There is nothing like flying into my country. Even in darkness I can feel the familiarity & homeliness. In daylight there is nothing like the views going into Belfast city or the peace of flying into Dublin. I can’t think of any descents I prefer. Just as well as I do them quite regularly…… I have booked a one way flight to Switzerland to visit my friends for Christmas & New Year & hopefully pick up some work!
I am also looking for my next working adventure. All suggestions are most welcome – if you can think of anything fun I can do work wise & abroad I would really appreciate it! I think it’s time for something new!
Cleaning. This is my new life.
I am now cleaner extroardinaire in no less than 4 establishments, where I am highly commended for my adeptness in all that is spick & span – to spectacular standards.
Dust & fingerprints are my krytonite & I don’t mean to sound like I’m big headed but I am fucking SMASHING THEM!
I have perfected the cleaners’ slut drop to quickly polish toddlers fingerprints from glass doors.
I am highly proficient in the cross eyed ‘is that a streak in the glass?’ studious stare – I look like I’m trying to crack a magic eye puzzle. I am fairly confident I will sprain a pupil before the end of the season. One of the chalets is approximately 80% glass….
I have battled as a petite lady making superking beds & relished in the satisfaction of the ease of making up a toddlers cot – Is this how it feels for tall/regularly heighted people to make beds?
I have not successfully mastered the art of hoovers. Two have ceased to suck for no logical reason while one agressively gave me electric shocks. Another made a crude attempt at acting like a trip wire – I broke that bad ass hoover, then whimpered & fixed it in a panic.
I have the proprioception of an agile mountain goat when it comes to cleaning the glass panels bordering the swimming pool. I would like to take this opportunity to thank the multi million pound chalet designer for allowing the ledge I have to balance on to be the exact length of my foot but not quite the space my ass requires. I know this will only get worse for me as my booty flourishes at all the dirty mark slut drops I’ve been doing.
My fitness has plateaued at the level of near collapse with aphyixiation combined with the legs of a bambi on ice when I get to the top floor of the chalet. How is my fitness not improving? I work damn hard for hours every day. How are my legs not big & strong like an ox?! I expected to be practically a centaur by now. Why are my arms not borderline Madonna toned?? How is my lung capacity not superhuman?!
I am starting to question altitude training as one massive performance enhancing cover up.
I’m on to you all *points at athletes ‘altitude training’*
I do love things about my job too…. When annoying guests leave, admiring the guests’ expensive make up, noticing things that remind me that multi billionaires are just normal people, singing my way through changeover days, my colleagues and free stale bread. This is how I’m living my current dream.
As an aspiring yacht stewardess I know this experience will be invaluable for my CV. I can’t help but wonder how tedious cleaning will be on a superyacht & what am I letting myself in for??
For the record I am still eternally on call for my actual massage therapist job…… *Looks wistfully at phone*
I am delighted to report that I have made it to the other side. I have unpacked, settled into my new home, met up with my friends for drinks & contracted altitude related VerbiAids. It happens to even the most seasoned seasonnaire.
I have left my native Ireland for my second ski season in Switzerland. I am working in a beautiful & exclusive resort as a masseuse & sports rehabilitation therapist. I won’t even begin to describe how striking my surroundings are. I will attempt to transport you here via photography however the only way to fully appreciate the beauty is in person.
I am being hugged by the Swiss Alps. They are comforting, superior & extraordinary. They elevate my mood & render me speechless. They exude class & unrivalled perfection. I feel so blessed to be able to call this home.
So here I go, on my travels again.
If I give you the impression that I enjoy travelling – please do not be deceived. My family & friends on twitter will tell you that the whole process of packing, getting to the airport, flying & getting to my destination accumulate to an extraordinarily prolific stress peak in my merry contentment. I am my own worst enemy in this domain. I have a sharp mind for conceptualising how dynamic & invaluable every item can be. Yes, I see the potential in my favourite ripped pyjamas, old phone – I know you will come in handy, 3 eyebrow pencils to be on the safe side…. At this rate I am going to be the looking like a tramp with fierce scouse brows, a phone I can’t operate & incredibly horrific posture from carrying everything.
I certainly don’t make things easy for myself. I insist on visiting people who I haven’t seen in a long time, catching up on gifts I haven’t given & gifting people whose birthdays I will be missing. Everything I haven’t had time to do gets wedged into this last week before I leave. Understandably my suitcase, which has been treated ashamadly badly, is bidding for it’s desired exit plan. Combustion. I know with all my heart that the day I go to collect my beloved suitcase to find my belongings have exploded without my close thsupervision is ebbing closer. It will be like a massacre of my livelihood. I am expecting this to occur when I return from a trip where i have went wild shopping at some sort of sex convention….. I take comfort that God’s humiliations upon me are becoming somewhat predictable.
So here I go. Completely exhausted, anxious & living in fear about travelling. Not exactly my chosen path to my new life in Verbier. I take comfort these feelings will disperse on the other side to make way for my excitement, thankfulness at how lucky I am & total & complete overwhelming joy. I know I will never change. This has been my pre trip routine since I was 16. Who would change me though? I love the thrill of getting away & the love of all the people I visit just before I go. I will never change & when I’m very old with my wrinkles & dismembered posture I will smile at my adventures & plan my next one.
In conclusion, 6 months worth of belongs do not fit in to 30kg. It can’t be done.