|Have a guess...
The early hours of Sunday morning saw me in a taxi, playing Guess Where I Live with the taxi driver. "It's a man's name beginning with X*..." I offered rather unhelpfully. After telling him the general direction we needed to go in, we set off. My road name eventually came back to me, and I blurted it out. "What number?" the driver mumbled. "What?" "What number?" "What?? "WHAT NUMBER?!" "Uh... what?" "The number!! Is it 6*?" "Oh! Yes it is!" I exclaimed, both excited that he'd correctly guessed my house number, whilst simultaneously very relieved to finally understand/hear what he'd been saying. "Oh, you are by the mosque?" "Yes, yes I am!" I replied, pleased with myself that I was at last managing to hold something resembling a normal conversation. "You pray there?" he asked.|
Now then, I am quite clearly a drunk white woman, thought I to myself. In 9 months I have never seen anyone other than sober Asian males enter the mosque. The chances of me praying there are about the same as me winning the lottery without having first bought a ticket.
Luckily we arrived at my house shortly after we'd established that the women are in fact only permitted to use the back entrance, so I was saved the potential embarrassment of making any unwise jokes about back doors.
Sunday afternoon revolved around a lovely little visit from my sister and our attempts to obtain food. The pub we chose to go to closed almost as soon as we got there, the Co-Op had virtually nothing I could eat, and the fish and chip shop man seemed shocked to have customers and was very much unprepared for people wanting to buy chips. Ultimately food was purchased and consumed, films were swapped, and separate ways were went.
Somewhat miraculously I have to whole four day weekend off this week so we'll see what it brings. I'll be happy as long as it features some heavy duty lie-ins.
Days to go: 99
*(Details changed for obvious reasons.)