New Mills really is the middle of nowhere. I know that normally I keep my whereabouts Top Secret as I am rather paranoid about stalkers finding me and licking my knee caps (probably after they have removed them from my body), but at the moment I would quite like a murderous stalker to break in and drag me into their van, anything to get me out of this place.
I suppose I have only been here for two and a half days, but that has been more than enough time to discover that New Mills is miles and miles away from Manchester. I think it's in the Peak District, or Derbyshire. Does that make me a Derby Girl? Are Derby and Derbyshire the same place?
Oh dear, I don't even know where I live. If I don't know where I live how will I ever get away from it, and into Manchester, and into a bar?
I thought that by now I would have had emotional reunions with all of my friends, involving lots of alcohol, in the centre of Manchester, but alas I have only just had my first visitor tonight. Trusty Lauren has been the first one to see the new 'house' (it's actually a bungalow), she managed to get the train here somehow and my mum had to walk me to the station to meet her. When we were got there Lauren said: "I see you are well suited to living in the countryside" because my eyes were all swollen up from hayfever and from the cat (to be fair I have rubbed him on my face a lot) and my eye balls have turned into a watery jelly-like substance. I won't be surprised if I wake up and they have spilled out of my head- that is what the countryside does to you.
There are cows at the bottom of our garden. And there is a bull who makes a lot of noise and paws the ground like he is getting ready to charge over the stone wall and through my bedroom window. Cows can kill people. That is not something I have made up, that is a Real Thing.
This morning I had to get out of bed and sleep on the couch because there was a fly that kept hovering above my ear going BZZZZ BZZZ BZZZZ and I was still half-asleep and I kept dreaming I got out of bed and killed it and then I would wake up to it going BZZZZ BZZZZ BZZZZ. There are flies all over the house. There is a roll of sticky stuff hanging from the kitchen ceiling and there are about thirty dead flies stuck to it.
There is an outside toilet. Ok, so there is an inside toilet as well but it doesn't have a lock. There is a little quilted love heart hanging to the door knob outside and on one side it says 'Engaged' and on the other it says 'Vacant'. Everybody keeps laughing at me because when I go in the toilet I make a big show of flipping it on to the 'Engaged' side. Their laughter makes me uncomfortable, as if in my absence they have become one of those Freaky 'lets-all-watch-each-other-wee-or-worse' Families.
Well I want no part of it- the 'Engaged' quilted heart will not be made a mockery of!
Oh I know I'm being disgustingly spoilt and ungrateful, some people live in a bin in the backyard of a brothel, but I'm just in shock- I didn't think they were moving to the actual countryside.
But they have, and it looks like I will never find my way out again.
But it's not all bad- my mum said that if I can tidy my room up and keep it tidy for four days I can have a sleepover!
Yes, she ACUALLY said that.
I should tell her that I haven't lived at home for four years and that in Paris I could be having sleepovers with four dwarves and a shaman for all she knows, and they wouldn't be bothered if my room was tidy or not, but I actually really want to have a sleepover so I might just keep that to myself. Keep my head down and make the most of the unlimited supply of tea and snide bounties ('We're on an economy drive, they're just as good as the brand ones' my mum reassured me... not a good time to ask to borrow some money then so I can make the minimum payment on my credit card, that I haven't paid for three months... OOPS).
Still, it's lovely to be back in England. The whole Eurostar journey I had a big smile on my face. A few weeks ago I moaned on here that I had nobody to see me off and nobody to meet me at the other end, but as it happened I had Georgie and her lovely French friend see me off at Gare du Nord and Kat met me at St Pancras and she had glittery silver stars under her eyes. We got the tube to Rachel's at Brixton and we laughed at everything in the way that only Irritating Drama Students Who Laugh At Their Own Jokes can.
I was supposed to be going to London again this weekend but the tragic fact is, I have no money in the whole world, and anyway I'm pretty sure I will never figure out how to get to the train station so it's probably a good job I didn't buy any train tickets.
It looks like it's going to be a long, slow summer, which is partly why I have decided to keep my blog up from England. The other reason is that I want to finish talking about my holiday with the family, but I will do that tomorrow.
Good night, from England, at last!