some socks on top of the heating of my new room in the attic. I love these heatings; they can dry anything you put on top, whether a pair of thin socks or your winter jeans. 

It's 10:37pm according to Big Ben. Night night.