The time of my departure draws ever nearer and I’m in two minds as to what to do with this place when I go.

Part of me would like to open it up to the world, update it, use it as a method of letting people know what I’m up to. The other part of me quite likes the privacy I’ve built up here. The fact that only a handful of my readers (ok, ok, I know, I’ve only got a handful to start with!) know who I am and know the people I’m talking about.

It’s a decision for another time.

Until then, please accept my apologies for non-posting. Things are so manic at the moment that I need to get on with things, refresh my mind, refresh my writing and start all over again.

Next time we speak, I’ll be here.

I know you, like me, have been shocked and horrified by the recent events in the previously relatively unknown (at least to me) Haiti.

I have sat in the car, crying at radio reports. I have watched the news, not quite being able to comprehend the immensity of the situation.

It’s easy to feel useless. To think, I’m thousands of miles away. What can I do?

Luckily, a group of bloggers, led by the ever wonderful and amazing English Mum, have set up a JustGiving page for the Haiti disaster.  So far, they’ve raised over £3,000.

What’s the money going to? No, not her personal wine collection (I asked, she’s kosher, promise) but these amazing ShelterBoxes.  They cost around £500.  

ShelterBox is such a unique organisation, because what they provide is an entire rescue kit in a box.  Each box contains:

• A ten-person tent with privacy partitions that allow its occupants to divide the space as they see fit
• A range of other survival equipment including thermal blankets and insulated ground sheets, essential in areas where temperatures plummet at nightfall
• Life-saving means of water purification. Water supplies often become contaminated after a major disaster, as infrastructure and sanitation systems are destroyed, this presents a secondary but no less dangerous threat to survivors than the initial disaster itself.
• A basic tool kit containing a hammer, axe, saw, trenching shovel, hoe head, pliers and wire cutters.  These items enable people to improve their immediate environment, by chopping firewood or digging a latrine, for example. Then, when it is possible, to start repairing or rebuilding the home they were forced to leave.
• A wood burning or multi-fuel stove that can burn anything from diesel to old paint.  This provides the heart of the new home where water is boiled, food is cooked and families congregate. In addition, there are pans, utensils, bowls, mugs and water storage containers.
• Each box can be adapted to the individual needs of the disaster area, for example, following the Javanese earthquake in 2006, when some resources were available locally or could be salvaged from one storey buildings, the overwhelming need was for shelter – so ShelterBox just sent tents, packing two in each box.  The box itself is lightweight and waterproof and has been used for a variety of purposes in the past – from water and food storage containers to a cot for a newly born baby.
• And lastly, but I think just as importantly, each box contains a children’s pack containing drawing books, crayons and pens.  For children who have lost most, if not all, of their possessions, these small gifts are treasured.

So a small donation, then? 

http://www.justgiving.com/Bloggers-For-Haiti

Oh and if you’re a blogger, please join us in promoting Bloggers for Haiti.  You’ll be amongst some serious blogging legends!

(Please note that if you prefer, you can also donate to the DEC Haiti Earthquake appeal and UNICEF by clicking on these links.)

I’ve managed to guilt myself into writing something, anything down in this sad, neglected corner of cyberspace. Having come back from my holiday (which was fab, thanks) a relaxed, slightly pink tinged, generally chilled out woman, I’m now slowly submerging myself in work again. Except I’m not. Except I’m demob happy. I’m counting down the days, weeks, months until the next big adventure begins.

When will it be?
When will I move?
Where am I going to live?
Will I have a local café that I’ll spend lazy Saturday mornings in, watching the world go by or, more probably, will I think about going to a local café and watching the world go by but veto it and stay in bed instead?
How will I decorate the new place?
Will I go IKEA mad at the slightest chance?

The more I think about it, the more excited I am to leave. Which surprised me when I first came to that dawning realisation.

After all, I don’t hate my life. It’s pretty damn awesome. Or is it? Or have I got myself into a rut of comfort which I really need to leave? Isn’t it time I got out there, met new people and had a bit of adventure? Isn’t it time that I started enjoying the fact I’m free and single instead of constantly thinking that there’s nothing left for me?

When I was 17, being in my late 20s didn’t seem too bad. I mean, why would it? I was going to be married and happy by that point, right?

Now that my late 20s has hit, I feel like I’m past it. Friends around me get married and produce babies in quick succession. People change, priorities change and I haven’t.

Which is why this move will be good for me. It’s a chance for me to Ctrl-Alt-Del, start anew and see what life brings me.

No preconceptions, no goals, no expectations.  

No guilt about this trip.

I’m off on holidays.

Green pastures in foreign lands.

I’ll be back in the new year.

Have a good ‘un y’all.

xx

… that “real” friends of mine read this blog too (hello T).

And then, when I remember (as I did this weekend when I received a text enquiring after “the crush”) I turn a hideous shade of puce and a wash of shame sweeps over me. Especially as T, dear friend that he is, may well have been discussed previously on this blog.

So what now? Do I censor myself, just because of T? Or, do I, more likely, see this blog as an opportunity for T and I to carry on our friendship in an odd, one-sided manner, where he gets to hear all about my dull problems and I never get to hear his?

I’m all embarrassed now, don’t know what to write. And certainly don’t want to divulge the details of the very young man (well, 24) who ended up in my bed on Friday night.

…so I did. And I’m still stuck.

I still have no idea what to do.

It’s not a question of whether I will go or not. That’s decided. I’m going.

But for how long?

I’m not the scardey-cat type. I’m not one of those people who shy away from adventure. So why am I erring on the side of caution with this one? Why am I leaning towards and STA?

What’s stopping me just going out there and seeing how it goes? Why do I want this safety blanket of a year?

Today is research day. Let’s have a look online and see how much apartments are out there. Let’s do the figures. Will I be better off on an STA or as a local?

Yes, that’s one way of procrastinating and not actually making a decision.

If you follow me on twitter you may have already seen the news.

They offered me the job. In Switzerland.

Now I have the unenviable task of making a decision on what to do. I have three options.

1. Don’t go (not really an option since I want to go)

2. Go on a short term assignment – maximum placement: 1 year

3. Emigrate to Switzerland

Wow. What a decision. I don’t even know where to start.

Now, forgive me, I’m going to write a list.

Pros of STA (short term assignment)

• Accommodation paid for
• Flights back to the UK every 2 months or so
• All the experience, none of the commitment
• Job guaranteed on arrival back in UK

Cons of STA

• What if I love it out there?
• Will I be coming back to the same position and therefore be bored?
• Will it mean no other opportunities for travel?
• Easy option?

Pros of emigration

• Fresh start in a new country
• Opportunity for more travel and progression (job wise)
• The experience of travel and meeting new people

Cons of emigration

• What if I hate it out there?
• Will I find new friends?
• Will I miss my rugby too much?

That’s the starting list. Feel free to add more pros and cons please. You all know me well enough by now.

I am officially a cougar after snogging a 20 year old on Friday. I mean Jesus – I’m far too old. What surprised me is what a good snog he was. Worthy of a rematch should I ever meet him again. I’m sure the boys I snogged when I was twenty were all pretty rubbish. Too much tongue and washing machine tendancies. Shame I can’t remember what “Tom the twenty year old” looked like.

The Crush has informed me that once he comes back from Afghanistan, he’s making his way to Miami to teach Americans to play with helicopters. Probably. Oh, and he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. If ever.

I went for a job interview. The job’s in Switzerland. I still haven’t found out whether I’ve got it or not. Part of me really wants to go. It’ll be fun to be abroad, new country, new people, new experiences. The other half of me is so comfortable in my little world that I can’t quite bear to wrench myself out of it. Deep down, however, I know that if the job’s offered, I’ll take it. We’ll see.

Only 16 days until I fly out to see the parents. Just think, 3 weeks of sunshine. I’m fake tanning in preparation.

N has moved out of London.

I’m still broken. I can’t remember if I mentioned it but I got broken playing rugby a couple of months ago. A trip to the doctors on Thursday confirms I’m still broken (as if I didn’t already know that) and there’ll be no more rugby this year. The frustration is not becoming.

I realised the other day that it’s been *whisper* 7 months since I last… ahem… [it's a family show]. Yes, I know. 7 months. I also realised that telling men you’re really not into one night stands (which I’m not) is a sure fire way of them trying to persuade you that they’re the one and if you have a one night stand with them it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever done. Yeah, alright boys.

I am amused that it turns out I tell “my boys” out in Afghan more than I tell my friends sometimes. The girlfriend of one of the chaps I write to came round on Saturday (for a Strictly, X Factor, wine night) and she turned to me suddenly and said “what’s this about Switzerland?”. I’d told her fella and hadn’t bothered to mention it to her.

There’s an item on Jeremy Vine this afternoon about cyber bullying. It reminds me of when I was 16. The internet was new. Very new. Someone set up a site about me. Can’t remember why or when or what. I do remember crying though. What an odd memory.

 
  The Soldier
 
IF I should die, think only this of me;  
  That there’s some corner of a foreign field  
That is for ever England. There shall be  
  In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;  
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,     
  Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,  
A body of England’s breathing English air,  
  Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.  
  
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,  
  A pulse in the eternal mind, no less  
    Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;  
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;  
  And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,  
    In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.  

Rupert Brooke. 1887–1915

Unlike the Barenaked Ladies I probably wouldn’t buy a green dress. Or a monkey for that matter.

With the recession biting, Christmas on the horizon and all the talk on the news today about the Euromillions winners, people up and down the country will, no doubt, be thinking about what they would buy if they ever won the lottery.

I am one of those dreamers. One of those “ooo, what would I do if…” people who dream and yet never bother to take that first step. The buying of the ticket.

However, putting that aside, humour me while I make a list of “things I would do if I had £1,000,000″.

1. Pay off personal debt including student loan, overdraft and credit card.

2. Pay off parent’s mortgage to provide security into old age

3. Purchase 2 bedroomed house somewhere lovely. No more that £400,000 to be spent. Rent out until such a time I can move to the countryside – use rent to cover personal rent in London.

4. Donate £100,000 to my local rugby club so we can build the bloody extension

5. £150,000 into high interest savings account for children’s schooling

6. £10,000 spending spree

7. £100,000 charity donations.

8. £20,000 x 3 into high interest bank accounts to gift to various friend’s children on their 18th birthday (for use, of course, on something completely worthwhile. Like a car. Or a gap year. Or er… university)

Wow, that was easier that I thought. A little scary that I can spent £1,000,000 in the space of 10 minutes!

What would you do?