The return of the prodigal daughter


Pandas know what they’re talking about!

Wilkommen zurück! Bentornato! Bienvenue à nouveau! Basically, welcome back! 🙂

Sorry for the lack of posts as of late, but as you know I was back home in Ireland for Easter. And it was GREAT!! I had such a lovely time with my family and boyfriend. I didn’t actually do that much, but that’s kind of what I wanted. Last time I went home with an agenda to do this and meet that person, and it was just too much! I was mad I didn’t just chill out more and enjoy the simple stuff.
So that is exactly what I did for this trip home: nothing! And it was EPIC!!
I mean I did small stuff, like go for walks with my mum and visit my grandparents and go out for dinner and go shopping and get pizza with le boyf, but nothing hectic. Also, I ate Easter eggs, as promised! My goodness, they should sell them the whole year ’round… although I’d be über fat afterwards and probably broke too… On second thought, maybe not!
It was super hard to get me to come back here. Not because Germany’s awful or anything *darting eyes* … but just because I’m a home bird at heart and I’m really only my happiest when I’m at home or with my family. At the start of this stint abroad everyone said “Oh, the experience will do wonders for you” and “You won’t want to come home once you have a taste of freedom and independence”. To these people I say, I have tasted freedom and it made me go:
That is not to say that I am dependent on other people in order to survive… I’m just saying it makes things a lot easier! I’m obviously managing, because I’ve been here almost 3 months now (is that ALL?!) and I’m still alive, so that’s always a good sign! I’m simply saying that having other people around makes me A.) happier and B.) less likely to die by eating out-of-date foods because I forgot that not all foods last forever …Do you see why I need other people now?
Anyway, that said, I’ll try and veer this post back to the direction in which in started, i.e. my return from the homeland!
And now for social niceties: how was everyone else’s Easter? Do anything much? Eat as many eggs as I did? Tell me all!
I might get to post later today and if not then it’ll be au revoir until Monday (I’m not going away again, I just use the weekends to sleep… a lot! *See the above pandas*). Hope y’all have a nice weekend!
As they say in German- Viel Spaß!

hugs x


We’re keeping Kleenex in business!


Just a quick update:

Sent mum the poem for Mother’s Day (which was yesterday in Ireland).

She loved it!

She cried tears of sadness because I wasn’t there to hug her and cried tears of pride that I’m her daughter.

Then I cried- because when she cries, I cry.

All in all, it was a rather wet-faced day 😛

Love, xx

Whaddya think?


Our Family

Our Family

Ok, I’m looking to run something by you guys; it’s a poem I wrote for my mum for Mother’s Day. I just want to get some opinions and see what people think. Hope you like it 🙂

A snapshot of  you-

Sit down for a moment and open the photo album of your motherhood

The first page is a picture of you, wearing big, comfy pants with an elasticated waistband

You’re standing with one hand on your tummy, smiling proudly

The second page is a picture of you with a tiny baby in your arms

She is pink and squishy-looking, and you are beaming

The next few pages are littered with hectic pictures:

First bottles, colourful babygrows, friends and family visiting us

Then we move from the white hospital to our new home

The pictures taken show toys scattered everywhere, endless nappies in the bin,

You look tired, like you haven’t slept in two years, but you are still so happy

All of a sudden you are back in stretchy pants and luminous patterned tops again

You tell the little girl that she is getting a little brother

She secretly plots his downfall

Until she sees the new pink and squishy blob

And then she wants only to hold him and play with him

There are pictures of you with both of us on your lap

Stuck between a rock and a hard place; who would be your favourite

But you were more diplomatic than that

You loved us both equally

Even when we drove you mad

When we made a mess where you had just cleaned- you loved us

When we woke you every hour on the hour in the middle of the night- you loved us

When we wouldn’t eat what you put in front of us- you complained, but you loved us

The pictures of our childhood are a wonderful adventure

Of planes and foreign lands

Of cars and a land more familiar

Of beaches and sticky ice-creams that went everywhere but in our mouths

For every place we went, you brought us there safely

You put up with are we there yets and I’m hungrys

Even though you probably wanted to turn around and say-

Yes, well I’m hungry too and I want to fall asleep in the back, but I can’t…

You never did

You gave us everything instead

New bikes, dolls, trucks, marbles, skipping ropes, a swings and a slide

And when we got older and the wish-list got longer and more expensive

You gave us everything still, and more

The best clothes, perfumes, musical instruments which we couldn’t play, gadgets and gismos

The lot

The photo album captures the moments we didn’t even know were there

You worrying when we were late back

You frustrated when we wouldn’t do what you said, even though you were always right

You watching over us when we slept

Of course there are pages of tantrums and fights and arguments

Of sulking faces and slamming doors, when things didn’t go our way

But there are pages too of uncontrollable laughter, so much that we cried

Pages covered with happy memories and smiles and that warm feeling in your tummy

Dinners we’ve shared together, crosswords we’ve done, car journeys we’ve taken with one another

That passed in no time due to the fun we had on the way

The photo album is bursting with pictures of you and of the three of us- your family and greatest fans

It is far from finished yet; there are still countless blank pages waiting to be filled

With pictures of exams and graduations, travel and study, work and play, holidays and birthdays,

Christmases and New Years’ gatherings, smiles and tears

But flicking through everything so far, our hearts are so grateful and proud

That we get to call you mum.

Mum’s the word

mothers day

Ok, so I know it’s celebrated in May in certain countries (America and Germany are just two that I know of), but Mother’s Day is just around the corner in Ireland! This Sunday, March 10th, mothers all over the country will (hopefully) be showered with cards and gifts from their children to show them how loved they are.
I have a very soft spot for my mum, as she is also my best friend ❤
We get on great and chat about everything with one another! Over the years our relationship has only gotten stronger, despite the odd argument along the way.
I am currently in Germany so I cannot physically be with my mum this weekend, but we will Skype and keep in contact no matter what. My brother at home has bought a few things for her, which I will reimburse him for when I get home at Easter. Still though, I would like to do something nice for her to show her how great she is and how much she means to me, and I’m just looking for suggestions off you guys!
Whether it’s a poem written for her, or something I can send home to her, or even something I can do for her when I get home- I’d just like to say thanks to my best friend, and to the best mother in the world!
Appreciate any help you guys might have, and also feel free to tell me about your own mothers… I always love a good mom story 🙂

Danke schön xx

p.s Here’s the link to a lovely (but definitely tear-jerking) blog post about a wonderful mother who is sadly no longer around. If you’re going to check it out, I advise bringing tissues!

Coming Home

I have been waiting for the last almost seven weeks to get to see my family and my boyfriend again. Saying goodbye to them all that time ago was hard, very hard. I remember when mum and I arrived at the apartment that Sunday evening and it seemed as though everything was wrong (namely because everything was wrong). There was no internet (still isn’t), there were no shops open for us to buy any food for that evening or for breakfast the following day, there was no duvet or pillow for the ‘bed’, and basically everything else was wrong too. I remember becoming hysterical after Friedie had left. I couldn’t contain my sadness and my disappointment and every other emotion that was whirling around inside me. I was terrified to face this new place, where I knew no one and nothing, alone. Luckily the one person in the world who means the most to me was with there beside me to comfort me when I needed her the most. I broke down and cried uncontrollably, huge, wet tears running down my face and onto my clothes and into my hair. She let me wail into her shoulder until she too was covered with foundation and mascara. I could tell she was holding back her own tears. Of course, she did cry, but I knew she would have cried more had I not needed her so badly to be strong for me. She told me I had to stop crying, so I did, because she is my mother and I do what she tells me (some of the time). We had to go and get some fresh air. It seemed like we had been sitting inside for an eternity. It had started off with Paul driving us to the airport that morning. I say morning, but it was really more the middle of the night than anything. From there we waited in the airport. That was hard too, because every second I spent with Paul beside me, I knew I was getting closer to having to say goodbye to him. When I eventually did have to say goodbye, I started to cry. I found walking away from him seriously difficult to do, and the only reason I actually did it was because mum was there to console me when we got to the other side of the frosted glass. She was there the whole time-on the plane beside me as I slept, when we arrived at Munich airport and had to try and get train tickets to Nuremberg, on the train journey that seemed to last another eternity. I was so tired and sick of sitting down, but she was always there to my side to make small talk with. We both knew we were just trying to pretend like it wasn’t all really happening. Mum had been dreading that day for months, ever since she’d found out I would be going abroad for six months as part of my college course. I hadn’t really started to worry about it until the very end. Then, on that long train ride to my new place of abode, I began to fear like she had feared. That evening when we eventually arrived and during my sobbing session, I pleaded with her to bring me home with her. I know I wasn’t making it any easier for her; in fact I was probably breaking her heart with my desperate attempts to return home with her. I couldn’t face the thought of her leaving me the next day and me not seeing her again for what would seem like forever. The idea of her boarding a plane without me made me break down even more. That was when we went out and got food. She knew me so well. The food helped, but still didn’t change the fact that at that time I was truly miserable. The next morning would not be any easier. Waking up almost as early as the morning before, we arose to the tiny room that was, and still is, my living space. I think we had a granola and a Rice Krispies cereal bar for breakfast that day, luckily mum had brought them from home. I asked would I walk with her as far as the train station. She said no, she would go on her own. I don’t know was this so she could cry in peace, or so I could have another few minutes rest in bed after she left. Seeing her go was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to face. Closing the apartment door after the elevator had descended and taken my mother out of sight was so hard. Rushing to the window and opening it to the freezing cold air, so I could stick my head out and wait for her as she left the building was easy. I heard the front door open and saw my mother leaving. I waved frantically at her, and although she looked up towards me, she could not see me behind a part of the building that jutted out. I could not yell down to my mother, four floors beneath me, as it was still too early and I thought I would wake people up. Even if I had yelled down, I don’t know would she have heard me. There was a sharp breeze outside and my calls could have been carried away by the German wind. Or I could have opened my mouth to call out to her, and perhaps no words would have come; only a dry and course whispering sound. That was the last time I saw my mother in person. That was almost seven weeks ago. The time has passed, but slowly. I have not hugged my mother in almost seven weeks, and for me that has never happened before. Even at home if we have a flaming argument about something, chances are we’ll be back hugging one another again that same evening. It’s just how we are. She is my best friend in the whole world.

This weekend I go home for three days. It is a surprise for my brother’s 18th birthday. I have been waiting almost seven weeks for this one weekend. I’m coming home

Diary of a Logophile

So true!

So true!

I’ll admit it, I love words. There, it’s out in the open.
I know I’ve kept it under wraps exceedingly well until now (says she writing a language blog!), but it’s time the truth came out.
I love words -nay- I lust them!

This post is going to celebrate and applaud the grandeur of words, synonyms and antonyms, anagrams, lexicon, grammar, syntax, word play and of course -my favourite- SPOONERISMS*!
*Spoonerisms, for those of you out there oblivious to the wonder of these phonetic transpositions, are when letters/syllables are swapped in words/phrases, usually as a slip of the tongue (or as a tip of the slung, teehe!) Sometimes these spoonerisms are harmless and merely result in you saying something odd-sounding like “I’ll be mare in a thinute” (I’ll be there in a minute), however they can also make sense when you swap the letters, for example, “go and shake a tower” (go and take a shower) and can even result in some hilarious moments; “she has tiny sh*tes” (she has shiny tights).
But i digress…

Back to business and on today’s agenda is being a logophile.
I reaslise how nerdy this makes me come off; I mean I’m literally (or is it figuratively) prouncing myself as a lover of languages. But I’m ok with that- in fact, I’m fervent about that! Or maybe I’m elated… curses on the thesaurus, it is both my rapture and my downfall!
Anyway, I’m just saying it’s not the worst thing to give a fook about languages and how we use them. People speak to express themselves, and if you can get your point across in a clear and concise manner then surely you should earn extra brownie points! No one wants to have a conversation with a babbling buffoon (well, I don’t anyway), so if you can use words wisely then you’re alright in my books 🙂
-Sidenote- using text talk, i.e. “Alri m8, u stil havn dat partE l8r?” is never allowed. I am very strict on this. If my own boyfriend texts me and there’s a spelling mistake in his message, you better believe he’s getting corrected- otherwise how will he learn the difference between ‘break’ and ‘brake’!

So, to sum up:
_Logophiles do not like spelling errors, unless they result in funny spoonerisms
_Logophiles are NOT averse to correcting your sentence structure while you’re still mid-sentence
_Logophiles (well, this logophile in particular) often prefer dictionaries to other humans
_Contrary to popular belief, logophiles are people too

Language Lover / Sprachliebhaberin

So I just wanted to pose a question to those out there reading this: Am I the only person who wants to learn all the languages?
Yes, you heard me right- I kind of wish I knew all the languages, so I could talk to anyone in the world, or eavesdrop on anyone’s conversation and know what they were saying!
I’m just trying to figure out if I’m some sort of new xenophile, or if other people out there are as interested as I am in all things language-y!
I’m passionate about English (my first language) and I’m currently studying German and Spanish. I also speak Irish (we learn it in schools at home, even though no one uses it… it’s actually a beautiful language though!) and have acquired a few phrases in several other European languages over the years.
I seem drawn to all things foreign. For example, I went out with a Polish lad and I have numerous foreign friends (German, Spanish, Belarusian, Swedish, and Austrian). I love travelling and learning about different cultures. But I seriously have a thing for languages!
Sadly I do not have the time (or the brain capacity) to learn all the languages of the world, however I just wanted to see if there were others out there who felt the same as I do, and view languages as their raison d’être!
* * * * *
Also mochte ich einfach eine Frage stellen, für die Leute da draußen die diesen Beitrag lesen: bin ich der einzige Mensch, der alle Sprachen zu erlernen möchte?
Ja, du hast mich recht gehört- ich wünsche irgendwie, dass ich alle Sprachen beherrschen könnte, deshalb konnte ich mit jemanden in der Welt sprechen oder die Gespräche anderer Menschen belauschen und würde verstehen, was sie sagten!
Ich rätsle an ob ich eine neue Art von Xenophil bin herum, oder ob es andere Leute da draußen gibt, die sich für Sprachen so viel wie ich interessieren!
Ich habe eine Leidenschaft für Englisch (meine Muttersprache) und im Moment studiere ich Deutsch und Spanisch. Ich spreche auch Irisch (in Irland lernen wir es in Schulen, obwohl niemand es verwendet… obgleich wirklich es eine schöne Sprache ist!) und habe einige Phrasen in etlichen anderen Sprachen im Lauf der Jahre erlernen.
Es scheint als ob ich von allen Fremddingen angezogen bin. Zum Beispiel, ich bin mit einem polnischen Junge ausgegangen und ich habe zahlreiche Freunde, die Ausländer sind (deutsche, spanische, belarussische, schwedische und österreichisch). Ich reise sehr gern und kennen sehr gern verschiedenen Kulturen lerne. Aber ich habe eine Schwäche für Sprachen!
Leider habe ich nicht die Zeit (oder die Hirnleistung) um alle Sprachen der Welt zu lernen, jedoch ich mochte nur zu sehen ob es andere da draußen gab, die fühlen wie ich und Sprachen als ihre raison d’être schauen!