Was the difficult struggle of last week a bad omen of budgetary catastrophes to come? Or will our heroine triumph against the odds and stay within her fifty euro limit in a country where a litre of milk is €1.72? Read on to find out.
Saturday 1st March
I wake up, it's Saturday. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Why? Because Saturday is my one day where I am not allowed to feel guilty for not studying. Which makes a change from the other six days of the week where I do sweet FA and am racked with guilt about it. And yet somehow not feeling guilty enough to actually do something about it. I luxuriate around the house all day, doing those menial tasks that I enjoy so much, windows and balcony doors open, the smell of gorgeous fabric conditioner wafting through the apartment and the sun splitting the rocks outside. Bliss.
Sunday 2nd March
Wake up and it is SWELTERING in the house. Throw open all doors and windows and have a speed shower and head out to the villa to lounge around in the grass all day. It's 26 degrees outside and all is well with the world. I take 2 buses to get to the other side of the city where the villa is. I FINALLY get there, after enduring some old guy rubbing his crotch against my ass the ENTIRE way on the bus, and ring the buzzer on the huge gates. Nobody answers. I have no credit on my phone and no change to use a phone box. What to do, what to do? I walk around the side of the villa to assess fence-scaling possibilities. Clearly it is an impossible task but I say to myself "yeah - TOTALLY doable". And just to ensure that I dont give up under any circumstances, I throw my handbag over the fence. About a year later it hits the ground on the other side. Interesting. I then start scaling up this metal pole like a monkey up a coconut tree (naturally the monkey I speak of has only one leg, gets whoozy in heights and is most probably epileptic), and grab onto the wire of the fence, which then droops all the way back onto the ground, with me clinging onto it like a newborn infant to a teat. This is in full view of passing cars on the main road which take the opportunity to beep enthusiastically, thus urging me forth. I take a second go at it and succeed this time, but not without my top getting caught in the wire and going halfway up my back, giving all main road users a tantalising peek at my curvaceous bod and sweet lady lumps. Fuck it sure - it's good to give back to the community. Jump down on the other side and victoriously walk up the ten mile drive, feeling a definite breeze on my belly. I look down, and lo - there is a hole in the front of my top. Great. Lay out on the grass with my Ashanti sistren doing my Pick Me Up codecracker (thanks Mark) and getting a tropical tan through my factor 25. By the end of the day I have reached epic levels of blackness - think a young Wesley Snipes. Head home after a gorgeous day and after my Flesh Tunnels fix, I go haboo without a care in the world.
Monday 3rd March
Another guilt-ridden week begins. I decide something has to be done about it and actually take out my Dante and make an impressive dent in it. Go me! Head into class, and for the entire two hours I think about all the lovely things Im going to do when I go home for Easter.
Head home for my fix of The L Word. Best. Episode. Ever. Even better than the Turkish oil wrestling one. And thats saying something. Send off some special cards to some special people and head to bed.
Tuesday 4th March
My, my, what an interesting day. While waiting for Bajan Empress this guy comes up to me looking to sell me tissues. Same shit, different day. Today however, I'm in no humour and I'm like, "Look, I have no money so good day to you sir" (paraphrasing) and he's all like "That doesnt mean you cant give me a euro". My hand tightens protectively around my last 2 euro coin in my pocket that I am saving to ring Flesh Tunnels on my way home this evening. "Actually, thats EXACTLY what it means". Blah blah blah some other banter and here your man sticks out his hand "Give me a euro". The fucking cheek. So then I stuck out my hand, "Give ME a euro". And then he says again "Just give me a euro." And then I say "Just give ME a euro", all crazy-like and he wishes me a nice day and walks off. Victory!
Later in class, Im sitting behind this guy that I have heard speaking English but have never met him. Halfway through the class he turns right around and STARES into my comprehensive notes (one random sentence at the top of a page) and is bending his head to read them. I lean forward "Dya want to sit in me lap?" He's all shocked and turns around. 2 seconds later he turns around and goes "Do you want to sit in MY lap" Im like "No, you're alright cheers" and then he turns around and says REALLY sarcastically "Nice to meet you" and gives me the back of his shaking head. Lovely. Empress and I burst out laughing and for the rest of the class sit there in disbelief. What just happened? At the end of the class he gets up to leave and I'm like "Cmere you young fella, I was only winding you up there's no need to be like that" He looks at me for a second and then it's like a switch goes off in his head and he holds out his hand to me "Im Rael it's nice to meet you" and proceeds to be the most charming and talkative man I have met since I got here. I'll take that.
I walk home, the 2 euro dancing in my pocket the entire way. The closer I got to the phonebox at the end of my street, the worse the butterflies got. By the time I reached the phonebox, I was practically foaming at the mouth. I stepped inside, my heart up in my mouth and lifted the receiver with a shaky hand. I dialled the number with trembling fingers and pushed the 2 euro coin through the slot. My heart rate rose with anticipation. I waited to hear the ring, but instead I heard the 2 euro ping into the change slot. I tried again, and again. And then 42 more agains. This cant be happening. The piece of shit phone wouldn't take my 2 euro. That I saved ALL DAY. Just for this phone call. Flashback to my stomach rumbling as I walked past a pizza place on the way home. I could have had a fucking pizza. The devastation was almost too much to bear. At that very minute all the adrenaline that had been building up inside me just disappeared and I walked home, wobbly and heartbroken.
Wednesday 5th March
I wake up and some strange notion seems to have come over me because I spend the day studying up a STORM. I got LOADS of really intense Dante done and my mind is a well of theological information. Amazing. This may or may not have something to do with the 6 apricot jam-filled croissants I may or may not have eaten in a gluttonous rampage.
Thursday 6th March
After a comparatively successful week I crumble. I just HAVE to have a cake for my dinner. I raid my bill money and head to Lidl, Roommate in tow. The closer we get to Lidl the more riled up I get. She droppped her purse on the way and stooped to pick it up and I was like "Im going ahead without you". She caught up with me and she said "We musn't talk to her when she wants her cake" hahahha. Got THE LAST ONE and headed home, triumphant. Ate half of it for my dinner and paused to enjoy it's digestion before the self-loathing kicked in.
Friday 7th March
A really good day today on the classes and general organisation front. I head into town and myself and the girls traipse around in search of elusive textbooks and getting important stuff photocopied. Sadly, though, I had to take out the nexts weeks 50 snots to pay for everything, which left a serious dent in next weeks money. Grrrrrr! Still, though it was worth it and I felt really good having got all the reading I needed for the exams. I head home and enjoy the other half of the cake in the comfort of my own bed. I hide the cake tray under the bed in case Landlady/Bitch-Faced Whore came in. Later on, I sneak into the kitchen and wash the knife and throw away the cake tray under cover of darkness. I catch myself and am ashamed. I berate myself for letting my chinois habit get this out of hand. I go to bed, simultaneously telling myself I wont do it again, and wondering will I have enough money for another one next week.
A moose in the hoose
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