The Adventure Continues...

Rants, raves and random observations from an itinerant epidemiologist.

 
100 in 1000
  1. Spend a week up a mountain learning to ski
  2. Visit Karoline's place in Moravia
  3. Hold a conversation in Czech (only)
  4. Drink 500ml of each of the following beers:
    1. Pilsner
    2. Staroprammen
    3. Budvar
    4. Velke Popovice
    5. U Fleku
    6. Gambrinus
    7. Krusovice
  5. Respond to at least one GOARN request (WHO and MSF are also acceptable)
  6. Travel across the Atlantic
  7. Return to South America
  8. Read a book to, or with, an impressionably aged child
  9. Participate in one NanoWriMo Challenge and come within at least 10,000 words of the goal length
  10. Have my nose pierced
  11. Have my next tattoo drawn
  12. Purchase the perfect jeans (x 2 pairs)
  13. Attend a spin class 3 times a week for 8 consecutive weeks
  14. Bake Viv's cheesecake
  15. Make David's casserole
  16. Make David's Chicken Cashew-nut Stirfry
  17. Invite 4 people who don't know one another too well to dinner
  18. Ride from Vienna to Venice on a motorbike (pillion acceptable, those less desirable)
  19. Attend a book group for at least two books
  20. Go on a choir weekend (learn and perform difficult piece in two/three days)
  21. Visit Madame Tussaud's (in London)
  22. Take an architecture appreciation course
  23. Join an all-girl group and sing a solo
  24. Publish in a scientific journal (top two authors)
  25. Cook a duck or other 'waterfowl'.
  26. Locate the Al-Timimi's from Doha Veterinary Practise
  27. Have a pedicure
  28. Maintain a Brazilian (ouch) for three months.
  29. Find a trustworthy Czech hairdresser
  30. Treat my inner-6-year-old twice a week (at least)
  31. Do the liver-cleansing diet properly (12 weeks)
  32. Don't eat out for one month
  33. Find a flat and flatmate
  34. Purchase one Joseph sweater
  35. Purchase one of the following pairs of designer shoes (they MUST also be COMFORTABLE, and be able to be worn with 4 different outfits and 2 types of occasion): Jimmy Choos, Manolo Blahniks, Christian Louboutin (Ebay or 2nd hand are acceptable)
  36. Send 5 books to the booksphere and track them.
  37. Go hanggliding
  38. Read 10 'classic' books (from 1001 Books to Read before you Die)
    1. Moll Flanders
    2. Everything is illuminated
    3. Madam Bovary
    4. Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintainance
    5. Catch-22
    6. Odysseus
    7. On the Road
  1. Run (non-stop!) for 5kms outside (preferably in a street race thingy)
  2. Send Christmas Cards on time
  3. Make a collage/mural out of street lights on my wall
  4. Buy a bed, build it, and sleep soundly in it
  5. Go to Africa
  6. Host an 'event' (classified as and when)
  7. Organise a 30th Birthday Party
  8. Wear a costume
  9. Sing on stage
  10. Buy a painting that evokes memories of Prague (cannot involve queues!)
  11. Learn a god-damned card game that stays in my memory (other than fish/snap)
  12. See sunrise. Be sober. Have woken for it. Excludes months Nov-Mar
  13. Take a walk and flip coins at each intersection
  14. Win something
  15. Draft a will
  16. Take a roadtrip
  17. Go to Italy already
  18. Sea Kayak around Abel Tasman Park (NZ)
  19. Get plants
  20. Take a train to another Eastern European Destination (accession countries are acceptable) alone preferably.
  21. Get UK to give me a provisional motorcyclists license and simultaneously get a 'card' license.
  22. Go SCUBA diving again - at least two dives lasting 30mins each.
  23. Go to a dentist. *sigh*
  24. Do a Czech Wine Trail. And live to tell the tale
  25. Make an 'outbreak emergency kit'.
  26. Go to bed prior to 11pm every night (inc weekends) for four consecutive weeks.
  27. Marvel over lack of tiredness
  28. Dine at a Gordon Ramsey restaurant (or Nobu)- preferably for free.
  29. Bet on the nags
  30. Do something for charity (applying and getting a 'red card' will count)
  31. Walk along the Champs Elysee
  32. Do 100 sit ups in a row
  33. Do 50 pressups (arms in tight)
  34. Make branston pickle (or nearest substitute)
  35. Cook something 'new' and 'adventurous' at least once a month
  36. Find a mentor
  37. Be a mentor
  38. Learn what mentoring is all about
  39. Meet an online person in real life
  40. Resist the flirt. Once. Just one night. It's okay if people don't immediately succumb to my natural charm. Really it is.
  41. Spend time at a spa (spa towns in the CR don't count)
  42. Send a care package to someone
  43. Get a Tata Bojs CD
  44. Take a French/German/Dutch course and SPEAK THE DAMNED LANGUAGE WHEN I HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY EVEN THOUGH IT MAKES ME SOUND LIKE AN IDIOT!
  45. Order new contact lenses.
  46. Make a list of things I take with me when I pack for different occasions
  47. Eat lobster. Prepared by someone else.
  48. Back up the blog
  49. Put everything onto an external hard drive
  50. Find a DDR mat and console and 'dance, I say dance!'�
  51. Go to the beach and lie on the warm sand. For an hour. (with sunscreen on, natch)
  52. Take and complete a course in either: Tango, Salsa or Flamenco
  53. Join the Municipal Library of Prague
  54. Move to another country
  55. Go to a live concert of a band I actually like
  56. Pay off debts (student loan excl.)
  57. Send thank you cards for every gift I receive (other than the gift of happiness, blah blah blah).
  58. Get an agent (literary or theatre)
  59. Go to a sports bar without cringing, by personal choice
  60. Ride a rollercoaster
  61. Hold a snake
  62. Spend a day wandering around a museum (not art gallery!)
I'm melting, I'm melting...
Monday, 30 April 2007
Last night, while on the phone to a good friend, I received one of THOSE sms's. No, not the 2am booty-call sms's - the ones that strike fear into your heart.

"Can we call you - it's important. It's not your father, he's fine."

Great, so finally the taxman had arrived at my parents place - were going to prevent them from buying a house because of three late payments on a personal loan I had when I was 18...and they were officially disowning me.

"Sweety, I have to go...talk later."
"Sure" I typed - stay with me here peeps - to my parents, "am home and awake."

Moments later the phone rang. Mum said, "here's your father." and it all seemed terribly cryptic and brought out the paranoid in me.
"I didn't mean to, I hope you're not too disappointed in me, I promise it won't happen again, I don't know why I'm so irresponsible." I started to blurt.

Dad got in first.

"Your Nan died on Thursday."

Oh. Back to Mum.

"We only just found out because your uncle e-mailed your father at work - I made him come home. We're skyping your brother now..."
"So, I'm, like, the first to hear the gossip?"
"Yes Nomes, you're the first."
"Just checking all was still right with the world."

It's sick, I know. But my Dad's parents have had the monopoly on 'death' as it affects me. And since we moved away from England when I was 6, it affects me only in a very abstract manner. I went to stay with Nan and Grandad when I was 11. That was the first time I ever really got to know them a little bit.

Nan would get me to help her peel the potatoes and apples before making a pork roast. Always with the pork roasts. She was tiny, a small bent over woman (she wore hairnets!!!) - who smoked rollup cigarettes that she let me make with her little machine. It was a cool machine - once you'd figured out how to make it work properly. She must have been quite a fearful woman, as she did not want her husband to have "possibly life-giving" surgery when he was diagnosed with cancer of the stomach. Nor had she wanted to travel with his career (in the Army) so they had remained in Hertfordshire.

She came to stay with us when we were in the Middle East. She smoked A LOT at that time - and in a non-smoking house, it drove us to distraction.

Actually, it drove us to have 'family chats' out in the Dodge (car big enough for us all to sit in AND wave our arms about as we do) to try to vent pressure. We'd do as much as we could to limit our time we spent with her - she was crazy.

She called me Kate, because that was the name she wanted for me. She asked the Indian souq shop assistants for 'nigger brown' material. IN THE MIDDLE EAST!!!! She ate slowly. She wore those weird brown wrinkled pop socks (there is no other term for them) that bunch in an old ladies ankle. She usually had ash resting on her "nigger brown" blouses.

But she was still my ancestor. I feel bad that I haven't seen her since I was - ooh - about 15/16 maybe? That's how long it's been - I can't remember. Apparently, after she fell on a bus and broke her hip and went to hospital, she slowly went senile - so there was no reason to see her. And I'm not blaming my parents here - I never made one iota of effort either.

Still. It's sad. I don't know how to feel. I don't know what I feel. I want to sleep. A lot. Except at night, when I (apparently) want to wake up every 30mins. Maybe it's guilt. Maybe it's the upsetness of a family who's only method of communication for important things is work e-mail addresses. Maybe it's empathy for Dad - cos having just received my care package from Mum, I think I'd be distraught not to have one. Maybe it's because the old girl is having her funeral on my 30th birthday.

Ha ha ha. She got me.

Rest in peace Nan.
Kate
XXX

P.S. And yes, fyi, that IS how you turn someone else's death/loss/grief into a blog entry about yourself. I know - it's a talent I've spent all my life honing. No - you'll never come even remotely close. Mwahahahaha!

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posted by Nomes @ Monday, April 30, 2007   0 comments
Drag's great moment
Wednesday, 25 April 2007
Once a year, around about now, the continent of Europe (plus, it seems) undergoes a sort of mass-psychosis. It’s not dissimilar to that leading up to the Idol finals, but this time, the stakes are much, much lower. And Ryan Seacrest is nowhere to be found.

Yes folks, it’s Eurovision time. This year, the broadcast final coincides with my birthday. So, I’ve had a look at the contestants online. Which means that you don’t need to. Merely follow my brief summary of the contestants below, then feel free to ignore the entire phenomenon until next year. Remember, I do this for YOU! (but if you insist on going it alone, then feel free to witness the horror spectacle here)

Armenia – they have silk being blown by a fan, close to a fire. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Safety first, please, ESC! Oh, but in a ‘Ghost’ moment, he makes a pot, which is almost worthy of forgiving the white t-shirt tucked (only over the belt) into white trousers – almost. A ballerina appears.

Bosnia and Herzegovina – managed to make a river barge look interesting. And even wore Eastern European ‘fashion’ well. Suffers from a small infestation of blackbirds though – released ‘dove style’ from behind the singer at a momentous key change. Also: French horn players should probably not play the French horn over a BBQ. I’m just guessing on this one though – Nine? Please confirm.

Finland – representing the skatey set, with an charming little tale of a love triangle. Chicks fight.

France – where it’s habit to have two people running beside/behind a vespa with two blokes on it wearing pink helmets. They also take franglais to lofty new, oxygen deprived heights – by rhyming words from either language, i.e. ‘semaine’ rhymes with ‘main’. I feel schizophrenic.

Germany – Very weird to hear a 50’s type rat pack song sung in German. But other than appearing to have an eye infection (or: he needs to sack his makeup artist), it’s actually really good. Musically.

Greece – So THAT’S what happened to the old set of the Greece film – nice touch. Someone needs to remind them that short white dungarees are not cool. But he’s hot. Very hot. Ouch.

Ireland – time-delay, children painting while teachers sing and play traditional instruments. Bring back the Corrs.

Lithuania – recently discovered video splicing and powerpoint

Romania – apparently loves [me] from his airless vantage point in space. Really – he has planets orbiting him. Would that I were making this shit up.

Russia – still fuelling the fire of “schoolgirl fantasies” (note, not school girl fantasies – as that would involve more ponies and sleepovers)

Spain – manufactured to shrug and samba in a Spanish manner. All short.

Sweden – still entering Abba songs, albeit in the guise of a(nother) drag queen.

UK – trolly dollies (male and female, obviously gay and possibly straight – to appeal to the widest audience) attempting to prove UK’s newfound europhilism by mentioning the capital cities of EVERY country in Europe.

Ukraine - scared of aliens reading their brain waves, so have subsequently protected themselves with an alluring combination of disco mirror balls and tin foil.

Not in the final, but worthy of a sneering mention:

  • Albania - scary SCARY mo'. Terrifying
  • Belarus - took hints from Labyrinth, and added a circus. Terrifying.
  • Bulgaria – Eurovision is not a wet-tshirt competition (actually, I reserve the right to change my opinion on that). A ‘vampire’ has 'bat' wings not feathery black ones. Two drum kits (inc a Japanese drum and some bongos) do not a song make.
  • Cyprus - so so (ha ha)
  • Czech Republic - bad rock. In a language only 10mil people worldwide can comprehend. Way to attract votes, guys.
  • Georgia - used a videographer who previously worked for national geographic.
  • Iceland and Croatia - er, is there a maximum age limit?
  • Israel - couldn’t decide between German oompah-loompah, Gilbert & Sullivan, tetris, busking, and hip hop, so sang them all, about the inevitable destruction of the world. It's compelling.
  • Latvia – using opera singers is cheating. The top hats, tux jackets and jeans (and MEDALS!!?) are not a good look. Just in case you were wondering. Even if one of your singers looks like Gael Garcia Bernal.
  • Macedonia – backing dancers wearing shorts, and doing some sort of weird synchronized swimming thing around the singer. Was she really a fountain in disguise?
  • Norway – There’s a costume change here which is so impressive, it’s worth watching. It is DAMNED good - and puts our quick change into whores to shame (in Les Mis), really it does.
  • Poland - a dance club, a bar, a changing room, the stage of a musical – someone accidentally stumbled over the wardrobe department of an amateur theatre, added some brass instruments, a bit of rap and called it a song. WTPoland?
  • Portugal – have a helicopter operated camera – inside a studio. Nauseating.
  • Slovenia - see Latvia, re opera singers. And please, use a male with hair on his legs, that was just weird.
  • Switzerland - vampires, ‘we are alive, we will live forever’ etc. Stick to watches, chocolate, banking and knives people.

The drag theme is quite prevalent this year, even amongst the female contestants. Apparently this is to persuade the millions thousands of watchers to vote. The voters demographic are apparently: paid up, card-carrying, boa trailing, false-eyelash fluttering, glitzy gown wearing lipsynchers of show tunes.

My voting form arrived in the mail today.

P.S. It’s ANZAC day. We will remember them.

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posted by Nomes @ Wednesday, April 25, 2007   0 comments
Broken Bed = worrisome nights
Monday, 23 April 2007
Some of you have noticed the new wardrobe. Big ups to Rick for designing the banner that brought on the redecoration.

Over the past few weeks, my bed has been making ominous sounds. During my 15hr sit in (Prison Break, season 1, episodes 1-22) this weekend, those noises grew in impatience. FINALLY, I took a look under the bed (whilst still laying on it, you understand). I searched around in the gloom for the origin of the clunks and clanks (see, not just creaks – far more ominous sounds) then I spied it. My eyes widened in fear, and I quickly spread my body weight as far across the bed as it could go – rather than concentrating it on one, structurally weakened spot.

As you can see, there was a problem. The massive metal bar that supported the weight of two sets of slats was breaking (sort of, there’s an inner half circle inside an outer half circle, and the lip of the outer one had bent as it wasn’t being held together by this culprit).

So: my options were...

  1. I could purchase a house that came with a garage, obtain some piece of paper that allows me to employ a homeless person who will scour the city for scrap metal, bring it to me so that I can heat it in my home made furnace, then beat and batter it into a straight piece of steel and drill two careful holes in either end, OR
  2. I could take my chances with Ikea.

P(success option1)~56[P(success option2)].

But, it was Sunday and there were no open homes advertised, so I went to the big blue and yellow shop. First, I found the receipt, the instructions and the words for ‘broken’ and ‘piece’ in Czech. Then I left the house. Then I returned to the house, dismantled the bed and took the offending pieces with me – in case they could exchange them then and there (the ideal solution).

An hour later, I was in the queue at the service desk. Sweating in nervous anticipation of the hissy fit I would have to throw when they shrugged their shoulders and suggested I purchase an entirely new bed - just to get three new parts.

"Prosím Vás, potřebuju Vás pomoc." I said, to the 15yr F behind the counter. "Minulý rok, jsem nakupovala moje postel, za Ikea Zličín, a miluju moje postel samozrejme! *smile and eye twinkle*. Ale, minulý tyden, moje postel byl zlomený. Mám zlomený kusy tady, a mám obrazky taky…*show photographs*. Potřebuju náhradní součástky, musíte pomoc? Oh, a tady je moje učet."

"Excuse me, I need your help. Last year, I bought my bed from Ikea Zlicin, and I love my bed of course. *smile and eye twinkle* But last week, my bed was broken. I have the broken pieces here, and I have photos also *show photograph*. I need replacement parts, can you help? Oh, and here’s my receipt."

The 15y F nodded through my explanation, looked at my photos while I pointed “tady, a tady…” and then looked at my receipt and typed some things into The Computer. “Mluvite anglicky?” she enquired.

“Oui, bien sur.” I responded.

WHAT?!?!??! It seems that when asked whether I speak English, I respond the affirmative, but in French. WHY!??!

To save myself, I said, “a aussi francais, au cas où vous voudriez parler français”

Had she followed in French, I would have been SCREWED, but that’s not the point. The point was, that she said, “I’ll just go get those replacement parts for you, if you’d like to take a seat and wait over there.”

At which point, I fainted. Where was I? Was I dreaming? Was I really, truly experiencing “Customer Service”???

When I came to, they brought me a shot of Slivovice with my parts – to restore my facultative powers.

Ah yes, still in the CR.

Now I can, once again, enjoy worry-free slumber, since my bed is now unlikely to collapse the next time I roll across it's gargantuan-ness. Will - in the bedroom under mine - can also enjoy worryfree sleep. I'm THAT generous.

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posted by Nomes @ Monday, April 23, 2007   6 comments
Doing the lambeth walk
Sunday, 22 April 2007
My room is now officially THE most stocked in the house. It's also the smallest. And since it's in the roof space, you can imagine beams sticking up all over the place at awkward angles - just like swords in some macabre illusion.

Picture, if you will, a room with a king-sized bed (broken - but that's a WHOLE 'nother entry), a wardrobe, a 6-stack chest of drawers, two bedside tables, a futon, a desk, another bedside table - bedecked by a 21" television and DVD player, a shopkeepers dummy, a rug and a big 70's style hang down lamp...and you've got my room. And yes, if it weren't for my personal things lieing around, I WOULD think that I was in an Ikea store.

To get to my desk, behind the futon (currently facing television - due to a massive sit-in to watch all 22 episodes of Prison Break (note to L: WENTWORTH!!!! HOT!!!! TOTALLY REPLACES IOAN!!! Is also the only other person I [don't] know to have had parental papier mache critters strapped to his back for a school play!! We have SOOO much in common...), I have to duck underneath the hanging lamp - almost as though the lamp were an approaching helicopter.

Because, NOTHING says 'grown up' more than doing the leopard crawl in your own bedroom.

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posted by Nomes @ Sunday, April 22, 2007   0 comments
I'm not yet...
Thursday, 19 April 2007
...so you've still time to get cards, presents etc. to me.

I'm not quite sure what my mother was thinking when she sent this, though. Since when have I ever needed a stopper. Not strictly true, since when have I ever USED a stopper?

My 30th draws ever nearer. I'm allowed to get excited about it now, because I've found a venue that only requires all of my savings to host the party in, rather than one which also requires my first born child, the fingernails of my grandmother and the sacrifice of a virgin. I'm just entering into negotiations with them re the format of the evening (I want bubbles and canapes, they want to provide a four-course meal - you'll get what you're given!) so it could all go pear-shaped yet, but the hope is there.

And today, I received a parcel from Mamma. Amazingly clever, that woman, she managed to simultaneously send it from Australia, whilst purchasing silk in the souqs of Qatar. I have yet to learn this skill - would that I had, so that I could simultaneously finish this awful report for the WHO about the Serbia mission, and be outside reacquainting myself with my inline skates (or, as is more likely, the pavement).

Instead, I sit in my office, occasionally sending out e-mails to get this up and running (we're quite proud).

But the best part of the gift box (it's a toss up between this and the flashing 'birthday girl' beauty pageant sash which Joseph and I are going to fight over - I can tell blood will spill) is the photo album. My mother cobbled together - out of all of the old family albums - a "This is your life" montage of me. 30 years of me!! Could there be anything more worthwhile devoting 30mins to flicking through? I think not.

Of course, it shoudl really have been labelled "These are the fashion crimes of your life...". The stonewash! The mullet! The print culottes. The agony. Oh, and thanks for the 3/4 profile shot of me in the nude (putting on a singlet at age, maybe, 8?) Mum. Much appreciated. That WAS when my boss walked back into the office, wasn't it. He now knows more about my buttocks than any boss ever before....

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posted by Nomes @ Thursday, April 19, 2007   3 comments
Walking on broken glass
Monday, 16 April 2007
Okay, so I haven't stepped and cut my foot, my jaw isn't slowly tightening due to tetanus...but lately, I've been walking around with my eyes shut. Hence the lack of posts. My eyes are slowly opening, my senses reawakening, and I'm going to go hug trees soon, I promise. I'm also going to attempt to generally decrease the ever increasing 'seediness quotient' that has crept into my life recently. Goodness knows how that happened - who left the gutter open?

I'd like to point out that the practicing I did when I was 12 has paid off!!! My mother came home one day to find my hand writing filligreeing sheets of paper that had been deposited in the bin. She extracted them, examined the repetitions of the alphabet and called out, "Nomes, have you been practicing writing with your left hand in case you break your right arm?".

I mean, HOW DID SHE KNOW!?! Crazy woman.

Mortified, I whimpered, "yes....", now realising that if I DID break my right arm before exams, my mother would march me into the school and sit me down and say to the adjudicator, "that's alright, she can just use her other hand." Talk about pressure.

This weekend, in a flurry of activity (for our flat), we sat at the table in the kitchen comparing handwriting. Oh yes. The fun. The hilarity. We ARE sex, drugs and rock'n'roll, baby.

Turns out, my handwriting is one of the most legible, but my 'alternate hand' hand writing is DEFINITELY the best. My medal is, apparently, in the mail.

This bout of interest in our handwriting came after I had been to this.



More videos are available here or here, but generally, it was a blast. Even though I lost everyone I was with by 2am, and continued for a further 90mins alone. Even without 'assistance'. I'm still YOUNG!!! Hoorah!

(I'm fairly certain that particular people i.e. dad would not consider the examples posted here as examples of 'music'. However, I defy most of you to not feel a quickening of your pulse and a need to get up and dance. I LOVE IT.)

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posted by Nomes @ Monday, April 16, 2007   1 comments
Cold
Friday, 13 April 2007
No, not the weather: me. I have one. But it's okay, relax. It's just a common cold, not an exotic one. Nothing to write home about (and yet...).

Living in the flat may hurt me more than I originally anticipated. I've tripped twice on the mat at the bottom of our stairs, and almost impaled myself on whatever I was carrying at the time. Not to mention the state of my liver if we continue to cook and entertain as we have this week...(roasts, italian food, tapas...leftovers!).

Recently, I won (!!) a free ticket (singular) to see Juliette Lewis and the Licks play in Prague. That concert occurred last night. You know me, I'm marginally dazzled by the glitter of Hollywood, so I went along (alone) to see whether she could actually sing. Bear in mind that I'd describe the music as heavy rock, or perhaps punk rock, and you can imagine my wrinkled nose. However, her energy on stage (plenty of limbo moves, talking and singing to the crowd and hair flinging) and her lead guitarist (Todd Morse: photos 3, 18, 23, 54, on their site - not that I looked...) MORE than made up for the sound threatening to pierce my eardrums. And yes, being in Prague means being at a smaller stage: so much so that yours truly could ALMOST have reached out and bumped my hand down his abs. Or, you know, vomited on his converse - whatever it is you do to indicate talent-for-groupiness to a rock band.

But tonight, tonight I go big. There'll be approximately 14,000 people crammed into the T-Mobile arena tonight at this. And my attendance and enjoyment will not falter over mere mucus...

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posted by Nomes @ Friday, April 13, 2007   2 comments
Where did it come from?
Tuesday, 3 April 2007
When I moved to Prague - from Wellington - I had 14 boxes of 'stuff' and one overweight suitcase (to the tune of NZ$500ish). Since then I've purchased a bed, a television, some storage boxes and a shopmakers dummy.

So explain to me, the laws of physics that resulted in it taking me 5 VW Polo loads to get all the REST of my stuff (that wasn't the bed, the chest of drawers and the television) from one house to another? I am shattered. I can't feel my shins. Have you any idea how hard it is to walk when you can't feel your shins??

Still: it's done. If, by done, we agree to mean 'all Nomes's belongings are under the new roof' and aren't going to dispute the whole 'and scattered about the lounge' ending to that sentence too much. Ah yes, that's your Nomes: testing the limits of new flatmates patience, in the first weekend!

Meanwhile, two of my old school friends are pregnant - both fit to burst in May/June/July time. Another friend has just got married, and they're already pregnant (go on, say it: SHOTGUN!) due in November. Someone else has just started a business on their own, and they're making cash hand-over-fist and another someone else has just finished their own PhD.

I mentioned 'wistfully looking at dog owners' the other day and she patted me on the arm and said, "welcome to your 30's - when you shall want to nurture and love something other than yourself". Surely that's impossible?

What i really want to know is when do I start feeding stray cats, dying my hair blue, wearing quilting, and smelling of urine? Because frankly, my DLR's, the internet profiles of people who 'send me an icebreaker' or 'IM me' or 'PM me' are enough to render even the most hardened closet-romantic into choosing life-on-the-shelf. Anything has to be better than going to coffee with people "hoo rite wo pnktuashun/splchk/cr 4 i's common ppl".

But hey! I live in Prague!

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posted by Nomes @ Tuesday, April 03, 2007   10 comments

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