I Seem To Be Suffering From A Frantic Fatigue...

Dear Readers, your Humble Blogger must apologise for a blatant display of slackness and disregard. However, the time has finally come to scribble down the news from these far-flung and Jaffa-Cake-free shores.

Schedules of general nothingness were replaced almost a month ago by classes and supposed hard-work, which of course confronted this Humble Blogger with a dilemma of gargantuan proportions: just how is one supposed to sleep for 12 hours a day when school begins at 8am and finishes at 8pm? Answers on a postcard? Fear not, Dear Readers, the answer in simple: the National Institution of the Siesta. You may think it is not worth queueing for, then cramming onto, a 3mph trolley-bus just to be able to salvage an hour of sleep at midday, but rest assured - it truly and undeniably is.

And yet, more events threw themselves haphazardly into the road like schoolboy divers from 1930s jetties. More midnight parties in the flat, requiring the use of earplugs and an extra-loud alarm clock; fun and games with the disillusioned employees of Immigration and it's university counter-parts; scuffles with poorly-accented Argentinian French teachers ("I do speak French. It's you I don't understand".. are words that your Humble Blogger wishes she had had the courage to use) and last but definitely, certainly, indisputably not least, the Invasion of the Family.

There is something inspiring about the arrival of tourists, be they friends or family, to a town in which one lives. Old, tired views are suddenly shiny and new, days out to visit attractions are suddenly allowed for, and the prospect of dinner becomes once again a highlight when it is spent in a restaurant and consists of more than rice and pieces of hot dog.

And yet.. it is draining. As delightful as it is to finally speak in one's own language, to see friendly faces of loved ones and to be able to reference little-known and heavily-British television shows at will, playing host, translator and tourguide can be a little on the tiring side, made all the more true when siesta time is spent wandering the streets looking for sandals.

The proverbial good time, however, was had by all. Mountains were seen, thermal springs were sprung (and swam in), and the Frenchman was a delight with both the Parentals and The Smalls. But now, Dear Readers, the guests have departed, and this Humble Blogger is going to take a siesta... Until the next guest arrives in a week.