How England makes me incompetent

Over Christmas, I forgot how to function on my own. This tends to happen when I go home and have parents to look after me again. I don't cook for myself, I lose everything, I sleep all the time, I stop making to-do lists and therefore stop doing anything.

I wasn't even surprised when I discovered, an hour before leaving for the airport, that I'd booked my flight for the wrong day. This put me in a right state, even though I managed to change it and fly when I wanted to fly. Luckily, Glen was getting the same flight as me, and was there to stop me from getting any more lost and confused. I arrived safely back in Bochum, on time, without ever having to tell my school what a dunce I am.

Now I'm back, it feels like I never left. Things are much the same, really. New timetable equals new classes to hang out in, and hopefully less time spent in lessons that clearly don't need me, sitting quietly and trying not to fall asleep.

This weekend, me and Glen are invading the quiet village of Morsbach, home to the lovely Heidi, and from what I've heard, almost no one else. I hope they're ready for us. We intend to wreak havoc. 

Sophie's coming on an impromptu visit to Bochum tomorrow; I hope she's impressed with my new abode. I know I am.

In other exciting news, four of my friends from Watford are coming to visit in April for a weekend. I have of course warned them ahead that Germany is odd, but very pleased that they are willing to trekk all the way here to see me. That's more people than ever made it to Leeds to visit me when I lived there...impressive.

Anyway, I have to try and read A Streetcar Named Desire and understand it sufficiently to teach some 17 year olds all about it, in about an hour. Interesting updates to resume soon, probably.

Laters,
Dora.
xxx