It's been a week of ups and downs - in reflection, I think the ups have outweighed the downs, and the weekend is just coming up! Not a bad effort. Things started well last Saturday as I decided (in a very non-Lucia-like manner) to go shopping. I needed a new pair of jeans really badly, as my current ones were starting to look quite ridiculous. Thankfully I found a pair in the first store I tried, so the pain was over and I could enjoy the rest of the shopping excursion. And enjoy it I did. I found this absolutely fabulous retro vintage shop selling original clothes, accessories and furniture from the 60s and 70s, all at reasonable prices! They had this awesome clock, some cool glasses, and some fabulous purple flares, among piles of other cool stuff. When I have money I am so going back there and buying everything not nailed down.
Next up I found a second-hand St. Vincent de Paul type charity shop, in which I bought a t-shirt for 1 euro (bargain) and also something which I have been looking for for a long time - a badass (fake) leather jacket that actually looks good on me and doesn't have a million pockets, zips or other paraphernalia. Also a steal at eight euro.
Saturday night I painted the town red with Antonia and her friend Alex from work. We went to Q bar and danced the night away. We had an awesome time, but my good mood was short-lived as I woke on Sunday with horrible stomach cramps. These later turned out to be gastroenteritis (yay), but all I could do was lay in bed and groan, thinking, "Great. This is the day we decided to spring-clean the flat". Dragging myself out of bed at 1, we began the long and arduous chucking out and cleaning process. I must admit I quit half-way through when the others insisted I go back to bed and I wasn't really in a position to argue much. I put up with the gastro until Tuesday afternoon, when I finally went to see a GP (45 euro). She prescribed Buscopan and Motilitum, both of which I took and they proceeded to have no effect whatsoever. Modern Medicine: 0, Just wait until it goes away: 1. I did get Wednesday off out of it though, and can I just say what a difference it makes to have a day off in the middle of the week. Suddenly the time spent at work seems merely long rather than interminable.
On Wednesday at about 4pm, Maria rang and informed me she was having a barbeque that night, and to meet at the Spire at six. We bought a whole load of food and went back to Allan's place where about 10 of us proceeded to have such a great time that although I had promised myself I would be in bed by 10:30 at the latest, we left the house at about 1am. All we were doing was talking and listening to music, but there was a great vibe, and we had lots of fun. There was one scary moment when I accidentally ate some raw meat(it looked cooked, I swear!) but I didn't have a gastro relapse thankfully. To be honest I was more worried about the fact that I looked like a total idiot for eating raw meat than about my stomach. Shallow but true. Plus we arranged to go to the free "Ojos de Brujo" concert in Dun Laoghaire on Saturday, which is going to rock everyone's socks off.
You would think after that I would have a quiet night on Thursday, but no. I had invited Emily, the girl I met in Belfast, to the barbeque the previous night, but she couldn't come, so she invited me for drinks on the Thursday. I didn't know when she was going back to Philly so I gathered up what was left of my energy and went out. We met up with Alison, a friend of hers, and her boyfriend Sean (fom Donegal - coolest accent!). We chatted for hours and pretty soon Alison and I were fast friends - she's from Galway and she promised to take me there and show me all the cool places. I'm excited by the prospect but also because I'm finally making friends "by myself" - I mean, not through my flatmates. It's a pretty big deal for me to get over my shyness enough to even swap numbers with someone (ridiculous, I know, and at 23!). Then it took me almost two weeks to even get up the courage to text Emily! I guess I just feel like they'll be like, "Lucia who? Oh, er, I'm busy". Either that or we'll meet up again and have nothing to say to each other or nothing in common. But of course that's completely irrational and in real life I get on with most people like a house on fire, so if I just remember that, I'll get over this shyness thing.
Anyway so I went to bed after 1 for the second "school night" in a row - very, very bad. Today at work was ok, stomach pains nearly gone (after six days, about time). I didn't know how I was going to make it when I first got here, but I woke up a bit as the day progressed, and actually achieved things. I'm still at work now writing this (after 5 of course) but I'm going to head off now as (surprise surprise) it looks like it's going to rain. The weather's not too bad actually until I remember that it's summer here. Then I realise winter is not going to be much fun at all.
The concert tomorrow is going to be a blast. Fill you all in then. I just had a thought - what if it rains? My rain jacket so does not go with the outfit I planned to wear! Hmmm, better dig out the brolly.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Thursday, August 18, 2005
The story of Belfast
I was going to wait until I recovered from my extreme exhaustion before I started this post, but it's been three days now and I still feel like I've had my energy sucked from my body by some power-hungry sci-fi movie baddie. Therefore I am going to relate the story of my trip to Belfast, fatigue notwithstanding.
I got out of work somewhat early on Friday (boss was away, hurrah!) and met Kath at the bus station. We bought our tickets (€12 return, how good is that?) then searched in vain for the platform. We did find a sign saying "Platform 16" with an arrow, however following it merely led us through a packed waiting room to the front door of the bus station. Asking at information was no help, as the lady behind the plastic grate gestured pointedly at the sign as if to say, "Are you blind, stupid, or both?". Anyway, long story short, we found the bus, already nearly full, and jumped on without further ado (just in time). I had brought "Crime and Punishment" with me to read on the bus, but my plans to finally finish the damn thing and find out what happens in the end were ruined by the Book People. Who are the Book People? They leave samples of a bunch of books at your workplace for a couple weeks, then they come pick them up and you can order whichever ones you want. So the books were lying there on the coffee table, and if you know me at all you know I can't walk past a book, no matter how trashy the cover looks. So on my coffee break I picked up one called "Where Rainbows End" (yes, I know) thinking I could read it for 10 minutes and forget about it. Of course I was hooked by page two, and I stole it to read over the weekend, being careful not to bend the spine, so I don't have to pay for it when the Book People come back (hehe).
We arrived in Belfast two and a half hours later and proceeded to search for our hostel. On the way we passed some men marching up the main street, very English and pompous, but with these silly high-pitched screechy flutes which didn't go with their macho demeanor at all. It's so weird, even though Northern Ireland is in Ireland, it really does feel more like you're in England.
Once we'd found the hostel, and the guy gave us the fright of our lives by not finding our booking for about 3 minutes, we decided it was time for food. It was about 9ish by that stage, so I guess you'll hardly be surprised to hear that our search for an open supermarket was fruitless. In the end we decided to patronise a skanky looking pizza joint we just happened to walk past. It turned out to be a good choice, as two 21 year old Belfastians (Patrick and Johnny) were also dining in that particular establishment, and pretty soon the four of us were gasbagging like old friends. By the way, the Belfast accent is the second coolest in the world, after Liverpudlian. Much better than the Dublin accent (sorry any Dubliners reading this). In typical Irish fashion, it didn't take them long to invite us round to their place for drinks, so off we went. We ended up talking till 5 am, and learnt a lot about living in Northern Ireland in the process, particularly about the Troubles. No matter how much you read about it in books or in the paper, it just doesn't hit home as much as when you talk to people that have lived through it. Patrick told us about how his cousin was shot, for no other reason than being a "Catholic". I put that in inverted commas because despite all the rhetoric, something I've learned this weekend is that the war in Northern Ireland these days has very little to do with religion. The labels "Catholic" and "Protestant" in Northern Ireland have more to do with the family, background and culture you were brought up in, and the geographical place you live in, than who goes to which church. Johnny, for instance, calls himself a Catholic even though he doesn't believe in God and doesn't go to church. But he's on the side of the Republicans, so that makes him a Catholic as far as the Northern Irish are concerned. Anyway, listening to them talk about what it was like to have family members shot in the street, and to grow up in a town where you just had to be bigger and stronger than everyone else as a matter of survival, really moved me.
At 5 am the four of us collapsed into bed, and Kath and I woke at 8 and let ourselves out of the house while the boys were sleeping...well, we wanted to see Belfast! And we left them a note. First up we went to see the Queen's University (bet she's never even been there) and the botanical gardens, then we went to the Ulster museum (shut) and then a walking tour of Historical Belfast, which was interesting, but not fascinating, since Belfast is actually quite a new city. Plus it's quite industrial, and other than the city hall and some old linen warehouses which are quite pretty, most of the architecture is very boring. Funnily enough the tour guide made no mention of the Troubles or anything unsavoury about Belfast's history, which makes sense if you're trying to get tourists to come to Belfast but it all seemed a bit artificial to me - I mean, who are you trying to fool here? The weather that day was bizarre - sunny, rainy, sunny, rainy, sunny, rainy, you get the idea. So we walked home slowly, ducking into shops when it started to rain, and I successfully managed to not buy anything! (Well done me). Clearly by that time we were dead on our feet after three hours sleep, so we curled up in our beds for a short nap, only to have this complete English wanker (no other word for it, sorry) waltz into the room and chat away loudly on his mobile and to his son, for about half an hour, and then afterwards say "Oh, sorry, did I wake you?". F*** you. So the nap thing was ruined, and when we went to make dinner we made friends with this American chick from Philly called Emily. The three of us and another American, Alex, went to a pub for some drinks and chats, and had a jolly old time. Emily knows this guy I know in Dublin too (Eoin), which is really weird, but awesome too of course. I chatted to another guy at the bar (possibly Domenic? or Derek? Can't remember) from Derry, so I've decided that'll be the next place to go on my list. I wanted to go there anyway, but that was like a sign or something. Anyway we had loads of fun, then headed home for the 2am curfew. Mr. English Wanker wasn't in bed yet, so of course he woke us when he came in, then snored loudly all night till 4:30, when he woke us again because he had to walk his son to the bus station and they had to have big long chats in the room (because they couldn't just go downstairs to the common room to talk), then he left with his son, then came back to snore and keep us awake some more, and THEN, at about 8, his alarm went off, he let it ring for AGES, and then proceeded to have a conversation at the top of his lungs with a Scottish guy about how he has a yacht and a house by the beach, and he's going to sail through Greece and blah blah blah. Yeah, he's loaded and spending the night in a six bed dorm for €16 a night. By this point I was ready to rip his skin from his body with my bare hands and teeth, but refrained from all but a loud sigh, got up, and got ready to take a taxi tour of Belfast. I couldn't wait, as we were going to see the murals that are painted all around Belfast (but particularly in the dodgy parts) depicting aspects of the war there. Nothing gets me excited like political history! The murals were amazing (I'll post pics when I get them off the camera) but also very sad. Most of them were memorials for people that died, or pictures of fighters holding guns and looking scary. We saw the big Berlin-wall-esque fence dividing the Catholic part of town from the Protestant part, oddly named the "Peace Wall" (is that Orwellian or what?). That was really sad, particularly for the amount of memorials near it, as that wall basically designated the front line of the war, as it were. Jack, our tour guide, was very informative, and tried very hard to be impartial (he can't help his bias, no-one can). I'm glad he was from the Loyalist side, as that meant I'd had the two perspectives. Anyway, after that wholly depressing visual political history of Belfast, we were at a bit of a loose end, so we just hung out and did a bit more shopping until it was time to get on the bus. Kath slept all the way home, and I finished the book (Guess what? They got together in the end. Yes, I'm surprised too). We got back to Dublin and it was the weirdest feeling - I felt like I was just arriving in Dublin for the first time. I guess because it's the first time I've left Dublin and come back. Anyway I did nothing but loll on the couch till it was time to go to bed, and I don't think I've recovered yet. I think it'll probably be this weekend before I really recover from all the excitement and lack of sleep. But finally I've seen Belfast, I didn't get blown up, and things are good.
I got out of work somewhat early on Friday (boss was away, hurrah!) and met Kath at the bus station. We bought our tickets (€12 return, how good is that?) then searched in vain for the platform. We did find a sign saying "Platform 16" with an arrow, however following it merely led us through a packed waiting room to the front door of the bus station. Asking at information was no help, as the lady behind the plastic grate gestured pointedly at the sign as if to say, "Are you blind, stupid, or both?". Anyway, long story short, we found the bus, already nearly full, and jumped on without further ado (just in time). I had brought "Crime and Punishment" with me to read on the bus, but my plans to finally finish the damn thing and find out what happens in the end were ruined by the Book People. Who are the Book People? They leave samples of a bunch of books at your workplace for a couple weeks, then they come pick them up and you can order whichever ones you want. So the books were lying there on the coffee table, and if you know me at all you know I can't walk past a book, no matter how trashy the cover looks. So on my coffee break I picked up one called "Where Rainbows End" (yes, I know) thinking I could read it for 10 minutes and forget about it. Of course I was hooked by page two, and I stole it to read over the weekend, being careful not to bend the spine, so I don't have to pay for it when the Book People come back (hehe).
We arrived in Belfast two and a half hours later and proceeded to search for our hostel. On the way we passed some men marching up the main street, very English and pompous, but with these silly high-pitched screechy flutes which didn't go with their macho demeanor at all. It's so weird, even though Northern Ireland is in Ireland, it really does feel more like you're in England.
Once we'd found the hostel, and the guy gave us the fright of our lives by not finding our booking for about 3 minutes, we decided it was time for food. It was about 9ish by that stage, so I guess you'll hardly be surprised to hear that our search for an open supermarket was fruitless. In the end we decided to patronise a skanky looking pizza joint we just happened to walk past. It turned out to be a good choice, as two 21 year old Belfastians (Patrick and Johnny) were also dining in that particular establishment, and pretty soon the four of us were gasbagging like old friends. By the way, the Belfast accent is the second coolest in the world, after Liverpudlian. Much better than the Dublin accent (sorry any Dubliners reading this). In typical Irish fashion, it didn't take them long to invite us round to their place for drinks, so off we went. We ended up talking till 5 am, and learnt a lot about living in Northern Ireland in the process, particularly about the Troubles. No matter how much you read about it in books or in the paper, it just doesn't hit home as much as when you talk to people that have lived through it. Patrick told us about how his cousin was shot, for no other reason than being a "Catholic". I put that in inverted commas because despite all the rhetoric, something I've learned this weekend is that the war in Northern Ireland these days has very little to do with religion. The labels "Catholic" and "Protestant" in Northern Ireland have more to do with the family, background and culture you were brought up in, and the geographical place you live in, than who goes to which church. Johnny, for instance, calls himself a Catholic even though he doesn't believe in God and doesn't go to church. But he's on the side of the Republicans, so that makes him a Catholic as far as the Northern Irish are concerned. Anyway, listening to them talk about what it was like to have family members shot in the street, and to grow up in a town where you just had to be bigger and stronger than everyone else as a matter of survival, really moved me.
At 5 am the four of us collapsed into bed, and Kath and I woke at 8 and let ourselves out of the house while the boys were sleeping...well, we wanted to see Belfast! And we left them a note. First up we went to see the Queen's University (bet she's never even been there) and the botanical gardens, then we went to the Ulster museum (shut) and then a walking tour of Historical Belfast, which was interesting, but not fascinating, since Belfast is actually quite a new city. Plus it's quite industrial, and other than the city hall and some old linen warehouses which are quite pretty, most of the architecture is very boring. Funnily enough the tour guide made no mention of the Troubles or anything unsavoury about Belfast's history, which makes sense if you're trying to get tourists to come to Belfast but it all seemed a bit artificial to me - I mean, who are you trying to fool here? The weather that day was bizarre - sunny, rainy, sunny, rainy, sunny, rainy, you get the idea. So we walked home slowly, ducking into shops when it started to rain, and I successfully managed to not buy anything! (Well done me). Clearly by that time we were dead on our feet after three hours sleep, so we curled up in our beds for a short nap, only to have this complete English wanker (no other word for it, sorry) waltz into the room and chat away loudly on his mobile and to his son, for about half an hour, and then afterwards say "Oh, sorry, did I wake you?". F*** you. So the nap thing was ruined, and when we went to make dinner we made friends with this American chick from Philly called Emily. The three of us and another American, Alex, went to a pub for some drinks and chats, and had a jolly old time. Emily knows this guy I know in Dublin too (Eoin), which is really weird, but awesome too of course. I chatted to another guy at the bar (possibly Domenic? or Derek? Can't remember) from Derry, so I've decided that'll be the next place to go on my list. I wanted to go there anyway, but that was like a sign or something. Anyway we had loads of fun, then headed home for the 2am curfew. Mr. English Wanker wasn't in bed yet, so of course he woke us when he came in, then snored loudly all night till 4:30, when he woke us again because he had to walk his son to the bus station and they had to have big long chats in the room (because they couldn't just go downstairs to the common room to talk), then he left with his son, then came back to snore and keep us awake some more, and THEN, at about 8, his alarm went off, he let it ring for AGES, and then proceeded to have a conversation at the top of his lungs with a Scottish guy about how he has a yacht and a house by the beach, and he's going to sail through Greece and blah blah blah. Yeah, he's loaded and spending the night in a six bed dorm for €16 a night. By this point I was ready to rip his skin from his body with my bare hands and teeth, but refrained from all but a loud sigh, got up, and got ready to take a taxi tour of Belfast. I couldn't wait, as we were going to see the murals that are painted all around Belfast (but particularly in the dodgy parts) depicting aspects of the war there. Nothing gets me excited like political history! The murals were amazing (I'll post pics when I get them off the camera) but also very sad. Most of them were memorials for people that died, or pictures of fighters holding guns and looking scary. We saw the big Berlin-wall-esque fence dividing the Catholic part of town from the Protestant part, oddly named the "Peace Wall" (is that Orwellian or what?). That was really sad, particularly for the amount of memorials near it, as that wall basically designated the front line of the war, as it were. Jack, our tour guide, was very informative, and tried very hard to be impartial (he can't help his bias, no-one can). I'm glad he was from the Loyalist side, as that meant I'd had the two perspectives. Anyway, after that wholly depressing visual political history of Belfast, we were at a bit of a loose end, so we just hung out and did a bit more shopping until it was time to get on the bus. Kath slept all the way home, and I finished the book (Guess what? They got together in the end. Yes, I'm surprised too). We got back to Dublin and it was the weirdest feeling - I felt like I was just arriving in Dublin for the first time. I guess because it's the first time I've left Dublin and come back. Anyway I did nothing but loll on the couch till it was time to go to bed, and I don't think I've recovered yet. I think it'll probably be this weekend before I really recover from all the excitement and lack of sleep. But finally I've seen Belfast, I didn't get blown up, and things are good.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Stomping on the accelerator again
I recall a few posts ago I wrote about how life seemed to have sped up to a frenetic, almost whirlwind pace. Now it seems as though the great cosmic brakes have been put on my life, and it has slowed, not to a screeching halt, but at most a crawl. Well, even that isn't strictly true. What my life has become is routine. I get up at 7.20. I go to work. I get home. I cook (sometimes). I watch TV or read. I go to bed. Repeat. This kind of life is comforting for me - I take a lot of pleasure in routine. But it's also what I moved to Dublin to escape. Living each day like the day before it leaves little room for learning and growth.
I do accept that life can't be an adventure the whole time. The levels of adrenaline going through your system if you did something new and crazy every day would be at best unsustainable and at worst would probably kill you. But now I've had some downtime, and it's time for me to break the routine again, lest I get stuck in the same trap I was in in Melbourne.
Therefore, next weekend, I'm actually going to Belfast (as opposed to last time, where I planned to go but didn't). I'm sure I'll actually get there this time, because
a) I’ve been paid my first month’s wages (hurrah!) and
b) I'm going with my friend Kath who I met on the tour and she's coming from London especially so I can't change my mind.
And in reality I'm burning to go, I just lack motivation to organise it...does that sound like me or what? If you haven't heard, the IRA has agreed to decommission all its weapons (leading to the aptly but humorously named Commission of Decommissioning) and abandon all non-peaceful and criminal activity. The British government has responded with the promise of withdrawal of half of the troops stationed in Northern Ireland (from about 10,000 there will be about 5,000 left). The Irish Unionists (Pro-British) are up in arms about this, saying it's putting the safety of NI citizens in jeopardy, but most people agree that they're just power-hungry and don't want to share power with Sinn Fein (the political wing of the IRA, who they promised they would talk to once they agreed to pursue only politics, not violence). Anyway, to cut a long and probably boring story short, it's an exciting time for Belfast, and I'd like to go and check out the mood.
You won’t believe what has just happened. This morning I turned on my laptop – and it asked me if I wanted to join the DIT wireless network (there’s a Dublin Institute of Technology across the street). I clicked yes and hey, presto! Free internet connection! It’s extremely unstable but it’ll do to check email and update my blog and such. I can even use web messenger but it sucks because the connection keeps dropping out. Anyway, who cares? Free internet! Who cares if I’m kinda stealing it? It serves them right for just leaving it there for anyone to take. Right? Hmm, lucky I don’t believe in Hell or I probably just bought a one way ticket.
I didn’t do anything exciting today, just shopping (guess where? Yep. Penneys! And Dunnes, the second-cheapest store in Ireland.) I bought really exciting things like towels, an oven tray, a dustpan and brush, mop heads, etc. I never thought I’d spend
a) so much time cleaning and
b) so much money on cleaning chemicals and accessories.
I’m very tempted to take some from work (we’ve got boxes of the stuff) but I think Khalil and Joe might get mad. Plus I shouldn’t steal things. But I think it should be a criminal offence to make basic necessities like cleaning accessories expensive. It’s not like we’re going to stop buying them, they’ve got a guaranteed lifetime demand for their product, surely they can afford to make it cheap! I’ve found I can’t stand the place to be in a mess, which it is in most of the time, so Saturdays I clean up – vacuum, mop, clean the bathroom and kitchen. Sometimes the others help, sometimes they don’t.
Maria’s found a flat with her own room so she’ll be moving out soon, maybe even on Monday which will be really sad. I don’t want her to move, but if she needs her own space, she needs it. I am happy for her, but I just don’t think that having her own room will be as great as she thinks it will be. Besides, for someone who doesn’t like being alone, wanting your own room is kinda strange. I love sharing a room, well, really I don’t mind it, as basically I sleep in there and nothing else. I hang out in the living room if I’m at home, so why spend another 100 euro a month to have my own room?
By the way I bought a camera – 250 euro down the drain but I really needed it (no really, I did!). So pictures of Dublin etc are on the way (finally). Oooh, the sun just came out outside. The weather here recently has been true to its reputation, that is to say, terrible. Anyway, I’m going to post this now, with my stolen internet connection. Muahahahaha!
I do accept that life can't be an adventure the whole time. The levels of adrenaline going through your system if you did something new and crazy every day would be at best unsustainable and at worst would probably kill you. But now I've had some downtime, and it's time for me to break the routine again, lest I get stuck in the same trap I was in in Melbourne.
Therefore, next weekend, I'm actually going to Belfast (as opposed to last time, where I planned to go but didn't). I'm sure I'll actually get there this time, because
a) I’ve been paid my first month’s wages (hurrah!) and
b) I'm going with my friend Kath who I met on the tour and she's coming from London especially so I can't change my mind.
And in reality I'm burning to go, I just lack motivation to organise it...does that sound like me or what? If you haven't heard, the IRA has agreed to decommission all its weapons (leading to the aptly but humorously named Commission of Decommissioning) and abandon all non-peaceful and criminal activity. The British government has responded with the promise of withdrawal of half of the troops stationed in Northern Ireland (from about 10,000 there will be about 5,000 left). The Irish Unionists (Pro-British) are up in arms about this, saying it's putting the safety of NI citizens in jeopardy, but most people agree that they're just power-hungry and don't want to share power with Sinn Fein (the political wing of the IRA, who they promised they would talk to once they agreed to pursue only politics, not violence). Anyway, to cut a long and probably boring story short, it's an exciting time for Belfast, and I'd like to go and check out the mood.
You won’t believe what has just happened. This morning I turned on my laptop – and it asked me if I wanted to join the DIT wireless network (there’s a Dublin Institute of Technology across the street). I clicked yes and hey, presto! Free internet connection! It’s extremely unstable but it’ll do to check email and update my blog and such. I can even use web messenger but it sucks because the connection keeps dropping out. Anyway, who cares? Free internet! Who cares if I’m kinda stealing it? It serves them right for just leaving it there for anyone to take. Right? Hmm, lucky I don’t believe in Hell or I probably just bought a one way ticket.
I didn’t do anything exciting today, just shopping (guess where? Yep. Penneys! And Dunnes, the second-cheapest store in Ireland.) I bought really exciting things like towels, an oven tray, a dustpan and brush, mop heads, etc. I never thought I’d spend
a) so much time cleaning and
b) so much money on cleaning chemicals and accessories.
I’m very tempted to take some from work (we’ve got boxes of the stuff) but I think Khalil and Joe might get mad. Plus I shouldn’t steal things. But I think it should be a criminal offence to make basic necessities like cleaning accessories expensive. It’s not like we’re going to stop buying them, they’ve got a guaranteed lifetime demand for their product, surely they can afford to make it cheap! I’ve found I can’t stand the place to be in a mess, which it is in most of the time, so Saturdays I clean up – vacuum, mop, clean the bathroom and kitchen. Sometimes the others help, sometimes they don’t.
Maria’s found a flat with her own room so she’ll be moving out soon, maybe even on Monday which will be really sad. I don’t want her to move, but if she needs her own space, she needs it. I am happy for her, but I just don’t think that having her own room will be as great as she thinks it will be. Besides, for someone who doesn’t like being alone, wanting your own room is kinda strange. I love sharing a room, well, really I don’t mind it, as basically I sleep in there and nothing else. I hang out in the living room if I’m at home, so why spend another 100 euro a month to have my own room?
By the way I bought a camera – 250 euro down the drain but I really needed it (no really, I did!). So pictures of Dublin etc are on the way (finally). Oooh, the sun just came out outside. The weather here recently has been true to its reputation, that is to say, terrible. Anyway, I’m going to post this now, with my stolen internet connection. Muahahahaha!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)