Bzzz

Mi mey moo

That’s what I’m doing at the moment…

Singing practice.

I’ve found some great cds and a supportive teacher.

I’m practicing every day.

We’ve done some live jam sessions with our bossa nova duo and tomorrow we’re going to try out a bassist to see how we gel. Fingers crossed…

I want to start gigging again soon…

But ironing out the imperfections and extending my range and confidence is what it’s about at the moment …

Dreams of Jazz festivals and bars are what keeps me happy .

I’m reading the most inspiring book called ‘Soul Mining’…

Found some free vocal classes so now that I’m feeling better I can start those too…

La la la

ZZZzzzz

Mi mey moo  

Onwards and upwards!!! 

WATCH THIS SPACE… 

I flung my body

Like bread to the ducks

Stale biscuit sweet

Hard.

Cruelly misbaked

to the wrong Baker.

Pecked at my dolly sized pieces -

‘Keep still’

Pretend not to feel the pain.

Repeat: ‘I am still bread’ ‘I am not dead’

But deep inside

I felt the snaps

of beaks,

the disillusion of

winged hopes

flying me to new promised lands.

As I float

I tremor at

What lies beneath

the depth of the muddy pond water.

I want plastic surgery dough-reversal

To re-roll my life with a rolling pin.

But this time

make sure I’m extra long-life,

sliced in equal measure.

That I go to a family who loves me like Hovis

Don’t leave me in the bread-bin

to fester blue-green.

No cruel intentions.

Loyal man will pack me

in his

lunchbox

Everyday

No wrapping me around his kebab meat

caressing me

wolfing me down drunk

next morning

puke me up

deny he ever ate me to his

WIFE.

Next yield

I will be wholegrain,

the healthiest golden,

colour.

Not this cracking poppadom.

Crusts of pain

Mouldy shame.

Even the seagulls won’t eat me.

‘The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is boundless.’ Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Keep dreaming…

Where am I? What am I doing here?

Im booking my flight home today. But Ill have to come back to move some of my widely dispersed baggage dotted around the country!! Damn – Lesson 101 – O.R.G.A.N.I.Z.A.T.I.O.N.

I wish moving could be like switching out a light, walking into a new room, and switching on a new one. Hmm… maybe I should think of it like that. La la la – this is easy peasy lemon squeezy.

The policeman was really nice though. I didnt recognise him at first (oops!) He said that another one of my teachers had come to talk to him today. I’m kind of hoping just because she was concerned after Thursday’s pesterings and not because weird boy had turned up again today. I wasn’t there so I wouldn’t know. I don’t want to know. I have no desire to go back there – swimming with the sharks.

Anyway he re-iterated: contact him if needs be. Then he let me borrow his hand flippers. I am still re-learning to do front crawl. Apparently my bum is too far under water and I am limp with my hands – I dont push the water back enough. I also lift my head far too far out of the water and I should take a breath every 4 strokes not every other. I tried all these new techniques. Which felt a bit like drowning! I realise I give up quite easily through fear of not being able to breathe. I am ok for half a length, then I get to the middle and it feels as though I am swallowing half the pool or my lungs are collapsing! Then the policeman told me to put my goggles on and look in-between his legs! I blushed but obeyed. He had placed a float between his thighs and said I needed to squeeze it there and swim normally – that way I could keep my bum afloat. I did. (It felt kinda weird looking at his crotch though – I mean, he’s a policeman forgodsake…can you imagine a policeman in England giving you swimming lessons and telling you to look between at his inner-thighs!!!!!)

So he tapped me to say goodbye.

I don’t know why I feel funny about it.

I guess I just don’t know who to trust here anymore.

So… Lets kick off with ‘FRIDAY 13TH’:

Out with the Estonians. They take me to their fave haunt – where they’re ‘in’ with the barmen.

Its pretty deserted, as all the Italians still seem to be ’a casa’ or ’al mare’ and the Uni crowd havent made it back into town yet. K and I decide to go T-total, so that makes two out of four of us level headed and on stand-by alert for suspicious male intruders…

Its so refreshing that Estonian and British humour harmonize – we laugh our little heads off, I feel drunk on my Sprite (cheap date!!) 

Next stop: Eden. Off we go… I’m making H laugh doing a silly walk down the street and we’re all high as kites. But… It seems our harmless humour is too BIG for this town and doesn’t go un-noticed. Some Arab looking guys are coming towards us from the other direction. They try to join in on  the joke. Why cant they just f-ing leave us in peace! We storm off and dont even bat an eye-lid. Then the girls lead me down this deserted looking street. I’m like ‘Is this safe guys?’ (I hate to be grandmaand have never once considered saying this in all my 20 years in London taaaaan but… now…well… my instincts appear to be right!) Girls are like: ‘Course its safe, don’t worry.’ I’m not so sure… give a quick glance behind and… as I suspected, the Arab guys are on our tail following us. There is literally no-one else on this narrow, dark, cobbled street. ‘Oh god, they’re behind us’ I whisper. We pick up pace and so do they! One of them starts shouting ’Blondie, blondie’…’Oi’. We don’t look round, just keep marching. But he starts to run up behind us. ’What shall we do?’ I say, getting out my pepper spray. ’Just walk’ The girls command. In the meantime he’s caught us up and is like a starving mangy dog barking these perverse things right in my face. He places himself right in front of me and is like ‘Blondie, where you from, blondie’… We don’t talk. He gets too close for comfort. Thank god, I spot two blokes up ahead. I swerve to the right, and some primal instinct gives me the idea to shout ‘Hey, how are you, what bar are we going to?’ to them up ahead. My eyes are popping out of my head pleading in desperation. Thank god twice over - the guy brilliantly intuites my desperate, yet subtle cry for help and they shout back ‘Hey, we’re fine. And you? Where shall we go tonight?’… The two vermin scarper. RATS. We stop next to our two Angelic saviours and I literally want to crumble into their arms for safety. The one that acted out the little impro-scene with me is rather dashing. I thank him profusely and he says ‘think nothing of it’ and just warns us to be careful etc…

So I saved the day. And my girls are dead proud of me. But I don’t feel much like a superwoman. More like - at the end of my tether. Worn out from running. Worn out from fear. Worn out of living in a police drama/ horror/ thriller/ on the edge of your seat movie!!!!!

To be continued…

Grrrr… run out of coffee… grrrr… aaaaaaarrrrrr haul myself up the hill through gritted teeth.

Get out my change for the woman with the cup but its her ‘day-off’!

Am a bit jumpy as I swerve round the curve to the uni Palazzo… ‘What if freaky stalker is there?’

Fear is such a funny sensation: your senses just go haywire, your skin feels like its got 100000 pins sticking in it and everything becomes REALLY LOUD shhhhhh, you suddenly feel like you’re in a scary movie – you zoom in and out of focus with the camera lense.

As I walk up to the golden lift doors I see myself and an open class-room door in the reflection behind me. ‘Please let the lift be full. Please please please.’ I beg ‘Please let it arrive before anyone jumps out of the classroom.’

First class whizzes by and its already time to go meet my teacher and the policeman. Sounds like a Postman Pat story!

As I havent seen scary boy for a couple of days (most likely because I havent been to Uni) I feel a lot calmer about the situ. Maybe he’s disappeared. Maybe I should just chalk it up to experience.

My teacher insists I speak to the policeman, at least to get some advice on how to approach the matter - should I bump into him again.

We arrange to meet at 11, so I go back to class and count down the minutes.

I have a quick Sex and the City catch up with my Estonian girlfriends: a Columbian guy whom one of them kissed turns out to be Bi-sessuale! A Mexican guy whom the other one has been seeing turns out to be a player and kissed another girl in front of her (cheeky!) …

They ask me how it went with the Prof. All good I say ‘Im meeting with the police after, just to get some advice’…

Here comes the nasty bit: Yesterday, when I was absent, a guy of the same descriptionas Scary Boy came to the doorway of our classroom twice. He poked his head round and was staring in the direction of my girlfriends. He hung around outside for a bit. Then my teacher asked him what he wanted. ‘I must come in he said’ and took another look around. Then my girlfriends went to a Uni party and the same guy was there staring at them as if looking for something… Me? … God I hope not. I hope it was just a strange coincidence. It made my blood run cold.

I meet with the policeman and tell him my account. I tell him the guy hadnt actually ‘done’ anything apart from pester me, but I wanted to warn the police as it felt really creepy. Its not as if other guys havent tried it on in this hot-blooded country, but this was different… He shows me how to use my pepper spray. Tells me not to drink too much this weekend (note to self) and make sure Im always with people. He says he thinks I will bump into the guy again and if/when I do I have to tell him clearly and coldly ’Leave me alone. You scare me. Ive already spoken to the police here and if you dont stopestering me I will call the police’. This scares me. A lot. Im not the type that enjoys confrontation. I would rather it just all go away. FFFFFFFFFFFfffffffffff maybe if I huff and I puff he will whhhoooossshhh away. But I know that this is what has to be done. The policeman keeps pointing out to a group of 4 lads, saying: ‘Is it those guys, they are Libyians’. It isnt. But they keep walking past us suspiciously and the more I think about it I wonder if they are friends with him (no thats absurd!!) Then … The policeman thinks he’s spotted a guy of his description passing… We chase after him, my legs trembling, my whole body feeling weak, I think Im going to faint…Phew… It isnt him. Although it might have been better if he had seen me with the policeman.

He introduces me to the Uni police officers. They are very understanding and say if I bump into him again, and if he pesters me, come straight to them and report him.

The last thing the policeman does is give me his number. If there are any problems I can call him 24-7…Lets pray I dont have to use it.

Hot and cold 

At the pool

Bit worried about going back, as a certain bagnino tried it on and I said ‘No’!

Called up my Syrian friend, who was game for a bit of splashing in the sun

He said ‘You sure it’s not closed?’

I said ‘No. I’got friends in the know’! Tutt!

Walking up the pool path - bagnino’s friend says ‘Pool is closed’

Ooops ‘my bad!’ !

Off to a watering hole across town…

Take the mini-metro / ghost train ride…

Laugh

Laugh

Giggle

Giggle

Pool is in the middle of no-where – ‘laugh, laugh’ at the situ. in the back of beyond!

Icy water

Ice-cream

Ice-tea

Talks about Syria, Italia, work, life…

Relaxed, games, fun…

Walk in the park

Laugh

Laugh

Giggle

Giggle

… ‘Come out tonight’

… ‘I can’t’ I say

… Phone call: from my friend who’s just broken up with her boyfriend and is in a messy situ. She’s living with him. Two months back there was a gang of us, we hung out, they used to walk me home, we’d laugh the nights away… They fought a little but I guess anyone would living in one room, eating, sleeping, breathing, thinking together.

‘What’s up?’ I say…

‘Where are you? She says in worried tones.

…’What’s up?’ I repeat

‘What did you say to Mr Syria coz Mr Turkey has just called me and asked me what I said to Befanina about us…’….

Brain scrambles…

Now, I did talk to Mr Syria about it. But not to gossip. Its hard notto mention a break-up between your two best friends! So, when Mr Syria told me that they hadn’t broken-up I was a little dumbstruck. I told him I thought they had. Full stop. We both politely agreed that we hope they get back together again.

SO GOD KNOWS know what Mr Syria has gone and said to Mr Turkey to make him fly off the handle at Mrs Turkey and there’s me stuck right in the middle of it like a sausage-in-blanket at Christmas!

I told Mrs Turkey I really had spoken about nothing apart from the bare facts: ‘that we hope you both get back together, its sad etc…’

Meeting Mrs Turkey tomorrow for coffee… Will help patch it up. But I have a feeling Mr Turkey will roast Mrs Turkey in the oven tonight in a flaming row. I hope she’s ok…

She’s a cool little Turkey; they were supposed to be jetting off on holiday (twice) this summer.

Holiday number 1) he dumped her on the train there!

Holiday number 2) tomorrow: Ibiza. She’s a tough cookie and has decided to go on her own. I hope she parties like there’s no tomorrow. I hope she gets lovely and brown and dances with everybody under the sun. I hope she feels happy and alive. I just hope she can go back to living her life how she wants to. She is really a person with so much positive energy and I hate to see her upset or quashed by negativity.

And most of all I hope he wakes up, chases after her and apologises and they ride off into the sunset… Go on – Mr Turkey – do the Prince Charming thang! Life is too short!