The thing for me about Saturday mornings is that they’re much the same as any other morning. I’m just as likely to find myself lying in on a Monday or Tuesday as I am dragging myself out of bed on Saturday to finish a job. It’s all a matter of deadlines and how late I am meeting them. Some mornings are lazy, some mornings are frantic and some I wake up fully dressed on the sofa wondering where I am. This is still just about rare enough not to have become routine. In England I’m the responsible one, I’ll solve your problems, pack the things you forgot and make you a nice cup of tea to wash it all down with. That’s certainly not how I’m seen in Italy and I think this really says something about the two countries I call home. I’m probably only responsible because I’m the least irresponsible of all my other friends in England, and in Italy the least irresponsible of the English is still a force to be reckoned with. No matter how hard I try, I will always stick out like a sore thumb over here. Admittedly I did shave half my head and I ride obliviously around Milan on a ridiculous bicycle and you know, perhaps I shout a lot. But anyway, the bike was a chance find, and who can resist a bargain? Certainly not I, self-professed hoarder. Moving to Italy certainly limited my eBay spending but I maintain that anything and everything will eventually turn up on eBay UK, if you wait long enough. Like, you know, gold doc martens after a year. That I’ll wear to death and then regret it. Because the fact is, no matter how many other pairs you have, gold is gold. Apparently it’s frowned upon in Italy to wear DMs in summer? Frankly I struggle with the concept of sandals. I think we can safely describe my style as ‘more is more’. Except when it comes to the length of my skirts of course. Dressing up in as many colours and patterns as possible, and topping that off with DMs and a cap is one of my favourite things. Actually dressing up in general is one of my favourite things. But seriously, rather than an appreciation for the finer things in life, I think I just have an appreciation for all the things in life. Which makes life pretty incredible and probably explains why I’m deliriously happy 359 days out of 365. I suppose up till now I sound like a fairly outgoing person, I’m loathe to read back what I’ve written for fear it be like hearing your own voice on tape, utterly mortifying. That was sort of what I wanted to talk about next. Despite all my colours and bravado, I still fully embody that English polite awkwardness. So please forgive me if I thank you or apologise to you excessively without good reason. I’d be nice to even the meanest person to avoid a confrontation. Of course when I say confrontations, I don’t mean brawls, because nothing really says England like a good pub brawl. Unfortunately I’ve moved to a country where there are no pubs. It’s probably for the best, as my milky complexion can’t really withstand much. Sadly I am afflicted by Easy Bruising. And as I hurtle haphazardly through life it is inevitable that I encounter low tables, open cupboard doors, bike pedals and the like. Pale and bruised, which my Mum kindly describes as pale and interesting (thanks Mum), quite the English rose. And could there be a better analogy considering that as I write this, dear reader, I still have thorns lodged in my legs from an encounter with a thorn bush last week?! The bush started it. At this point I feel I’ve written rather a lot, but essentially nothing at all. I haven’t even mentioned my passion for kettles, the number five and my kindle. But it’s probably best to quit while I’m ahead, after all a girl’s got to have some secrets. And anyway, it’s time for another cup of tea….
Hi, I am Vicky and I am a Lover.