Stress

I used to be shy. Very shy: being scared of shop assistants shy; twisting up my hands and feet and not looking people in the eye shy; acting like a moron at school to deflect the abject terror associated with social interaction in all its forms.

Then, I grew up, I left home, went to university - discovered the relaxing powers of alcohol - and it all got better.

Only... it's come back...

Now that I'm effectively running my own business, I'm writing emails and talking on the phone all the time, in three different languages did I use the right formal register, was I too familiar, did my quote overstep the mark, should I really have asked that question or does that make me look inexperienced?

and I'm feeling a pressure at my temples and in my jaw and I'm holding my breath

Then - coming back from Poland - I'm plunged into social circles where just having a funny ex-pat story isn't enough. I'm being respectfully interested with my parents' friends, pretending to be grown up with new acquaintances of my own age, trying to fit back in comfortably with old friends
do we still talk about that? did I forget to ask about so-and-so? have I said something inappropriate? did I offend someone? am I talking too fast, did I interrupt?

tension, pressure, stress-stress-stress, breathe ... breathe...

And then, to cap it all, I read that Stress Makes You Fat

Not only are young women expected to live their lives in a constant state of worry about their figures, their careers and the size of their student debts... we're now under continuous pressure to RELAX! AT ALL COSTS! ON PAIN OF... FAT!!!

make it stop make it stop make it stop...

Weird things about being back in the UK

1/ People feel the need to use Chainsaws and Earth Movers in their gardens Every Day. This is to show that they have bigger balls than their neighbours.

2/ Cappuccino is GINORMOUS. At least twice the size of your humble Cracovian or Italian cappu. You get a) very high very quickly; b) stomach ache from lactose overload.

3/ Doorbells. People live in houses here and everyone has a doorbell. The doorbell exists to drive the dog nuts. Or the dog exists to bark at the doorbell. Sometimes, the doorbell (which has dodgy wiring) goes off when you leave the house, and then the dog gets confused. Even when the doorbell doesn't work, the dogs usually do.

4/ Carpets. Remind me again why each floor surface must be carpeted to within an inch of its life? Carpets, as far as I can make out, only serve as hiding places for fleas, ingrained dirt and dog hair. And they absorb spills of all varieties (the dog is highly strung and has poor muscular control. I think you know what I mean). My parents have beautiful wooden floors on the ground floor of their house, and yet these are covered by disgusting, smelly carpets because, as my Dad says, it would be too much trouble to polish them. And he's not even the one who does the vacuuming.

5/ 'Neighbours' is on Channel 5!! What's a girl to do?!
I ought to add that terrestrial aerials in Sevenoaks do not deign to pick up signals from Channel 5. This is to protect residents from an accidental encounter with the likes of Jordan or Denise Van Outen. The same applies in St Andrews, incidentally. I suspect they've signed a 'too posh for dross' secret opt-out clause.

6/ Free food. When you walk past market stalls in the Home Counties, the yuppie vendor - a West-Country organic farmer with French market type aspirations - will offer you crinkly fragments of sun-dried tomato on the end of a cocktail stick. A stroll around Borough Market will keep you going for a whole afternoon.
This Never happens in Poland*. You'll pay for that bit of cheese or we're calling security.

7/ Diet products fill supermarket shelves. My parents' fridge is full of fat-free WeightWatchers fromage frais. You can get Colę dietyczną everywhere. Caffè Nero, Starbucks and the like will serve you skimmed latte on request (try asking for 0.00 pro cent in Tribeca and see where it gets you). And it's not just the grown-ups: Weetabix packets recommend breakfast cereal as a low-fat tea-time snack for kids (whatever happened to Nutella and Kinder eggs?). Cookbooks have titles like 'Skinny Bitch' or 'Why French women don't get fat'**.
And yet the papers are screaming about record obesity levels.

8/ In fact the papers are screaming about pretty much everything. Obesity crises; models with eating disorders; torrential rain threatening to flood the country; credit crunch; negative equity; the Lisbon Treaty and Falling Standards Among the Young.
Gosh the country has gone to the dogs in my absence.

Better hot-foot it back to Poland...


*Except in Alma, which is a weird experimental yuppie place.
** 40 Gauloises a day and bulimia.