Week Six

A somewhat interesting week in Pavia culminating in being threatened by an axe murderer, facing my fear of squatting, skinning both my knees and discovering the joys of chip pizza. Good times.

Monday 10^th Nov

This morning I opened the shutters and looked out the window and there on the street below was a billboard with a picture of a nudie white woman and a nudie black man. And the caption was “They call me Dirty Black. They call me Filthy Lesbian”. And that’s it like. Nice to meet ye lads, they call me Jennie!

This afternoon then I heard voices in the hall, one of them being next door neighbour’s. I went out to join the banter and we ended up in another girl’s room chatting away. Next thing “Do you have a boyfriend?” he said to me. Heart skips a beat. I must have just been sitting there like a gombeen because the girl next to me answered for me. He expressed an interest in going to rowing so later when I was getting ready for rowing I asked him does he want to come with me, but he was already on his way to the gym. “But I’m going to a party tonight, do you want to come with me?” Me then “Eh, yeah” And I grabbed my phone to take his number and as I was typing it in my hand was shaking and I lost all strength in my fingers. I was typin in all types of Xs and Os like a ham-fisted buffoon. I’m not used to this kind of carry-on at all, at all. Once I had his number I had to close the door and sit down for a minute. Me nerves!

That night anyway I had to come home sick from rowing. I hopped into the shower when I got home and by the time I had gotten out he had rung me four times and texted me once. Hmm. I text him anyway saying I was sick and couldn’t go. He text back “Pity, etc, next time etc, if you need a doctor let me know…” Oh my God. Oh my God. Three dots! He is flirting with me.

Ok right, all systems go. Must construct a text message that is flirty and nonchalant in equal measure. Then we can keep the flirting going for a while to help me to acclimatize to the idea of going out with someone new. Excellent. This is good. This is healthy. So I typed in “Shur come and examine me tomorrow, my lips are hurtin me…smiley face” See that’s the trick, hedge your bets with a smiley face. Usually I hate smileys, but in this case, they are my ally. I read the message ten times before sending it. Ah here, fuck it, I’ll send it, I’m mad, I am! So there then followed the ten minutes between my message and his reply in which I was having the obligatory panic attack “Oh my God, what was I thinking! He’s not going to reply now, he thinks I’m a mad aul wan!” Until the phone beeped and my blood pressure rocketed. “Shur jaysus I could call in tonight if that’s the case…smiley face”. Ah good. The presence of smiley faces keeps it all innocent. This suits me grand, what with being a divorcee stumbling blindly back out into the market like. A few more weeks of this and I’ll be ready for the first awkward kiss. Great. By then it was past midnight so I relaxed a bit, shur we can continue the harmless flirting tomorrow.

Next thing, a knock at the door.

Oh Jesus! JESUS! It’s not, is it? It couldn’t be. I opened the door a tiny crack. His giant bod was taking up the whole door frame. I didn’t know whether to puke or faint! He must have run home as fast as his teenage legs could carry him! I was just standing there in shock, in my jimjam ends and my horrible t shirt that I usually only wear for training, hair all over the gaff. Next thing he goes “Did somebody call for a doctor?” Oh God. Oh Mary mother of Jesus. I’m not ready for this! I just stood there, jaw on the floor. Then he just said “You propositioned me” and pushed me in the door, scooped me up with one hand and closed the door behind him with the other. Oh God! My first thought was “How the fuck am I going to get out of this one?” but then I was like, go with it, give him a little kiss like. No sooner were my lips braced for contact than his hand wanted to go on a holiday to Boob Town. Ha! I don’t fuckin think so, butty. He was swiftly “trun” out back into his own room. Boob town, as if! You’ll have to put in a fair bit of wooing first, m’dear. Now I’m no prude but please now, I mean honestly. I really don’t think so. I meant the lips on my face were hurting me, like. Talk about gettin the wrong end of the stick. I mean Italian women might give out free passes to Boob Town like they’re going out of style but not me, no siree. No hands please, I’m Irish.

I got into bed anyway hoping for a good night sleep. But I just lay there staring at the ceiling all night thinking “what just happened?” Most terrifying/hilarious thirty seconds of my life, like.

Tuesday 11^th Nov

Yesterday just kind of ran into today because of lack of sleep last night. He knocked on my door in the morning to say goodbye before he went to college. Like a nice polite boy. Good, he’s learning. Let the wooing commence.

Wednesday 12^th Nov

Today my friends from college Anna and Eamonn came over to visit me. I was delighted to see them. The two of them were foaming at the mouth to do something mental to get into my blog, and they didn’t disappoint. We checked into their hotel room first. Now this hotel, like all hotels in Italy, as stipulated by law, is run by a complete mentaller. You just know by his soft spoken voice and the mayonnaise on his cheek that he has some bodies buried in the back yard. We were in the room having a catch up in the middle of the day like, and the next thing a knock at the door. It’s the axe murderer. “You’ll have to keep it down lads” he said, quite nicely, “Oh yeah grand boy, no bodder” says us. Even though we were only conversing as mature adults, as illustrated in the picture below.

But he kept going on “If you keep talking, I’ll give you back your money and you can go find somewhere else to stay”. “Yeah, yeah no problem” we said. “If the talking continues I’m going to call the police and have you dragged out of here” Ok, now this is getting weird. “Eh…ok, yep, understood”. “If I hear one more sound I’m going to come up here and chop you into little pieces, wrap you in quality street wrappers and give you out as sweets on Halloween”. Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. He went off anyway and we were all just staring at each other like WTF? The next thing a drill started up upstairs, and continued for all of Anna and Eamonn’s stay. Welcome to Italy lads.

That night we went out to the Irish pub. Now I hadn’t ever used their bathroom before so I was shocked and upset to find that they had those hole in the ground toilets. Now people, anyone who knows me knows that I just do not do anything that involves squatting. I have never peed in a field in my life and I’m not about to assume the position now. I mean, how does one even approach these things? I’m very upset like. But as the proseccos kept coming I had to face the truth: it was time to pee. Oh god, oh god. Had to get detailed instructions from Sofia before I could go downstairs. Emerged equally victorious and disgusted. I mean how unladylike. These things really bother me, I wish I could be more like my sister, who’d piss in yer eye. I’m not saying which sister. (It’s Hazel.)

Thursday 13^th Nov

Today Anna and Eamonn went on a jaunt to Milan while I had to go to work in Pavia. When they got home we went out for a several drinks. Of course, we all know that the part of the night when you are in the bar drinking the actual drinks is never the funniest part of the night, oh no. The funniest part of the night is when the drinks have been drunk and you’re on your way home and one of ye has a “brilliant idea”. In this case, the ‘brilliant idea’ was had by us when we were going through the underground passage in town. “Oh my god like, let’s recreate the Twilight New Moon poster.” “That is the most ingenious thing I have ever heard of in my life!” This is clearly a completely normal and appropriate thing to be doing at 2 o’ clock of a Friday morning in an underground passageway. See result below.

Anyway then we headed to the taxi rank to get me a taxi home. Not a taxi in sight, and when we rang the taxi company there were no taxis available. In fact, there wasn’t even any traffic. Anna and Eamonn said they’d walk me home the ten minutes up the road. Grand. So we were walkin up the road like the three drunken gowlers we are and no harm came to us, until we were literally outside my front door and I slapped off the ground. Like, literally lying on the ground I was. I have always hated walking down slight declines and this is why. First one foot slipped, but then the other foot saved me, but then that foot slipped and the other one came back to save me; and this must have went on for about ten seconds, all the while I was getting closer and closer to the ground until I eventually admitted defeat and sprawled out face down. You know that feeling, where there is the initial panic when you slip, but then the relief when you realize you have saved yourself, only to slip again and save yourself again and you keep thinking you are going to be ok until slowly, slowly, the realization dawns on you that you and the ground are going to meet face to face. Needless to say we all were creased up laughing. Eamonn tried to help me up “No no!” I said “lets laugh first”! And then when we got enough laughing out, Eamonn was helping me up and he was like “Anna take her other hand” but Anna said “I can’t, I’m peeing”. Ah lads. As Eamonn would say - it’s all fun and games until you’re crawling home.

Friday 14^th Nov

Woke up this morning with no skin on my knees, and my palm shredded. Not bad for a night’s work. Eamonn and Anna came in to my place and then we headed out for lunch and a stroll. Headed back to my place then for them to collect their bags and they headed off into the sunset. What a great few days. Went to work and then came home and curled up and watched Up.

Saturday 15^th Nov

Right this weekend I am taking it easy after the hectic week. Head into Laura and Sadie’s house for some pizza and prosecco action. However after a miniscule amount of wine, it seemed to have reawakened the alcohol that was lying dormant in my system and I was instantly in the goolies. This is not good. Must stumble home immediately and fall into bed.

Sunday 16^th Nov

Worked all day (with a sprinkling of America’s Next Top Model) then in the evening went into town with the fella next door for an aul stroll. On the way home we got pizza and I, only out of morbid curiosity, you understand, got a Chip Pizza. That’s right, a pizza with chips on it. For 5 euro. I mean come on. I imagined how much money I could make off the drunken louts on John Street in Waterford at 4 o clock on a Sunday morning with chip pizzas. But then I thought of the trauma of having to see all the fat wans with their “bet” on clothes stumbling in and stuffing it down their hideous gobs and I thought nah - me mental health is me wealth.

Anyway I said to the fella next door, "this is mad now, the two of us hanging out and you’re only nineteen." “Oh, I’m not nineteen.” He says. Oh thank God, I think to myself, and breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m eighteen”.

God forgive me.