Monday 26 August 2013
Procrastination
You know what? Instead of packing, organising my life and sorting myself out, I'm going to have a bath, rename my blog and watch about 5 episodes of 90210. Rock and roll lifestyle.
4 days
From 23 days, to 3 days and 4 hours 'till France. Someone remind me why I'm doing this? My love of children? NOPE. My lifelong desire to live in France? NOPE. To practice my French skills? NOPE NOPE NOPE.
I currently have a suitcase full of bags of vacuum packed stuff, next to a massive pile of unpacked stuff. I'm going to have to take two suitcases. Crazy bag lady? I'm stressing. I have loads to do before I go and the biggest problem... I don't know if I even want to go. It's a ten months. Nearly a whole year. Do I want to be away for that long? Sure, I'll come home in between, but only for like a few days at a time. I was out in the countryside today thinking how much I love England. So why am I going?
I have a bit of a fear. I know it's a bit stupid, but in my head it's not. When I was in Romania there was an event. Not a good one. We were staying in an apartment and to cut a long story short, one day we angered a neighbour who went CRAZY. I mean like literally knocking the door down crazy. It ended in a fight with chains, a baseball bat and lots of blood (thankfully not any of mine!). Luckily, I was with 5 other girls and we contacted a Romanian friend to call the police for us, but what if it happens again. This time I'll be on my own. I love the idea of having my own place, but I know I'll be on edge for a while.
And my next issue. Once I leave, I don't really have anywhere to come back to. Basically, my brother moved out earlier this year, saying he never planned to live at home again. My mum moved house, somewhere with no spare room for little bro to come back to. Little bro's circumstances changed and he moved home and since I got home from Spain, the living room has been his bedroom. When I leave, he gets my room. All fine, till I want to come home. And then I don't have anywhere to come "home" to. My mum said I'll always have a place here, but I don't count camping out in the living room a place. Sorry if that sounds ungreatful, but really, would you want to sleep in a room that's not really a bedroom, knowing you're stopping everyone else from being able to lounge on the sofa and watch TV etc?
I still need to buy gifts for the family, a birthday present for my niece who turns 5 just after I leave, finish packing, "pack" my room so my little brother can move into it, see my friends and mentally prepare myself. Last night I couldn't sleep. My heart was beating too fast and I was over thinking this whole situation way too much. Is that a sign that it's a mistake? It's too late to back out now. 4 more sleeps.
Grumpy grumps.
Kisses
I currently have a suitcase full of bags of vacuum packed stuff, next to a massive pile of unpacked stuff. I'm going to have to take two suitcases. Crazy bag lady? I'm stressing. I have loads to do before I go and the biggest problem... I don't know if I even want to go. It's a ten months. Nearly a whole year. Do I want to be away for that long? Sure, I'll come home in between, but only for like a few days at a time. I was out in the countryside today thinking how much I love England. So why am I going?
I have a bit of a fear. I know it's a bit stupid, but in my head it's not. When I was in Romania there was an event. Not a good one. We were staying in an apartment and to cut a long story short, one day we angered a neighbour who went CRAZY. I mean like literally knocking the door down crazy. It ended in a fight with chains, a baseball bat and lots of blood (thankfully not any of mine!). Luckily, I was with 5 other girls and we contacted a Romanian friend to call the police for us, but what if it happens again. This time I'll be on my own. I love the idea of having my own place, but I know I'll be on edge for a while.
And my next issue. Once I leave, I don't really have anywhere to come back to. Basically, my brother moved out earlier this year, saying he never planned to live at home again. My mum moved house, somewhere with no spare room for little bro to come back to. Little bro's circumstances changed and he moved home and since I got home from Spain, the living room has been his bedroom. When I leave, he gets my room. All fine, till I want to come home. And then I don't have anywhere to come "home" to. My mum said I'll always have a place here, but I don't count camping out in the living room a place. Sorry if that sounds ungreatful, but really, would you want to sleep in a room that's not really a bedroom, knowing you're stopping everyone else from being able to lounge on the sofa and watch TV etc?
I still need to buy gifts for the family, a birthday present for my niece who turns 5 just after I leave, finish packing, "pack" my room so my little brother can move into it, see my friends and mentally prepare myself. Last night I couldn't sleep. My heart was beating too fast and I was over thinking this whole situation way too much. Is that a sign that it's a mistake? It's too late to back out now. 4 more sleeps.
Grumpy grumps.
Kisses
Wednesday 7 August 2013
All Change
So it's been over a month since I last wrote.
A summary of those weeks: The children cried when I left Spain (does that mean they actually liked me?), I nearly missed my flight, I came home to a new house and new people, I got involved with something (or should I say someone) I shouldn't have, I had a few very drunken, very shameful nights out, one of which included a 3am phonecall to my little brother to come out and pay the taxi while I lay on the drive and my friend.. was being sick in the bin, I drank far too much of the Spanish spirits I brought home which resulted in the shameful nights, befriended a homeless man, got a kidney infection againnnn, got a job, turned it down and the main thing...
I've accepted a job in Paris. Working as an au pair. After saying I'd never do it again.
WHAT AM I DOING?
Good news is that this time I get my own apartment. Bad news is that I'll have 3 children to look after.
I can't speak any French. Literally, bonjour is as far as it goes.
So I'm off to France. My Eurostar is booked for the 30th August, so 23 days. It was such an impulsive decision. One minute I was thinking about getting a "proper" job and moving out of home and the next I was booking a train to France.
Fingers crossed it works out a bit better this time.
Do I start a new blog? Rename this one? What?
Kisses
A summary of those weeks: The children cried when I left Spain (does that mean they actually liked me?), I nearly missed my flight, I came home to a new house and new people, I got involved with something (or should I say someone) I shouldn't have, I had a few very drunken, very shameful nights out, one of which included a 3am phonecall to my little brother to come out and pay the taxi while I lay on the drive and my friend.. was being sick in the bin, I drank far too much of the Spanish spirits I brought home which resulted in the shameful nights, befriended a homeless man, got a kidney infection againnnn, got a job, turned it down and the main thing...
I've accepted a job in Paris. Working as an au pair. After saying I'd never do it again.
WHAT AM I DOING?
Good news is that this time I get my own apartment. Bad news is that I'll have 3 children to look after.
I can't speak any French. Literally, bonjour is as far as it goes.
So I'm off to France. My Eurostar is booked for the 30th August, so 23 days. It was such an impulsive decision. One minute I was thinking about getting a "proper" job and moving out of home and the next I was booking a train to France.
Fingers crossed it works out a bit better this time.
Do I start a new blog? Rename this one? What?
Kisses
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