Rule No.30: Don't listen to Michael Bublé when you're sad

I'm currently sitting on a train back to London, listening to Michael Bublé - Home. I DON'T WANT TO GO HOME!

Neither does Heather. 

I'm seriously considering doing what Colin Firth did in Love Actually...move out to Italy and write a book (or did he go to Spain?). Then fall in love with my Italian servant. Actually, I'll edit that bit of the movie...I'll fall in love with an Italian book publisher that owns a yacht and plays guitar. We can then sail around all day eating watermelon. 

Oh, I miss the watermelon. A waiter at the hotel used to bring me a piece every afternoon whilst I was lying like a whale on my sun lounger. 

I miss laying there and staring at the mountains. From now on I will only have a post office to look out at from my bedroom window...what a contrast. Maybe I should paint some mountains on my window.

I also miss Yari, the hotel pianist. For our last night he played all of our favourite songs (without us even asking) and he changed the names in one song to Gina and Heather. So cute! 

Here he is: 

On the plane back we had a pretty frightful experience. It was like something out of a horror movie. It kept moving. 

Poor child. He was peacefully sleeping while we were laughing/freaking out. 

Right I'm going to stare out of the window and daydream. Well it's not like I have anyone to talk to...

Our 4am start has obviously worn her out. Either that or I'm ridiculously boring. Probably both. 

Bye x 

Rule No.29: You're not going to find your Italian husband in Lake Garda

Well, you'll be glad to know it's my last day in Lake Garda.

I'm trying not to get depressed yet, but it's pretty hard when I know that this time tomorrow I'll be on a train back to London. What makes it worse is I know I've got to move everything back into my bedroom when I get home (I had to take everything out for the decorators).

Errrrggggghhhhhhh. 

Anyway, back to Italy...so our night out on Thursday wasn't too successful for pulling fit Italian men. I did get chatting to a lawyer who owned a yacht (sounds perfect?). He had a big belly and was at least 15 years older than me. Therefore, the conversation was more like a polite 10 minute chat. 

It was a really fun night though, we found an outside club right next to the lake. All of the music was in English. They even played a dance version of Bastille - Pompeii. The DJ kept shouting '1,2,3,4'. 

It was a pretty surreal since it was a club for the locals and we were the only English people in there. Handy for us though because we knew the words to every song. I got so excited when Aviici came on I danced around the stage like I was being chased by a gorilla. 

During my week in Italy I have learnt five things: 

1) Don't come to Lake Garda to find an Italian Stallion...it's full of couples and children 

2) The fact we say 'latte' in England is stupid. We're technically just asking for milk and it is very confusing for Italian waiters. It's either cafe latte or latte macchiato 

3) Prosecco is cheaper than beer

4) My name is an Italian grandma name 

5) If someone asks you if you and your housemate are sisters, don't say 'no we just live together' as they then presume you're lesbians 

I would say the most awkward thing that has happened to me while being here is when we were talking about motorbikes at dinner. Heather's mum suddenly said "I bet you like something powerful between your legs don't you Gina". Wow. All I could manage to say was "did that just happen???"

We then laughed hysterically for about twenty minutes. 

Bloody hilarious. 

Anyway, I think Italy is 'me'. I LOVE the food, I love the weather and I love the people. And, with the language you can kinda get away with just putting an 'o' at the end of everythingo.

I am to be referred to as 'Gino' from now on. 

This morning the hotel waiter has been teaching me Italian. He already knows me too well, "Gina, when you meet a good looking Italian man that can't speak much English you say 'qual è il tuo nome?'...'what is your name?'." 

It's a bit late now, but you never know, it might come in handy at the airport. 

I'm off to practice my poi soon before dinner. I did a bit yesterday too: 

That's called angel wings. 

The windmill. 

Big circle weave. 

You need videos really, but my iPhone wont let me upload them :( 

Btw, you'll be excited to know that Heather and I got FOUR shout outs from the pianist last night. A new record! I even got a shout out to the 'New Bridget'...I feel like I have a new secret identity. 

Speak to you when I'm back in Englando!

X 

P.s look at this cute bridge with padlocks from couples (it makes me sick)

Rule No.28: Don't go on a boat with a hangover

You are going to LOVE what happened to me last night. 

To give you the background story...on Tuesday night Heather and I got chatting to the pianist, and I gave him the link to my blog. We were also discussing our favourite songs, where mine has always been Tracy Chapman - Fast Car. 

Last night after dinner Heather and I went to go and watch the pianist (as we are his groupies). After a few songs he said "my next song is from a movie from Great Britain, based on the most beautiful girl on the island...Bridget Jones". 

!!!!!!

THEN he played Tracy Chapman - Fast Car..."this is for Gina". 

!!!!!

Of course (with a slightly red face) I sang my heart out to Tracy. A German woman sitting opposite to me was also singing along. She then started singing along whilst looking at me and awkwardly we sang together. It was a special moment...well it felt special after a bottle of Prosecco. 

We then sang Take That together. 

Oh god, I'm dreading bumping into her. 

CRINGE.

This morning (after my daily croissant with nutella) we had a boat ride across the lake to Limone. Oh dear. The boat was so crowded we were like sardines, and I got split up from Heather. 

I was having to stop myself being sick for a whole hour. It was TERRIBLE. Boats and hangovers are not a great combination. 

However, Limone is a beautiful place so I soon felt happy again. It's also famous for making Limoncello, so I obviously bought a big bottle. 

It's probably not big enough to be honest. 

Look at my pretty photos:

We're out partying tonight so wish me some Italian men hunting luck. 

X 

Rule No.27: Always find a spoon

I'm a little concerned that we now have a reputation at the hotel. I keep getting smirks from the other guests around the swimming pool. We just can't help but sing along to the pianist at night time. I think it's a mixture of too much Prosecco and too much excitement. He even played Take That last night, and Boyzone!! I bloody love Boyzone. 

The pianist also gave a shout out to the 'girls from Great Britain' so we are now officially groupies. 

I'm not sure I helped my reputation when I sat eating my yoghurt with a lid from a bottle. 

I couldn't find a spoon and it was a coconut yoghurt. I couldn't control myself. 

I am officially getting a tan. Check out my tanned legs compared to my slippers. 

Yeeeeeaaaaa.

It is ridiculously cloudy today though and we're expecting thunderstorms so you can't hate me too much. Say that, you're at work and I'm not. Haaa haaa. 

Seriously though, check out the dark cloud.

So I discovered last night that 'Gina' is a really old fashioned name, and in Italy that's what your grandma is likely to be called. I have to say I'm slightly disappointed. That can't be very attractive to the Italian men. I'm basically saying "Hi I'm Mildred". 

Check these pics out. I climbed the bell tower this morning and the view was incredible. 

Right I'm off to order a piña colada. 

Ciao x 

Rule No.26: Alcohol does not make you a good singer

Well this morning was awkward.

Last night Heather and I had a little too much Prosecco. 

There was a pianist playing on the roof terrace of our hotel, and he was playing some classics...Robbie Williams - Angels, Elvis Costello - She, and a bit of Enrique. 

He thought we were great and kept laughing at our amazing singing and dancing attempt. However, this morning at breakfast we had to do the walk of shame. Half of the hotel had seen our disastrous moves. I don't think we gave the Brits a good reputation. Apologies. 

The waiter at dinner thought we were idiots too. The food was incredible, but after four courses we were so unbelievably full. However, we still wanted to try the desserts. The waiter came over to our table and attempted to say 'would you like dessert?'. However, with his Italian accent 'desserta' sounded like 'starter'. 

You should have seen our faces...

"STARTER???"

I don't think I have ever been so afraid of food before. Luckily he had meant dessert and I demolished the best creme brûlée EVER. It was incredible. 

I am going to have to go on the starvation diet when I'm back in England. 

Unfortunately there are still no Italian men stories. They all wear budgie smugglers and it upsets me a little bit. 

Maybe tonight when they're wearing clothes I might have a little shark around some bars. We are planning to find someone that owns a yacht... Well we may as well aim high to begin with. 

Hope you like my posh robe. 

X 

Rule No.25: You have to go to Lake Garda

OMG it is incredible here. This is the view from our pool...

Could it get any better? Well I suppose it  could if there was a hot man in the photo and my Piña Colada was a bit bigger. 

Also, please notice the man posing in this picture. 

What a hunky fella...oh dear.

Unfortunately I haven't seen many fit men yet (except for the man in the photo obviously), but I have only been here a few hours. I should probably calm down. 

Our flight was really easy despite having to get up at 4am. I spent pretty much the whole flight listening to Nickelback, which was a bit odd, but I enjoyed myself. 

When we were about to land the plane had to quickly go back up again. Heather was screaming all over the place. I had to give her a stern telling off to calm her down (it probably didn't help). Basically the plane before us had hit a bird (R.I.P) when landing so they had to clear the runway. 

We then felt it was only right to shout loudly 'there will be two other birds landing soon as well'...obviously referring to ourselves. 

We found it funny anyway. 

I think you'll be pretty impressed with the size of my suitcase. 

I seem to pack like a man. Either that or my bag is like Mary Poppins bag. 

I hope you also noticed my pink nail varnish.

This is me eating cheesecake really elegantly in Manchester last night. 

Yea I know, I'm sexy. 

Speak tomorrow x 

Rule No.24: Having your mum on Facebook is dangerous

This is going to be a cracking post.

I spent the whole of last night emptying my room as my landlord is painting the walls and changing the carpet whilst I'm in Italy. This is the before and after shot of my four hour emptying session: 

I did not enjoy myself. 

Then I had to pack. I hate packing. However, my housemate went out to get us a bottle of red wine, which made everything seem a lot more enjoyable. Probably because I was pretty drunk after half a bottle. 

In the past 24 hours my mum has been a bit of a devil (I do still love you mum). First of all she private messaged me on Facebook to tell me she thinks my blog is going to lead to me being single forever. She has got a point. However, she then went on to say that she thinks if I was to meet somone he would be like Matt Lucas. 

I'm hoping she just means his personality. 

THEN she changed her status to the below and TAGGED me in it. 

Oh the shame. 

If she describes me as a 'free spirit' surely it implies that she thinks I'm a bit of a slut?? Thanks mum, that's really going to do me some favours. 

Oh god, I am actually going to be single forever. 

Maybe I should buy a cat now?

Maybe I should start playing drums in a band so I can get the lead singer to fall in love with me, like the little boy did in Love Actually? 

Maybe I should run away to Thailand and get a Thai groom? 

Actually, since I'm going to Italy tomorrow morning I might just stuff an Italian man in my suitcase back to England. 

I'm on an Italian man mission. 

My next post will be from Italy! 

Ciao x 

A bloody good day

I'm beginning my blog with a positive post as today has been a bloody good day. Not only have I just organised to go to Italy for a week in August, BRING ON THE PASTA AND TIRAMISU. But, I have also been given a free, yes free, weekend ticket for Reading Festival. This not only means I can see Bastille, The Lumineers, City and Colour, Foals, Biffy Clryo, Green Day, Imagine Dragons and 1975, but I get to bounce my arm in the air like 'I'm proper hard' whilst watching Eminem. I'm so excited I might burst. Or, break into a rap.

To top all of this great shizzle off (and I'm hoping you don't hate me already), we had a Greggs press day at work today. This means I consumed a chicken and chorizo pasty, two slices of pepperoni pizza, a cupcake and a mallow biscuit. I also nibbled a gingerbread man, but wasn't a fan. In conclusion I've been a pig, but thoroughly enjoyed myself. I also decorated a giant gingerbread man, and I don't think I did too badly considering I was rushing so that I could get back to my desk and stuff my face with beige food.

Yes, that's me and ginge. Unfortunately, she is no longer with us. R.I.P.