I packed my first suitcase recently!
It contains a duvet, a pillow and two towels. And it’s worth 10 pounds in ryanair terms. Now all that’s left are clothing, shoes, pans, cutlery, pots, dishes, books (but which? I can’t take them all, but whom could I possibly leave behind?), Roy (My laptop. I name things.), documents, some DVDs, toiletries, maybe a waterboiler and the 5 – 20 things I’m forgetting to list now but will realise I need within the next 11 days. This let’s-just-take-a-plane idea is starting to get tricky. The fact that my posessions will of course increase in quantity within the next year and I’ll have to move out again in July isn’t exactly a treat either. Bring it all back home with me for two months just to schlep it to Bournemouth again for the next year? Well, god knows I’m a lazy bugger as it is! Plus, there’s a fair chance ryanair will charge an extra forty pounds per gramme by then.
I see there’s an old entry of mine on this site which recalls me writing I was sure of going to Griffith or Trinity. Oh, dear foolish Nessihoernchen. I can’t even remember ever being so certain of leaving Austria. I’m still surprised I am, in fact. Friends of mine have told me they’d always known I was not meant to stay here. The said I didn’t even seem Austrian. And I was, like (Dude, like, totally American-like ‘like’ fail!), “Heeey! …really?” Now, that’s just bloody rude. And only half-true.
