YA: Well, That Went Too Quickly...

I'm not entirely sure writing a blog when I've just arrived back in Germany, not yet unpacked and have nothing but dry cereal and tinned tomatoes in my cupboard is a good idea, because the likelihood is that it will be chock-full of misery and woe. No, do keep reading! I'll try my best to keep it light and not short-out my keyboard halfway through by crying all over it.*

I think part of the reason I really didn't want to come back this time is that the holidays simply weren't long enough. Or, at least, what with all the dashing around and being festive, they didn't feel long enough. I mean, I basically got home on Christmas Eve and after that it was a non-stop whirl of get-togethers with family and friends, which, lovely as they were, caused the time to slip away faster than you could say "wait, wasn't it only just Boxing Day?" I didn't even get the chance to see everybody I wanted to before I found myself sat at a fog-bound East Midlands airport sneakily hoping my flight would be cancelled.

The second reason is that, this time round, the bout of time spent solidly in Germany is a long one. Three whole months. Fourteen weeks to be precise (I worked it out). I love Britain and all it represents, and I'm not sure how well I will cope being separated from Marmite and real tea for such a concentrated period of time, never mind everybody I know and love. Don't get me wrong, I have lots of lovely friends out here who I am extremely excited to be seeing again, but as they're all British, I can't shake off the feeling that we could be doing pretty much exactly the same things we do here back home across the channel (though, admittedly, the train fare would cost a hell of a lot more money).

Jesus, I said I'd try and be jolly and my first two paragraphs are as miserable as a wet weekend in August. I'll try harder. Perhaps I should talk about the nice things I got up to in the holidays? Yes, let's try that.

Christmas was, of course, an absolute food-fest. It is after all the cardinal rule to eat until you explode, and who am I to break such a rule? Not only was there Christmas dinner at home but also the Boxing Day buffet, two additional family lunches (one at my Auntie and Uncle's on New Year's Day and one the day after courtesy of Zizzi in Market Harborough where I played children's entertainer to my three small cousins for the afternoon) and a dinner party thrown at Charlie's where we cooked for ten people. I say "we", I mostly did faffy decorative bits like make chocolate bird wings and avoided anything of real substance at all. I somehow also managed to participate in no less than four pizza-based meals and cooked an enormous vegetable curry on New Year's Eve for Katie, Rosie and Andrew. I think they're still alive.

Oh dear, I think all that's had the opposite of the desired effect. I miss you all a bit more now. Don't worry though , in a couple of days I'll give myself a slap and tell myself to pull myself together. I'll make plans, buy food, see people, have a laugh. There may even be beer. The semi-enjoyment stage of the Germany cycle will begin and all will be well. Still, until then, I think I need to find somebody to give me a hug.

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*My friend has pointed out to me that my year abroad blogs run in a kind of cycle. Initial misery fades into semi-enjoyment fades into enjoyment fades into excitement about going home. Unfortunately, as the home period just ended, we are currently situated in the first stage of the cycle, that of bitching and moaning. Bad times for all concerned, I feel.