Tag: story

My blue denim jacket

Have you ever owned an inexpensive item of negligible monetary value that you absolutely love? And you recognise you love it purely because of its sentimental value?

I’m one of the least materialistic people I know. I’d rather spend the little income I make on experiences, travel, time with friends and family, not on things. So I never spend a huge amount of money on clothes or accessories.

I often though associate my modest belongings with precious memories or people and when I lose or break one of these precious to me pieces I grieve. I, of course, understand that it’s just ‘a thing’ and losing it shouldn’t matter, but it does. Because, for me, this ‘thing’ is a memory nugget, reminding me of a special friend, a loved one, an awesome day, a significant period of my life, and I’m terrified I’d forget whatever I associate it with, if I lose one of these memory nuggets.

I’ve lost or broken a few of these memory nuggets over the years, a set of earrings my sister got me, a memory card with photos from the UK and my most recent travels to Sicily, Rhodes and Belgium, a bracelet a dear friend got me, a pair of shoes I wore absolutely everywhere, and most recently, my blue denim jacket.

‘Come on, it’s just a jacket, get another one, the same even’ one might say. But it will never be the same.

I’ve got this jacket in June, 2019. I remember that because it was one of the last purchases I made before I left the UK. And as with the majority of my decisions, I browsed for hours, painstakingly looking for the perfect jacket. Why do I find it so excruciatingly difficult, even choosing a denim jacket? But, when I came across it on the Mango website, I knew that was THE one, at least what I had in mind.

I wore it the last time I’ve hugged goodbye my UK friends in Southampton in July.

I wore it a month later, during my CELTA course, one of the most challenging, painful but rewarding months of my entire life. I wore it during our lessons, I wore it when Jonny hugged me after I told him with tears in my eyes that my grandpa had died the day before and I wore it when I hugged my classmates goodbye.

I wore it on my way back to Cyprus after 11 weird and wonderful years in the UK and on my way to Italy a few months later.

I wore it during my first year teaching at Reggio, an experience I’ll never forget and on my way back to Cyprus after going through the first wave of the global pandemic outbreak in Italy, one of the worst-hit countries.

So today I grieve the loss of my blue denim jacket and with it the friends and places I miss.

Eleni

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The Austrian Ambassador (Dr Ziegler) and I

About a month ago a colleague forwarded a Facebook post to the group.

‘Ambassador in Cyprus for a day?’

As part of the International Women’s Day celebrations in Cyprus, women across the island could enter a competition and the prize was to spend a day with a female ambassador in Cyprus and learn more about their work.

All you had to do was send a short video (up to two minutes) with a brief introduction about yourself, why you’d like to be an ambassador for a day and why International Women’s Day is important.

Truth be told I didn’t know much about an ambassador’s life and I was really happy that there was no age limit to enter (I felt a bit frustrated lately with the amount of events or initiatives only for people under 30 years old) so I thought I’d send a video. I had nothing to lose and I love making little videos.

Unsurprisingly, two minutes were not enough to express all my thoughts but I tried. This was the video I sent.


I didn’t really expect to win. I’m older than probably most of the participants and ,well for those you’ve known me for a while, I’m infamous for my bad luck (don’t forget, during the first of what was supposed to be a few years of travelling and teaching English, I spent it in Italy, half of it locked inside due the global Covid pandemic).

Against all odds though I did win and I was matched with the Austrian ambassador in Cyprus, Dr Eva Maria Ziegler.

We had a little chat on the phone beforehand during which she explained that due to the current lockdown situation in Cyprus there weren’t many events planned this period so there was no point spending a whole day with her just in the office. I was pleasantly surprised with her honesty and openness from the get go, even over the phone.

So the plan was to meet her a few days later at the Austrian Embassy and have a chat. But she first invited me to the (virtual) Press Conference on Francophonie (the annual international celebration of the French language) and the celebrations planned by embassies across Cyprus as well as the Ministry of Education and Culture. I couldn’t believe I was part of a Press Conference which consisted of various ambassadors in Cyprus as well as the Minister of Education and Culture. What a surreal experience that was!

I knew about Francophonie as I happened to be in Brussels two years ago on that day, during which there was live music next to Manneken Pis, but I didn’t realise that was also celebrated in Cyprus with events planned and all.

A few days later I went to her office and we had a long chat. What an amazing experience it was to visit an embassy!

I can’t remember the last time I learned so much in such short space of time. I can’t possibly document all I’ve learned but I’ll share the highlights.

Dr Ziegler’s father was a diplomat, so she was familiar with that way of life since she was a child. Although she originally studied music management (and law) she found it hard to get into it and decided to follow in her father’s footsteps. She had an incredible career. She worked for the Austrian Federal Ministry of Foreign Affairs and she worked as an Austrian ambassador in Milan and in Lebanon amongst other countries.

We talked about politics, travel and she shared amazing stories from her ambassador life including the story of the extraordinary life of a 103 year old Jewish lady who ended up living in the Buffer Zone in Nicosia (and sadly recently died).

What she loved most of the ambassador life is the variety as embassy work is not just about visas and passports but also organising cultural events and initiatives as the embassy is given a cultural budget, as well as meeting a diversity of people from all walks of life. And of course an Ambassador gets to travel as every 4 years postings end and you get to apply for a different country. I would love to live the ambassador life!

The worst part of her job that she doesn’t enjoy as much is writing reports and long meetings. I don’t blame her!

After our chat I got to meet her PA, Mr Antonopoulos, A Greek-Austrian who’s been working as a PA in embassies for a few years. Similar to the ambassador, he loves the variety and travel that comes with the job. What he doesn’t enjoy is moving.

All in all it was a great experience, it’s not every day you get to meet an ambassador, let alone an honest, fun, easy to chat to one, as Dr Ziegler. I’ve learned a lot and it gave me a few ideas on what I’d like to do in the future.

Eleni

I’m somebody else…

Saturday, 21st of November, 2020

Well, you look like yourself

But you’re somebody else

Only it ain’t on the surface

Well, you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you’re making me nervous

I’ve been listening to this in the morning and it hit me hard when I realised that’s pretty much the conversation happening in my head lately.

It’s been a while since I last sat down and scribbled my thoughts on (virtual) paper. Truth be told there’s been chaos in my head for the last year or so and making decisions doesn’t come easy for me, which made everything even worse (the global pandemic didn’t help either!) but now things are more settled, I can finally at least attempt to figure out what’s going on.

I loved my year in Italy despite its ups and downs and the incredibly hard work. I met amazing people, I made amazing friends and learned a lot (I’ll write about that soon, I think it’ll be helpful for newly qualified EFL teachers). But I realised I needed to try something different and I was also in desperate need for me time, which was minimal during my first year of teaching. Yeah, it’s as hard as you’d imagine and even worse if you teach for a well-respected, busy school.

I was planning to work part-time for a while and devote the rest of my time on all my hobbies and interests and then a job that seemed perfect for me came up. It combined my love of variety, my urge to help others and my never-ending wanderlust so I thought I’d apply although I didn’t think I’d get it.

If you live in Cyprus you are probably aware it’s almost impossible to land a decent job unless you know someone to recommend you but I wanted to make it on my own. Miraculously, I did. It was painful of course but it was worth it (I wrote about that too a few weeks ago).

So, what now?

I’m certain I made the right decision but I’m also still VERY confused, conflicted and not sure who I really am. I’ve written a little about it before, it’s like I’m two different people , living abroad for years does that to you and what’s worse I miss all my people, my nearest and dearest who know me well and thankfully keep reminding me every now and then who I am. I desperately need it now my confidence has taken a hit. It’s tough to be confident when you are that confused.

The truth is I feel more like an expat now I moved back to Cyprus, more than I ever felt 10 years in the UK.

I don’t know much for now, I have to find the right balance (I’ll start making more videos and posts on English and mental health and travel very soon, as soon as I enlist all my coping mechanisms!) but one thing I know for sure (thanks to my new manager who gave me such great advice during our interview I’ll never forget), moving back home comes with compromises, you’ll have to adapt to the culture again, but never lose your identity and who you really are.

And that’s my advice to you if you are in a similar situation.

I dedicate this post to all my friends who I haven’t seen for months or years (more than a year now). I miss you all and can’t wait to see you and hug you tight one day in the near future.

Namaste

Eleni

True love in the time of (modern) cholera

Do you believe in true love?

Do you believe there’s a person out there that can make you happi-er, (not happy, your happiness shouldn’t solely depend on someone else, but ha-ppi-er), do you believe there’s that special person who would love you for who you are, who would see you in your worst, darkest, most insane moments but would still choose to be with you? Do you believe there’s someone you can live with for years and years and still adore them?

Sometimes I do. Sometimes I’m a hopeless romantic and most of the time I’m a cynical b***h.

I was in a miserable relationship myself for the best part of 7 years and I’ve only dated a couple of times after that and none of them was a pleasant experience which put me off since, so my cynicism is justified.

But every now and then I come across an old couple who I can tell by just looking at them that they’ve been together for years and years and still love each other to the bones, thinking that maybe it is possible to experience that true love (hopeless romantic), but then wonder if it’s even feasible in the era of fast, disposable love, where people are too selfish and break up too easily or for the sake of not being along they stay together but are miserable (cynical b***h).

Last summer whilst visiting Oxford, I came across one of those couples. They were both dressed immaculately as they were to attend a wedding at the Trinity College chapel and I don’t remember their exact conversation but I remember they were incredibly sweet to each other and to us.

At some point the gentleman asked his lady to pose for a photo, I could see the love in their eyes, it was such a beautiful moment so I tried to take a picture of them to capture that but somehow they both turned and looked at me.

So here they are. True love, in the time of (modern) cholera.

Eleni

Non parlo Italiano!

About two months ago…

I desperately needed a haircut. I couldn’t even look at my hair. Everything happened so fast I didn’t get the chance to have my hair cut before I moved to Italy and the last one I had was early in the summer in Southampton (I miss the UK so much more I dare to admit sometimes).

Of course it wasn’t about the hair. It was all about self care and I’d started neglecting myself, pretty dangerous for me, it lets the depression and severe anxiety demons creep in and slowly take over without me realising until is too late, so I had to get my hair cut. Urgently.

I’m not sure if you remember where I live now, it’s a small city where very few people you come across speak English, so even the thought of attempting to book an appointment I found intimidating.

But self-preservation prevailed and I wouldn’t let my very poor Italian get in the way. (My Italian hasn’t improved much since, in case you are wondering.)

If you asked me what the most common expression I’ve used so far during my first three months in Italy was, it’s not ‘scusi’, or ‘per favore’ but..

‘Non parlo Italiano’.

It’s my opening line most of the time. Oh no, I actually first speak in English, as I often forget they won’t understand me, then I notice the baffled expression on their face and I explain.

So here’s how I managed to get a (decent) haircut with minimal communication but plenty of awkwardness.

Eleni- ‘Hi, I’d like too…, oh sh**. Non parlo Italiano, parle Inglese?

Hairdresser- Mmmm, no… (waves at one of the other hairdressers who knows a bit of English apparently).

El- Taglio (cut). Pointing at my hair. ‘Un po’ (How the hell do you say ‘trim’ in Italian?)

H-Si. Quando? (Yes! Finally a word I know!)

El-Sabato, matina (morning)?

H– (After checking their appointment book). Mm, tredici? (1pm, Italians tend to follow the 24hr format).

E– Si, si, grazie!

Pheew. First step done. I managed to book an appointment!

Saturday (haircut day)

11pm

I couldn’t remember if the appointment was at 11am or 1pm. In my head numbers were mixed up the minute I left the hairdressers two day ago. Full time teaching does that to you, messing up your brain. So I went at 11am, just to check. The hairdressers burst into laughing. I thought I’d attempt to go food shopping since I got up anyway, but the supermarket was way too busy for my liking (Damn, I could have stayed in bed a little longer).

1pm

I walked in. I had no idea what to say or do. The place was full of customers chatting away. I felt paralysed, mute. I couldn’t let any words out. I didn’t know how to. I could understand some of the conversations but I couldn’t take part. A horrible feeling.

That’s how my students must feel… I kept thinking.

After about half an hour wait (which I was ‘lucky’ as quite often you wait way longer, I was told), I was summoned on the chair.

The stylist asked me how I wanted my hair. I managed to explain (thanks to Antonella, Elena and Google translate) that I just wanted a trim and layers but not too short.

I was terrified. What if she gives me a horrible haircut, what if I end up looking like a pencil?

Image result for fleabag i look like a pencil meme

We didn’t speak much after that. She couldn’t speak English, I couldn’t speak Italian. She made an effort, which I appreciated, she asked me if I was a student, thankfully I knew how to say ‘I’m an English teacher’. My second most used expression (‘insegnante di Inglese’).

An hour later and after a lot of miming and gesturing (and a few word exhanges partially thanks to similarities between Greek and Italian), I left the hairdressers relieved I didn’t look like a pencil, it was actually a decent haircut and cheap compared to UK prices (12 euros).

But it was the most awkward hairdresser’s experience I ever had. And kind of funny at the same time. I had a little giggle afterwards. It’s fascinating how we humans manage to communicate even when we don’t speak the same language, although sometimes we can’t communicate even if we do speak the same language. The irony.

A month later and I’m none the wiser when it comes to Italian. My timetable doesn’t allow me to attend Italian lessons anymore, though I’m still learning from my students, who feel incredibly proud judging by the huge smile on their face every time they teach me an Italian word.

I’m not sure I’d like to stay in (Southern) Italy after my contract ends, but one thing I discovered is that I love living somewhere I’ve never lived before, being thrown into the deep, learning how to… well how to adopt and survive in another country, another culture, another life. That’s something I definitely want more of.

For now, I’ll enjoy the rest of my stay at this little, odd town that is Reggio Calabria.

Namaste

Eleni

Travel tales- When I met Helen, the Fairy Godmother

Saturday morning. A gorgeous, warm, sunny, summery day, one of those I almost forgot I live in this country.

9:50am and I’m on the train. The lack of sleep and a few drinks the night before have taken their toll and I am exhausted but so happy I’m about to spend the day with my best friend exploring Oxford.

The train is packed (glad I decided to reserve a seat). I’m trying and failing miserably to take a selfie so I just put my music on and enjoy the sun lightly burning my skin. I don’t mind. I’ll the take the sunshine any day.

Just after the Winchester stop, a sweet, elder lady gets on the train and sits next to me. White curly short hair, glasses, a floral dress and a huge smile. She seemed so kind and lovely, sometimes I can tell straight away, I got a strong urge to start a conversation, though I was painfully aware that it might backfire, people are not always that friendly at this neck of the woods.

I’m so happy I did. We ended up chatting until she got off the train. It felt so easy and natural, as if we’ve known each other for years. I straight away explained why I was tired, where I was going and why and ended up telling her about my plans and dreams and hopes for the immediate future and she told me about her life (she was heading to her mother in law to look after her for the day and relieve her husband), her travels in America back in the 80s and she reassured me without realising that I’m doing the right thing.

She told me: “Go, travel, see the world. I didn’t meet my husband until I was 36 and had my children in my late thirties. Enjoy life whilst you can.“

Just before she got off, I asked her what her name was.

‘Helen’ she said.

‘Eleni, which is Helen in Greek. So lovely to meet you.’ I replied.

‘Lovely to meet you too dear’, she replied. She wished me the very best for the future and I felt she meant every word. She wasn’t just being polite. She actually meant it.

How often does it happen to meet a stranger you connect straight away, who as a Deus Ex Machina (απο μηχανής Θεός), a fairy Godmother re-assured me I’m actually doing the right thing, leaving my job and taking a leap of faith?

After she left I couldn’t stop thinking how many amazing, incredible humans, everyday heroes like her I’ll meet on my travels.

I’ll always remember Helen as a fairy Godmother who decided to pay me a visit to cheer me on and remind me to always believe that something wonderful is about to happen.

Eleni

What I learned from my Macmillan Jurassic Coast Mighty hike experience

Wow. I realised I haven’t written for 20 days. I can’t believe it.

It’s been busy and stressful, trying to sort everything out before I leave Southampton and it took me about a week to fully recover from the Macmillan Jurassic Coast Mighty Hike challenge, mainly mentally.

Although I’ve done my best I still feel terrible for only reaching mile 20 and not finishing it and I’d love to go back and try again.

I won’t get into details on what happened on the day, you can get a taste below (the whole story in the description) but I thought I’d share what I learnt to help future hikers who decide to take the challenge.

I wish I prepared better. Physically I was OK, the first half was tough but I managed, I’m not too unfit, I could have finished it but I wish I had done a walk as long as the hike just to test my shoes. Had I known my hiking boots would burn my feet when I hit the road and I’d been in pain for over two hours I would have either worn another pair or brought an extra pair of comfy trainers for the second half. I’ve changed socks once but didn’t seem to help.

I wish I’d had a look of the route beforehand. No need to explain much, but I had no idea how scary the first half would be with those steep hills.

I could have taken fewer snacks with me to reduce the weight of my backpack. It feels heavier and heavier the longer you walk.

I should have put blister pads on from the beginning and not wait until half way when me feet were already sore.

I wouldn’t have made it to 20 miles without my waterproof and walking poles. Especially the walking poles. I’d still be on the top of those hills, paralysed in fear.

Maybe if I stuck with others I would have gone further. Staying on my own, alone with my thoughts and in pain was probably the wrong decision. The only thought in my mind for those two hours I was in unbearable pain was how disappointed I was in myself I couldn’t take up this pain, when thousands of people suffering or who died from cancer, like my aunt, experience pain ten times worse every single day for months or years. ‘How lame, you are so weak, you can’t even walk 26 miles. You are quitting??Pathetic.’

As I’m writing this a lady going through chemo wearing a cold cap to save her hair comes up on the ITV news. She looks tired but so positive. I remember reading about this infamous cap and how horrible it is, giving you headaches, as if the chemo side effects are not bad enough and half of the time it doesn’t even work. My shame for not finishing it’s still there.

Finally I wish was prepared for the mental, emotional challenge, which was at times more overwhelming than the physical. I had no idea that everything would trigger me crying for three days after the hike.

Two days later on the Monday, my feet were still a bit sore and I got my period three days early, which didn’t help with the pain but I could have gone to work. I would have been sore but I could have gone. Mentally though, I wouldn’t manage.

Partially, it is a natural reaction, your body is not used to such a physical challenge and although self induced, you are exposing your self to trauma. You are in pain but is self-inflicted. The brain does not know how to handle it.

If you are struggling with anxiety and depression and you can feel everything more intense than the average person, after such a challenge, the intensity reaches new heights.

I wish I was honest about it, I wish I’d admitted the main reason I couldn’t go to work was that I couldn’t control my feelings. Instead I let people tease me I couldn’t handle the soreness. I’m ashamed I did not ticked ‘mental health’ when I filled in my sickness absence form.

So be prepared and take a day or two off afterwards.

But what it’s done, it’s done. I can’t change what happened. All I can do is learn from it and as Mark who is fighting cancer for the second time and did the hike said:

“…don’t feel ashamed, take it from me, this happens to us all the time, you hit a barrier and you fall down. You get back up and crack on, that’s what you must do.” 

Despite my disappointment, it’s been an amazing experience I shared with lovely friends, I met incredible humans and I feel blessed I was part of the Jurassic Coast Mighty Hike 2019 raising money for such an incredible cause, Macmillan Cancer Support, a day I’ll never forget.

If I’m around next September, I’ll definitely give it another go.

Eleni

Today I feel…

I came across a post yesterday on ‘Things that help with anxiety’ (or depression). I can’t remember exactly what it said -and I spent hours looking for it to no avail- other than one of the suggestions:

‘Every day write down how you feel…’

I suddenly had a light bulb moment. That’s what I need to do. I don’t really feel like writing or doing anything for that matter but maybe it will help, since my usual coping techniques haven’t been as effective lately.

I haven’t been feeling that well the last few days. Tired, drained, sad, numb, but also angry, easily irritated (I never felt so angry about the shitty weather, people being loud and other trivial, little things), anxious. A wonderfully disastrous cocktail of emotions. Hormones may have played a part (that week of the month, yes I’m talking about my period) but there’s more to that.

I didn’t do much at the weekend. I was so tired and drained I felt I couldn’t leave the house. And I didn’t. I felt horrible I didn’t go to see Kathy but I had no energy, I wouldn’t have been able to take her out for a walk.

I spent most of my time doing laundry (lots of laundry), watching TV, reading, a bit of singing on my guitar, some yoga. I felt better but my brain still worked overtime. I felt paralysed, as if the sofa and I were firmly bolted together, (though I managed to clean and make dinner) and at the same time the guilt of not doing much and obsessing on meaningless things for hours e.g. who was the actress in that film?Who DID we fight at World War I? was unbearable.

I put the first episode of After Life, Ricky Gervais’s new Netflix series on, about a man whose wife dies and he is in so much pain he decides to punish the world, and I was hooked instantly.

It was funny, sad, depressing, raw, unfiltered, saying out loud some of the horrible thoughts we all sometimes have but not dare say (I’ve read on the Guardian that some may be put off by the first episode because of Tony’s, the main character, apparent rudeness but I thought quite the opposite, that’s what makes it relatable, that’s what happens when you are in pain, it’s not nice but it happens) , and so very real. Anyone who has lost someone or who’s been depressed would relate. Also, great soundtrack.

I won’t reveal any spoilers but one of the messages coming out of the show was something I often torture my brain with. What is the point of living? Why do we try? Why live if we can’t think of a reason to stay alive?

Happiness is amazing. It’s so amazing it doesn’t matter if it’s yours or not. There’s that lovely thing: “A society grows great when old men plant trees the shade of which they know they will never sit in”. Good people do things for other people. That’s it. The end. Anne told Tony. Maybe that’s all there is. Live to make this world a better place. Do it for others if you can’t do it for yourself. Maybe.

It’s only 6 episodes and it’s meant to be a comedy, so it doesn’t go too deep but it’s definitely worth a watch.

https://www.netflix.com/title/80998491

Whilst talking to the little sis earlier today, I realised I go through a similar phase around this time of the year. A bout of sadness and numbness I can’t easily get out of, even with my best remedies in place. I normally go back to Cyprus for a week to restart, soak in the sunshine and the warmth, sit by the sea watching the waves…

… but this year it’s different. Ι don’t know when I’m going home yet but the little sister is visiting in three days. I can’t wait though I’m sad the other sis can’t join us. We planned an awesome week and it’s exactly what I need right now.

So how do I feel today? I feel better, though still sad, tired and incredibly anxious. I wish I was in the warmth and the sunshine by the sea but I’m also excited for the week ahead, dinner with friends, the little sister’s arrival, Linda’s leaving lunch, New Forest, London, Wicked, Brussels, Bruges. It’s gonna be a great one!

There won’t be a post this week but I’ll be back in a couple of weeks recharged and refreshed with plenty of stories and pictures.

Happy Monday and happy Green Monday to everyone celebrating Green Monday. Some of my most precious memories are sitting at the back of my uncle’s truck with my cousins, spending the day in the field trying to fly a kite, loving the strictly ‘lenten’ food, no meat or dairy but starving by the afternoon and my mum caving and let us eat whatever we fancied.

Anyway, time to finish work, go home and prepare for making more great memories later on this week.

PS if you are not at your best, try writing down how you feel. It works wonders.

Namaste

Eleni

Glorious food, laughter and spontaneous singing

It was the night of the 10th of January. A mundane, ordinary day that ended with delectable food and plenty of laughter, celebrating friends’ birthdays.

I love going out with the Solent gang. You know that feeling, that you can be yourself and enjoy the evening without having to pretend? I always get it with these wonderful, fun, creative, loving people and I always look forward to our nights out.

The dining choice this time was Simon’s at Oxfords. I’ve been many a times in the past for drinks and the ever so fun Sunday jams nights, I used to love those, but never had dinner there before.

The food was just lovely. Beautifully, picture perfect presented which makes a difference for me and very flavoursome.

We went for their set menu and I opted for starter and main (cutting down on sugar is NOT easy).

Prawns is one of my favourite flavours so I had tempura prawns with a sprinkle of fresh lime served with sweet chilli sauce for a starter…

followed by roasted chicken breast served on a creamy potato mash and wild mushroom & smoked pancetta cream. De-li-cious.

The rest of the group had a mixture of starters/mains/desserts but everyone enjoyed their meal, especially Helen who claimed that was the ‘best pork’ she ever had!

The service was great and quick, and fun, especially the lady at the end who, because of our impromptu singing sang back to us when going around for everyone to pay.

We paid £24 for a two course meal which was worth it, in my opinion. My drink was a bit expensive (I paid £7 for a 175ml glass of wine) but I must admit the glass of Malbec I had was divine. I can’t believe I only discovered Malbec less than a year ago.

All in all a great experience (minus the paintings on the walls some of the people in the group did not like, Chris: ‘They are scary, they have no eyes!’ but I actually thought were quite unique!)

What a great first dinner out in 2019. Here’s to more to come!

Eleni

Blogmas day 7- Christmas shopping

Thank God for the weekend. I know, I’m a day behind. Again. 

Work’s been busy with Monday’s work deadline looming but I found some time yesterday at lunchtime for some Christmas shopping so I can today start wrapping!

I  was so tired I had to cancel my evening plans and came straight home carrying Christmas presents and a few treats for me including a huge luxury blanket.

When I arrived home, the Christmas tree was waiting outside my door, so tomorrow I can decorate with a help from a lovely friend.

Here’s some of the beautiful gifts I got (I had to hide some for obvious reasons!). I can’t wait to see everyone’s face when they open them!

Right, now I need to get off my sofa, tidy up, wrap some Christmas gifts and chill with Christmas films and chocolate. 

Eleni