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Thursday, July 27, 2006 

It's a wonderful life

My room is in the basement of the house. Its just like the other floors, it isn’t a dank drippy room filled with dusty wine bottles and rats as in Roald Dahl’s Fantastic Mister Fox. For some reason ever since I read that book I’ve had the Cider cellar in the back of my mind whenever I envision cellars. They all include a scary farmer’s wife with a rolling pin standing at the top of an uneven stone staircase up to the floor above too. The fox hiding behind the shelves is optional.

The cellar consists of two cupboards, one of which I believe actually is a broom cupboard; a washroom with an old closed up well in it; and my bedroom. Due to the old well it can get a little damp in the hallway, but that doesn’t affect my room luckily and my room serves as the only room in the entire house that reaches a temperature just below twenty five degrees during the night. Therefore, it is the only room in the entire house where it is possible to get a decent night’s sleep. This, of course, I am extremely grateful for.

I’ve got a sofa bed, a TV with DVD player and MTV (in English with German subtitles), and a functional computer. There is also a door and some steps out into the garden which is a useful fire exit/ way in which to escape during the night if I ever actually meet anyone here worth sneaking out to see. Not that I would really have to do any sneaking, but you know, I’m still a teenager and searching out escape routes as soon as I enter a new house is still sort of ingrained.

I think my room may also be the only room in the house that actually has a carpet. All the rest are tiles. Not that that actually has any relation to anything, but it is something I have just this second noticed.

The house is lovely with a really big mural thing up the stairs, and a slightly eclectic mixture of interior design with English, Turkish and German bases. I especially approve of the large fuzzy bean bag in the lounge. I did consider buying one and taking it home (along with a hanging chair which incidentally, I have in my room hanging from the ceiling here) but decided against it because it probably wouldn’t fit in my suitcase along with the huge amount of clothing and shoes I have acquired in the past three weeks. Having money is bad for my outgoings.

Since coming here my gorgeous Sony Ericsson walkman phone has literally fallen apart (the top has unscrewed and separated itself from the bottom- crappy thing, grrrr) and I have been forced to use a waterproof but otherwise boring Nokia 5210 that is never quite sure if it’s sent a message, has a memory of exactly eighteen texts, and switches itself off twenty seconds into every phone call without fail, regardless of how much battery or reception it has. I’ve been through three sim cards, and am now on German Vodafone contract that has no texts or minutes, and I don’t understand the tariffs at all. I also can’t receive or send picture messages due to this stupid phone that advertises being in colour, as long as that colour is yellow. The annoying thing about it being that it isn’t even yellow; it’s more an orangey green colour that makes me nauseous.

The keyboards are also a little confusing as the z and y are swapped over (making yellow nearly impossible to touch type and causing me to go back every few seconds to change zellow into yellow). And the (at) sign is hiding. As are the square brackets now I come to need them. If anyone with an inkling about keyboards is reading this, if you have three different letters/ symbols on one key, how on earth do you access the third one?? For the first you just press it, for the second you press shift, but for the third? I’m completely bamboozled. Why can’t they just have simple QWERTY keyboards, and none of this ö, ä, and ß nonsense? What are these things? QWERTZ keyboards? That just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

My alarm clock wakes me up at half five every morning with Counting Crows “Colorblind” and does so every nine minutes after that until sometime around six thirty ish when I stop pressing “sleep” and contemplate getting up. Not that I actually get up until seven, I just decide I’m getting up, turn my alarm off, and wake up half an hour later guilty and very late. I get dressed in two minutes flat, usually in a mini skirt and whatever top is on the top of my pile, then run upstairs doing my hair, teeth, and face on the way to wake up the kids.

From there it’s a never ending cycle of one kid going to kindergarten while the youngest potters around. Then at approximately eleven thirty I put him down for a nap, spend twenty minutes convincing him he does want to sleep rather than run around some more, run out the house and pick up the eldest at twelve. He comes home, eats, runs around for a bit, then goes down for his nap around half one. The youngest wakes up at this point when he hears things go quiet, and has another nap at three when the eldest wakes up and goes out to play. Both are awake when the youngest wakes at half four, and will either go for a walk or play in the garden (at temperatures of between thirty and thirty six degrees Celsius generally) until six when they throw food around for an hour, then go to bed.

And the stupid thing about it all is that they’re actually easier to cope with when they’re awake at the same time because they play together instead of constantly looking to me for amusement. But this doesn’t occur until half four, by which time I’m ready to murder whichever one cries first.

When I finally eat at half seven all I want to do is sleep. Or collapse in front of the joy’s of BBC Prime (2.4 children and endless repeats of Top Gear).

All in all, it’s a wonderful life.


hey babez, lol i know i slept with him, he was premature in that he came rely early, but the next time we did it omg! i orgsmed 4 times,i know i didnt think it was possible, but it happened and he went on for ages, like hours! he has a large cock too! hahaha, anyway i love you x

In this ever-changing world in which we live, there really is very little that a large cock can't put right.

Good on you, hayley. Here's to spending many more enjoyable hours exploring love's rich landscape in the company of your young man's ample member.

I know what premature means silly, was asking how premature. As in ten seconds, two minutes, etc. Of course four times is possible, multiple doesn't mean two or three you know, otherwise they'd call it duo-orgasmic or something. I don't know. Anyway, glad you're enjoying yourself.

Wrote an entry a while ago about size and was told that I was being silly. However, since then I completely believe I was right and there was just no point going down that track.

Translated: I agree with the colonel.

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  • An albatross can fly for thousands of miles without getting tired. I've always thought that love is similar to flying, therefore we should aspire to be like the albatross.

    I don't know if I can do that. So far I haven't been so lucky. But one day I'll test my wings with someone, and flying won't be so hard after all. Or so painful.
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