New blog site, old sleeping place

New blog site, old sleeping place

I have stupidly spent 5 minutes of my life trying to give a title to this post and I decided to give up and postpone it until I have had a coffee, once my neurons wake up and gain the ability to sum up in a sentence everything I want to talk about….

As some of you might have noticed, I haven’t updated the blog for a few weeks (for those of you who have followed this from the very beginning a few weeks seem nothing) and I wanted to explain that the reason is not that I have become suddenly lazy (that has happened gradually over the years) or that I have been cured from my blogger verbosity (face to face I can’t think about so many things to say, I’ve got a slow processor…). So, why am I not publishing? Two reasons:  

  1. Migrations are always complex, and this is coming from someone who is planning to pay for her retirement with a best-seller based in the memories of my Edinburgh beginnings, so listen up. In this case the migration I am referring to has been a lot calmer and hasn’t implied any kosovan-albanian mafias, I’ve just changed the domain and platform of the blog to have more freedom changing wee things: I proudly announce that this page should come up in the language of your browser, otherwise I’ll have to eat my pride with chips.  Despite being relatively easy (thanks to WordPress’ staff for that!), the migration has taken some time and some costs: if you used to follow the blog in you might need to follow me now in…If you want of course, I’m not going to force anyone, mainly because I don’t know where you live and  my relationship with the kosovo albanian mafias has somewhat cooled down…(for the FBI:  THIS IS A JOKE). 
  2. I have been quite busy, which I know is kind of a lame excuse and that’s why I prepared two. Nevertheless I’d like to clarify that is not just an excuse but the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth with a little bit of Andalusian exaggeration on the side. In these days without publishing, apart from the site migration, I’ve been through a job selection process, a few birthdays/ Christmas meals, one of the busiest weeks at work and a night sleeping on the street. And if you thought you would not be hearing about this, you’re so wrong, kids…

Before I start, a little disclosure: I might joke (or try) or speak with light tones, but I do so with respect. Rough sleeping is not a joke and I am perfectly aware that my experience was just one night and has nothing to do with the everyday reality of homeless people. 

To begin with, I decided to do this voluntarily. As one of my colleagues said while we were trying to lay out our mats in a cold, wet, slippery ground: “if someone tells me they’re doing this willingly I’d ask if they’re stupid”. I couldn’t have explained it better. Anyway, I’m going to try and start the story from the beginning, with intro, turn and conclusion, like I learnt in school. 

Aaah…nothing like the sounds of nature to have a good sleep…

On Saturday 8th December and as part of an initiative to raise funds and awareness for homeless people in Scotland, my colleagues, me and another 12000 people went to sleep under the stars on the beautiful Princes Gardens, after enjoying three mini-concerts, the comedy of Fred Macaulay and a bedtime story from Irvine Welsh (yes, the Trainspotting guy, you can imagine the sweet feeling we took with us to bed). 

The concerts were by Lulu (a 71 year-old lady who ran up and down the stage in high heels to the rhythm of her own potent voice homaging Bowie, without showing a single sign of rheumatoid arthritis, which is what I’m expecting to show up when I am her age); KT Tunstall (Scottish … I hadn’t heard of her before but she positively surprised me with her voice and her flair on stage, and also because she kept encouraging us to applaud, which helped with the unfreezing of my fingers); and Amy McDonald (the only one I knew, but who I didn’t really recognise since people go and dye their hair and grow old without letting me know, which is confusing. Even after I put my glasses on like a seasoned lady. 

Where you gonna go, where you gonna go, where you gonna sleep tonight?  How funny…

Told like that it sounds like fun, so maybe it’s better if we stop there and never mention the travails of pushing yourself down a sleeping bag while wrapped in four thick layers, and introduce that whole burrito into a rustling orange plastic bag  when you are the stuffing of that burrito, or slipping downhill with the frost with the danger of kicking your neighbour’s head, or trying to sleep when your toes are in a funny state where they are both numb and hurting, or when you’re bothered by your runny nose, all the noises around you or the not so distant possibility of a rat coming out of the bushes to wander over your body…But we’ll focus on the good things, since there are enough loose bad things out there in the word…

Ah, just one more thing…thank you very much for all of you who have helped the cause. My team has raised over £1000 and we can only hope that it contributes to create stories as special as the ones we were told that night by people whose situation had improved thanks to this initiative.



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New blog site, old sleeping place