Week Twenty Five - Subterranean Homesick Blues

Oh Holy God. I have it bad. I actually have a physical NEED to go home. It's giving me pains, like. Although that could be less to do with the homesickness and more to do with the fajitas we had for dinner last night.

To be honest lads I haven't been up to much this week, just crossing days off the calendar until the 31st when meseff and himseff are jetting back to the motherland for a few days. This week's grey days were punctuated by mortification and drunkenness though. Here's the highlights:

There is a new fella on our floor. A nice fella now, English speaker with a lovely accent. Didn't know what it was though until Tuesday night when I was taking scones out of the oven and he said:

"That smells really good."

"Ah thanks", I said and then went down the room to put one on a plate for him in the spirit of neighbourly goodness. Knocked on his door then and we had the chat about who we are where we come from. Turns out he's Canadian. He doesn't speak Italian and he is here to do a course for two months. Grand.

The next day anyway I was going to a funk gig that one of the lads is playing at and I said I'd invite the new fella along, seeing as loads of the lads speak English so he wouldn't feel like a tool. I went down to his room anyway. Knock knock.

He comes out.

"Oh hello."

"Well are you doing anything tonight?" I goes.

"Nothing much." says he.

"Do you like funk?" I ask.

"Nah not really", he goes.

"Pity now cos I'm going to a funk gig tonight and I was asking you along."

"What about your boyfriend...?"

This, like most things to do with awkward romantic situations, was lost on me. So I continued on, oblivious:

"Nah BBB's not coming, but all my friends speak English so no Italian is required."

"Um no, I'm not really into funk. Thanks though. Have a good night."

"Oh. Right. Eh, thanks, see ya."

I turned around then and walked slowly back to my room like "what the fuck just happened?"

A feeling crept over me. It wasnt until I was halfway back to me room that I copped on to what it was.

Mortification.

How did I know? Because all the classic symptoms were present: the big red head on me, the shaky knees, the SAS.

I suddenly copped on.

He thought I was asking him to come out in a rosemantic fashion.

Behind my boyfriend's Big Brown Back. Christ.

I thought about turning around and explaining myself, but that would only have done more harm than good.

Morto.

Now every time I want to go to the kitchen and BBB is not there to cover me I stick my head out the door and suss out the situation and then I leg it up at top speed, wrench whatever I need out of the fridge and then peg it back to the room, all the while praying he doesn't emerge from his room.

I just have to keep this up for two months, then I'm home free!

The rest of the week anyway was spent counting the seconds until our special Friday night: 89c prosecco in our scunders.

I woke up Friday morning, buzzing off me head, then I went to the supermarket and got 2 bags of jellies and 2 bottles oof prosecco for under €4 (I love Italy) and went home. In the evening I went for a cocktail with the girls, then I returned home to prepare the area for the calamity ahead.

After dinner myself and Gianluca took off our trousers (obligatory) and put our legs under the duvet and sat side by side drinking the prosecco straight from the bottles.

The next thing I remember is waking up Saturday morning.

I went into the bathroom to tinkle and the next thing I looked down and I was wearing a pair of red knickers.

That's odd.

I could have sworn I was wearing pinstripe knickers last night.

And what's more, when I went to pull them back up, something wasn't right. Something was definitely...amiss. I squirmed around a bit, and then I realised.

They were on sideways.

As in a leghole for a waist like.

I took them off and put them on again properly and went out of the bathroom laughing my head off.

"What's so...jesus!" BBB goes.

I looked down. There was a giant "scraw-eb" on my thigh, at least 4 inches long and 47 inches deep. It's ok though, it was balanced by the dinner plate-sized bruise on my other shin.

I have NO recollection of how either came into being. Or how I came to be wearing the red knickers.

I do know it was a BRILLIANT night though.

On Saturday then I had the world's worst hangover so we stayed in and relaxed for ourselves.

Then BBB suggested I try a puzzle game on the interweb.

4 hours later, he is rubbing muscle relaxant cream into my shoulders and neck and trying to pry my bloodied finger from the mousepad.

He should know better than to show me puzzle games.

I fucking LOVE puzzles.

On Sunday then we started PACKING OUR SUITCASE!!!!!

Excitement!

We'd be there folding up stuff and every three things folded we'd do a little excitement dance. Then we'd fold another three things. The give each other Excitement Digs. You know the ones. They are very similar to Love Digs.

Love Digs are what happens when you love something or someone so much that instead of hugging it or kissing it, you want to dig the head off it. Like my nephew Jack, for example. Every time I see a picture of him, instead of wanting to squeeze him and kiss him and hug him, I simply want to dig the little red head off him.

BBB suffers from a similar condition, called Love Seamuses. Sometimes he looks at me and goes:

"C'mere to me you!"

And as he pulls me onto the bed he INVARIABLY gives me a seamus. I mean without fail. He's after giving me at least twenty.

"Jesus! Me leg, ya bastard!"

"Oh no, have I seamussed you Love?"

"What do you think?"

"Here, give me a deadner back".

*Offers arm.

WHUMP!

"Mamma mia, you bastard!"

"Bastard is for boys and bitch is for girls."

"Oh right, sorry Love. You beech."

Lads I love when he speaks English. He says wonderful things like "Have you got your menstruation?" and "He wanted to go out with her but she renounced him."

Renounced, like.

Love Digs.

Week Twenty Two

Lads I promise I wasn't being the boldest girl in Ireland yesterday, but my interweb was on the blink again and I couldn't get into my blogger account. Anyway you can't be mad at me, seeing as I'm now a cripple. Read on...

Monday 1st March

Christ. The fella in the first room's mother is back. Every time I go to cook something she is down there taking up all four hob rings and generally giving me ire. And she doesn't just spend a half an hour cooking up the lunch either - oh no. She is down there milking the cow to churn the butter to fry the onions with like.

Every night I make scones to eat for our breakfast the next morning. Today I went to put them in the oven and surprise surprise - there she is. Then she has the cheek to offer me some helpful advice.

"No you put them on the other shelf."

Now lads. If you want to give me ire, just try and tell me how to cook my own food. I am the scone master, noone beats me in the scone stakes like.

Then she went on to ask me what kind of pre-packaged pastry I used for them!

I gave her the laser death stare.

"I make everything from scratch." Laser death beam gaze.

Then I had to go down the room and bang a few saucepans around.

No like, just no.

Tuesday 2nd March

You know the way they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach? Well it's true!

One day, shortly after BBB came back from his Chirstmas holidays he was sitting at his desk when he did a big dramamtic sigh.

"I miss Mamma." he goes. No surprises there, seeing as this is an entire nation of Mammy's Boys.

"Aw, why's that?", I goes.

"I miss her cooking and her bringing me snacks."

Now I don't know what happened, but that flicked a switch deep inside me and since then I have been plying him with home baked goods and top notch dinners. I think I'm actually addicted to feeding him. Every time I put a plate down in front of him he looks up at me with these puppy dog eyes and goes "I love you." No really, every time.

There is something so satisfying about watching a man eat. I love it!

"You spoil me girl," he says every time I put a plate of something fresh baked in front of him (after he says he loves me).

"Will I stop?", I usually answer.

"Christ, no!" says he, "Pass the jam, please."

Even considering how much I spoil him, he hasn't turned into spoilt shithead. In fact I have found that the more I spoil him, the more I become his queen.

This pleases me.

Wednesday 3rd March

Every night we fall asleep in the same position and then during the night I break away for some Jennie time and then in the morning when the alarm goes off he pulls me in for a five minute snuggle before we have to get up. This morning was no different.

Drrrrrrrrring! Drrrrrrrring!

"C'mere you til I snuggle the head off ya!" he goes.

And then proceeds to pull me into him, while simultaneously bending his knee. Why like, just why? Why on earth would you pull your girlfriend into you while bending your knee?

The obvious result was that he kneed me square in the gooter (pronounced "gew-thor"). As a good friend Jac would say "I didn't get a knee in the fanny since school."

It's still tender.

Thursday 4th March

For the last few weeks, every time I go for a run my hip hurts me. I thought I was just working some deep down muscles but now I feel something more sinister is at work. On Monday night as usual my hip was hurting me, but I didn't think anything of it. On Tuesday and Wednesday I stayed at home doing a bit of work, plus it was raining so I wasn't too bothered going outside. But today I ventured out to go into town and Christ! The pain!

I started off walking and I could feel a little niggle, five steps later I was limping like a leper. It's not a sharp kind of a pain, it's an aching pain, and more than anything the frustration of it is driving me crazy. It is just there.

I feel like I want to either feel the pain or not feel it. I don't want this kind of presence. It's like a shadow or something lurking in there, driving me nuts. I feel like I need someone to break my hip or pop it or something. I am fairly close to doing it myself, to be honest.

Since then anyway I have been doing extreme to the max yoga hoping that in some crazy stretch position it might pop or something. Me nerves!

Friday 5th March

Today I limped into Laura's and we did some fun activities including baking some amazing lemon and blueberry breakfast bread. I brought a loaf home for myself and BBB and when I got back to the house I was emptying the contents of my bag out onto the bed, just organising myself a bit. The next thing BBB bursts in:

"There she is! Come here to me you!" and scoops me up and starts swinging me around and then he plonked himself down on the bed with me in his arms.

A distinct squashing noise could be heard.

"Get. Up. Now."

He got up and we turned around to look at the bed. Sure enough, the cake was as flat as a pancake. It was in one of those disposable baking tins that's like the chinese box you get a 3-in-1 in. Needless to say it was completely concertina-ed.

If it wasn't so funny I would have murdered him.

"Jesus look at it!" I goes, peeling back the lid.

"God yeah, we should definitely eat it all now," he goes.

"I think you might be right", says I, "just to be sure like".

Om nom nom.

Saturday 6th March

Had a nice day today gettin up to various fun activities and in the night BBB headed off to Switzerland to see some car show. He was dying for me to go with him but I would literally rather he die than me have to go to a car show.

Harsh but true. I wouldn't drag him around a knitting show like.

Actually that's a lie. I totally would.

Sunday 7th March

I had a lovely day all to myself with BBB gone to Switzerland for the day. I indulged in various bidet-related activities and watched 47 thousand episodes of Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy.

Then I hobbled to the supermarket and then I came home and did some extreme yoga. Exciting stuff, I hear you say.

BBB came back from Switzerland around 9.

"Jesus I missed you!" he goes.

"Sit down there boy and have the last scone", says I.

"Ah I couldn't, that's yours," he said.

"I kept it for you."

"Ah you're the best, you're always spoiling me. I love you."

It's good to be queen.

Week Twenty

This week lads was decidedly better than last week because we got a new oven in the house and.... what was the other thing? Oh yeah. The THREE Blog Award nominations! That's all like. Just the three. As in nominated not once, not twice, but thrice. Just to be clear. There are three.

Monday 15th Feb

Not much going on today during the day, but in the evening myseff and himseff decided to go to a carnevale party that was going on downstairs at the last minute. You have to go wearing a mask, and we had nary a mask between us so we had to do ourselves up with my Urban Decay eyeliners. He wanted a Maori mask yoke so I did that for him and then I had no time so I drew a shitty Zorro inspired black yoke over me eyes (see below). That'll do me grand says I and off we went. For about a half an hour and then we nearly died of boredom so we went back upstairs and washed each other's faces and watched a film. Party animals or wha?

Tuesday 16th Feb

Monday pales into insignificance when one considers that this particular Tuesday is the Most Wonderful Day of The Year. That's right - Pancake Tuesday! I nearly forgot though, until I logged onto Facebook because there is no Pancake Tuesday over here. I didn't have Mammy's magical recipe either, but my good friend Amy came to the rescue and gave me one.

I made the batter and left it aside to sit for a while and then I was just tidying up and whatnot when I went to throw away the egg box of the eggs that I used for the batter. On said eggbox it said "best before 13th Feb".

Ah bollix.

Ran down to the shop at top speed and got new eggs. Whipped up another thing of batter. When they were ready to roll I strode down to the kitchen with a confident swagger and flipped up a storm. There were "oohs" and "aahs" all over the place. That's right, people, stand aside! Professional at work here! BBB never had a pancake before in his long legged life, the poor child. Talk about a joyless existence. We had them with jam, doce de leite and lemon juice and sugar. Om nom nom.

Then we had to have a little lie down.

Wednesday 17th Feb

Today I noticed that something is definitely happening. Something is definitely going on here. I realised when I was sick in the night and went into BBB's room to hug the toilet bowl in peace. When I opened the door, I couldn't believe what I saw. His room was empty. Nothing in it like. A tumbleweed or two, maybe. I realised I hadn't been in there for quite some time. Neither had he, for that matter. That we were, in fact, living together in my room. Interesting. I went back into my room, and realised it was like a, dare I say it, it was like a home, rather than a rotten room in a fucking hovel of a building that I absolutely hate. No, there was something distinctly homely about it: my little shoes lined up next to his big shoes, our matching water glasses, his stuff neatly put away next to my stuff.

How the fuck did this happen? Where was I for all this...this...osmosis? Literally everything except his toothbrush is in here. Every morning and night he brushes his teeth in his own bathroom, though. When the toothbrush makes the journey in here, that's when we know it's serious.

Thursday 18th Feb

Nothing too exciting, I went to work and then met Laura, we went back to my place and watched several thousand episodes of Desperate Housewives and then I tailored the sleeves on her top.

Rock and roll!

Friday 21st Feb

Woke up delighted cos I just knew in my heart that today would be Pancake Friday, and I was right! Made a big feed for brunch and then went to supermarket to get ingredients for Obscenely Toothsome Steak Sandwiches for dinner. In the meantime, while I was away, a man came and put in a new oven in our kitchen! I couldn't believe it! Finally we have an oven! The steak sandwiches were breathtaking.

Today is a good day.

Saturday 20th Feb

Minded my own business today, just lurked around doing my Saturday things. Went onto my blog to answer my comments in the evening and here was one from Niamh:

"Haha have just come across your blog thanks to your Blog Award nomination - well done!
This post had me laughing several times, brilliant. Will be back to read more, looking forward to it "

Excuse me? What's that now? Blog Award nomination? I typed in the Blog Awards website so fast into the keyboard that there was smoke comin off the keys. I scanned down the nominees.

Jennifer Alice In Wonderland. There I was. Three times. I'm in the Best Newcomer, Best Personal Blog and Best Humour categories. Me nerves.

I had to sit down. Then I had to stand up. Then I had to sit down again. Then I had to do a little dance. Then I had to explain to BBB why I was doing a little dance.

It's just nice like, to know that people were nominating me. Anyway I was bustin to tell me Mam and Dad but I didn't have any credit. I went onto facebook where my knight in stalking armour Nigel came to my rescue by going to the shop and getting me credit. Thanks Nigel! (Can I have my knickers back now please?)

I rang my mother and father and sister and brother and anyone else who would care to listen. They all did a little dance for me. In fact I think my sister Hazel is going to Galway to "represent" me at the awards yoke. I seriously hope they have bidets at that hotel!

There are some deadly blogs nominated lads, so have a little lurk here and dirty them with your eyes.

Sunday 21st Feb

Now lads. Some of you may remember from reading Week Three that I have an absolute fear of fire and the house burning down and whatnot.

With that in mind, let me tell you what went down on Sunday.

BBB has a terrible habit that makes me very nervous and tonight he found out why. When he boils the water for the pasta, he takes the lid off the pot when the water is hot enough and puts it on one of the other cold hob rings. Now this always gives me the heebie jeebies but I never say anything I just take it off and put it on the counter instead. Tonight he was cooking pasta and I was down the room on the interweb. I went up to the kitchen to say hello to him and he goes:

"Do you get the terrible smell of gas?"

"I'm getting a bang of something alright. Open the window there."

"I hope that stupid fucker connected the oven up right."

"It's an electric oven love."

"Oh yeah."

So I went back down the room and the next thing BBB comes sprinting in through the door:

"Oh Christ! Oh fuck! The hob ring was on and the lid is after fusing to it!"

I booted it up to the kitchen - the glass lid was on the back ring and the plastic handle was after melting into a pile of molten plastic disgustingness. The fumes would knock a horse. I tried to push it off the ring and the next thing - didn't it fucking catch on fire!

Now lads. Lads.

The minute I saw the flames, several thousand episodes of Rescue 999 started flashing through my mind. Fire extinguishers were dancing with melting dolly's legs and the like. I'm not joking you, it struck terror into my very core. After the first terrified nanosecond, an eerie calm washed over me. I looked behind the door for a mini fire extinguisher. Nothing. I looked in the room where the fuse box is. Nothing. I ran out into the hall where there is the giant extinguisher that you have to smash the glass to get out. I scanned it. It wasn't the electrical fire one. Unbelievable. Every kitchen like ours should have one of those baby little ones for electrical fires that you can just pick up and give a quick blast and that's all there is to it.

Anyway I ran back into the kitchen where the flames were getting bigger and BBB was standing in front of them flapping the tea towel at them. I believe the correct term here is fanning the flames. There was no fire blanket or anything. I wasn't sure what to do. In the end I decided to wet the tea towel and put it over the burning lid.

"Gimme that tea towel til I wet it!" I goes.

BBB was in such a flap the words couldn't enter his brain, and he fanned the flames even more furiously.

"Love, give it to me."

More frantic tea towel flapping.

"Come on now I'll give it back."

"Ok," says he, and gave the tea towel one more furious flap which miraculously extinguished all the flames.

Sigh of relief!

BBB goes into combat mode.

"Open all the windows! These fumes are toxic!"

"Yes, Commander!"

The next thing he takes the glass top that was literally on fire until two seconds ago and picks it up with the tea towel and throws it into the bin. It should be worth mentioning here that the "bin" is a black sack.

"STOP!" I goes, but it was too late. It burned straight through the plastic and smashed into molten plastic-covered smithereens on the floor.

Sigh.

He is an engineer. He is a genius like. As I type this he is at the other side of the desk doing the world's most impossible sums.

It's so funny that when we panic we forget everything we ever knew about how to deal with these situations. Thankfully my formative years were spent watching mental health scarring telly programmes like Rescue 999.

After that ordeal we went down the room where we looked at each other with two big serious heads on us and promptly burst out laughing. Then just to make sure, we googled how long we had left to live after inhaling the fumes. A good while yet, it would seem.

He promised never to put the lid on the hob ring again. But only cos now we have no lid to put there!

Week Fifteen

Oh no. The cracks are starting to show.

Monday 11th Jan

We were just finished eating our dinner and I said "I'm still hungry" and BBB goes,

"How come you're always hungry these days? Are you stressed?"

"No not really," I says.

"Are you pregnant then haha" he says.

So I stuck out my belly and I said

"What would you do if I said yes?"

And he looked my straight in the eye and says as cool as a breeze

"I would kill myself".

Oh. Right then.

"Ah Jaysus girl I don't know - imagine! haha etc" would have been the appropriate response.

I would probably have been less hurt if he had taken off his shoe and beaten me about the face with it. I felt like he had actually reached over and slapped me in the face. The thought of having a baby fills me with dread alright but fuckin hell! There's a response!

That was a pivotal moment there when he said that. I think we can pinpoint that as the exact nanosecond that this week started spiralling downward at speed.

Tuesday 12th Jan

We said we'd go out for aperitivo tonight. That basically means you go to a bar and buy a €6 cocktail and then you can buffet for free until you have to be stretchered out the door. So I was throwing on my ensemble and he came into my room just as I was reaching for my coat. And the next thing, the next thing, he goes:

"Don't you have any other coat?"

No I didn't actually because I had to leave my other coat in Ireland cos it wouldn't fit in my suitcase but that is besides the point.

"Nah, left it at home" I said, zipping my coat up, mistaking it for a general question.

"I don't really like that coat on you" he goes.

Eh, what was that?

Seriously? I mean, really? This coming from Mr. Bomber Jacket of the Year 2010.

"I prefer form-fitting coats" he helpfully adds.

Form fitting? Form fitting? Like that black abomination you wear to college? Like that one, is it? (see Bomber Jacket of the Year comment above). Of course now that is what I was thinking but I would never say it. I think he is lovely no matter what he wears. Even that coat that makes my eyes squirt blood.

"Why did you say that?" I said. I was actually curious as to why anyone would say such a thing. After he made sure I had no other coat like.

"I was just giving you my opinion," he goes.

"Right", says I.

We were on our way into town then and there was a definite... atmosphere. I wasn't pissed off, I wouldn't say. I was definitely feeling an emotion though. I think it was part hurt feelings and part something else that I can't quite put my finger on, but whatever it was it was giving me a pain in my stomach.

"Ah now you're all pissed off", he goes.

"Not pissed off, no, but you're after hurtin my feelings now."

"Jesus you're so touchy", he said, touchily.

Well if I wasn't pissed off before I was rightly pissed off then! I should have kicked him in the face the minute he said the coat thing to me, but instead I relayed the information to the rational part of my brain for further analysis, and here he is calling me touchy.

Touchy? I'll fucking touchy him in the gonads with my fucking foot. Is that touchy enough for you?

And we were walking towards the bar then in stony silence. I was thinking "Oh shit, I've made a terrible mistake picking him," and he was (most likely) thinking "I love form fitting bomber jackets".

He gave me the sideways eye then and I said fuck it, I'll throw him a bone (cos he certainly won't be throwin me one later after that comment):

"Look everything is alright," I said, "we are only having a disagreement. So take the face off ya."

"Kiss me, woman."

And all was forgiven.

Wednesday 13th Jan

Usually I wake up 47 times during the night and I have a little perv on BBB sleeping and then I stealthily pull the pillow over another bit towards my head. But every time I woke up last night he was awake too, caressing me lovingly. Jesus how annoying. I'm trying to rob a bit of pillow here!

Anyway I fell asleep and was having a lovely dream about breaking into a cake shop and eating all the cakes and I was just stuffing my face with an apple and custard tart when the alarm went off. I woke up to find myself in a pool of my own drool. Worth it, them dreams are great. Second only to the ones in the yoghurt aisle in the supermarket. I LOVE yoghurts.

Went to turn on my computer but it wouldn't turn on. I thought maybe the charger was fucked, so BBB brought me down to the computer shop and the girl tried another charger. It didn't work. After numerous tests she gave her diagnosis:

"It's broken".

Goway, is it? Fair play to you girl, you are a fucking genius.

So now my laptop is fucked so I am without computer until I save up enough to get a new one. I had my last one for 4 years though, which is a long time to have a computer, in fairness. It served me well. I'll get one at Easter when I come home. Thank God I live with BBB and can use his computer whenever I need to, otherwise I'd be up the Swanny.

Thursday 14th Jan

I made BBB a scarf for Christmas. Now as Jeremy said the other day, you should never knit something for someone who isn't a knitter themselves. He was so right. I spent WEEKS knitting this gorgeous scarf for BBB, never mind that I went to Dublin to get the wool for it and when I gave it to him he said "I thought it would be more green". Oh. Ok then.

Then he gave it the token one wear before puttin it out to pasture on the coat hook. I am considering stealing it back. It is spectacular like! I mean I spent weeks planning it out and choosing the right wool and I was thinking of him with every stitch so basically it's all full of good vibes and loveliness as it languishes on the coat hook in his room, where it is no good to anyone! And I wouldn't mind but I have not one single thing that I knitted for myself. Everything I knit I give it as a present. And I know it is so my fault. I put myself out there just to get crushed. I mean if someone knit me something or even made me anything at all, I would be so touched like. Even if someone knitted me a leopardskin nosewarmer I would wear it until it was threadbare.

I guess I have been somewhat spoiled by Stewy's neverending admiration and gratitude for my knitting skills. I learned to knit just to make him a scarf. Which is full of mistakes and quare bits but he still wears it with pride. And his ear flap hat with ridiculously large pompom. And his multicoloured mittens. All horrifically mismatched but he wore them all with a big smug "look what my girlfriend made me" look on his face, even though he looked a bit like a "shur god love him" in them. I also miss his pride in my astounding baking and dinner skills.

Over here though I just don't know. I have been spoiled by an adoring man for too long! Without my oven and baked goods and knitting and sewing and crafts and Glen Miller and Benny Goodman I feel like I am missing a huge chunk of my identity. Who the fuck am I, like? I'll just have to flounder on. And think of a way to steal that scarf back. I want it, goddammit!

Friday 15th Jan

Went back to training tonight. I was really looking forward to the run but at the same time I knew I was going to be pathetic the first night back. WRONG. I took off running and I swear lads, I was like a fucking gazelle. So elegant. Regal, almost.I couldn't believe it! Then I realised, that in Ireland I was huffin and puffin and strugglin away on my morning runs, but that was because it was up a hill, but now that I'm on the flat again I can really see how I've improved.

Myself and BBB said we'd get a pizza when I came back from training and by the time I was finished I was starving. So I told him to run down to the pizzeria , that I was on my way home. 5 minutes later my phone beeped.

"They are closed since 10 o' clock"

Now lads, did ye ever want to kill yerself? Cos I did, a small bit.

Had pasta instead. Dramatic sigh.

Saturday 16th Jan

Saturday the internet was down all day so I just studied until it came back on and I could send the emails I was waiting to send. Then that night BBB went out, but I stayed at home cos I wanted some Jennie time (ie I wanted to slather myself in Johnson's Holiday Skin). So I had a bit of a spa night in and put at least 14 inches of Johnson's on me. I haven't used this in a while, so I forgot how rotten it smells. I was in bed reading my book and stinking to high heaven when BBB came home. He was telling me about his night etc and all I was thinking was "Don't smell it, don't smell it". The next thing he climbs into the bed next to me and was cuddling into me, still talking away and then he just stopped talking. And sniffed my shoulder.

"What the fuck is that smell?"

Oh. Shit.

"It's body lotion alright, Jesus!"

Morto.

"What kind of body lotion?"

"I'm too morto to tell you, sorry"

"Come on come on come on"

"It's to make me brown alright? Are you happy now?"

"Bwah ha ha ha ha ah love you are trying to achieve the impossible."

"Night now. Hope you choke in your sleep."

Sunday 17th Jan

While lurking around the blogosphere I came across something very interesting that bloggers are being urged to get out there.

We all know about the earthquake in Haiti. Lads, imagine. The horror. Imagine now being over there sittin at home havin a chat and the next thing you wake up next to the dead body of your Mammy or sister and you can't find anyone you know and the whole house is gone. Or worse, if you had a new baby or even a small child, shur how would you look after them? All your stuff is gone, no bottles, no cribs, no nappies, no clothes.

I just read this morning that a nurse had to perform an amputation on a small child without anaesthetic. The whole situation is turning nasty, people are looting and there is chaos all over the shop, and why wouldn't there be? It's like the end of the world over there. I don't know how you'd get over it.

Anyway the whole point is that there is a great organisation shelterbox.org that is doing great things. Have a look at the website at the very least and if you can, give a few bob. I know we are all financially fucked at the moment but imagine how fucked you'd be if you had no house and a one year old to look after. And daddies and brothers with serious injuries and husbands gone missing and bodies everywhere. It doesn't bear thinking about.

So if you can, put your hand in your pocket, and if you can't, then spread the word. Post the link on your facebook or somesuch.

And then ring your Mammy/Daddy/ brother/sister/best friend/hamster and tell 'em you love 'em.

Just in case like.

Me nerves!

Week Four

Lads I feel terrible for rantin on about the poor fella with the sign outside the supermarket in last week’s post. I mean I walked past him today and I said hello to him and I’m not sure right, but I think he might be a bit simple! God forgive me!

Monday 26^th Oct

Yer man in the first room’s family are STILL here. God I wish they’d piss off home for themselves. I think they are actually sleeping in there with him. Every time I go to the kitchen one of them is in there, gawkin up into my face. It’s not fair that they are stayin here because only one person will fit in the kitchen at a time and I have to wait for them to finish spit roasting their pig or whatever they’re doing in there before I can make my crispy pancakes. SO annoying.

Went out to training tonight anyway, but I was feeling seriously dodgy so I left early. As I was walking through the car park one of the lads left at the same time as me and he was loadin up the boot of his car. “See ya” I says as I walk past. I was walking down the road then and he passed me. He pulled up beside me. “Hop in” he goes. Well I didn’t have to be asked twice. So I walked towards the car and shur you know what I did next. Like you just KNOW I went to open the drivers door, out of pure habit like, since the cars are the other way around over here. Thankfully though, I copped on and saved myself at the last minute and walked around the front of the car and hopped into the passenger seat.

Now bear in mind it was pitch black so I couldn’t really see much, but I could FEEL how massive he was in the car. He was a GIANT like. Big rippling muscly arms and legs everywhere. So we were chattin away anyway and then there was a moment of silence. I can’t help myself in moments like these and I just burst out laughing, and literally a nanosecond later, he burst out laughing, as if he was going to do it anyway even if I hadn’t. So then we were both doing that “aaaah’ thing you say after you’ve just been laughing your head off, and he reached over and took my hand in his GIANT shovel hand. My little hand was LOST in his. “Lorenzo” he goes. I got butterflies in me ovaries, like when you go over a hill in the car. So he dropped me off outside my house anyway and I was like, “Thanks boy you’re a gent”, and he goes “we’ll see each other Wednesday.” “Yeah” I says, “talk to you then.” And as I was walking in the gate, it hit me. I never even saw his face. It literally could be any one of the lads. Sure odds are there’s about 47 Lorenzos among them! Shit. Now most people would be thinking “shur you’ll know him when you se him” but I actually won’t. If he had given me a lift in the blazing sunlight I still wouldn’t be able to identify him in a line-up. You know the way some people can’t tell the difference between "oriental" people ie all people from Japan/Korea/Mongolia etc fall under the umbrella term “Chinese”? Well that is literally how I am about Italians. They are all the image of each other, especially the fellas. I guess I’ll just have to play this one by ear.

Tuesday 27^th Oct

Run down to the supermarket to grab me few bits. Yer man with the sign was there but just as I was passing someone stopped to give out to him. Yessssss! Off the hook! Went down the homewares section because I broke the handle off my butter knife. While actually cutting through some butter. I know, I don’t believe it either. So I look up at all the cutlery hanging up and look for the butter knives. Then I see them, no wait, that must be wrong – EIGHT euro? Eight euro for a butter knife with a plastic handle. And a cat MUSTARD coloured plastic handle at that! Eddie says NO! I tell you now I’d rather fashion one from flint than pay eight euro for a feckin butter knife. Shocking.

Went home anyway and started this weeks’ blog post. I have to say now, I gets an oul buzz off writing the blog. I’d love to do something like this for a living. What can I do to make this happen, I am thinking. I must do something to catalyse this change I say to myself. I know! I’ll email an extract from the blog to Ray D’Arcy! Perfect! Sure he’s bound to read it out and start the ball rolling on the international superstardom front. Grand. Fire off the email, delighted outta me head. Set the alarm for early the next morning.

Wednesday 28^th Oct

Me feckin nerves! Couldn’t sleep at all last night because a) I am praying Ray reads out my email and b) my friend Meghan is due her baby today and I was so up in a heap about that I’m waiting to go into labour myself! Got up at the crack of dawn. Showered and dressed, full face of make up now, in case Ray rings me. I wouldn’t want him to hear me without makeup like haha! I turned on the laptop and went to start streaming Today FM. It wouldn’t work. Tried literally everything, links websites, live radio websites, links from boards etc. Nothing worked. I could listen to 2fm, WLRfm, Beatfm and every other station on Earth as much as my heart desired, but the Today fm stream was broken. I could have screamed!

In desperation I started begging people to listen to it for me and ended up with a small but powerful army of friends listenin in for me (thanks again lads). In the end he didn’t read it out. How dare he like, I mean honestly, how rude. Of course now I was already after imagining him reading it out, then the whole of Ireland logs onto my blog, leaves millions of comments, all become my followers. Word spreads quickly to Ireland’s top newspapers/magazines/agents and by four o’ clock that day I have a column in U magazine and a three book deal with Poolbeg. I struggle to adjust to the new reality that this won’t be happening. I plunge into the bottomless depths of misery. Sigh.

So I went up to make my lunch anyway. Just as I left my room, the fella that just moved into the room beside me came out of his, wrestling a packet. “Well!” I said, “How are you boy?” “Oonga boonga polski sklep” he said back to me. “What?” I goes, “Oonga boonga polski sklep” he said. Now lads, I’m fairly confident in the aul Italian and I can understand basically everything I hear, but holy God, this fella’s accent, I didn’t have notion of what he was saying. And the fact he was saying it at a squillion miles an hour didn’t help.

“Look boy", I said, "I seriously don’t understand you, you will have to speak more clearly if you don’t mind” “Would you have a pair of scissors til I open this packet”, he says. Well that’s what I presume he said anyway, since he was making a scissors sign with his fingers. I gave him a pair of scissors anyway and he came down to the kitchen with me and we were chatting. When I said my name was Jennie he said “you’re not from Italy anyway with a name like that” (“Or a head like that” which is what is he really wanted to say.) “Nah, I’m Irish” I said. “Oh lovely” he said. So he was talking on and on, and I was like “yeah, boy, ah yeah haha etc”. Didn’t have a CLUE what he was talking about. I literally couldn’t understand a word he was saying in his quare accent.

Next thing “how old are you?” he asked me. International code for “are yeh ridin?” I was like, eh, there’s a question like. And I looked up from my crispy pancakes and he went on the worlds giantest reddener. 25 I said, how old are YOU? And he was morto, “em, a little bit younger.” “How much younger I said?” “Nineteen” he said under his breath. “Ah nineteen!” I said, “you’re only a baby.” Shoulder slap. Haaaates tha’ boy ha ha!

Anyway I served up me dinner and went down to the room and was chomping away on it when I heard his door open and he knocked on my door to give me back the scissors. I opened the door, still chewing and he was standing there with the scissors in his hand…..and a pair of sunglasses on him. “Thank you” he said in English. “You’re welcome” I said. “Buon appetito, Bella”, he said, over the rim of his sunglasses. Oh jaysus! Jaysus! Is he…. is he wooing me? I cant cope! I just gave him a big smile and went to put the scissors back in the drawer and here I looks in the mirror and there’s a half a head of iceberg lettuce stuck in me teeth. Well he’s not wooing me anymore anyway.

Still in the depths of despair I study for a few hours and then turn on my laptop to check my emails. Here’s one from Jac Flavin with a pdf attachment. What’s this all about like? I clicked on it anyway, and lo! There on the screen came up a scan of a section of the Waterford Today with a little piece about my blog. Well lads. I had to sit down. And then I had to stand up. And then I had to sit down again. I was buzzin! In your face Ray D’Arcy! I don’t need you! (But if you could mention my blog that would be nice, please and thanks.) Here it is for those of you who don't have the pleasure of having the Waterford Today "trun" in your letterbox of a Wednesday morning.

On the world's biggest high I went to training and Iwas like, right, I don’t know what Lorenzo looks like, but if he says well to me I’ll know its him. So I walked in the door and this HUGE fella was standing there lookin at me. “Well girl!” he goes, “Well boy how are you?” I go, thinking this must obviously be him, until another identical fella came over and was like “well girl!” and then another four identical fellas. Ah jaysus. This is gone beyond a joke.

Thursday 29^th Oct

Right the fella in the first room is really takin the piss. Every time I turn around his father is standing there with a bowl of grapes. I have literally never seen him without a grape in his hand. Every time I go to the kitchen his mother is in there “you’re not cooking?” she says. No I’m not now anyway, not with you up in me ockster, and your husband chewing a grape in me ear. Fuck sake like.

Friday 30^th Oct

Went down to the supermarket to get my bit of shoppin after studying all day yesterday. Passed the fella with the sign (sharp pang of guilt) and into the supermarket – I couldn’t believe how packed it was in there. What harm I says to myself, I don’t mind queuing.

Well I went and joined the queue and since it was an Italian style queue, the people behind me were actually standing next to me, a woman and her two little sons, about three and four they were. One of them was done up like Batman and the other one was done up like a giraffe. Batman poked his mother and pointed up at me “Mammy, Mammy, she’s beautiful!” “That’s right boy,” the mother said and we were both laughing. So the mother said “hang on I’m after forgetting something, stay there now boys and don’t move!” so she ran off to get whatever it was she forgot and the giraffe started crying and Batman started doing something ten times worse than crying; he started whining. Crying I could listen to all day, but whining - don’t get me started.

So I said “Boys I have to tell you a secret” And the two of them looked up at me dumbstruck. “You can’t tell anyone now ok?” Imperceptible nods. “I’m a princess from the land of Tir na nOg.” Two tiny jaws drop to the floor. “And when I hear children crying it makes me cry too, so don’t cry ok?” More open-mouthed nodding. Their mother was coming back so I said “Don’t tell anyone ok?” And the fella in the queue in front of me had his back to me but his shoulders were heaving and he pissin himself with the laughing. The mother came back anyway and the giraffe was like “Mamma, Mamma!” about to tell her, but Batman gave him the elbow and he shut up. Ah, lying to small children – one of life’s simpler pleasures!

Saturday 31^st Oct

Me and my band of merry bitches head out to Decathlon, this giant sports superstore to get some new gear for running. We were supposed to go running that night, but we were so overexcited we ended up spending hours in there and instead went home tired and weary (but delighted outta our heads) and chillaxed instead.

Sunday 1^st Nov

God, I really have to find a job. I’ve already tried all the English schools here but one of them doesn’t need any more staff and the rest seem to have come down with a bout of Ray D’Arcy syndrome and haven’t got back to me yet.

At the moment my only source of income is the ads on this blog page which make me a whopping squillionth of a cent per click. Still though, Eddie says it all adds up! Sure if I save it all up I might be able to buy myself a sally lun for Christmas. Maybe even a sliced bun. Dream big like. Anyway now I’m thinking more about looking for some work in transcription. We’ll see how that pans out.

It was another lovely week in Pavia, thanks in no small part to Jac Flavin and her legendary journalistic skills – thanks again Jac! The thesis is coming along nicely, as are my rippling shoulder muscles. The mystery of Lorenzo continues, but don’t worry lads – I’m on it!

P.S. A lot of people have been asking me how to become followers of the blog. All you have to do is scroll down to the part at the side where it says "Come follow me, children!" and click on "Follow", a new window will open up and you fill in the blanks. Then you turn around three times and say the Hail Mary backwards. Done!