It appears that the fruits of my labours before, during and after the greatest first date in the history of first dates have fallen on deaf ears, taking their (leaf) from the baring trees. Not for the first time affections lie elsewhere and I’m left to rue what might have been. Once again the proverbial dead horse is getting a flogging, and I’m staring miserably at my laptop screen desperately seeking witticisms to convince everyone I’m not bothered. Seriously; I’m not bothered. If by not bothered you mean shuffling through the autumn leaves with my hands in my pockets singing Don’t You Want Me Baby?
I wasn’t really doing that, I’ve not been out of bed all day.
So the hour is drawing nigh when I must leave this barren land and seek my fortune in a new country. Olomouc has become alarmingly small, and it appears everyone knows everyone else. As beautiful as it is, as wonderful and memorable as my time here has been, I need to move on. I would have stayed longer, but a decision has been made that is out of my hands. With a bit of luck, my supplies will finally come through next week, and all being well, I should be in Poland by next Friday. A pang of sadness resonates as I type. Oh what might have been, what is, and what will be.
Forgive my melancholy dear readers, but I’m blaming Autumn. Forever my favourite time of year, as I’ve always felt a certain romance exudes from the changing leaves, the chilly winds, the firelight and the season drawing in. That and Halloween is two days after my birthday. Hint, hint. It heralds a summer long gone, a harbinger of dark nights, scarves and gloves. If you’re in a relationship, there is no better time. If you’re not, perhaps only Christmas is worse. The only downside is The X-Factor.
So I’ve cheered myself up with boiled eggs, toasty cheese soldiers and a freshly made hostel bed. It’s the small things. In a few hours I’ll no doubt be nursing a pint in a rowdy bar, vacantly talking to some pretty girl, musing delusions of grandeur that she could be ‘the one’ while there is someone else on my mind, meanwhile Autumn desperately tries to force me into a seasonal relationship. Or I might just stay in and watch porn.
Autumn
It appears that the fruits of my labours before, during and after the greatest first date in the history of first dates have fallen on deaf ears, taking their (leaf) from the baring trees. Not for the first time affections lie elsewhere and I’m left to rue what might have been. Once again the proverbial dead horse is getting a flogging, and I’m staring miserably at my laptop screen desperately seeking witticisms to convince everyone I’m not bothered. Seriously; I’m not bothered. If by not bothered you mean shuffling through the autumn leaves with my hands in my pockets singing Don’t You Want Me Baby?
I wasn’t really doing that, I’ve not been out of bed all day.
So the hour is drawing nigh when I must leave this barren land and seek my fortune in a new country. Olomouc has become alarmingly small, and it appears everyone knows everyone else. As beautiful as it is, as wonderful and memorable as my time here has been, I need to move on. I would have stayed longer, but a decision has been made that is out of my hands. With a bit of luck, my supplies will finally come through next week, and all being well, I should be in Poland by next Friday. A pang of sadness resonates as I type. Oh what might have been, what is, and what will be.
Forgive my melancholy dear readers, but I’m blaming Autumn. Forever my favourite time of year, as I’ve always felt a certain romance exudes from the changing leaves, the chilly winds, the firelight and the season drawing in. That and Halloween is two days after my birthday. Hint, hint. It heralds a summer long gone, a harbinger of dark nights, scarves and gloves. If you’re in a relationship, there is no better time. If you’re not, perhaps only Christmas is worse. The only downside is The X-Factor.
So I’ve cheered myself up with boiled eggs, toasty cheese soldiers and a freshly made hostel bed. It’s the small things. In a few hours I’ll no doubt be nursing a pint in a rowdy bar, vacantly talking to some pretty girl, musing delusions of grandeur that she could be ‘the one’ while there is someone else on my mind, meanwhile Autumn desperately tries to force me into a seasonal relationship. Or I might just stay in and watch porn.