Ya know, it's hard to conceive that I've only been in the UK for six weeks now. It feels so much longer then that.
The hunnymoon is over. It's buckle down and get ready to pay the rent time. The plastic has stopped working - and rightly so, after all it was only a matter of time that the banks back home gave up on me.
Today? 31st of March, planning a quiet as possible April, a travel buddy is planning to stop by this week, really wishing that I hadn't said anything. But hey, it's time to give back - right? I've been blessed with offers and many of which I have taken people up on during my travels, least I can do is share a bed for a few days. If worse comes to worse, I'll just invite myself to the manhunks place and invade. Bless him.
All the shit he has to deal with when it comes to me. It's a wonder he has managed to last this long and not put a foot out of place, well, except for that time I thought he forgot to pick me up from a mates place. Being the psycho-bitch that I am, I stormed off on foot, groceries and luggage in tow, cursing him the whole way home.
I find myself sounding more and more english as the days pass. I really don't want to, I like my aussiness, but I'm struggling. Just like rear and thighs. 11 stone. 11 freaking stone. Now, most half sane women wouldn't advertise that sort of information, but the frustration that attempting to pull a pair of jeans on caused on Saturday night was just too much to handle.
They got the thighs and just stopped. Lay down on the floor and suck your stomach in said one friend. Just keep squatting in them said another. I cried, the zip caught a very sensitive piece of skin. So then I pulled out the fat top and jeans and went on my way. Today? Today I start fresh. Healthy Dani. Good Dani. Going to tone up and loose all this weight Dani.
Oh, and on the travel horizon, I'm thinking Portugal in May. Braga, Lisbon and Fatima - suggestions?
The extra long weekend away with the ManHunk by the sea was wonderful.
Although I can't say I was expecting to be climbing hills and walking along cliffs, but the effort and the heart and chest feeling like it was going to explode were well worth it. He though never broke a sweat. Jerk.
The south coast of England is stunning. Dorset. And unlike home, everything (despite how far it looks on a map) is only ever a little bit away. We walked around Lulworth Cove up to Durdle Door and back again. Up and down the Jurrasic coast around Kimmeridge and up to Gold Down. Stunning. Then there was Swanage which was absolutely beautiful in its shore-side-ness and pier and sailing races. Werham with it's quaintness. Studland with its beach streaching for miles upon miles and Poole and fish and chips in Bournemouth and so much more.
The best part? The absolute awe of the place. This is why I am here again, it's proof that England isn't all bad. In fact, so far, it's only the people with grim ideals and opinions that bring this place down.
Conversations were had, and even though ground rules were laid and we both knew exactly what this would be, it didn't extinguish the sting when I was reminded. But, we still make plans, we're still there for the end of day wrap up and we still live in denial about any feelings existing.
So back to the grind, memories in hand.
I don't think I'm crazy.
sure as hell hope the ManHunk doesn't think I'm crazy, but in hindsight of the past two weeks, I think he can be completly forgiven.
And his collected major brownie points for actually entertaining my crazyness.
What exactly am I on about? I miss my niece. Alot. And all I have wanted to do, is to spend a day playing with a toddler. So much so that I suggest we maybe kiddnap HIS niece - who is about the same age - for a day. I've even told him that the thought of running up to and just playing with strangers kids in the street has crossed my mind. For some reason I have noticed just how many kids there are in this town.
And him? Well he has even suggested we have dinner with his work mate who has two little adorable boys I could do some finger painting with.
Bless him. I give him a week before he starts running for the high hills.
It's hard to believe I've been here for a month. I just feel so busy all the time. Trying to plan eventful and cheap weekends so that I don't miss anything. My working week is my normality.
Oh, and by the way, just to gloat a little more, we are going to Dorset for the easter break. ManHunk, me and a little cottage by the sea.
