Sunday, 9 May 2010

Somewhere Over the Rainbow....... skies are green....?

Hey The Bitch Is Back!!!!!!!

And I'm fucking cold.

And everything is small.

Including my mind.

Travel broadens the mind apparently. Boxes full of baclava broadened my arse. Why doesn't my miniscule fridge have a box full of baclava? I don't understand. Why can't I get into my jeans?

Why are these apples the size of peas? 'Is this our biggest saucepan?' asked Mr GPants yesterday. And when did the A22 shrink? Were our stairs always so bloody narrow? How do I get a shower in this midget house without the curtain sticking to me?


..............a two-hand tall mug of coffee? More than three sips? I need to sit down for this.

And who painted the whole world green? It's so green. It's SO green!

But yes I'm back. I wanted to be back. Until it was nearly time to come back. I was just kind of getting used to it. And now I'm here. And I want to go away again. The grass was greener over there. No that doesn't work - well there was patches of green stuff which made me stare and made me think 'how much does that cost to keep?' and 'I miss green' and then we got back and it's unbelievably green. Beautiful. Like quenching a thirst. And now I'm thinking 'I miss beige'. I think I am what's known as a ungrateful little bastard. A much-used phrase in our house. I have 4 ungrateful little bastards that have sucked my soul to a sharp diminishing 'blip' like the end of telly in the old days. The 'blip' of oblivion.

The youngest 2 were OK - adapted to their new chimp compound with simian ease. There is floor - lots of it. There is garden - we know this. There is pool - ooohhhh - We can do pool. There is sand - oh yes. There is sea - that does splashhhh too. We know this. We can do holiday. We is holiday. Holiday R Us.

The older 2 however..........

'I'm bored. I miss my friends. How many more days til we can go home? You haven't got any more credit on your phone and I want to text my friends. I'm already packed. When can we go to MacDonalds? .....................'

'You've got a 9 bathroomed marble-floored palace on the beach with a pool and a killer view across the sea of cartoon-crazy Metropolis and it's gloriously hot and all you can do is moan about going home! You ungrateful little bastards!'


All of which proves that they don't have a bad life now do they if they couldn't wait to get back to it?

Mr GPants LOVED it big time. Keeps talking about the light, the sun, the skyscape, the space, the business loans.......... There's gold in them thar hills. There's WORK. Not just for the winters - we could try it for a year.....

I spent most of these conversations smiling like the groom's mother, staring out to a mythical saviour, quaking inside, thinking about ruined castles, shadowy museums, big old oak trees, rolling hills and Mr Whippy.

Saying 'mmmmm....'

Small minded you see?

But maybe travel broadens the imagination. If apples are bigger over there, they might be bigger over ....... there, or there, or even there.............

Ohhhhh! Im all confused see...... I like my green. But I like big apples. I like my bluebells. But I like the warmth. I like my hefty mugs. But I like the enthusiasm of 'not England'.

I like my tortoise shell. But I am just beginning to poke my head out. I don't know what to think: Adventure or ............ Green?

But the biggest factor is - the ungrateful little bastards. In this case the question is really: Money or Friends? Over there = most likely a better 'quality of life'. But......we have definitely chosen a Home Ed way of life. This doesn't always transfer. I know people who moved to warmer, more wonderful places - and found a barren social scene for non-schoolers which sent them back to grimy cold old England. How do you value educational wildness?

For me - pretty high.

SO - why did you bastards still vote for Ed fucking Balls??????

It is not me who is the ungrateful little bastard. Mr GPants is lamenting so many of his well-heeled friends still ranting about Labour's misfortune. OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES PEOPLE!!!! We can't do much about England's shitty weather but you CAN change the fucking strangling government. We don't have to wear sleeves in the presence of men. We can kiss our beloveds in public. We are not being bombed every day. The doctor's might just see you before you die. The water will not kill you. We don't live under a volcano or on an especially dodgy fault line. You don't have to go to church. You can marry or divorce whoever you damn like. And, for as long as we can keep Ed Balls restrained, you can take responsibility for your own children.

But it is fucking cold.

It's not just the weather that is making me think of distant shores. I am tired of our supposedly creative and individual quirky country (yeah?) being so small-minded. If I can pin down somewhere with castles and ice-cream, art, decent music-makers, money I can understand, English speaking (sorry but...), bonkers experts on bonkers subjects happy to bend your ears for an afternoon, property we can afford, tax we can afford, drugs and guns free, football and ice-skating a spit away, second-hand shops, child-welcoming cafes, and gangs of wild children free from educational strait-jackets - and THE SUN - and GREEN!!!!!! - then I will skip off happily.

Any suggestions?

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