It might be a perfume, it might be a song but in the case of my lovely friend Carly, it's those slinky vest tops from Zara that remind me of her. I think she introduced me to them which is why I have such a strong connection between the two.
Carly's over in LA so I don't see her much but think of her often. Our birthdays are exactly six months apart so she is my half birthday soul sister. On my birthday a couple of weeks ago, her Facebook status said that she was thinking of her half birthday soul sister in London, wishing her a happy happy birthday and when I read that, it brought tears to my eyes - the smallest things mean the most.
As I slowly unpack the cases from my recent move back from Ibiza, I come across the slinky vest tops and immediately think of Carly. She's in Austin at the moment at SXSW no doubt having a fabulous time. It's been nearly four years since we last saw each other, I hope I see her again soon!
Sunday, 15 March 2009
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
Where did that last month go?
I just logged onto my blog and realised that the last post was written nearly a month ago. I wondered what I'd been doing over that time as I obviously hadn't been blogging but then I remembered that the last month has been a flurry of Spanish classes and homework, yoga and hanging out with friends and generally having a wonderful time before I left the island.
This now means I've got loads to write about. I had the big birthday nearly two weeks ago and it was wonderful, I thoroughly enjoyed the whole weekend, hectic as it was. I also did another radio show the day before my birthday and loved it! This is something I would seriously like to do a lot more of, playing records I love and having a chat over the airwaves. I listened to the show again today for the first time and I just sounded so happy - when it comes to sharing music, I think I've found my calling!
I arrived back in London late last night after a 4-day journey over land and sea. It was eventful as journeys go. The first day I got the ferry from Ibiza to Denia and spent the first couple of hours out on the deck, lapping up the sunshine. Once on the mainland, I drove up to Valencia and started looking for a hotel while on the outskirts. I quickly spotted a neon blue sign indicating a hotel so I pulled over and tracked it down in the middle of a barren wasteland otherwise doubling as an industrial estate. Luckily they had rooms available and I made my way up to my room. There I found something a little unusual, something I'd never seen in a hotel before - an A4 sheet providing information on erotic holidays. I went back down to reception and a guest got into the lift wearing a silky short dressing gown. I did find myself thinking it a little strange to see guests in their dressing gowns but thought no more of it. I had to go out to the van to get some things and as I turned back towards the hotel and looked up to the large windows on the first floor I noticed a number of girls in similar slinky short dressing gowns that I'd already seen in the lift. Now my curiousity was aroused, what was going on at this hotel?
After dinner I nonchalantly wandered up to the first floor, acting as if I had some reason to be there. Girls were going in and out of the dining room, all heavily made up, all in those slinky gowns and all wearing those perpex killer heels favoured by strippers. There was a security guard sat outside the dining room and as soon as he saw me approach out of the lift, he started hovering above his seat, ready to escort away this person (me) who very obviously didn't belong on the first floor and had no reason to be there. I didn't want to suffer the embarrassment of being forced back into the lift so I just turned on my heels and left of my own accord. It would have been funny to have made a scene though. I didn't work out what was going on at that hotel, it was either a brothel or there was a strippers' convention taking place or maybe it had something to do with the erotic holidays. But the next morning as I left the hotel and started crawling along the road, trying to find my escape route out of industrial estate drudgery, I saw a girl tottering along the street and I think she may have been working! Well, there had to be some reason for her wearing a skirt so short it might as well have been a belt as it did absolutely nothing to cover her bum which was completely exposed for all to see.....
The next evening I arrived in Bilbao and spent about two hours looking for a hotel. The mission failed miserably, if there were hotels they were very badly signposted and parking seemed scarce. I drove up a number of tracks thinking there was a hotel at the end but I was misreading the signs. Once I drove up a track and then had to reverse out again, reversing up hill and navigating some tight turns. As I got to the end, I smelt an instantly recognisable smell - the distinct acrid odour of my clutch going. However I knew that if this happens, you just have to switch off the engine and sit there for an hour or so and the clutch usually returns to normal. I did this and then drove off again, my sensors on paranoid alert for that smell again even though I definitely did not want to encouner it again as that would have meant a lot of trouble. I spent a little while longer looking for the elusive hotels and then gave up, found a good spot to park, dragged my quilt out of the back of the van and set up camp for the night. This involved sleeping in the front of the van. I half expected to hear a little tap on the window at some point as the Guardia Civil or an upstanding member of the community came to tell me I couldn't sleep there but thankfully everyone left me in peace to have an okay night of sleep that reminded me of sleeping on a plane....
The ferry from Bilbao to Portsmouth was long and boring. I got seasick just as I was contemplating dinner and ended up having to make my way back to the cabin and collapse on the bed. I rose twelve hours later but felt much better and managed to have breakfast even though it wasn't really of a high gastronic calibre but it was a bit like being on a chav cruise ship so what was I to expect?
I'm now back in London, wondering what life back in London is going to be like? Only time will tell.....
This now means I've got loads to write about. I had the big birthday nearly two weeks ago and it was wonderful, I thoroughly enjoyed the whole weekend, hectic as it was. I also did another radio show the day before my birthday and loved it! This is something I would seriously like to do a lot more of, playing records I love and having a chat over the airwaves. I listened to the show again today for the first time and I just sounded so happy - when it comes to sharing music, I think I've found my calling!
I arrived back in London late last night after a 4-day journey over land and sea. It was eventful as journeys go. The first day I got the ferry from Ibiza to Denia and spent the first couple of hours out on the deck, lapping up the sunshine. Once on the mainland, I drove up to Valencia and started looking for a hotel while on the outskirts. I quickly spotted a neon blue sign indicating a hotel so I pulled over and tracked it down in the middle of a barren wasteland otherwise doubling as an industrial estate. Luckily they had rooms available and I made my way up to my room. There I found something a little unusual, something I'd never seen in a hotel before - an A4 sheet providing information on erotic holidays. I went back down to reception and a guest got into the lift wearing a silky short dressing gown. I did find myself thinking it a little strange to see guests in their dressing gowns but thought no more of it. I had to go out to the van to get some things and as I turned back towards the hotel and looked up to the large windows on the first floor I noticed a number of girls in similar slinky short dressing gowns that I'd already seen in the lift. Now my curiousity was aroused, what was going on at this hotel?
After dinner I nonchalantly wandered up to the first floor, acting as if I had some reason to be there. Girls were going in and out of the dining room, all heavily made up, all in those slinky gowns and all wearing those perpex killer heels favoured by strippers. There was a security guard sat outside the dining room and as soon as he saw me approach out of the lift, he started hovering above his seat, ready to escort away this person (me) who very obviously didn't belong on the first floor and had no reason to be there. I didn't want to suffer the embarrassment of being forced back into the lift so I just turned on my heels and left of my own accord. It would have been funny to have made a scene though. I didn't work out what was going on at that hotel, it was either a brothel or there was a strippers' convention taking place or maybe it had something to do with the erotic holidays. But the next morning as I left the hotel and started crawling along the road, trying to find my escape route out of industrial estate drudgery, I saw a girl tottering along the street and I think she may have been working! Well, there had to be some reason for her wearing a skirt so short it might as well have been a belt as it did absolutely nothing to cover her bum which was completely exposed for all to see.....
The next evening I arrived in Bilbao and spent about two hours looking for a hotel. The mission failed miserably, if there were hotels they were very badly signposted and parking seemed scarce. I drove up a number of tracks thinking there was a hotel at the end but I was misreading the signs. Once I drove up a track and then had to reverse out again, reversing up hill and navigating some tight turns. As I got to the end, I smelt an instantly recognisable smell - the distinct acrid odour of my clutch going. However I knew that if this happens, you just have to switch off the engine and sit there for an hour or so and the clutch usually returns to normal. I did this and then drove off again, my sensors on paranoid alert for that smell again even though I definitely did not want to encouner it again as that would have meant a lot of trouble. I spent a little while longer looking for the elusive hotels and then gave up, found a good spot to park, dragged my quilt out of the back of the van and set up camp for the night. This involved sleeping in the front of the van. I half expected to hear a little tap on the window at some point as the Guardia Civil or an upstanding member of the community came to tell me I couldn't sleep there but thankfully everyone left me in peace to have an okay night of sleep that reminded me of sleeping on a plane....
The ferry from Bilbao to Portsmouth was long and boring. I got seasick just as I was contemplating dinner and ended up having to make my way back to the cabin and collapse on the bed. I rose twelve hours later but felt much better and managed to have breakfast even though it wasn't really of a high gastronic calibre but it was a bit like being on a chav cruise ship so what was I to expect?
I'm now back in London, wondering what life back in London is going to be like? Only time will tell.....
Friday, 13 February 2009
Sweating it out at Bikram
After dabbling with yoga as a university student, I took it up properly (ie every week) in 2002. I started doing ashtanga yoga and loved it from the start. Round about the same time, Bikram yoga was becoming popular in London and as I read more about this hot, sweaty yoga, I decided to give it a go. I think I went 3 or 4 times altogether. I would have liked to have done more but the only Bikram studios at the time were in north or west London and going after work, doing an hour and a half class and then getting showered and changed and back down to deepest, darkest south London soon put me off.
A little while ago, someone mentioned that there was a Bikram studio in Ibiza town. A quick search on Google (what would we do without Google now? I think I've lost the ability of tracking down information without it!) located the studio and I went earlier this week. My Spanish teacher Moly also goes to the studio and so we both rocked up to the class on Tuesday afternoon. I was somewhat unprepared as I'd forgotten how much you sweat and didn't bring a small towel with me, nor my yoga mat but at least I remembered to bring a bottle of water. As we waited for the class to begin, Moly said to me in Spanish "get ready to suffer" - I started to feel a bit nervous....
The teacher is a lovely French guy. When I signed in, he said the class is conducted in Spanish and I said "yes, that's fine" because by now I can converse quite well in the language. However, doing a yoga class where all the instructions are in Spanish is something else, particularly as I haven't learnt the parts of the body so half the time didn't know what he saying. So I did what I always do in this situation - identify the person who looks most advanced and I can see clearly without turning my head round too much and copy everything they do. If it'd been an ashtanga class conducted in Spanish, I probably would have been fine as I know the sequence fairly well and could just roll with it. Anyway, I didn't have to copy the others for too long as Sebastian (the teacher) very kindly started conducting the class in English as well as Spanish for the benefit of me.
The room was about 42 or 43 degrees. I don't think I've ever been in a room this hot and I started sweating even before the class had started. After a little while, I found myself getting dizzy - not helpful when you're doing a balancing pose and you keep wobbling and toppling over. The dizziness got so bad that I spent a large chunk of the middle of the class lying down but better that than passing out on my mat. When I did manage to get involved with the class again, I was so sweaty and slippery that it did get in the way a bit. Anyway, finally we got to the relaxation bit at the end and I could lay down and have a long rest, listening to some Oriental music. The music confused me a bit and as my mind wandered and I thought of leaving the class and saying thank you to the teacher, the Japanese for "thank you" kept popping into my head instead of Spanish. This is what happens when you have four foreign languages under your belt but have never specialised as a linguist!
The day after the class I ached all over and it felt like I had a big knot in my left shoulder blade. I normally have a constant knot on the right side so it felt a little strange to have it on the other side as well. I was going to go again for another class (I've got a special deal where I've paid 20 euros and can go as many times as I want for a week) but decided to leave it as my ability to move in a fluid manner had been hampered slightly.
I went again today (Friday) and am planning to go again on Sunday and Monday. Today's class was better. It wasn't so hot in the room and I didn't get dizzy or have to keep lying down. Excellent - this must mean I'm making progress! I'd still get light-headed and at one point it was quite bad and I kept stumbling around but soon regained my composure. Bikram doesn't have the dynamic aspect of ashtanga (I think everyone would have a seizure if it did due to the heat) so it doesn't feel like the class is moving along that quickly. But before I knew it, we were at the end doing the relaxation and listening to the tinkling Oriental music.
I had a quick shower and got ready to leave. Although I wasn't surging with energy, I didn't feel tired. Nor did I feel hungry and this surprised me a little. I was anticipating a gnawing hunger after the class but it didn't happen. I still haven't fallen in love with this yoga yet but doing two more classes over the next three days may seal the deal. I have noticed one thing though - all that sweating has left my skin feeling really soft! It feels great!
A little while ago, someone mentioned that there was a Bikram studio in Ibiza town. A quick search on Google (what would we do without Google now? I think I've lost the ability of tracking down information without it!) located the studio and I went earlier this week. My Spanish teacher Moly also goes to the studio and so we both rocked up to the class on Tuesday afternoon. I was somewhat unprepared as I'd forgotten how much you sweat and didn't bring a small towel with me, nor my yoga mat but at least I remembered to bring a bottle of water. As we waited for the class to begin, Moly said to me in Spanish "get ready to suffer" - I started to feel a bit nervous....
The teacher is a lovely French guy. When I signed in, he said the class is conducted in Spanish and I said "yes, that's fine" because by now I can converse quite well in the language. However, doing a yoga class where all the instructions are in Spanish is something else, particularly as I haven't learnt the parts of the body so half the time didn't know what he saying. So I did what I always do in this situation - identify the person who looks most advanced and I can see clearly without turning my head round too much and copy everything they do. If it'd been an ashtanga class conducted in Spanish, I probably would have been fine as I know the sequence fairly well and could just roll with it. Anyway, I didn't have to copy the others for too long as Sebastian (the teacher) very kindly started conducting the class in English as well as Spanish for the benefit of me.
The room was about 42 or 43 degrees. I don't think I've ever been in a room this hot and I started sweating even before the class had started. After a little while, I found myself getting dizzy - not helpful when you're doing a balancing pose and you keep wobbling and toppling over. The dizziness got so bad that I spent a large chunk of the middle of the class lying down but better that than passing out on my mat. When I did manage to get involved with the class again, I was so sweaty and slippery that it did get in the way a bit. Anyway, finally we got to the relaxation bit at the end and I could lay down and have a long rest, listening to some Oriental music. The music confused me a bit and as my mind wandered and I thought of leaving the class and saying thank you to the teacher, the Japanese for "thank you" kept popping into my head instead of Spanish. This is what happens when you have four foreign languages under your belt but have never specialised as a linguist!
The day after the class I ached all over and it felt like I had a big knot in my left shoulder blade. I normally have a constant knot on the right side so it felt a little strange to have it on the other side as well. I was going to go again for another class (I've got a special deal where I've paid 20 euros and can go as many times as I want for a week) but decided to leave it as my ability to move in a fluid manner had been hampered slightly.
I went again today (Friday) and am planning to go again on Sunday and Monday. Today's class was better. It wasn't so hot in the room and I didn't get dizzy or have to keep lying down. Excellent - this must mean I'm making progress! I'd still get light-headed and at one point it was quite bad and I kept stumbling around but soon regained my composure. Bikram doesn't have the dynamic aspect of ashtanga (I think everyone would have a seizure if it did due to the heat) so it doesn't feel like the class is moving along that quickly. But before I knew it, we were at the end doing the relaxation and listening to the tinkling Oriental music.
I had a quick shower and got ready to leave. Although I wasn't surging with energy, I didn't feel tired. Nor did I feel hungry and this surprised me a little. I was anticipating a gnawing hunger after the class but it didn't happen. I still haven't fallen in love with this yoga yet but doing two more classes over the next three days may seal the deal. I have noticed one thing though - all that sweating has left my skin feeling really soft! It feels great!
Thursday, 12 February 2009
I thought that....
....not working would have meant that I would be blogging every day. But as you can see, it's not happened. Time has been taken up with lots of Spanish (4 times a week), running, swimming, yoga, entertaining visiting friends, hanging out with island friends, looking after 3 cats and living in a gorgeous 5-bedroom villa while cat-sitting!
I'm 2 weeks away from moving back to London and feeling pretty excited about it! People here keep asking how I feel about moving back and yes, I'm excited! I'm looking forward to getting back and the start of the next adventure. It's my birthday weekend as soon as I get back so I've 3 days of running around seeing friends, celebrating my birthday and also doing a radio show on the Saturday morning where I'll be doing "A decade on the dancefloor" - just hope I can locate my records! I think they're in my parents' attic.
There is a sort of plan for when I move back. I want to write a novel so I've decided to spend the next year on that, working part-time so I've got time to research and write. At the moment, I'm trying to organise trips to Karachi, Dallas and Toronto so I can start the research process. More details on the novel in another post (I always promise to come back and write about things but I never do. However, this is one thing that I will be writing about!). I'm doing a creative writing course from the 20th April so all the travelling needs to be fitted in before then.
More on all of this later, now I've got to go and have an island lunch with a friend. The good-byes have started.....
I'm 2 weeks away from moving back to London and feeling pretty excited about it! People here keep asking how I feel about moving back and yes, I'm excited! I'm looking forward to getting back and the start of the next adventure. It's my birthday weekend as soon as I get back so I've 3 days of running around seeing friends, celebrating my birthday and also doing a radio show on the Saturday morning where I'll be doing "A decade on the dancefloor" - just hope I can locate my records! I think they're in my parents' attic.
There is a sort of plan for when I move back. I want to write a novel so I've decided to spend the next year on that, working part-time so I've got time to research and write. At the moment, I'm trying to organise trips to Karachi, Dallas and Toronto so I can start the research process. More details on the novel in another post (I always promise to come back and write about things but I never do. However, this is one thing that I will be writing about!). I'm doing a creative writing course from the 20th April so all the travelling needs to be fitted in before then.
More on all of this later, now I've got to go and have an island lunch with a friend. The good-byes have started.....
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
A lot's happened...
I glanced over my last two posts and realised that I'd started both with "a lot's happened" and then I'd add in a framework of time. Although it was an accident to begin both this way, it pretty much sums up Ibiza - a lot seems to happen in a very short space of time. Things can go from one extreme to another in a matter of days, hours even. I wonder if this has something to do with the microclimate enjoyed by the island - a blistering hot day can turn into torrential downpours in the blink of an eye. My friends Ruby and Jenna have just been over to the island for a short visit. I last saw them three weeks ago when we all met for lunch in London. As we caught up on our respective three weeks, once again there was that realisation that we'd all lived about three months in three weeks, not one of us had a start to the year that could be described as "normal" - whatever normal may be.....
Yesterday as I read over my post from two weeks ago, there was that happy sensation that things had changed so much since that time. It had been written literally as soon as I'd had the weird conversation with A where he'd told me that there was no more work after the end of the week. It had been a pretty horrible atmosphere and after that conversation, I actually felt sick but had to carry on with my work as there was lots to do. I decided to move out of the villa as soon as possible as it would have been strange to carry on staying there once work had finished. I had nowhere to go but knew that things would work out as they were meant to work out. Towards the end of the week, things started to improve in terms of the atmosphere at work. The thing that really seemed to help is that since coming back from London, I'd been working alongside Y and she has a far calmer energy than A. We sat side by side and ploughed through stacks of work on the different websites. With A, one minute I'd be doing one thing, the next minute something else. There was lots of talk about the different things he wanted me to do but never the time to explain things so I could take over properly. Working with Y, I kept my head down and just got on with things.
On the Thursday, A told me he wasn't going to charge me for staying at the villa but by then, my friends George and Will had come to the rescue and helped me out. And to be honest, I thought it would probably be better if I went and stayed somewhere else for the last bit of my time in Ibiza. I know it's a hassle having to move again but I've come to the conclusion that Cala Carbo is like the Bermuda triangle, it's very easy to get sucked in and never leave again! The place is opposite Es Vedra, the third most magnetic place in the world. Es Vedra is like a huge majestic sculpture that looms out of the sea and it's true, you can feel the energy when you're in front of it. But to live right opposite it (as I was in the villa) can be too much energy that draws you in. I thought it better to escape while I could!
The next night, as I was rushing to finish my work and go and look at the beach house I was going to move into, A had an impromptu chat with me. It wasn't what I was expecting at all but I'm so glad we had that talk. Basically we had an honest, frank conversation about me leaving. We could both explain our positions from a calm, rational place and understand things from the other person's perspective - it was a proper grown-up conversation. At the end, we both said "I'm so glad we've had that conversation" as neither of us wanted things to end badly but I was prepared to make the break once I left as I really didn't think they wanted any more to do with me. From the place I'd been in a few days earlier, I never thought for a minute that the week would end the way it did, in a wonderful amazing manner! Now I know that I'll be leaving A and Y as friends and I will continue to be a part of their lives, as they will mine and this to me means an immense amount. The other thing was that when we discussed my trip to Marrakech and the long report I wrote, I didn't think anything I had written would be given much consideration. A told me that he was going to implement everything I had mentioned (apart from one point where we agreed to disagree) and this was another fantastic result as I didn't think I had made any difference. Now it seems that perhaps I did!
Yesterday as I read over my post from two weeks ago, there was that happy sensation that things had changed so much since that time. It had been written literally as soon as I'd had the weird conversation with A where he'd told me that there was no more work after the end of the week. It had been a pretty horrible atmosphere and after that conversation, I actually felt sick but had to carry on with my work as there was lots to do. I decided to move out of the villa as soon as possible as it would have been strange to carry on staying there once work had finished. I had nowhere to go but knew that things would work out as they were meant to work out. Towards the end of the week, things started to improve in terms of the atmosphere at work. The thing that really seemed to help is that since coming back from London, I'd been working alongside Y and she has a far calmer energy than A. We sat side by side and ploughed through stacks of work on the different websites. With A, one minute I'd be doing one thing, the next minute something else. There was lots of talk about the different things he wanted me to do but never the time to explain things so I could take over properly. Working with Y, I kept my head down and just got on with things.
On the Thursday, A told me he wasn't going to charge me for staying at the villa but by then, my friends George and Will had come to the rescue and helped me out. And to be honest, I thought it would probably be better if I went and stayed somewhere else for the last bit of my time in Ibiza. I know it's a hassle having to move again but I've come to the conclusion that Cala Carbo is like the Bermuda triangle, it's very easy to get sucked in and never leave again! The place is opposite Es Vedra, the third most magnetic place in the world. Es Vedra is like a huge majestic sculpture that looms out of the sea and it's true, you can feel the energy when you're in front of it. But to live right opposite it (as I was in the villa) can be too much energy that draws you in. I thought it better to escape while I could!
The next night, as I was rushing to finish my work and go and look at the beach house I was going to move into, A had an impromptu chat with me. It wasn't what I was expecting at all but I'm so glad we had that talk. Basically we had an honest, frank conversation about me leaving. We could both explain our positions from a calm, rational place and understand things from the other person's perspective - it was a proper grown-up conversation. At the end, we both said "I'm so glad we've had that conversation" as neither of us wanted things to end badly but I was prepared to make the break once I left as I really didn't think they wanted any more to do with me. From the place I'd been in a few days earlier, I never thought for a minute that the week would end the way it did, in a wonderful amazing manner! Now I know that I'll be leaving A and Y as friends and I will continue to be a part of their lives, as they will mine and this to me means an immense amount. The other thing was that when we discussed my trip to Marrakech and the long report I wrote, I didn't think anything I had written would be given much consideration. A told me that he was going to implement everything I had mentioned (apart from one point where we agreed to disagree) and this was another fantastic result as I didn't think I had made any difference. Now it seems that perhaps I did!
Very quickly
A lot's happened since my last post two weeks ago. I've moved into a lovely little beach house just by Cala Jondal and stopped working although there is still lots for me to do so I keep going back. Two weeks ago, I felt absolutely awful but that soon passed, things got a lot better and now things are great. I'm excited about the rest of my time in Ibiza, going round the island and spending time with people. I'm also really excited about going back to London. Things feel like they're falling into place, I know what I want to do when I go back. I had a bit of a realisation last week about why I came out here in the first place. There's lots to write about and I don't have time at the moment but I will come back in the next day or two and fill in the last two weeks.....
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
Oh dear......
A lot's happened since my post last week. I had the conversation with A that I was moving back to London at the end of February and I thought it had gone okay. But later that day, he said two things to me. First he'd like me to pay to stay at the villa and also he didn't know if he had enough work for me to keep me busy in February. I was welcome to stay at the villa til the end of February.
He said he wanted to have another meeting to make a plan about what work I could do until the end of January. We've just had that meeting and I was told there was no more work for me after this week. This is actually great as the atmosphere at work has been pretty dire recently and as I drove back to work after Spanish this morning, as I got closer I found myself thinking "I don't want to go there, it feels so horrible....". Also the island is looking absolutely gorgeous at the moment and I was actually looking forward to having a month off to actually enjoy the place. Now I can have an extra two weeks to enjoy the place! This aside, I still felt a bit sick after we had the conversation but at least I know it's temporary and it's already started to disappear....
Although I can stay at the villa until the end of February, I've decided to move out this weekend. As of yet I don't have anywhere to go but I know something will turn up. Staying at the villa would just feel weird and I'm not comfortable with it. So once again, I'm going to be on the move. I didn't actually unpack anything after I moved all my stuff out of the flat last week so all I really have to do is stick things in the van and drive them to wherever will be my final home (for the next six weeks!). And then it's back to London. My little Ibiza adventure is nearly over. For the time being......
He said he wanted to have another meeting to make a plan about what work I could do until the end of January. We've just had that meeting and I was told there was no more work for me after this week. This is actually great as the atmosphere at work has been pretty dire recently and as I drove back to work after Spanish this morning, as I got closer I found myself thinking "I don't want to go there, it feels so horrible....". Also the island is looking absolutely gorgeous at the moment and I was actually looking forward to having a month off to actually enjoy the place. Now I can have an extra two weeks to enjoy the place! This aside, I still felt a bit sick after we had the conversation but at least I know it's temporary and it's already started to disappear....
Although I can stay at the villa until the end of February, I've decided to move out this weekend. As of yet I don't have anywhere to go but I know something will turn up. Staying at the villa would just feel weird and I'm not comfortable with it. So once again, I'm going to be on the move. I didn't actually unpack anything after I moved all my stuff out of the flat last week so all I really have to do is stick things in the van and drive them to wherever will be my final home (for the next six weeks!). And then it's back to London. My little Ibiza adventure is nearly over. For the time being......
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