Going

Next week at this time of the day I shall be back home. I've spent most of the day trying to work out whether I am happy about it or treat it as a big misfortune... I'm still not quite sure.
The first four weeks of my stay here were really good- the best I can remember since this weird tradition of spending a summer month in England began. I work but little and have plenty of time for contemplation, walks, book-reading and friend-chatting. I feel quite relaxed, really. The children love me. I feel needed here. So why should I be glad about going back home?
Home, where boring farm-life awaits, where the entire oncoming month is bound to be stress-filled... I should know better than that! But I don't.
I spent this weekend in France- visited magnificent places and met marvellous people, spent hours with my favourite French and felt special, really special. Now that I'm back here, I no longer feel so. I've been here too long, I became a part of the place again, and I think the time has come to move on again. I need a bit of a change. I need some sense of security but not too much. I need to see my friends again. I need to talk, to laugh, to cry with them.
I need to begin a new chapter in my life again- the time has come, I can feel it. I can't forever drink latte and read books- I need to move! And no matter what happens to me over the next couple of weeks, I am perfectly certain it will be something new. My life is about to change again and I can't wait for that.

Under

'There is nothing I can do,' I said to myself this morning lying half-awake in my bed, 'my life will never change.' It was true, in a way, my life always follows the same pattern, ever since I remember, or to be more precise, ever since I became a conscious being.
I am lost and don't know what to do, then an opportunity appears and I follow it, it seems all very well for a while, I feel happy, ecstatic sometimes, and then the feeling slowly dies down, gives way to the routine, the sense of helplessness and loss of control slowly creeps over me, I give into it, I begin to slip, to sink deeper and deeper, dark thoughts gather around me thoughts of the past without bright future, the feeling of loneliness, uselessness and then all becomes dark- I go to sleep...
I sleep a lot, whenever I am depressed. My mind and body give in. I don't want to think, I don't want to feel, I want to sleep and never wake up again...
It happened again- it gained momentum yesterday. And this morning (noon, to be more precise- I slept a lot) I was still weak and I wondered- 'why does it still frighten me so much whenever I feel that I am going down? Why am I still afraid that I will stay at the bottom and never resurface again? Is it at all possible?' I lay in bed and wondered. But then somebody gave me a push forward, I pulled myself together and began to tidy my room and with it my mind again. Everything fell into place, everything was crystal clear and it still is. I only hope that the bright spot will stay around for longer this time. I don't want to take a plunge again, not just yet...

Complaint

It's only nine o'clock and I'm already in bad mood, likely to stay this way for the rest of the day.
I'd just like to say that I love children, this is why I want to teach and this is why I am a nanny. Children are cute and interesting, full of surprises, etc.
But I do not have any children of my own and I don't plan to have any, not in the near future at least. Being a teacher or a nanny gives one a big advantage over being a parent- there are times when there are no children with you and near you, when you can have a bit of a break, sometimes so necessary, from their company. At least this is what it should be like.
This is why I am in such a state at the moment. It is selfish what I am going to say and I do feel ashamed but my grumpiness is stronger than me this morning. The thing is, that in order to be good with children I need to be psychologically ready for their company. And living in the same house with two of them I know that when I come downstairs for breakfast I need to be prepared that the will want my company and I am OK with that- OK because I am prepared.
Today at 7:30 I was not prepared for two children running into my room- one jumping on to of me and the other demanding the permission to play on the computer. They then returned into the room in a similar manner every time when I managed to get all snugly again. The reason why this took place- they are spending the morning with their daddy, who doesn't give a fig where his children are and what they are doing. I begin to believe that men are hopeless careproviders... It is his fault that I am unnerved by the children that I love so much.
I am unnerved because I hate being woken up by surprise. I tend to wake up a few minutes before my alarm clock rings, and even the fact that it was an alarm waking me up not myself can leave me grumpy for the rest of the day. Now, two children violating my personal space when I was planning to sleep for another 2 hours leave me feeling a bit edgy. And I need to recover fast, cause in an hour I take over the responsibility of looking after them and I can't allow myself for any hostile feelings. I need to be happy and sunny and loving and caring. What shall I do to get back on track? Yoga?!? I feel so angry at the moment, I don't even trust myself to go for a breakfast as I would certainly meet my host-dad there and I don't feel like saying 'good morning' to him today...
Those are the adventures of me back in my au pair shoes... the shoes which are not always quite as comfortable as I would wish them to be...

Cambridge

There is something special about this town. Something that makes me want to go there as often as I can and allows me to brave the streets crowded with tourists (it's the Asians, as usual, but also many Portuguese and Spanish speakers this year). I do not consider myself a tourist, it is my town, it has a special place in my heart. Every year it waits for me patiently to come and then welcomes me and wraps me in its snugly, historical, romantic atmosphere. It is like an old friend to me. But I really mean the city itself here, not the people- they are just there, and I am not sure whether they add to or spoil the atmosphere of it all. There are lots of them and they are loud, but they can be also interesting sometimes- I like to watch them...
I have a favourite bookstore in Cambridge and on the top floor it has a cafe. I enjoy picking up a book and taking it there to read and to observe other people sitting in the cafe at the same time. They are my background and sometimes I just stop reading for a moment and try to analyse them. They all have their own lives, their own different stories, we all do in fact. But by sitting in that cafe, at that particular moment our stories become interwoven. They are the background for my story and I am the background for theirs- it is really quite amazing when you think about it...
The couple in front of me- the guy doing all he can to sound witty and interesting and to become a part of the life of the pretty girl who is sitting there with him. The noisy English girls giggling over their bags full of shopping- perfectly happy, their heads full of nonsense. The Asian family- they are really grasping- a father treating his four daughters to some hot chocolate, they look so happy, he obviously feels out of place but is content to just watch his girls. And then the three French girls sitting next to me. Completely oblivious of their noisy background, of the chatty British- they are laughing and playing cards together, occasionally make a remark in their pretty language...
Everyone, everything fits together here. And then there is the place, this particular town that makes it possible for all these people, and me among them to come together and just be, be a part of the whole...
This beautiful town, full of Roman walls, the universities bursting with their heritage, the stunning old architecture, the cute bridges, the narrow winding streets...

Salcombe

I am back to 'my room' after a week spent at the seaside with 'my family'. It was lovely, even the moody British weather didn't manage to spoil our time there. Yes, there was some rain, but on the whole we had lots of sunshine, much more than we had expected, and a very nice holiday as a result.

I love Devon. It's so beautiful, and when the weather is nice, well it's just breathtaking- the sunshine reflected by the turquoise water, the boats slowly rocking on the waves, the delicate sea breeze on my face, the hills and the stunning rocks- what is there not to love?

The only downside of the area is that it is the favourite place of the British well-off middle class families to spend their holidays, as a result walking along the charming little streets of the town one is in danger of hearing too many empty-headed, narrow-minded and snobbish conversations of these people. This really puts me off of the entire nation. Favourite topics- clothes, gossip, property prices, and properties themselves, posh schools to which their kids ought to be sent and more of the such- it is really quite distasteful. And these people do actually feel that they are on top of the world, right after the aristocracy that is...