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I just had another visit from the homesickness fairy. She's been zooming past occasionally, but all she did was flutter her wings at me before sodding off again. I was not really bothered by this. She apparently was not amused, because this morning she came back and brought heavy equipment. Fortunately I managed to step aside, and all she got was a glancing blow and all was made well again by applications of tea and hugs.
Tonight she waited until I was distracted and the sources of hugs had buggered off to bed so she could try again. Guess what? She was successful.
That part of me that is rooted in Groningen wants to go home now, please. It doesn't want to try this and thinks it's a stupid idea to have come here. It wants to hear Dutch again, and to see familiar things and be able to see for miles and miles without all those silly hills getting in the way. Why the hell did we ever leave? We were doing just fine over there. Whose bloody stupid idea was this anyway? No-one asked me. We just upped and went because someone thought we might be happy somewhere else. Well, not if I can bloody well help it. I shall sulk now and make the rest of us utterly miserable. Idiot
To which the rest of me goes: "Hmm? Sorry, we were distracted by shiny things. Oh look, naked Hugo Weaving. *dribble*"
Which leaves that part of me that loves it here and it really, really makes to want a go of all this and is pretty certain I can be happy here if someone would just give it a bloody chance, are you listening to me? I mean, go forbid one of us has hopes and dreams and wants to act on them. We're all supposed to be in this together, remember? I didn't here any complaints when this was first suggested, so it's a bit late to start now. So if someone doesn't stop bitching and moaning I'm damn well turning this bloody car around and we just won't go to Disneyland! Am I being clear? Thank you.(1)
My brain is a weird place.
I shall go back to dancing. At least that's something all my bits agree upon. Dancing fun. (Yes, I know, so's that. But we're not going to. No, we're not doing that either. Okay, no. No, we're most certainly not going to do that. No. Nor that. Nor tha...erm...let me get back to you on that. Put it away for now.)
(1) Oh dear Christ, I'm turning into to my mum. Though she never took us to Disneyland.
Tonight she waited until I was distracted and the sources of hugs had buggered off to bed so she could try again. Guess what? She was successful.
That part of me that is rooted in Groningen wants to go home now, please. It doesn't want to try this and thinks it's a stupid idea to have come here. It wants to hear Dutch again, and to see familiar things and be able to see for miles and miles without all those silly hills getting in the way. Why the hell did we ever leave? We were doing just fine over there. Whose bloody stupid idea was this anyway? No-one asked me. We just upped and went because someone thought we might be happy somewhere else. Well, not if I can bloody well help it. I shall sulk now and make the rest of us utterly miserable. Idiot
To which the rest of me goes: "Hmm? Sorry, we were distracted by shiny things. Oh look, naked Hugo Weaving. *dribble*"
Which leaves that part of me that loves it here and it really, really makes to want a go of all this and is pretty certain I can be happy here if someone would just give it a bloody chance, are you listening to me? I mean, go forbid one of us has hopes and dreams and wants to act on them. We're all supposed to be in this together, remember? I didn't here any complaints when this was first suggested, so it's a bit late to start now. So if someone doesn't stop bitching and moaning I'm damn well turning this bloody car around and we just won't go to Disneyland! Am I being clear? Thank you.(1)
My brain is a weird place.
I shall go back to dancing. At least that's something all my bits agree upon. Dancing fun. (Yes, I know, so's that. But we're not going to. No, we're not doing that either. Okay, no. No, we're most certainly not going to do that. No. Nor that. Nor tha...erm...let me get back to you on that. Put it away for now.)
(1) Oh dear Christ, I'm turning into to my mum. Though she never took us to Disneyland.
