The big move

Dear Diary,

Shrinks say that moving is the most stressful time of your life. Being a former hobo of over a dozen years I have become quite accustomed to moving, more so than most people. After throwing in the towel at the pizzeria (my leaving statement was written in Latin, and in calligraphy) and after feeling dead inside after being exploited by the Commie cafe for the umpteenth time I have decided to make a big change in my life. Several thousand miles in-fact.

"When you've got nothing, you've got nothing to lose." wrote the great poet and pop-song composer Bob Dylan. I cannot afford the rent, nor to study towards a Master's degree. So, against my late grandmother Diana-Mary's wishes, I have decided to go back to France, so I can make a decent living.

My neighbour and former girlfriend has some inheritance money and is buying a place in France with her father. I will be a musician there, and also work, hard. I am fed up with zero-hour contracts, no breaks, no perks, abysmal wages and slave-labour exploitation down at the cafe. I have had enough. So, that's it. Goodbye.

Changes and hope

Dear Diary,

Well well well. Life's rich tapestry just keeps on getting more colourful. Without wanting to go over the details, for one reason or another, mainly because I made one single teensie-weensie mistake taking orders last night and was scolded for it by my knucklehead idiot boss, that I threw in the towel at Domino's pizzeria. He promoted some young spotty thief to assistant manager, and I cannot accept being ordered around by an arrogant, lazy and incongruously sinister looking youth.

On the other hand: I have an interview with a local Academy as a Latin teacher. This means I will not have to clean the floors, toilets and wash up for a living - if I get the job. Kick ass! Okay, it's not Roman history, which is my specialism, but I don't like Latin, I love Latin. It is a sacred language. It would not hurt to brush up. Things are looking up for Maxy for once. Bye diary, see you soon-ish.

Long time no blog

Ever Dearest Diary,

It has been quite some time since I last wrote to you, dearest Diary. Life has been... quite challenging since last we spoke, and much has happened. I have passed my degree (unfortunately, I did not score as well as my identical twin brother, which means I must now study towards a Master's degree, lest he out-do me, academically). I have a new job, an "illustrious" career working for Domino's pizzeria, which I detest as much as I do busting my ass for the Commies down at the café. I am severely depressed. So much so, that after last week's gig there, I bought some booze and did not even drink it. That is not like me at all. I normally enjoy a nice pint of Belgian ale. Anyhow. If matters are to turn around, it is up to me, and me alone to make it happen.

Father sent me a "letter" yesterday. I say "letter", as in epistle, but it was not a letter. It was an envelope, containing another envelope and some blank paper. There was I, under the mistaken impression that correspondence was a two-way matter. One can see just how "close" I am to either side of my family. This does not help my ever spiralling depression. About the only two good things that have happened is that last night a nineteen year old girl hit on me (yes, I am still Brad Pitt style attractive, even at 38) and this morning, when I went for breakfast and she was sober, she still chatted me up. This does wonders for my ego. The other good thing that has happened is that little Ronulus is doing well, as ever. He is as faithful as Achates (fides sicut Achates) and is studying towards his Master's in Barkaeology.

I went to see Petra yesterday. She is living in Rainbowland. Big-time. Seemingly, the reason the migrant camp at Calais is there is because (and I quote) "long shadows are cast in the desert, weather phenomena in the Mediterranean sea and the 'fact' that nomads such as they have a tendancy to migrate northwards". So, according to Petra war and benefits in the UK have nothing to do with immigration. It is all because of the shadows and the weather. *rolls eyes*. "Come hither landlord, another but of sac for myself and these... learnéd colleagues of mine."

I am debating whether or not to return to work this evening. I missed my shift on Saturday night, which is going to piss the boss right off. Oh well. Not to worry. I will tell the truth: that I was so unwell, I could not even drink or eat anything.

I, fortunately, have the possibility of being a Latin teacher at a local academy. Seemingly they have found no-one else with that skill-set. It would appear that not many Darzet bumpkins understand Latin. Well well well. It looks like things might be looking up for little Maximus and Ronulus, God willing.

Goodbye for a while ever dearest Diary. I will miss you, sincerely.