Saved From The Bell

Right. Feeling a bit like Dorothy now, wandering around with a glazed look most doughnuts would give, well, their nuts for. There goes me tempting fate “ooo I’m off to the countryside, hope it’s nothing like the wales incident blah blah blah” Not imagining for a second I’d be plonked in the middle of Rural Bloody Dorset with nothing but a bare fridge and a heinously overweight cat/men*pausal panther to keep me company, and seeing as the fridge was lacking substance and kept moaning about how ‘empty’ it felt, it was pretty much down to the cat, it’s claws and me. Hey I’m sure it’s time to get my prescription renewed?

So much has happened in the past two weeks I don’t know whether I should even attempt to string anything together or just put it down to a black hole in my immediate past. I’ll go boring point form again.

Little village. Population 85. In summer.
No. of shops: nil
No. of sheep: Enough to put a smile on an Aussie’s face every night for 11 straight years.
No. of South Africans excluding me: One.
No. of Pubs: One. Bonus.
No. of very sh*ggable barmen: One. Double Bonus.
No. of sh*gs with said bar man: Nil.
Cr*p.

My ex-GOTM, the formidable headmistress Miss Trunchbull (forgive my Roald Dahl theme of late) was quite a piece of work. She may have both hips intact and more marbles than most 28 year olds, let alone 98 year olds but that just made it worse. Boarding school hell was what it was. The bell was constantly ringing, the food was pretty crap and I stood sneaking fags outside the back door at 11pm, back pressed against the wall as close as my expanding deriere would allow so as not to set off the security lights and alert the Dobermans. My International Domestic Goddess status took a knock most nights where, upon completion of our meal, I was told “hmmm, could try harder”. No seriously. Oh and my printing on the crosswords could “do with a bit of work”. Dead f*cking serious. It was pretty crap. And bloody lonely. And the dining room smelled like cat piss, dry rot and Brussels sprouts. Where can I sign up for another term?