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 disallusion 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 love me like Hovis

Dont leave me in the breadbin

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.

Keep dreaming…

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

Keep dreaming…

“Raindrops and roses and whiskers on kittens…tra la la la la la la la la la la

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels, 
door bells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles.
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings.
these are a few of my favorite things”

Here’s a list of my favourite things today:

A surprise phonecall from my dear friend Q.B. all the way from America: reminiscing over our festival fun & frolics and catching up on the transatlantic goss. He will always have a special place in my heart, they all will. I told him I was dreaming of America, he said ‘Make it happen’.    

(the strange thing about it is that I had a really vivid dream about Q.B. the other night. The weirdest part is that we are just friends, so its not as if I think about him much… but in this fancy we were madly in love… I woke up feeling all calm and serene. The next day I passed by the festival office to pick up my pay for the project I collaborated with Q.B. on almost two months ago…. the next day he called completely out of the blue!!!)

An evening spent over dinner and drinks with a group of couples and friends. I love being taken to dinner as ‘the other half’. It makes it much less scary meeting people for the first time. Its lovely being plopped into a group of long-time friends and seeing how they all fit together like a funny shaped jigsaw puzzle. Looking back through old photos of them. Putting together the pieces – filling in the gaps. Its charming being driven to dinner and asked if I am Mr Stiff Leg’sgirlfriend (I call him stiff legs as he is quite muscley and has a bit of a stiff walk – eeew he is sooo Henry VIII and I am Katherine Howard – let’s just hope he doesn’t have gout in those old boys!!). I don’t know if I would want to be his girlfriend but I like the feeling of being a girlfriend again. Its weird – before I went on holiday I felt completely suffocated by this guy but against the backdrop of friends he is so much more attractive!!

Being protected. I told Mr Stiff Leg’s about Stalker boy. He was kind of peeved that I hadn’t mentioned it til now. But – that is sooooooo not my style. I have to be on my last legs before I ask for help: Emmeline Pankhurst eat your heart out. Anyway, he introduced me to his friends in the army and they told me they will annihilate him if he comes anywhere near me again. I’m not a fan of violence and would only want him to scare him away, if anything. But it made me feel warm and fuzzy having a man wanting to protect you!! ‘Me Tarzan You Jane’!! I am a contradiction!

The sun. Um… I am not as bad as the Italians. I just don’t know how they do it. Lying there like spit-roasts. They look beautiful but pphhheww! what a fatica. I can only tot about an hour a day… That’s a lie, I can only do an hour a day by myself because I have the attention span and patience of a flea. When in company I can fry myself just as well as they do.

Oooo I love the fact that someone asked me if I was Italian the other day. When I said ’half’, she said she could tell because of my skin tone. I’m not sure if I had Fake-baked that day – but what the heck – it made me feel $100000. Fried freckle face = happy

Another surprise phonecall (Miss Popular) from another dear friend saying she can come on holiday. Eeee its all booked. She’s so laid back she’s practically lying down. So she’ll be great to travel with. Last time we went on hols together we were two-to-a-bicycle (I still have the bruises to prove it) so Im sure we’ll have a crack in Sicily. And with my nutty little bro and his even whackier friend…we’ll have a laugh!

Estonia – I can’t wait to visit. Estonians - I love them!!!

Yoga – for keeping me sane in Italy.

English speaking friends in Italy (as above!!)

Swimming lessons with a float between my thighs – watch out sharks I’m getting good!

Wine, Salad, Port, tomatoes, punch, mais, jack daniels and sprite, carrots: a nice healthy balance right?

Americans and English people – Im really very proud of us!!!

And most of all – only 3 more days to go til my ‘prison break’ wahhooooo!!!

Swimming lessons with Policeman plod?!!!!… I am living in one of those vivid dreams where nothing makes sense anymore. Cults, Stalkers, Bi-sexual ex boyfriends of friends who try to use you as a filter to vent their anger and wind up your friend right in their face.

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.

I kind of hoped there wouldn’t be a sequel to my ‘Scary Movie’. But it seems to be turning into a series. I think I might have a word with the producers or the Big Boss Man and have it pulled off the air for scaring small children! I much prefer a Walt Disney flick or at least something with a PG certificate. Horror movies are sooooo over-rated!

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…

I decided to bite the bullet and go to first class at Uni this morn, which makes a change!!

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.

Last days of summer

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!

My cugino is truly an angel. But an expensive one!!!

He invited me to Puglia a couple of weeks ago but it clashed with when I was heading back to London. So, he told me ’Sweetie just change your flights. Come spend the week with us!’ (I swear we live in two different stratospheres) 

So now he’s invited me to the Venice film festival…. Which is like better than a box of chocolates! … Lets see what I can do ‘mi informo poi ti faccio sapere’ is the best answer to give in these situations. Even though I want to say YYYYYYYYYEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS!

This morning me = sleepy baby panda

Aimed to go to first class, I really did. But… well… didn’t!

The walk up the hill was colourful. Mostly greens and yellows. I made sure I was very ‘present’ and it turned into a very interesting game.

Everyday I pass a lady on the stairs that asks for spare change. I don’t like to label her a beggar-woman because she could be anyone for all I know. She could have a whole other secret life – maybe she’s a detective in disguise, or a fortune teller making some extra cash. Who knows? Anyway, she isn’t persistent, just sits there and smiles holding out her cup. It started off as an occasional friendly gesture; I would give her 20 cents, she’d say thanks. But it became less frequent of late, and yesterday I noticed myself storming past with my mardy face on and then regretting it for the rest of the hike. But you see its not as if I can stop mid-hill, Its so steep that if you put on the breaks or even slow down a wee bit you get vertigo and might well topple back down again (is there a nursery rhyme about that ‘Jack & Jill’?) and you need to keep up the steady momentum to drive yourself up the hill for 25 mins. I also walk skipping out every other step to get a good leg stretch! hahaha I am starting to sound like a trainspotter - but ‘ci può sta’ after the rest of my black comedy life!! So today in my colourful green and yellow mood I decided to get my change out waaaaayyyy before I got to Madam, and as I approached her little spot I was remarkably glad to find her there (you see sometimes she takes the day off). On receiving my little gesture of change she looked up at me and beamed the biggest smile. It really did feel like such a fun game – if you know what I mean :-S Her smile was infectious and I felt my face crack into one too and for the rest of the flight of stairs I couldn’t wipe it off. The market men who usually see me strut by as ‘The Terminator’ must have thought I was on drugs! But I didnt care. I hope she bought herself a strawberry and cream lollipop (my fave) with the 20 cents, although they may cost 30 cents, so I might have to give her 10 tomorrow to top-her-up.

Next stop: coffee in the sun with the Estonians. We laughed our silly heads off with our 24 hour gossip update, they’re also great as they fill me in on what I missed in class and it sounds much more interesting than actually attending class!! We went on to have a serious chat about stalker man… They are giving me their pepper spray and wont let me walk home alone. I know it sounds dramatic ‘drama drama dram’ but once you’ve said NO to someone for the 50thtime and they still wont accept, it makes you wonder what’s going on in that little head of theirs (Correction: I really DO NOT want to know!) … Even with the girls I felt really nervy around Uni, it was/is a bit like being in a horror movie, my senses have all sharpened 10 fold, I look over my shoulder a lot more than usual and I almost gave some poor bloke a heart-attack as I jumped out of my skin bumping into him around the corner! It isnt a nice feeling.

So, I have a reallllllllyyy nice tutor in one of my classes. I decided to talk. At first, I skirted around the subject ‘If you’ve got a problem etc… who can I go to’… Anyway, it all came out in the end (as it always seems to do!). 

I think the fact that I’m English and the same age as a certain English girl who was murdered in the same Uni, everyone is on super-alert. So, he took me really seriously and called a friend of a friend in the police. I don’twant to jump the gun, so I might just speak to them to warn them that this guy is giving me grief, but leave it at that. He could get nasty if he finds out Ive gone to such drastic measures, but its best to act first. Its best not to take the risk. I walk everywhere alone and will have to stop doing so…. WHICH PISSES me off. I never imagined becoming a feminist but this country really drives you to extremity! Its not fair though, that I should have to walk around with my shoulders up to my ears and my heart racing, considering wearing a sack and hijab about town and not able to walk home alone in the DAY let alone at night! I am considering a chastity belt but I’msure they would just take me to the blacksmith! Which is not right either. Why should I, a young freshiehave to deny my sex! Why should I have to wear a hood to cover up my blonde hair? Why should I have to stop wearing make-up (which I am finding an amazing detox for me skin- but that’s beside the point)? Why do I have to wear trainers to walk everywhere to be ready-set-goto peg it, which I do on the way home every night I go out and Im not sure is doing my dodgy knee any good - me pounding at 50 mph down very steep cobbled roads!!! Why should I be afraid? Why should I have to arm myself? Oooo I have been given a really pretty pen today, which I as it happens used as protection on the way home: it was from some Armenian girls that I’d never met before but they were giving goodbye gifts to my Estonian girls and they gave me one too!! How sweet! So my pen is a lucky pen, decorated in grapes to bring good fortune, grano (cereal or wheat) from Armenia and Egypt to bring good luck (I cant remember in what but I like to think Work), and a rose to bring luck in love (please don’tsend me any more weird men!), and its tied together around the end of the pen with rope which will bring me good health.  And the pen itself will bring me good luck in writing.

Ooo I forgot to say Ive decided to go back to England. Its been brewing for a while but work opportunities have come up over there

I feel this huge sense of relief at having made the decision.

I don’t regret coming here though: Ive done so many wonderful things. It was the right path to take at the time and Im not turning around or reversing, I’m just taking the next right path… The yellow brick road!

I have had enough of being stalked!

It has come to this: I go out with no make-up on, my leggings and trainers, my hair-scraped back: clearly NOT looking ‘to pull’ but they are like wasps … they buzz around when you are just trying to have a relatively normal day.

Today, I missed my first class, so I thought it would be best to go and explain that I was ‘working‘ to the teacher and pick up the homework (which I will probably not end up doing – but its the thought that counts, no?). Ran up the stairs, passing a bloke from Libya (where my dearest Daddy was born so I have absolutely nothing against the Libyians!) This guy however, had given me grief on the stairs a few weeks ago. I AM NOOOOOOTTT interested … He may not be mother-tongue Italian but he asked me out once and Im not sure what part of N.O. he didn’t understand. He asked me out again and I said NOOOOO o o o …. So why he felt the need to follow me to my classroom door this morning and stand there begging me to give him a minute of my time, I really do not know?! I am blatantly NOT interested. I didnt even get up to tell him so – I just mouthed ‘IM BUSY please LEAVE ME ALONE.’ He stared at me increduously, then gave me a sarcastic thumbs up, said ’Brava, Brava!’ and off he stormed in a huff. Um, EXCUSE ME! I should be the one in a huff… GGGGrrrrrr I wanted to cry I felt like he was raping me with his slitty snake eyes and I loathe the fact that I have to walk around checking over my back for who’s following me. He has a devlish look and I don’t know whether I should report him. The Uni is known to be a melting-pot of ’particular subjects’ some swats, some beauties, some comics, some Chinese mafia, some terrorists…. so who knows who this ‘tipo’ is? All I know is that I dont want to be alone with him. 

I had a giggle about it over coffee with my girlfriends… But … later, when I went to get a drink from the basement bar in-between class, alone, there he was and there was just one other completely dis-interested looking lady who seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that I was being cornered by this cretin. He said ‘Is everything ok’. I said ‘Yes.’ And then he said  ’There’s a film on Friday do you want to come see it with me’. I said ‘No.’ He just stood there in disbelief. The lift is some ancient cranky thing and I thought the woman was about to up-and leave me underground with this loon. But thank god – his teacher came out of a hidden classroom and called him in.

Phew. Safe! But I felt as though I should tell someone. My heart was racing. Or maybe I still should. I really dont want to end up alone with him. 

I came out of my next class and walked past him, his mardy face eyeing me up and down. And he stopped in front of me and said ‘Ciiiiiiaaaaaaaaaooooo’ really slowly. Is he a robot?

Oh gosh. Why are they so weird and desperate here! I feel like Ive been plonked in an aslyum half-the-time or a nightmarish all male prison… 

H.E.L.P.!

Advice is warmly welcome!!!???