They were dark times indeed. My faithful travel companion had once more left me; this time in a strange new land where the sun never rises and the people all speak in a foreign tongue that leaves much to the imagination.
I had been abandoned (joking Jo) in a house where the last owner had passed away in mysterious cicumstances (she died. you don't think death is mysetrious?!). Weird noises from the celler echo ominously throughout the house each night as I lie curled upon a mattress on the floor; crucifix at the ready as a weak form of protection (found it here with the old grannies stuff). A soul still present? (More probably sounds from the water pipes I still haven't got around to insulating).
I work alone (everyone else was smart enough to move on already), in my rags (borrowed Steffen's clothes to save my own) for long hours each day (I'm still managing a healthy 10 or so each day). Slaving away with no finish in sight (actually, it looks like I'll be done in 3 days!) and no one to confide in. Save that is for a crazy, pale faced boy, who is as much fun to talk to as a packet of soggy potato chips, a hippy girl who but momentarily joins us here on earth for brief instances of environmentally enlightening epiphanies and a ponsy petty prat of a girl who has yet to move in as the floor wasn't clean enough (seriously!).
The boss gone, I find myself talking to myself a lot. Not crazy talk, actually quite revealing, but i think a sign of loneliness and a sign of a time to move on. I have also taken to binge eating. I usually eat a lot but now I positively gorge myself! I am going through a kilo of muesli every 2 days, an 800g tin of meal for every lunch with rice or pasta added and the usual assortment of fruit, bread and so on in between.
But the money is good and though I question almost daily why I am letting life passs me by right now, i remind myself that soon it will end and then i can travel once more. To surf, to sail and to live!
