Hair today…
By some stroke of serendipity, my hair went curly this morning.
I tried to style it into this:
(her, of course, not him)
but somehow I ended up more like this:
That’s the last time I ever try to be glamourous.
Padam, padam, padam!
I’ve just counted the amount of swear words in this post. Sorry Mum.
Health Check
(When we used to phone up my grandad, we’d say “hello, how are you?” then go and make a brew, hang out the washing, and then half an hour later, put the phone back up to our ears to hear the tail end of “…and it was like having an elephant standing on my ankle!”. He once phoned us up very concerned about what the “gynaecologist” had done to his toenails, and told his was seeing the “taxidermist” next week. He used to get a bit mixed up.) So regard this post as something of a family joke.)
Firstly, my eye is almost normal-looking now. Which means no more gravity-defying eye drops. (Have you ever tried to put drops inside your upper lid? I must have looked like such a sodding spanner.)
Secondly, I have a massive hangover. I feel like I’ve got caught between some poor bastard percussionist’s cymbals in the last movement of Pictures at an Exhibition! (Pom! - CRASH - Pom! -CRASH - pom, pa pa PAAM! - CRASH) you get the idea.
Thirdly, I am not going to be a mum. Not just yet anyway.
Fourthly, I have been having odd dreams. In one night I have been Oliver Hardy and Princess Diana - I kid you not. Then I was singing at another blogger’s wedding, even though I’ve never even met her (she did look lovely though. I think I should be blogging less!) Then last night I had a terribly naughty dream about a terribly sexy man, whose last words to me before I passed out for the night were “Make sure you drink lots of water dear. Love you!” I could just tell he was chuckling away, imagining my hangover today! Well dear, rest assured. I got what I deserved for trying to match a 6 foot New Zealander drink for drink.
I like culture don’t you know
I went to the communism museum yesterday. If you’re in the neighbourhood, really, don’t bother. It was quite crap and unimaginative, on the whole. By far the best bit was the footage from 1989 - at one point a newsreader read a statement denouncing protesting students as young hooligans led astray. He kept his head down as he read this, so the expression in his eyes could not be seen. A big Czech man sitting in front of me was crying as he watched the footage. I wanted to put my hand on his shoulder. He had watched the video go round at least three times.
But sadly, the place lacked atmosphere. Anyone who’s been to the Terror House museum in Budapest will know just how menacing places like this can be made. And I’m afraid, Prague, that your blackboards covered in tiny writing and a few photos just don’t cut it. Not well-designed or engaging at all. Good collection of statues and memorabilia though, and liked the photo and art exhibitions too.
There was a tour guide there who just would not shut up, his droning, droning voice was affecting my concentration. I pulled out my mp3 and wondered what music I could put on that would block him out, but not distract my mind too much. And I gave a half-smile when I found that Jez had uploaded Yann Tiersen’s complete soundtrack to Goodbye Lenin.
I really enjoy social history museums in any part of the world. In Manchester we are lucky to have the Imperial War Museum and the People’s History Museum (about Trade Unions and their role in
everything from the Spanish Civil War to the forming of the Co-operative movement). Not everyone’s idea of a fun day out, I know, but we love it. We have a very good Jewish museum housed in a Spanish and Portugese synagogue, which also runs tours around Manchester concentrating on the Jewish history of the city.
Burning ears
Last night my Jez cooked dinner for my mum and dad. I dread to think what they were talking about all evening. I wish I could remember what he said later on the phone that made me laugh til I nearly fell off my bed. I think it was something about me being a numpty. It usually is.
Went to the supermarket, looking for romance,
I’ve mentioned before that people tend to avoid me on public transport. In manchester it’s usually because I’m singing Fiddler on the Roof or something by Gilbert and Sullivan, or the Messiah. In Prague it’s because I’m rocking out to Schubert, or spinning invisible Despina decks to Jason Rebello’s amazing version of Summertime. (Cool jazz on the deck!)
In the supermarket today, people would have been forgiven for avoiding the girl with a stupid grin on her face. I was trying so hard not to laugh. The supermarket across from my hotel is quite good, however, the music there is not. The hits that first come to mind are Madonna’s Spanish Eyes, Jason Donovan Together forever, and Chris de Burgh Spark to a flame. (Shame on you, Mum, that I know that song word for bloody word!) Yuk.
However, today was the best of all. At first I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. In the middle of a rainy Prague afternoon…
A Bar Bar Bar, Bar Bar Baran!
Bar Bar Bar, Bar Bar Baran!
Ooooh Barbara-A-a-ann,
Ta-ake my ha-a-and!
Help!
No no no
I am NOT google hits no 7 and 8 for the query "big bottoms" so don’t even bother to try it.
The internet hates me. I love my ample rump.
Frenglish post
I apologise now to all my non French speaking readers. I promise you a spangly, gorgeous post in English soon. But when it comes to matters of the heart, it’s sometimes better to write in French. Also, I’ve been speaking the language for a fortnight with my Jez and I don’t want to lose the habitude. Oops. Mais j’suis compte que la plupart de mes lecteurs sont francophones.
Today my friends dragged me out to this gorgeous castle where we drank beer, gazed at the interiors, marvelled at the history, and then got caught in a massive rainstorm. We just laughed, what else can you do? Now I’m back in Prague. People are being so lovely. Last night I went out with two workmates and a friend from miles away, to an irish pub - their choice, I add, not mine! My boss asked me to stay over at hers last night, which I would have done, but sadly all my stuff for my eye was in my hotel room :( Had a good time though. I was planning to spend today squinting at museums in town, but my friends were insistant that I wouldn’t be on my own feeling sad.
And I have a boyfriend who is cooking dinner for my parents tomorrow, and emailed me this:
Baby, don’t worry. I miss you too, but we have to keep things in perspective. It’s not for very long - just one little month. You concentrate on getting yourself better. Always remember - beautiful things will cure more than all the medicines in the world (but even so, keep taking your eye drops!). Inspirational music, books, or just thoughts of our wonderful relationship and all we’re going to achieve together will lift your spirits in no time.
Alors. Je m’excuse maintenant pour n’avoir pas trouvé tous les clefs Alts, mais cette ordinateur est stupide et il n’aime pas l’anglais, donc on peut oublier le francais! Et je ne vais pas verifier ca parce que je n’ai pas le temps pour faire ca.
Comment juger ses amis quand ils disent qu’ils ne te jugent jamais?
Je pense beaucoup a ce sujet lá aujourd’hui. Un nouveau ami ici á Prague m’aviat dit qu’il ne cherche pas l’amour ici. Je n’ai pas le temps, je pense aux autre choses, je n’ai pas envie d’etre dans un couple, et tout ca. Je pense qu’il y a avait une fille qu’il frequentait ici, mais c’était pas de grande chose. Mais j’suis pas sur, il n’est pas tres ouvert en ce concerne sa vie.
Mais aujourd’hui, j’ai remarqué un petit changement dans la langue du corps entre lui et une copine. Et maintenant, ils sont ensemble. J’aurais du etre heureuse pour eux, mais comment faire ca quand elle a déja un copain?
Cet ami m’a dit qu’il ne me juge jamais - mes avis, mes actions, mes changements de coeur - et je lui fais confiance. (C’est pour ca que j’ecrive en francais, parce que je sais qu’il n’est pas francophone. Le double-face? Moi?) Donc est-ce que la condition suit de ne pas lui juger?
Aujourd’hui on a visité un chateau ensemble. Moi j’ai voulu rester dans ma chambre toute la journée mais ils m’ont imploré d’aller avec eux. Ils ont gentils et des vrais amis, et je me suis bien amusée avec eux. Et c’est pas mon probleme.
Comment est-ce que je peux juger? Ils ont l’air parfaits ensemble, d’avoir été ensemble depuis longtemps. J’ai une amie en angleterre qui frequent son ancien prof, bein qu’il soit marié. Il la fait heureuse. Je passais presque deux ans dans une relation que tout le monde approvait, mais je n’était jamais heureuse. Quand mon autre ami en angleterre a rencontré son premier amour, elle était dans une relation avec un autre mais ca ne le dissuadait pas. Les limites ne sont pas toujours claires.
Et moi, j’suis pas un ange. Il y a quatre ans j’étais abolument stupide en ce qui concerne l’amour. Et il y a quelques mois y’avait quelqu’un qui avait voulu romper ma relation avec mon copain. Mais je ne l’aurais jamais fait. Jamais. Mais peut-etre que j’étais un peu trop… encourageante. J’ai appris.
Mais comment juger quelqu’un qui fait la meme chose que mes amis font, et je ne leur juge pas?
C’est difficile. C’est tout. Merci, mes amis. (Feel free to comment in any language.)
