Skip to main content


So far, this week is busier than I could have anticipated.
I had my first University lecture last night which I really enjoyed; the thrill of cranking up my rusty old brain again can't be underestimated. Was also very happy to see that my class is devoid of anyone displaying their rear ends or prone to puppy-like bouncing - most of my fellow postgrads are almost as ancient as I am, and a few even older. Phew. Slightly panicking about the large amount of reading I'm going to have to do though... Back on Wednesday night for a stats class, and a one-off workshop on Thursday night.
Today I'm meeting our new tenant who is due to move in at the end of the month; in the spirit of the modern age we are downsizing and also want to be closer to school - the Burbs commute is becoming a bit tiresome, what with my children's active social life and my role as Mommy Taxi.
Following that I'm off to view villas located closer to the girls' school as obviously we will need somewhere else to live - hopefully I'll find something cheap and gorgeous in a brilliant location which will be available in a couple of weeks (yeah, dream on Kate). Otherwise it will be a case of putting everything in storage and decamping to an apartment hotel until I find somewhere not too shabby and just about bearable.
On top of this, I've just been offered a temp proofreading job at a local trendy arts magazine.
Thankfully I'm still in the grip of jetlag, so sleeping a mere 3-4 hours a night will certainly give me enough hours in the day to get everything done that needs to be done...
I always did like to keep myself busy.


expatmammy said…
As long as you've time to squeeze in a wee drink with a certain expatmammy.xxxMwah.x
Manhattan Mama said…
so jelly you're back in school. Giving me thoughts...xo

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…


Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …