Our place in Italy...

It's something I've boasted about for months: Paul's bought a place in Italy. And to be honest, until I'd seen it I was a little worried. It had, after all, put a longer waiting time on our buying a home in London. And financial pressures that worried me.
But all that was before I'd seen it.
Okay, so it's barely got a roof, it's covered in hay, and the 'bedroom' has a feeding trough in it...
But the view... Wow.
And it's just a few miles from Rome, Assissi, a whole bunch of other incredible Italian places. Beautiful.

We went for a week and stayed with Paul's uncle Cameron, who's living in a place in Eggi, near Spoleto. And the quiet... wow.

And there's one thing we both came back with - we spend too much time watching TV. We get caught up in the mundane, and never think about learning, reading, bettering ourselves.

Cameron has an incredible outlook on life. He's had some amazing experiences, and he's so wise. If anything, I came back with a desire to grow up like him. Like a lot of Paul's family... who look at life and always see the positive, even when bad things happen.

Paul, and his family are an incredible influence on me. And I thank 'God' for them.

When worlds collide...

My dad posted a blog with links to other Oxford blogs, and who should come up but an old friend of mine from Lampyland?
It's wierd. This is someone who I idoloised at University. Someone who taught me a lot, and inspired me to get involved in student politics. And now, here's my dad, singing her praises.
It makes me rethink who my dad is...
Wonder how many other people I could have introduced to him that he would have loved.
Funny how I always assume my parents would disapprove of my life, and the people who are in it, when really I'm probably underestimating them on a humungous scale!
Sorry, folks!

Are you a homeowner?

It's always made me laugh that during daytime TV - when the only people watching are unemployed or 'homemakers' - the majority of adverts are for loan companies.
Currently Mr Do, who just halved his monthly repayments, is buying a new car and taking his wife on a 'well-earned holiday'.
Meanwhile, he'll never see himself debt-free.
Reminds me of the time I applied for a bank loan for a deposit on a house and was told if I wanted to buy a car, or go travelling, they'd be happy to lend me the money. But not for something so trivial as having somewhere to live.
Nice world we live in.

Some things I have discovered over the last few – boring – days:

If you put “how to be pretentious” into google, it can’t tell you how.
If you watch Paramount Comedy all day it starts to repeat itself.
If you tell people how dull it is to have so much time off work, they don’t appreciate it.
Daytime TV sucks.
Reading books is more appealing when you don’t have the time.
Su Doku is just like Maths homework.
There are no good pictures of Anthony and Cleopatra on the web.
Wedding magazines are full of very expensive, not so pretty, dresses.
I am incapable – not of remembering birthdays – but of sending presents.
Detective shows, pathology shows, murder mystery shows, are all predictable.
Planning lessons during the summer isn’t as fun as stressing about them the night before.
If you leave the back door open long enough, the cat comes in to keep you company.

This'll make you laugh...

I've just joined a gym!
Bets are now on for just how long I'll last before I stop going all together.
There's just 13 months until the wedding. I haven't done any regular exercise since I fitted into my leotard and ballet shoes. My little sister gets thinner everytime I see her.
Are these good reasons for making myself feel sick twice a week?

Tee Hee

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These are a few of my favourite things...

Was going to blog about London. About Paul being reminded by our best man to ring me because "she does worry". About Tom having travelled through Aldgate East just 20 minutes before. About the shock of this eventually happening in our home city.
But I'm sick of it. Sick of all the bad stuff. The bad people. So I'm thinking back over the last few days to find the good stuff.

Seeing Marilyn Monroe being driven through Balham in a fiat Punto.
The little Jewish woman talking to me in the bank about how beautiful little children were, and how she misses her own - all grown up.
The year eight boy who, knowing I had friends in London, asked me on Friday morning if they were all alright.
The year seven girls begging me not to have children (even though I'm really getting quite old) until I've stopped being their form tutor.
The class who guessed all the answers to their end of lesson quiz before I'd even asked the questions.
The man who works in Threshers kissing me on the head for forgetting to pick up my shopping in the aftermath of Thursday's news.
An LSA at school reminising about her days as a Bunny girl in the Casinos

So when the bee stings and all that...