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Wednesday, April 11, 2012

No more hugs. No time.

I feel that this is a low. Half ten at night, sitting on my own in McDonalds in Edinburgh, on the window seats looking at my sad reflection and people walking past, going places. I don't think I'll ever be able to live outside of a city again. It's awful, it's impossible to get anywhere and you waste hours of your life on public transport, and even more time sitting waiting for it, because buses only run every 2 hours and 10 minutes.

I don't even mind bus journeys, and I do some good thinking on trains, but doing it two days in a row is tiring enough, and I'm going to be doing it tomorrow, the next day, maybe the day after too and definitely the day after that. I might cry.

I did choose to arrange to socialise with different people in 2 cities, two days in a row, but that's usually not a problem! I'd forgotten how much of a nightmare it is living 1hour20minutes and a cold bumpy bus journey away from friends, bars and nice places.

It doesn't help of course that my empty gum hurts and the chips I bought to stave off hunger are not hot and a bit limp.

I wish I had enough money to just get taxis and stay in hotels, or even hostels. Actually, I'd settle for a phone so I could call someone and crash on their sofa.

Still half an hour till the bus leaves. Might start the 5 minute walk to the bus station now, it'd be my bloody luck to miss another bus (the last bus) because I was too busy moaning about having to wait so long for it. If only I hadn't hugged Alex and just waved bye instead- I'd have caught the 8pm train to Edinburgh, I'd have got the 9.05 bus to Gala, I'd have got home 5 minutes ago and I would be in front of the fire.

No more hugs for anyone.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Scary wisdom removal

I'm still in Scotland, in the countryside, and the weather? Dunno. Haven't been outside.
Yesterday was exciting though. I had my first ever operation! I know lots of people have lots of operations but I never do, I'm more an unusual illness than a broken bones kind of girl. This dreaded first time surgery was to get my wisdom teeth out. When I was telling people they'd say "oh that's fine, I had one out it was nothing, which one are you getting out?" and when I'd reply with ALL FOUR they'd just kind of say "oh."

So I was a bit nervous going to the local hospital, with my old dressing gown and borrowed slippers. My sister's boyfriend helpfully told me that his friend had her wisdom teeth out and she came out with bruises on her collarbone where they'd been kneeling on her while someone else was holding her forehead down.
Then at the hospital they told me The Risks, stuff like intense pain and losing feeling in your mouth. ("Most of the time it's temporary so don't worry.")
Surprisingly, when when they took my blood pressure and temperature they were both a bit high so I had to go sit in a cool room to calm down... IF SOMEONE SITS ON MY COLLARBONE I'LL BREAK!!

Anyway I must have managed to lower my temperature enough because next thing I was putting on a funny gown (very modest and no bum on show, contrary to expectations) and then walking into theatre. It was pretty scary, walking into a big room with one bed in the middle and tools around about, and lots of people looking at you in expectation. I get nervous giggles, always have, so must have looked absolutely mental. So I got on the bed, and they did blood pressure on my one arm while they started to stick a big needle into the other hand, chatting away about Spain and studying art to try and distract and presumably calm me. They were doing a good job, I was starting on a run down of my complaints about art school when the anaesthetist said 'nope, that's not working, that's just not working!'
Personally I think he could have just signalled to the others or something, been a bit more subtle.

So suddenly they all swapped sides and stuck the needle into my other hand, and pretty soon after I felt a bit weird like I might faint, and I thought 'I wonder if I should tell them', then realised 'that's probably meant to happen', but I was waiting for them to tell me to count from ten to zero but then I was asleep. Then I woke up with tears in my eyes and I'd obviously been having bad dreams, which was a bit disappointing after people telling my I'd be nicely high when I woke up. After a while they gave me some jelly and ice cream which I struggled to get past my huge lips, which it turned out were normal size and they just felt huge because of the drugs. Weird. I appreciate this story isn't very interesting but really I haven't got much else to do, I'm on the sofa, I've watched Green Wing, The Thick Of It, Britain: A Natural History with Alan Titchmarsh and Charlie and Lola, I've eaten petit filous, jelly, ice cream, mashed potatoes, tomato soup and drank chocolate nesquick and warm tea and taken my medicines. I'm hungry but feel dangerously full of dairy, and feel my eyes might actually turn square. So I shall tell you my stories. But right now I think I'll take some paracetamol and watch Neighbours for the second time today.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

I wish I was on a beach

"What's the weather, what's the weather, what's the weather like today?" is one of the disgusting cringey songs I am supposed to sing every Monday and Wednesday to my EFL classes. Obviously after the first half-hearted assault on poor 7 year old ears I didn't try it again. (I'm actually quite a good singer, but really there isn't a lot you can do with that song.) It's also a really repetitive way to begin a class, oh what's the weather like? I wonder, it's March in Madrid, I'd say sunny and warm?

BUT- if they had followed me to Scotland this weekend they would have had their little minds exploded. (I'm glad they didn't, that would have been like when I had to take a 3 year old then a 5 year old home with me for a week each, and we all remember how fun that was...) Anyway, exploded Spanish heads everywhere because  it's cold, it's rainy, it's hot, it's windy, it's sunny, it's freezing, it's pouring, it's drizzling, it's pouring again and now it's a bit sunny and partly cloudy, then it's night time and OH MY GOD IT'S REALLY SNOWY then it's snowy and it's sleaty and it's snowy and there's hailstones, and repeat.

I did not come dressed for the weather, and almost cried in Edinburgh yesterday waiting for the bus on North Bridge, officially the coldest windiest bit of Scotland. Great place for a bus stop. I actually stood there with my wee suitcase which I'd lugged up the Scotsman steps, dragged across the road with my hood up and face screwed up against the blizzard, and had tears in my eyes. You know when you can't physically unravel your face muscles from a big angry frown? That.
God I'm a moaner! So I eventually got home at lunchtime, the bus driver ploughing on, and put the kettle on, and put the kettle on again, and again, thinking I must have suffered mild brain damage from the cold because why was the water not hot yet? And there was no electricity. There was no electricity. There was no electricity until 8pm. Living in the olden days.

Do I miss Madrid? It's been less than a week, but SI! I'm sure I had less moany Scottish things to say, maybe later. Must go light the fire.