A change and a holiday

I've been quiet as a mouse as far as internet is concerned but in my real life I have been as busy as a bee- a bee with bigass arms... carrying the contents of our apartment accross the city. Moving sucks! They say a change is as good as a holiday but let me tell you, if you change homes you need a holiday. Holy poop!

Last week friday-night we were lying on our favorite olive-green couch in the safety of our familiar living-room, the night before our Big Move, mentally and physically preparing for what we thought would be a two-trip move the next day to our lovely new humble abode. And on Saurday-night we lay on the same couch after a very long FIVE-trip moving mission, bruised and pale, covered in sweat and dust...thinking "what just happened?!" Turns out renting a truck and adopting a posistive American-"let's-do-this"- attitude for the day, is simply not going to cut it. Deconstructing beds, tables, shelves and coffee machines; carrying them down spiral stairs and into a truck; and repeating the process at the other end; over and over again....is just tedious, for lack of a more dramatic word.

Moving aint for piss-ants. If I weren't going to Tuscany next week for some serious Time Out I would be feeling incredibly sorry for myself and my blistered palms. But the new place is just lovely and brand new (no ghosts, no spider-webs, no rusty keys). My favorite part is the state-of-the-art kitchen with a fridge-freezer from the future and the fact that all the activity happens in one big room. Watch this space for photos. Soon. After the holiday.

A day at the Tennis

There is something super-special about attending an exclusive luxury event that you've eagerly watched on TV all your life. I'm not sure what exactly makes it so exciting but I'm pretty sure it's a combination of seeing first-grade, top-class tennis live; witnessing the skill of the current best tennis player in the world (Spanish bull, Senjor Nadal! As seen in the pic below); being treated to utterly delicious food during the build-up to the highly anticipated match; being surrounded by friendly high-profile celebs; hearing the ball being hit and feeling the silence in the court before a serve...experiencing the tension first-hand and all the while drinking deliciously cold Pimms and Champagne from morning till noon.

It's big fun- I must go back! Again and again. But it's just so very expensive - perhaps another reason why it was so incredibly enjoyable: knowing that the 'member's-only' pass around my neck giving me unlimited access to such fantastic bliss will last for one day only, like cinderalla's dress for her 'one-night' at the palace- leaving her the next day back home in an old T-shirt, washing the dishes with a hangover... Bloody Wimbledon.

Friday

There are quite a few bordinary moments presenting themselves to me today and I can't decide which one to write about. Like this morning I walked through the big green park in the centre of Luxembourg, on my way to catch my bus to work, and I suddenly realised that I am officially settled in to my new home-city. I don't speak the local languages and I don't know anyone and I don't have a car and I don't belong to a book club or anything...but I feel at home here now. I love this clean, beautiful city, in which I have a favorite foodshop and a lovely flat where my post gets delivered and an awsome gym with people that recognise me and bank account in my name. Sounds boring and ordinary. Sounds just right.

And then I came to work and put sunblock on the face of my favorite four-year-old, which she hated every second of - as manifested by the lemon face she pulled while I spread summer-scented sticky SPF cream all over her tiny nose and cheeks. Which got my mind cruising down memmory lane all the way back to my own toddler-hood of beach days on the west coast of Southern Africa. The old feeling came back to me so vividly - for which the familiar smell of sunscreen is entirely to blame. All my senses took me straight back. Sea-salt in my mouth, hot sunshine on my shoulders, stubborn beach sand in every crevace of my tiny childhood body and the constant soft roar of the crashing waves that muffles everyone's laughter around me. Those were the best days. A very different kind of security as that which I experienced today.

But today is the best day of my 20-something's life right now...And I strongly suspect that tomorrow might be even better because Le Boyfriend and I are flying to my previous home city for some lovely London times, where on Sunday we will be at Centre court in Wimbledon with a glass of ice-cold Pimms watching a round of serious men's final tennis. So maybe Sunday will be the best day!

Have the best weekend, whatever you do, wherever you find yourself!