With some trepidation, I moved back to Dublin. I needn’t have worried, I found it a much more welcoming town than I had done when I was a poor student. It was much better being a poor young professional. God, I was so skint. I can remember going for coffee and only having water because it was two days to payday.
I lived with (just with, not with) a lovely man who was immensely house proud. We were happy together for two years but when he upbraided me for chopping a tomato on his draining board, I knew our ways had to part despite his very beautiful and conveniently located house. I then moved into a colleague’s old house and had a scarlet bedroom and a bracing cycle to work along the sea front.
After a couple of years, the office wanted to second someone to Brussels and a colleague and partner in poverty (we drank tap water together two days before pay day) encouraged me to apply with the words “you have to – look at the pay”. This turned out to be unfortunate for him in the short term as I got the job and he did not but now he has a very important job so all is well in a cosmic karmic way.
Tomorrow – Brussels II
Today – some confusion
Princess (looking at a map): What does NL stand for?
Me: The Netherlands where the Dutch Mama and her family live.
Princess: And where Peter Pan took Wendy so that she would never grow up.