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.