I’m lying in a bed that hasn’t been made. Literally there isn’t a sheet on it. (It’s probably my fault). Someone has just dropped a foul stench from the tiny bathroom which is opposite my head. Extremely loud Balkan-folk/rock music is blaring in the bar below, so much so if you want a conversation in the room you need to shout. Some rowdy Slovenes are in and it’s all kicking off. I’m bed ridden. I’ve just watched my team lose back-to-back defeats by dodgy ref decisions, and reflecting this, I’m on a mammoth run of failure at online chess. I’ve developed a large cold sore on my bottom lip, a couple of mouth ulcers, I’m coughing up a lung and sneezing so violently my eyeballs are coming out the back of my head. Several people recently have been ignoring me, or letting me down, to the point of where I think it’s one big damn conspiracy. My netbook charger broke and it’s a small fortune for a new one. My winter bout of Rosacea is in full swing and I look like a pizza. To cap all this there is a hostel worker called Tarzan who is like an unstoppable sexual predator. Do not leave a girl in a room alone with him. I learnt the hard way. In short I’m feeling sorry for myself. When sorrows come, they come not as spies, but in battalions.
It had to happen really. I was riding the crest of a wave. Now two days before the end of the year my system decides to shut down and crap things happen. You can’t win ’em all. Oh sure I’m whining about first world problems of course, I know that all too well. But we all have those days when even the littlest thing can be the straw that broke the Camels back. As much fun as its been in Belgrade, I am just about ready to move on. I await the fallout from yet another inevitably disappointing New Year. I’ll see you on the other side, my cheeky chums – bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and ready for another adventure!
Down in the dumps AKA: miserable bastard
I’m lying in a bed that hasn’t been made. Literally there isn’t a sheet on it. (It’s probably my fault). Someone has just dropped a foul stench from the tiny bathroom which is opposite my head. Extremely loud Balkan-folk/rock music is blaring in the bar below, so much so if you want a conversation in the room you need to shout. Some rowdy Slovenes are in and it’s all kicking off. I’m bed ridden. I’ve just watched my team lose back-to-back defeats by dodgy ref decisions, and reflecting this, I’m on a mammoth run of failure at online chess. I’ve developed a large cold sore on my bottom lip, a couple of mouth ulcers, I’m coughing up a lung and sneezing so violently my eyeballs are coming out the back of my head. Several people recently have been ignoring me, or letting me down, to the point of where I think it’s one big damn conspiracy. My netbook charger broke and it’s a small fortune for a new one. My winter bout of Rosacea is in full swing and I look like a pizza. To cap all this there is a hostel worker called Tarzan who is like an unstoppable sexual predator. Do not leave a girl in a room alone with him. I learnt the hard way. In short I’m feeling sorry for myself. When sorrows come, they come not as spies, but in battalions.
It had to happen really. I was riding the crest of a wave. Now two days before the end of the year my system decides to shut down and crap things happen. You can’t win ’em all. Oh sure I’m whining about first world problems of course, I know that all too well. But we all have those days when even the littlest thing can be the straw that broke the Camels back. As much fun as its been in Belgrade, I am just about ready to move on. I await the fallout from yet another inevitably disappointing New Year. I’ll see you on the other side, my cheeky chums – bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and ready for another adventure!