Such Is Life

I was going to update earlier, but I figured 'Nah, I'll leave it until tonight. Something interesting might happen.' I was right too, three hours later I got myself an email from somebody asking me to review their product. If you ask me, that means I'm moving up in the world of blogging. To my dismay I had to decline with a polite "Unfortunately I am not currently American." Still, that's progress.

Life's good, ain't it? I'm warm and comfortable. I walk the streets and am flooded with memories of my childhood, every corner, garden and insignificant shrub is brimming with nostalgia, it's a glorious feeling. Hot and warm and fuzzy and beautiful. I'm no longer walking around with my eyes to the ground, not caring enough about my surroundings to take in their wonder. Everything is new and old and exciting and breath taking.

Me and my dad have been doing some quality father-daughter bonding since I moved over. Not sitting around reminiscing, or discussing life, love and politics. No, that's just not how our relationship works. Instead we have been getting to know each other all over again through the medium of Facebook, which 65-year-old Dekus the Dad is more obsessed with than even I am. So we sit here in the livingroom, silent in each others' presence, sending each other gifts on Zombie Lane. I like to think that this is not only bringing us closer together but also preparing us for the impending zombie apocalypse (although that's highly unlikely. When the dead walk the Earth I'm quite sure they will be able to do a whole lot more damage than merely knocking us all out for a couple of moments.) Sometimes, when the mood strikes, Dekus the Dad will also take it upon himself to read passages from his Wall aloud, filling me in on all the goings on of our family, "Oh, says here that your cousin is off on Holiday next March and your Aunt may or may not have been turned into a pot of Tomato soup." I think we're stumbling into an odd little routine, it's quite pleasing really.

Dekus the Dad - he also might be Santa Claus.

I haven't done much. Honestly. I did go visit some cars on Friday. There were also people, but mostly cars.

Yes, three Minis. Aren't I a lucky one? These could have been in traffic light formation but I declared "NO!" because people should not indulge my bizzarre whims, it's unhealthy and could give me a large ego.




OHMYGOD you know, I totally forgot to tell you something. The day before I left Belfast I went for lunch with the delightful Jonathan and GUESSWHATGUESSWHAT. My good friends the Hare Krisnas must have known I was departing from the glorious city so they threw me a little going away party.

Honestly, they're just so thoughtful.

YOU KNOW WHAT ALSO HAPPENED!? I met a Tiger. A real one. Who wasn't in a zoo.

My life is interesting.

Sorry that this post was so picture-heavy, it's the first opportunity I've had.

Cheerio Belfast

Today I found out that my ID has been posted out and will arrive within the next week. I was surprised that rather than relieved I felt a surge of sadness at leaving this place. I wanted to say goodbye to the place that has been home to me for the last seven years. It was this city and its people that helped to shape me into the confused little person I am today.

I took the scenic route, through culture filled alleys crammed with quirky bars and whimsical street art, to my favourite spot in Belfast; it's a wall set off the main road outside a gay bar and just round the corner from the Circus School. I love it because the surrounding area is full of memories for me. From here I can see the Albert Clock and the Royal Mail building, which to many people would seem like strange markers but to me they are symbolic buildings around which many of my teenage years revolved. I spent many a drunken afternoon running through the fountains by the Albert Clock and the immense, mirrored facade of the Royal Mail was on the receiving end of many long, admiring gazes while I was high as a kite.

I walked through subways that made me heady with memories, flashbacks from a booze-filled, carefree time. It made me think of happy times with friends I have loved and who I have grown away from. Moving from here is going to be hard, some of the happiest days of my life have been spent wandering through this city, but I now realise that there is very little left here for me. Today I wandered these streets alone. thete

Who Do You Think You Are?

Ah, a delightful summer's day; children are playing, birds are singing and after a week of sunshine, the heavens have opened. And it is on such a day as this that the ice cream man decided to pay a visit (I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream - even when it's pissing down outside). Cue childlike excitement from myself and Abbie followed by the undertaking of a mad dash up the street by her brother Ryan and I (me in my pjs, natch, because "What's the point in getting dressed when I'll not be going anywhere?") to find ourselves some frozen treats.

After ordering, with me getting all over excited and asking for "EVERYTHING. LOTSANDLOTS OF EVERYTHING" on my screwball, Ryan made some hilarious quip about being unable to take me anywhere and wouldn't you look at me in my pjs, and the ice cream man remarked that he felt as though he were in Belfast. Well, my reply was "Well, I am from Belfast ahahah"...
Incoming message for Robyn, you're from Chester, you're a Cestrian, you need to stop confusing yourself and those around you by identifying yourself as a Norn Ironer, so you do.

Seriously though, how weird is it going to be when I *eventually* get to Chester? I won't know who I am anymore. I've spent my entire teenage life in Belfast. The years where I form my identity. For seven years I've been the English girl who talks funny, but essentially I've become a Belfastian who talks funny. How will I be seen by others when I'm in Chester? "That Irish girl who talks funny"?

I'll have to find some Northern Irish friends when I get over there, I'll surely be lost without the camaraderie of taking the mick out of Jim on Corrie and the infestation of "Belfast" folk in Hollyoaks.

I'm sure it will take a couple of confusing months to adjust and not feel totally confused about who I am and where I'm from, but it's not the end of the world. Sure, if it's not my cup of tea I can always move back, so I can.

I ramble too much, so I do.

It's time to end this post, so it is.