The problem with making entries so infrequently is that one often finds it difficult to recall events that took place right at start of where one's account is supposed to begin. Not that I have the memory of a goldfish, I can remember the important bits and pieces quite clearly, I can watch them over and over again in my minds eye, unfortunately my mind's eye'suffers from nostalgic myopia and can quite frankly be a real dick sometimes.
We catch up with our hero as he's making his way back home, heading to Peshawar over Christmas break, in the highest of spirits. He dresses for the occasion, combs his beard, wears a leather jacket and looks in the mirror like a narcissist for half an hour. "What fun it is knowing you're going to spend the next month having your every whim catered to" he muses as he steps into Heathrow airport glowing like the smug bastard he is, staring at all the forlorn expressions he passes, soaking in all that lovely schadenfreude.
On the plane he sits next to a failed lawyer turned accountant, and a medical rep he's in such a merry mood that he spends the whole flight talking to this medical rep about life till the plane lands, at this point our hero emerges waits for his luggage, smoking in front of Benazir Bhutto airport's no smoking sign, borrowing a lighter from one of the security staff "home at last". His mother is here to pick him up, what a sight she is for sore eyes, he goes with her to his grandparents' house in Islamabad, his grandmother remarks on how handsome he looks (our hero takes this as a quite a compliment as she is the biggest nitpicker on the planet appearance wise).
Off to Peshawar the city where (as our hero will soon discover), traffic jams no longer exist, dentists are all closet-sadists and your next door neighbours are squatting on part of your lawn. At this point our hero who happens to be narrating this story tires of referring to himself in the third person.
Fast forward x8 - met the family, went to a few dinners, met the new puppies (who are to be given away as soon as my mother is done enjoying the cutest stage of their lives, which surprisingly enough doesn't seem to have happened yet), went on a number of father-son walks, lounged about eating parhatas in the morning, you know the drill.
Just when I thought things couldn't get any better I fell ill, I spent a 5 days in bed, but who am I kidding in Peshawar even being ill is fun! Because when you get better and actually start meeting people again, the people who you told you couldn't meet earlier because you were sick run into you by coincidence (when you're out with other people) and accuse you implicitly of lying "alaka te bemar na we?".
Traffic jams no longer exist in Peshawar because there's some sort of repair work being done on the ring road meaning every blasted car in the city is now on the main road. This essentially means that the traffic moves at 2 cm per second 24/7 which in turn means that there isn't an instant when the main road is not jam packed, hence if "traffic jam" is a relative term referring to abnormal vehicular congestion it no longer applies to the state of affairs in Peshawar. As somebody who suffers from extreme road rage I found this difficult to cope with, I usually drive around with this song playing in my head http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2n2LMZEtA_s ahhh I need to buy an old sprinter some day (I like old things, they're made to a better standard than things today. I'd rather turn one of those obsolete spinny circular phone dials than fiddle with my mobile's gimmicky touch screen...why did I buy this phone again? Because I'm a self loathing socialist-consumerist prick that's why).
At this point I realized I had loads of work to do, 1 research essay (practically a dissertation) 1 normal essay, and a mock trial to prepare for, it was like being hit on the head with a hammer, I knew deep down that my holidays were over and I would spent the next 2.5 weeks working like a slave to the legal system that I aspire to be part of some day. The next few days were spent with selective amnesia, Nope I had nothing to worry about, I sat there playing Gears of War 3 with my brother (a shitty game mind you) watched tv, went out some more etc etc.
During my last 2 weeks I forced myself into being a nocturnal in an attempt to actually get some work done, this worked, when I wasn't wasting time on youtube, I also conveniently ignored my Junior Counsel who was raging at me on Facebook for not keeping her informed about the progress of our case...hello WE HAVE NO CASE BIYATCH! DAMN IT I HAVE ESSAYS TO FINISH FIRST GRRRR is what I wanted to say but couldn't. Oh speaking of the case, which is going to be in front of 3 high court judges 1 week from now, I had a suit tailor made for the occasion *strikes a pose* this is going to be my first ever trial in front of a real judges and I'm understandably nervous. http://objection.mrdictionary.net/go.php?n=5495424
Instead of unwinding I wound myself up, there were lots of people I wanted to meet whom I didn't have time to hang out with, I have done my best to pacify them with an apologetic facebook status. I had a root canal 48 hours before my flight back to England, this needless to say hurt like hell (never had one before) I thought most of the rumours about pain were exaggerations by people who just hated dentists. Unfortunately I was wrong and I realised this while the nerves inside my tooth were mercilessly being scraped out with a bottlebrush, the guy kept on asking if I felt any pain. Silly me I assumed anybody who heard noises like this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7ftpF10U1M would notice that their patient was undergoing sufficient trauma, alas the scraping continued.
My parents dropped me at the airport, I left them behind swerving my luggage trolley through the crowd in a metaphoric display of independence, I'll miss them as usual, I'll miss everyone but now isn't the time for homesickness, I just got back after all.
Here I am back, back in England, in my room feeling sorry for myself, finishing off one of my essays, eating microwavable rubbish with my head at a 90 degree angle chewing only on 1 side. Now the reason this may be our last chance is that if I get pissed off enough I may just stop writing in this blog altogether, this may be the last post you ever read, I was never very faithful to any of my diaries as a child, they usually became doodling books after 2 entries. Bonus points for anybody who recognises where the quote at the beginning came from! Ah yes and because the place where the nerves in my tooth should be is now filled with synthetic material I am for all intents and purposes a cyborg, I don't know why I came to this conclusion but musing over it is how I kept myself busy on the flight back. In flight entertainment you ask? My seat's console was out of order, This is PIA you should be happy I'm alive.
