Goodbyes

With every big change comes excitement. Sometimes even fear. And then the inevitable – the goodbyes you have to say. A goodbye can be a good thing. It can also break your heart. I have decided to list all the kinds of goodbyes I’m going to have to face in the next 19 days :

Good-to-be-gone-bye to:

  • my headset at work
  • my crazy (I mean eccentric dammit) landlady and her habit of smoking in the kitchen/ lounge/ dinning room/ bedroom/ bathroom (!!)
  • paying taxes
  • paying national insurance and all kinds of bills in general
  • rain
  • RAIN
  • RAIN
  • srain ( snow + rain = srain , fyi srain is not half as cool as it sounds)

Good-lord-this-is-hard-bye :

  • my favourite cafe, where they already know my order and serve delicious coffee with a little chocolate frog on the side
  • all my fab friends
  • my little gerbils
  • skiing
  • Primark
  • polite shopkeepers
  • my bike
  • sipping a cuppa Tetley’s whilst watching the miserable weather outside (mental note to myself : pack some Tetley’s)
Ribbit, ribbit

Ribbit, ribbit

 Goooooohoooohooo…sniff..sniff..-somebody-pass-me-a-tissue-please-bye to:

  • Huggie, I honestly do not know how that’s going to go down at the airport

What’s gonna be your hardest goodbye?

x

G.

P.S. You might have noticed I have not included my family. That’s not because I am a cold hearted b**ch but because I’m already used to saying goodbye to them. And no it doesn’t get any easier with time. It’s always sad when I have to go.

Challenge Cancelled

Since I have spent most of this week sweating in bed instead of in the gym I have decided to cancel this week’s update on the 6-week-6-pack-challenge. I have however taken it upon me to work twice as hard next week and hopefully it will show!!

I don’t want you to feel cheated on the pictures tho so here is a bunch of random nice photos I found of things I particularly love. Enjoy!

x

 

G.

 

 

Mind over matter

Do you know that feeling when you are sooooooooo sick of being sick? When reading books in bed all day, watching all your favourite TV shows on catch-up and even shopping online stopped being fun days ago? And now all you desperately want to do is just being able to go to work and talk to somebody else than your crazy (and by crazy I mean eccentic kind of crazy) landlady? Well – that was me yesterday.

Today I am like : “C’mon body, what can possibly be wrong with you for so long?!”

Today I am really over this whole “sickness” thing. I think my body is just trying to avoid its responsibilities like having to move and function and go to the gym. The going to the gym is the part that’s bothering me the most because OBVIOUSLY I have got my challenge to keep up with.

And it was only today I remembered my mum telling me that as a child I was able to make myself sick overnight. I would be completely fine going to bed the night before an exam for example and wake up with a fever in the morning. Just like that I would order my body to create an excuse to stay out of school. “I wonder if that would work the other way around?” I thought. And then I tried really hard to concentrate on feeling good and healthy. Next thing I know I wake up three hours later. So much for healing myself using my mind. I did feel a bit better after that nap tho !

So I decided to dedicate this post to my body in hope it will then feel thankful and better in return ! I love you body so please don’t let me down! Let’s go to work tomorrow and feel great !

 

x

G.

 

 

The Royal Prank

Not every story is a happy story. And this one is by far one of the saddest stories I have ever encountered… It’s a story that shows the true power of media over our society and more-our individual lives.

Just in case you are living under a rock or don’t follow world’s news let me fill you in. Kate ,The Duchess of Cambridge, has been rushed to hospital with acute morning sickness last week and  it has been revealed shortly afterwards that she is indeed expecting. The world went crazy over such news. Or at least the newspapers wanted us to believe so. The TV has been swamped by breaking news of minute by minute updates on her condition. I’m not a royalist. That’s probably why I’m left quite unimpressed by any information of this kind. I wish her and William all the best as much as I wish it to any other couple that is about to bring a new baby to this world. Be it a royal one or not.

However my attention was caught once I have heard of a couple of DJs from Oz, who have played a prank on the hospital, where Kate was staying. They called the reception pretending to be the Queen and asked to speak to her nurses. By what seems like a miracle they have managed to be put thru and even got some information of Kate’s physical state. “Good on them” I thought. Why not show the authorities that that human imagination wins over any protocol?

“The Royal Prank” was supposed to be a piece of harmless fun, that would get played over and over on the radio for a while. We would read about it in the papers, hear about it on telly and then it would eventually died off as these things usually do. I don’t think anyone has foreseen the nasty turn of events.

The following day the switchboard reception, who transferred the DJs to the nurse, was found dead believed to have taken her own life. The same media that have hold her responsible for the “leakage” just a couple of hours ago have turned their drama savvy heads towards Australia and the “witch hunt” and “finger pointing” has started. I couldn’t believe my eyes reading some of the comments that have been posted on the page of the radio station blaming the two DJs in question. I know that this has been a terrible tragedy that has ripped yet another family apart and some people may feel very strong about that particular issue. Yet I find it hard to believe that those people won’t take a moment and re-asses their actions before they take them.

I am not in any way belittling how terrible this thing is. I just think that to blindly follow whatever one reads in the papers is the stupidest way to make a judgement. I don’t think in the slightest that the poor two DJs have caused the reception’s death. The stress of the whole situation might have contributed however… would any of you have taken their lives just because of a simple practical joke? None of us have even heard of that woman before last week. How do we know what kind of a person she was? What do we know of her everyday struggles and sorrows? How do we know she wasn’t unstable long before the whole thing had begun? And yet many of us put together the fragmental information we read somewhere and come to the conclusion that the DJs are to blame and “have her blood on their hands”.

Now – I would like all of those people to stop for a second and think! If you really believe that the poor woman has committed suicide because of THAT phone call then what makes you think your hurtful comments won’t drive the DJs the same direction? We are so used to driving automatic cars, using automatic coffee machines and eating ready-made meals we have somehow forgotten how to not automatically think whatever the media tell us.

That’s pretty much all I had to say about this topic. I’m sorry this is so random and sad but I’m just so pissed off anytime I see people ignoring the sole purpose of their brains – thinking !

R.I.P Jacintha Saldanha

and you two Ozzies- if you are reading this- I hope you are coping well I really really feel for you guys, take care !

 

x

 

G.

Decisions decisions…

Like probably every girl in her teenage years I went thru phases. I went thru cutting my hair GI Jane short , bleaching it to death in a quest of becoming legally blond and even dying my fringe all possible rainbow colours. I went thru all this just to realise that if you are born a redhead you have remain a redhead.

I did my fair share of experimenting with hair styles and finally settled for long. Long is good. It requires near to no maintenance apart from occasional brushing and maybe even blow drying. Sometimes I decide to go “crazy” and change my fringe style. Right now I am in between haircuts and am considering what type of fringe would go with the famous EK red hat? Any ideas?

Side swept maybe?

Side swept maybe?

Or centre parting?

Or centre parting?

Or my beloved full fringe?

Or my beloved full fringe?

And here is THE HAT :

What do you guys think?

What do you guys think?

x

G.

It’s a family matter …

I have watched this documentary on the BBC not so long ago (yes – because that’s what I do- I watch documentaries in my free time) about China. It’s one hell of a country I tell you. A world completely on its own. Did you know every couple in China is only allowed to have one child? If the parents ever conceive another baby they have to pay a heavy fine.

Imagine that. No brothers or sisters to fight with. No cousins to look forward to once a year for Christmas. No aunties or uncles to spoil you rotten. None of that for the Chinese kids.  And here I was thinking the kids in Africa had it tough.

I feel for those poor little sods. I know what it feels like to be a single child. I am a single child myself. A single child with five brothers. And a sister.

(I always say it like that btw. Because I imagine this happens in the listener’s mind) :

Me: “I am a single child.”

Listener (thinking): “ Well, that’s quite normal.”

Me: “But I have five brothers.”

Listener (thinking): “ Wow that’s INTERESTING!”

Me: “And one sister”

Listener (thinking): “Alrite – she is just a regular gypsy…” (and I can use the word “gypsy” , because it’s not me saying it but someone else thinking it)

In case you are wondering- no. I am not.

I was just born to an amazing set of parents. A really remarkable couple. After they had me (aka the most awesome/beautiful/clever baby you can ask for) they realized that nothing better will ever come out of their union. I was the cream della cream of both of them. Their relationship has peaked so to speak. So they came to a decision to part their ways and share their awesomeness with other people. `for the sake of human progression. It would be greedy not to.

I am obviously not complaining as this makes a true original.One of a kind me. I have no obnoxious little brothers or sisters that are just trying to be a younger more awesome version of myself. I just have some really cool half and step-brothers and one really great step-sister.

Let me tell you more about them.

First there is the Triple Thread- that’s for real the nickname my family has come up with. I could tell you their names but I doubt that matters. Huggie for example just calls them The Big one, The Small one and The One that never smiles. They are my mum and stepdad’s sons.

It all started when I was 8 and asked my mum if I could have a dog. She said “That’s too much responsibility for someone like you my dear.” A week later it has been announced that she was pregnant. I think you have guessed what my reaction was. Yes indeed I looked at her with my pure innocent child eyes and said in icily “My dear – I think that’s too much responsibility for someone like you.” Turned around and sulked for nearly nine months. I wanted a dog not a stupid sibling. Then The Big one came along and everything changed. I realized that toddlers were so much more fun than dogs! Not only I could teach him to “Sit” and “Fetch”, he could also learn words he would then repeat in the most inappropriate situations. The Big one was the best baby in the world and he was all mine to play with and take for walkies and stuff! All of my friends with dogs were so jealous when I brought him along to the playground and showed them all the tricks he knew!

That’s why I was so excited when my mum told me she was expecting again. Twins this time! Oh my god I was beyond excited! I was ecstatic! I saw myself being the coolest kid on the block with a little circus of trained siblings. I have to say I was very disappointed when The Small one and The One that never smiles were brought back home. I repeatedly asked my mum if “she was sure they didn’t get switched at the hospital?”. I failed to understand how these creased purple creatures with bald heads could possibly belong to our good looking family. Especially when compared to The Big one, who was the cutest baby I have ever seen. Fortunately- after some time- they grew out of it. However the crucial first months I could have spent training them for my circus were lost because I refused to be seen with ugly babies. Seriously I never took them outside once until they turned normal colour.

That's me on the top then The Big one, The One that never smiles (actually SMILING in this one) and The Small one

That’s me on the top then The Big one, The One that never smiles (actually SMILING in this one) and The Small one

Then there is my single-child-brother with one half-sister (that being me) and a step-brother and a step-sister (that being my step-brother and step-sister also- hahaha are you lost yet?). His name is Vojta and he is the one I talk about here. He was a very ugly baby too now when I come to think of it but he turned out ok. I don’t get to see him much because if he is not playing “street” (as in street basketball) he is lost in the  World of Warcraft ( saying that tho that’s probably not cool anymore and I just tottally embarrassed him by saying it and he looks like a complete lamo coz only lamos play WWC nowadays…). We have both inherited my dad’s passion for pets. I love dogs and my two little gerbils and he goes to sleep cuddled up to his pet tarantula.

That’s it for my “halves”. Moving onto my “steps”.
I actually never wanted a sister. Until I had one. I was so used to being around boys I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a girl as a sibling. To put it simply- it’s amazing ! Finally someone I can share clothes with!  And talk about boy troubles. Also it is great to have somebody who is not a decade younger than me – who I can go to the pub with! So thank you Daddy for meeting my step-sister’s mum. That was the best present you could have ever gotten me !:)
My sister, her BF ,myself and Superman

My sister, her BF ,myself and Superman

I can’t forget about my little step-brother, who is growing bigger and bigger by the hour. I wrote a whole post just about him so there isn’t much more I can tell you. Only that he is currently “auditioning” for a girlfriend. Any takers? 🙂

x

G.

Journey Of Mine

My 18-year-old brother (damn why do I keep thinking he is a 12 years old brat?) has discovered bodybuilding not so long ago. It had near to no impact on my life up until recently when he started posting pictures of his hard work on Facebook.

“That little s**t” I thought ” I can’t possibly let him have a six pack before I do!”

So I did what our family does best. I challenged him to it !

I have been trying for a six pack for over a year now but for various reasons ( mainly purely my own laziness and sugar addiction) I have failed. So far. What I lacked was motivation. To simply “have a six pack” doesn’t quite cut it for me. To ” have a better one” or “get one faster” than somebody might just do the trick !

What we agreed…

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Words and space

I have once briefly mentioned that I got finally approved for the Cabin Crew job. I feel like I haven’t really dedicated that big news enough words or space on my blog. So here it comes :  

words , words and happy words and more happy words and also happy space and happy face

No- seriously – I am very excited as you can imagine! All the obstacles have been overcome and I’ standing on the very last step of a long imaginary staircase ready to open the imaginary door and embark on what is probably going to be the biggest adventure of my life. There is no denying it now- I am actually going to Dubai in four weeks. There is no more ” I might not get thru” “I might not get the GC” “I might not pass my Medicals” there is just “I might have to start packing.”

This half a year has gone by so quick- from the first moment I thought of even applying for the job. It was on a crappy day last summer as I was feeling super sorry for myself because I haven’t seen sunshine for about three months running and had to keep on talking to people at work about their flying on holiday to or via Dubai that I suddenly decided I can’t live in England anymore. And out of a blue I thought – “I know what would be a great idea! To live in a desert ! There is always sun in a desert !”.  In the frenzy of imagining myself soaking up all the sun and feeling warm I applied for the first job that crossed my mind. Cabin Crew.

It wasn’t until I received the invitation for my AD (as an employee of the same airline I didn’t have to attend an OD) that I fully realised what I did. And what I was about to do. At this point I still haven’t told anyone. It was my little secret that I would think of when I felt down. A bit like ” You talk to me like I am a piece of s***t but I am going to be a Cabin Crew and flying places and stuff and you are not – hehehe I win” type of secret. It wasn’t the easiest news to break to people but I was surprised how supportive everyone around me was. I felt and am still feeling so loved! There truly is nothing better than supportive friends and family!

By this time I was back on good terms with England (could have possibly been caused by that one sunny week we had mid-August this year) and wasn’t even that fussed about going to Dubai anymore. I have already made my point to the UK. “You either get your act together about this weather thing or I go.” However I decided to still attend and see how far can I get with this whole thing. This mindset was probably what has made the difference at my AD (for more details on that click here). I wasn’t nervous at all, just really curious what’s this all about. And I got thru. Most of the girls there didn’t and they probably hate me now. Some of them looked like their lives depended on getting that job… well maybe they did.

After I got my Final Interview invitation I thought “Right, am I doing this or what? I better find out what’s going on.” And I started looking a bit deeper into the possibility of completely turning my life around. And that’s when I fell in love with the job. I started wanting it so badly. Who wouldn’t ? I got completely obsessed with forums such as CabinCrew and PPrune. Because I don’t know what the term “half measures” means.

My FI didn’t go as well as planned. For you all out there who think it’s just a chitchat about your past jobs- it is not. It’s pretty in depth examination of your customer service skills and demeanour. Watch out for any gaps in your CV- you are gonna have to explain them well! I made sure I had none but my FI  still took over an hour and afterwards I felt completely spent. I couldn’t talk for the rest of the day because my brain ran out of energy to produce anything more than “bzzzzzzzzzbzzzzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzbzzzzzz”. I gave it my all and felt it might have not been enough. And I don’t wish that feeling upon anyone.

And then the waiting started. And after that the Medicals. And after that… The Final Approval. And after that? Who knows … watch this space for more !

x

G.

Happy Name Day to Babs and Babsi and Happy “One month to go till Dubai” day to me!

In the Czech calendar each day of the year has its own name. When a baby is born the parents pick one they like and name their baby after that day. The 8th March is for example Gabriela’s day. It is therefore my Name day. All the other Gabrielas and I get to celebrate that day every year by getting cards, flowers and/or gifts. It’s basically just like having a second birthday only you don’t get any older so it’s actually even better than a birthday! Now there is something you surely didn’t know, right? Well you learn something new every day don’t you? Next time you are having a dinner party you can bring it up as an interesting fact and everybody is going to think you are really cool and know loads of stuff. No- no need to thank me! My pleasure!

 

 The 4th December is Barbora’s day. I am lucky enough to have two amazing Barboras in my life – beautiful little cousin of mine Babsi and then ex-colleague turned flatmate turned ex-flatmate turned best friend Babs. I love you both very much girls have a great and happy Name day!

 Here is a picture of both of them in one frame and I even put a festive touch to it, I am such a good friend and cousin seriously:

Babs and Babsi

Babs and Babsi

 

 On a completely unrelated note it is exactly one month from today that I’m going to check in for my flight MAN to DXB- for the last time as a passenger totally oblivious to all the buttons and commands on the aircraft! So Happy “One month till Dubai” day to me!

 

x

 

G.

This is a shoe story

Do you remember when as a school kid you had to write an essay on “3 things you would take with you to a deserted island and why”?And how hard it was? Because once you packed your favorite Teddy and favorite book you only had one thing left. What did you choose?

I used to say I would take my mum assuming she could take three things of her own and that would be an empty bottle, a pen and my dad, who would then take a piece of paper and a torch … and so on. I was a clever kid, you see, I usually found my way around limitations and rules.

However life has its ways of getting back at you. Like for example when you trick your way out of  “If you only had 3 things you could take to a deserted island ..” it turns around, rephrases the question and asks “ If you only had 50 kilos you could take with you to a desert(ed island)…” .

 I have already described how I dealt with clothes packing for The Big Move here. So what exactly am I going to put in my enormous suitcase? The same principle applies – only things that matter.

Once Misulka (my teddy) and MacBook (my favourite book) are packed away the remaining 48 kilos are going to be used for boxes full of my beloved shoes. Yes- because I own 48 kilos of shoes. And counting. And they all matter to me. And I see nothing wrong with that. Absolutely nothing. Do you?

Shoes to me are more than just footwear. My shoes are my life. And I mean that – I remember the story of every pair I have ever bought. I get emotional if a pair gets worn out beyond repair and I have to get rid of it. If I had the space I would dedicate an entire room just to my worn out shoes. Each pair would get a separate shelf with a laminated description. I’d call the room “Shoezeum”.

 I still have the pair of high heeled court shoes my dad got me for my high school graduation. I call them my Minnie Mouse shoes because that’s exactly what they look like. They are my lucky pair. They “got me” to uni, “helped” me with my first work interview and ultimately “landed” me my dream job. I don’t wear that often anymore because they are battered a great deal but whenever I feel down or nervous (like for example before my assessment day) I put them on at home and wear them for a bit. And the lucky charm still works!

Then there is the sky high golden pair I bought for my first Christmas party in England. It was shortly after I met my special someone and I was over the moon that I finally have somebody taller than me by my side. Even if I wear the highest heels ever made. They have blistered me awfully plus I had a couple of terrible falls trying to walk in them but I still love them. Almost as much as I love him. 

Or the faux-leather sandals from Primark that went to Asia with me. After two weeks in Thailand and one especially dirty trip to the “jungle” they HAD to be thrown away otherwise I was threatened with a break-up. The dirt and smell just wouldn’t go away. I was so gutted that when we got back I went straight to Primark to see if they still had a pair. They did and it was reduced! It was meant to be – me and the sandals were reunited! The new pair is still laying unused in my suitcase waiting to be worn in Dubai. I bet it can’t wait!

There is also the pair of green Zara kitten heels that I bought for my last 20 euros in Rome after I spent the whole summer working in Italy. I went without food for two days but it was totally worth it – both the shoes and the summer.

My red stilettos, black stilettos, black stilettos with golden heels (no girl can ever have enough stilettos), pink, blue, floral, boots, flats, expensive, cheap , old and new … each one of them have their own tale and all together they tell the story of my life. That’s why I can’t let go of them. Because it would be like tearing pages out of a diary and being left with an empty space. And barefoot.

So when I get asked “If you only had 50 kilos… “ my reply will be “2 kilos of necessity and 48 kilos of history and memories” 

 

not even half way there ...

not even half way there …

 

x

 

G.