20pounds

tsunami horror. absolute horror. makes the rest of this post seem pretty trivial.

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post-xmas/boxingday/january sales: pretty awesome. mango is almost entirely half-price. needless to say the crowd has doubled (make that triple-tripled). crazy queues. and at selfridges, i literally could not move; people were just stuck in the crowd.

i bought some books at half-price too, and this baby blues desktop day-to-day calendar i'd been eyeing for a long time. i miss my daily dose of baby blues comic strips from life!. now i can laugh more every day.

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derby was cool.. yam lives in a village. a real village (fritchley). in the freaking countryside!

to cut long stories short, here are my

derby memories
- yam's lovely family
- yam's mum's lovely pancakes
- walking from village to village
- yam's lovely house & room
- walking in the rain around chatsworth
- rides in jomo's car (jomo is yam's best friend, she drove us around while i was in derby cos public transport is non-existant in the area during this festive holiday season)
- barn rave party (probably my first and last; it wasn't as crazy as it sounds (who am i kidding?); details available upon request)
- scones with jam and cream
- spotting holly along the road during a walk
- silky furry smudge (yam's cat)
- yam's old friends (and the accompanying 'village gossip')
- dimple cottage
- frog-crossing
- old stone houses
- eight-year old neighbours in angel costumes running around the living room
- five (?)-year old cousins running around the living room
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i don't feel prepared for perpignan. even if perpignan is ready for me.
(fun facts: perpignan is in the south of france, languedoc region. strong catalan (spanish) influence since it's near the spanish border. strong regional french accent. population 130,000)

j'suis pas prêt, mon français est crap. que fait? m.reb et famille don't speak english.

here's the worst thing though: i tried calling monsieur reb (i'll be putting up at his place with his family) just now, somehow i couldn't get through (he's grandfather-age, has neither a mobile phone nor e-mai). 3 days ago i confirmed that the lovely birthday card i'd sent to my littlest bro in s'pore weeks ago never arrived in s'pore. warning bells promptly sounded in my head. what if m. reb hadn't received my snail-mail either?

let's see: what if?
he wouldn't know i was coming, he wouldn't know which flight i'd be on, he wouldn't be at the airport. i'd be in très fond merde.

but not to fear - if all else (i.e., the telephoning) fails, i've got plan b.

plan b: turn up in perpignan airport and scan the crowds desperately for m. reb; should he not materialise, head for nearest phone booth. call his home telephone number again. if that doesn't work out, head to the tourist info office and find out how to get to cabestany (you see, m.reb doesn't actually live in perpignan, but in a neighbouring town. i think). then, either turn up at his doorstep unabashedly, or put up somewhere in perpignan (dans le gare, peut-être).

oh this is going to be so much fun.

have i mentioned that m.reb and family don't speak english?