I move to France tomorrow; I've packed everything, used up all the food that was going to go out of date and found that, serendipitously, my E111 card still has three years to go on it, which is jammy because I hadn't actually bothered to check until today.
I can't quite calm my pre-departure nerves, and I think back to Jason's preparation for life in Australia, which consisted of watching The Rescuers Down Under: I'm actually quite flush with Disney films set in France- Cinderella, The Aristocats, Beauty and the Beast, The Hunchback of Notre Dame... Sadly, all of these are seventy minutes plus and I have to be up in five hours. "Why are you staying up to blog then, you pillock?!" I hear my incensed readers cry. Well, 1) Aforementioned pre-departure nerves and 2) I care about you dear readers and want you to know what's been going on with my life.
Both my sisters and both their boyfriends came up to see me before I left last weekend: this left me feeling somewhat spare, everyone else in the family having a partner and all. This became especially apparent when we all went to play tennis, which consisted of a heated doubles game and me sitting on a bench reading my book.
Darcy, whom I shared a stage with in the Australian Amadeus, had a wonderfully evocative phrase: 'Single Pringle'. I think he used it only for its coy rhyme, but I quite like the image it conjurs- the lone pringle, left at the bottom of the tube, waiting to be picked, as delectable in its own way as its siblings but for some unknown cosmic reason, forlorn. For now, at least. Because no one ever leaves a pringle at the bottom of the tube for long. They're just too good: once you pop, you just cannot stop.
EVER.
Travis calls pringles 'tubas', because they come in a tube and this seems like a wonderful segue into talking about my visit to my apathetic godchild. He didn't know who I was and alternately called me 'JoJo' and 'Jamie', occasionally detouring to 'Rory' if his mum really pushed it, but even then he more often than not just ignored her. He seemed to like me nonetheless, although I suspect that he may actually have just thought that I wouldn't apply the same rules of 'no hitting' as his mother. No such luck.
He seemed appreciative of my hair, though, proclaiming it to be "much nicer than JoJo's", and since he was also calling me 'JoJo' at this time, I don't know how he held this paradox in his head.
He's also taken a keen interest in bats- I tried to relate to him the time that Josh took me to see the fruit bat colony in Melbourne, but he seemed quite bored until I said 'and then the tree just exploded with bats' at which point he turned to me and, with eyebrow raised in a perfect imitation of Spock, asked "but why did it explode?" I see that metaphor escapes him for another day.
Of course, I didn't just visit Travis but Mel as well. She is applying to rejoin the workforce, and I decided to dash her high spirits by relating some of the more irksome tales of customer relations from my time working for EUSA. She retorted that none of it could be as bad as some of what she has to put up with as a single mum and I suspect she's right: I sometimes forget that, as annoying as some of the douchebags in the cafe were, I didn't have to clean up their excrement.
I just met with Daniel for a drink, and it was nice because he's the only friend I still have who knew me not only from secondary, but also from primary school. We had fun reminiscing about teachers past and experiences in the classroom like when Ms. Fisher used to try and catch us out with math problems and then laude it over us that she was smarter than us, even though we were thirty years her junior. And how she used to heap affection on Alex Newton, smarmy prick.
In this same vein, I actually met one of my old classmates from secondary school in the park the other day: we chatted for a little while about where everyone is (she has remained much better connected than I- not that that's difficult), and I thought about people I haven't thought about in years. I often try not to think about William Brookes, because it just makes me angry and depressed, but speaking with Claire made me realise that all my tormentors will now have grown up and matured (except those who were teachers, obviously) and that I should really get in contact with some of them and give them a second chance, because Lord knows that I'm a better person than I used to be. But then I imagine what if they're as awful as I remember, and then I'll have the smugness of confirmation and then think how insufferable I'll become; better not risk it, to be honest.
It's almost Midnight now and I really should be getting to sleep: writing this has not calmed me down as I had hoped it would, but hopefully I'll drop off out of sheer necessity. I'm trying to remind myself about what Will told me when I expressed my fears for returning to Edinburgh: "You make your own universe; if you want it to suck, it will suck." Of course, I don't want France to be awful, but if I go in expecting it to be les miserables, then I'll most likely look for things to affirm that belief (see above re: meeting old classmates). So, I have to keep my chin up and my hopes level: I can do this if I try, and maybe I can even enjoy myself along the way.
Wednesday 24 September 2014
Friday 12 September 2014
Edinburgh
I left Edinburgh early on Thursday morning. My last few weeks here were divided between frantically rehearsing two woefully underprepared shows and trying to make the most of my time in Edinburgh: taking walks (including to some places I'd never been before), supping at my favourite establishments and seeing the people who made my time there so brilliant. This culminated in leaving drinks at Paradise Palms, formerly Bristo Bar, with some of my nearest and dearest, which lead to this delightfully sleazy picture:
It feels odd to be gone. I definitely think of this as the end of my studenthood, even though that actually occured in May- it just didn't sink in until I actually departed the place where the majority of my studenting took place. I feel like now, at last, I am moving onto the stage of my life known as 'adulthood' and that it's time to put away childish things: you may remember that I said the same when I graduated and how long that lasted.
There's a description in One Day by David Nicholls of which I am very fond:
I feel a lot less emotional this time than when I left to go to Melbourne, even though that time I had a definite return point- I guess now I know I can keep friendships up over a long distance and that, ultimately, life keeps going no matter where you are. I didn't feel the need to be emotional: I had done all this before and it worked out ok (this sentiment may come back to bite me- only time will tell). And, besides, I imagine I will return to the city: enough of my friends still live there to merit popping in now and then. Maybe, as they move on or die out, I'll stop returning, but Henriette's there for the next two years and that alone makes it a very favourite place of mine.
In other news, I didn't complete any items on my bucket list. I didn't do a Ghost Tour or go to Glasgow or GHQ or even visit the beach. I am strangely OK with this- in the end, those activities weren't necessary for me to enjoy the end of my residency in Edinburgh, and it's not like I can't ever do them in the future (whereas, it's much more difficult to get back to Melbourne).
I have very few regrets about my time in Edinburgh overall and even fewer about my leaving: I made a move then kept on moving, and proved the points that I needed proving. Someone should write a song about that.
 |
| Callum definitely looks to be under some sort of coercion in this picture. |
There's a description in One Day by David Nicholls of which I am very fond:
"Living in her university town felt like staying on at a party that everyone else had left."Although Edinburgh never quite got to that level for me, I could definitely see it happening had I stayed much longer, or indeed had I not known that I was leaving at the end of the summer. There are still many wonderful people I care very deeply about there (eagle-eyed readers may even spot a recently-returned Esmond in the picture above), but I've lived there for three years and it was only going to get less fun what with having to work and everything- I think it better to just cut things off now, before my life there begins to stagnate.
I feel a lot less emotional this time than when I left to go to Melbourne, even though that time I had a definite return point- I guess now I know I can keep friendships up over a long distance and that, ultimately, life keeps going no matter where you are. I didn't feel the need to be emotional: I had done all this before and it worked out ok (this sentiment may come back to bite me- only time will tell). And, besides, I imagine I will return to the city: enough of my friends still live there to merit popping in now and then. Maybe, as they move on or die out, I'll stop returning, but Henriette's there for the next two years and that alone makes it a very favourite place of mine.
In other news, I didn't complete any items on my bucket list. I didn't do a Ghost Tour or go to Glasgow or GHQ or even visit the beach. I am strangely OK with this- in the end, those activities weren't necessary for me to enjoy the end of my residency in Edinburgh, and it's not like I can't ever do them in the future (whereas, it's much more difficult to get back to Melbourne).
I have very few regrets about my time in Edinburgh overall and even fewer about my leaving: I made a move then kept on moving, and proved the points that I needed proving. Someone should write a song about that.
Monday 1 September 2014
August: Mid-Lothian County
So, I didn't update for the whole of August. You may have suspected that not a lot was happening in my life, but you'd actually have been wrong: the same thing was happening on repeat. I'd wake up, go to work, see a fringe show/meet up with a friend, then go home and sleep. Repeat ad Mensum.
I considered posting reviews of Fringe shows up on this site, but that's not really what I wanted to use my blog for; it's meant to act more as a diary. Also, someone tried to use me as a shill, asking me to promote their show on here, which creeped me out to an inordinate degree (and also made me laugh at their massive overestimation of my readership).
But now there have been developments which must be documented for posterity, and so we're back.
First, I'm gonna deliver the bad news, so the post can end on a more positive note: Esmond and Poppy have left. Poppy departed for London last Wednesday, and Esmond returned to his native Macclesfield two days later. I got to say proper goodbyes to both of them, and I'm fairly certain I'll see them again, but I still feel this void inside. Esmond was the first real friend I made in Edinburgh; Poppy, the last. I know that sounds needlessly poetic and oversimplified, but I feel it's true. I met Esmond on the second day of Freshers' week and kept in consistent contact with him throughout the next four years- he was my first port of call during a lot of tough situations, and one of my favourite sparring partners in debates of taste, culture, philosophy and ethics.
A couple of nights before he left, Esmond and I returned to our old haunt, Debate corner- the place where we would part ways to go home in First year, so named because we would often stand there for hours on end, continuing our evening's argument, neither side willing to acquiesce to the other's view. We tried to have a scintillating confab, just as in the old days, but found that there was very little we now disagreed on (excepting the correct pronunciation of 'Rabid'); over the years, we've both influenced the other to the degree that our philosophies are no longer so diametrically opposed. Though, I will confess that I think I've gravitated towards Esmond's point of view more than the other way around.
For the majority of my time in Edinburgh, Esmond was my best friend- I already know that our amity can withstand vast distances and long periods of incommunication, so I hope we'll keep in touch. My uni experience would've been very different without him and I can only hope he doesn't become a stranger.
I actually met Poppy not long after Esmond- she was in one of my tutorials during first year- however, we didn't become friends until October of fourth year, and even then it took a shared assignment and a lot of weedling from Esmond before we could admit our true feelings for one another. She contributed greatly to me actually passing my course, as we became study buddies and I doubt I would've done half the revision I did without her help. I don't think I've met any other true bosom buddies since October, so Poppy gets the accolade of being the last friend I made in this city (unless someone new pops up over the next eleven days). She was a good one to finish on, as well: effervescent, witty, insightful and quirky. I expressed a wish that we had become friends sooner to her, and she responded very wisely that we only truly meet people when we are ready for them- as I explained in the paragraph above, I've changed a lot since first year, and maybe Poppy wouldn't have like the preachy, angry, loud person I was back then. And, besides, at least I got a couple of months with her, which is more than most people will ever get. More's the pity for them.
In one final bit of moping, there's a university open day on right now and I can't believe that the people here haven't even chosen their unis yet; in fact, they won't be starting for another year at least and I'm already done with tertiary education for the time being, how did that happen? I can even still remember the open day when I visited this place. How time flies.
But now onto happy news! Yay! Henriette's back! YAY!
And she got onto the MSc she wanted! YAY!!!!! And that means she'll be in Edinburgh for the next two years and I can come visit her and the city and not have to try and navigate Norway! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I've already written about how much I love and admire Henriette, so she just gets the funky picture and the excessive exclamation marks. Next.
I finished working for EUSA. My feet are very happy: standing up for eight hours every day is apparently very good for you, but I can tell you first hand that it does not feel it. My feet feel alien now: they're weird and misshapen and I'm sure this is definitely what you wanted to read about when you clicked on this link. Anyway, I'm hoping that eventually my feet will return to normal; I handed in my fob today, which is the EUSA equivalent of a doctor hanging up their stethoscope for the last time. I got £20 in tips from Festival, though, which works out as less than £1 a day, but I'm trying not to focus on that. I may, in the future, write a longer post about working during the festival and working for EUSA in general, but at the moment I'm just happy to have some time to myself again.
I've moved once more: I'm beginning to think that packing and shifting my stuff might be the only exercise I get these days, but that's fine because I feel like I do it once a week. I've moved from Joe's to Jari's, where I will pass my final few days in Scotland before returning to Shropshire.
My parents came to pick up my stuff on Thursday (I've just got a bag and some pillows with me at Jari's), and took me to lunch and were generally very pleasant and complimentary about my ability to look after myself (which is unusual). I got a bit teary when my mother couldn't figure out Scottish money because it reminded me that my time in this country is coming to an end and also that there was a time when I was the same and now look at me, I've gone all native. I haven't cried in a while, but I had to have a bit of a dab at my eyes after that.
My mother also revealed that she plans for me to not really return to Britain (after France) until I'm in my early Thirties, which would be fine, except that she's refusing to help me buy any new bedding until then (I'm proud to say I still have all my sheets, duvets, duvet covers, pillows and pillow cases from First year. Yeah, that's right. I'm responsible).
I went to an end of Fringe party at Bedlam, and got very drunk and celebrated a lot- not because the festival was over, but because I'd gone the whole month and only gotten depressed once. I don't like talking about this illness, but I was first diagnosed during Fringe 2011, and so I feel it's pertinent (and quite relieving) to say that I only had one bout during August, and even then it didn't last very long. I'm proud of myself (although I know it was also a lot down to luck) for averting this possible downward spiral.
The party was also the best I'd been to in ages, possibly even my favourite Bedlam party ever- I was just the right amount of intoxicated: I did things I normally wouldn't do (like take my shirt off during 'Africa') but I didn't regret any of them the next day; I was courteous to folks I don't normally get on with but didn't waste time trying to woo them; I danced a lot, with a lot of different people; and even dispensed some sound advice to an old friend in need of comfort. I was at my best at that party, and so I'm both happy and sad to know that it's my last one (seeing as I'll miss Refreshers on the 14th).
Speaking of the Old Fat Cat, I have a couple more shows coming up at Bedlam and I'm actually acting in both of them and I know you're all tired of hearing 'this is the last character I'll play in Bedlam' but eventually I promise it will be true. Anyway, we couldn't really rehearse either of these shows over the festival and so are now frantically trying to make a cohesive piece of art and well, come see the results during Freshers' Week: EGM at 1pm on Monday the 8th September 2014 and Candlewasters (specifically, The Cosmic Corkscrew) at 7.30 on Wednesday the 10th.
Peace out, homies. Happy September.
I considered posting reviews of Fringe shows up on this site, but that's not really what I wanted to use my blog for; it's meant to act more as a diary. Also, someone tried to use me as a shill, asking me to promote their show on here, which creeped me out to an inordinate degree (and also made me laugh at their massive overestimation of my readership).
But now there have been developments which must be documented for posterity, and so we're back.
First, I'm gonna deliver the bad news, so the post can end on a more positive note: Esmond and Poppy have left. Poppy departed for London last Wednesday, and Esmond returned to his native Macclesfield two days later. I got to say proper goodbyes to both of them, and I'm fairly certain I'll see them again, but I still feel this void inside. Esmond was the first real friend I made in Edinburgh; Poppy, the last. I know that sounds needlessly poetic and oversimplified, but I feel it's true. I met Esmond on the second day of Freshers' week and kept in consistent contact with him throughout the next four years- he was my first port of call during a lot of tough situations, and one of my favourite sparring partners in debates of taste, culture, philosophy and ethics.
 |
| Unfortunately, his ears were also preternaturally sharp. |
For the majority of my time in Edinburgh, Esmond was my best friend- I already know that our amity can withstand vast distances and long periods of incommunication, so I hope we'll keep in touch. My uni experience would've been very different without him and I can only hope he doesn't become a stranger.
I actually met Poppy not long after Esmond- she was in one of my tutorials during first year- however, we didn't become friends until October of fourth year, and even then it took a shared assignment and a lot of weedling from Esmond before we could admit our true feelings for one another. She contributed greatly to me actually passing my course, as we became study buddies and I doubt I would've done half the revision I did without her help. I don't think I've met any other true bosom buddies since October, so Poppy gets the accolade of being the last friend I made in this city (unless someone new pops up over the next eleven days). She was a good one to finish on, as well: effervescent, witty, insightful and quirky. I expressed a wish that we had become friends sooner to her, and she responded very wisely that we only truly meet people when we are ready for them- as I explained in the paragraph above, I've changed a lot since first year, and maybe Poppy wouldn't have like the preachy, angry, loud person I was back then. And, besides, at least I got a couple of months with her, which is more than most people will ever get. More's the pity for them.
In one final bit of moping, there's a university open day on right now and I can't believe that the people here haven't even chosen their unis yet; in fact, they won't be starting for another year at least and I'm already done with tertiary education for the time being, how did that happen? I can even still remember the open day when I visited this place. How time flies.
But now onto happy news! Yay! Henriette's back! YAY!
 |
| And flexible as ever! |
I've already written about how much I love and admire Henriette, so she just gets the funky picture and the excessive exclamation marks. Next.
I finished working for EUSA. My feet are very happy: standing up for eight hours every day is apparently very good for you, but I can tell you first hand that it does not feel it. My feet feel alien now: they're weird and misshapen and I'm sure this is definitely what you wanted to read about when you clicked on this link. Anyway, I'm hoping that eventually my feet will return to normal; I handed in my fob today, which is the EUSA equivalent of a doctor hanging up their stethoscope for the last time. I got £20 in tips from Festival, though, which works out as less than £1 a day, but I'm trying not to focus on that. I may, in the future, write a longer post about working during the festival and working for EUSA in general, but at the moment I'm just happy to have some time to myself again.
I've moved once more: I'm beginning to think that packing and shifting my stuff might be the only exercise I get these days, but that's fine because I feel like I do it once a week. I've moved from Joe's to Jari's, where I will pass my final few days in Scotland before returning to Shropshire.
My parents came to pick up my stuff on Thursday (I've just got a bag and some pillows with me at Jari's), and took me to lunch and were generally very pleasant and complimentary about my ability to look after myself (which is unusual). I got a bit teary when my mother couldn't figure out Scottish money because it reminded me that my time in this country is coming to an end and also that there was a time when I was the same and now look at me, I've gone all native. I haven't cried in a while, but I had to have a bit of a dab at my eyes after that.
My mother also revealed that she plans for me to not really return to Britain (after France) until I'm in my early Thirties, which would be fine, except that she's refusing to help me buy any new bedding until then (I'm proud to say I still have all my sheets, duvets, duvet covers, pillows and pillow cases from First year. Yeah, that's right. I'm responsible).
I went to an end of Fringe party at Bedlam, and got very drunk and celebrated a lot- not because the festival was over, but because I'd gone the whole month and only gotten depressed once. I don't like talking about this illness, but I was first diagnosed during Fringe 2011, and so I feel it's pertinent (and quite relieving) to say that I only had one bout during August, and even then it didn't last very long. I'm proud of myself (although I know it was also a lot down to luck) for averting this possible downward spiral.
The party was also the best I'd been to in ages, possibly even my favourite Bedlam party ever- I was just the right amount of intoxicated: I did things I normally wouldn't do (like take my shirt off during 'Africa') but I didn't regret any of them the next day; I was courteous to folks I don't normally get on with but didn't waste time trying to woo them; I danced a lot, with a lot of different people; and even dispensed some sound advice to an old friend in need of comfort. I was at my best at that party, and so I'm both happy and sad to know that it's my last one (seeing as I'll miss Refreshers on the 14th).
Speaking of the Old Fat Cat, I have a couple more shows coming up at Bedlam and I'm actually acting in both of them and I know you're all tired of hearing 'this is the last character I'll play in Bedlam' but eventually I promise it will be true. Anyway, we couldn't really rehearse either of these shows over the festival and so are now frantically trying to make a cohesive piece of art and well, come see the results during Freshers' Week: EGM at 1pm on Monday the 8th September 2014 and Candlewasters (specifically, The Cosmic Corkscrew) at 7.30 on Wednesday the 10th.
Peace out, homies. Happy September.
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