Once again, folks, in terms of actually eating serial crow, my eyes were biger than my stomach. All apologies, or whatever.
First, I would like to tell everyone to whom I owe an e-mail that I am heartily sorry. I plead internetlessness: Jack and I have yet to have the ultimate wireless network installed in our LOFT, and we don't have access to the internet during the hours when things like writing e-mails and posting to blogs is actually possible. During all the other hours of the day, we are up to our giblets in English lessons 'n shit, so... yeah. It's why I don't write. All these problems will soon be rectified, but until then, bear with me.
Three personal messages:
Steve H. I saw that business about your 50 quid, and swear that you shall have it THIS VERY SUMMER, when I will be visiting your fair Isle. Let's make some plans if you can forgive me my tardy repayment of debts.
Tricky: are you still thinking of a journey my way? If so, I would love to see you! E-mail me again. Please forgive how lame I am. Also, congrats on your book, and to your fair lady on her completion of her doctorate. Rock on with your academically bad selves!
Walt: Hi! You rule!
Finally, I would just like to say a few words about a certain former whipping-boy of this website; a particular person whose name shall not be typed here, and which, if anyone should type it in his or her comments, shall suffer summary expungement from these pages, and that thing is this: sometimes it might appear that a guy who drives a hummer with playstation in it while drinking soy chai lattes procured from the drive-thru Starbucks in Hollywood, and who reportedly has a penchant for adorning himself in the lamest bling ever, deserves to be endlessly derided and what not, but things are not always what they seem. Karma, my friends, has bitten me back, and moreover, it can happen that the things you read in magazines look different in the light of a real human who is actually pretty nice, and who offers you a bite of his food because yours hasn't arrived yet, and who, it must be said, is mind-bogglingly brilliant at his job.
Some of you may not know what the sam hill I'm talking about right now, and that's fine. Clarification from those in the know around here, however, is prohibited, and this post will just have to be a bit of a mystery for you. Again, all apologies. To the rest of you, I just want to mention that the second to the last man who kissed me (chastely, on the cheek, and just to say good-bye) isn't really as bad as one might suppose.
Clearly, there's a lot of good material going un-harvested from my past few weeks, but that's the way my cookie is crumbling over here; it never will be. Tosho, stop holding your breath.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get back to hanging out in my internetless cave (which is really a gloriously sun-filled loft in the beautiful center of Prague), doing stuff like: sleeping untill 1:30 on weekends, worrying if that bee that keeps coming back to my flat to investigate the cracks in our exposed beams is planning to bring the entire hive over some fine afternoon, watching freaking AWESOME Star Trek movies, cooking loads of bacon, and making out with my boyfriend.
As we say here in the CZ, Ahoj!
