The First Three Weeks

This then was my life for the first three weeks in Italy.

1) Wake up at ten to 9. Adopt grimly optimistic frame of mind. This was it, this would be the day that something interesting happened, that the ice finally broke and things started to work normally.

2) Run into work at 9.15. Sit at desk expectantly for 10 minutes. Sag slightly. Shuffle books around. Learn a bit of Italian. Read some propaganda pamphlets. Not check Facebook, not check Facebook, not check Facebook.

3) Facebook.

4) 1pm. Sit in a cafe for two hours eating a panino and drinking coffee.

5) 2.50pm. Sigh heavily. Make my way back to office and repeat the morning performance.

6) 7pm. Haul myself off to the supermarket and wander listlessly between the shelves wondering what shape of pasta I would eat that night. Leave at 7.30 and realise I'd forgotten milk. Well, no milk til tomorrow then. It's half 7 now and shops opening any later would be madness, madness, pure and simple.

7) Cook a meal for one. Watch an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Pine rentlessly for some great angel to sweep down, pint of ale in each hand, and carry me back to the UK. Listlessly hack into the unsecured wireless router located somewhere in the vicinity, despite knowing full well that it wasn't connected to anything, just for something to do.

8) Bed.

9) Repeat.

You know it's bad when, despite being bored to tears at work, you spend your weekends waiting for Monday to roll around, just to relieve the monotony.

(I'm aware I'm not coming across as particularly exciting, thrusting or dynamic, but it gets better [a bit] eventually, trust me).