Broken.

OK it’s been a while, sorry about that, but I honestly didn’t have much of particular interest to tell you about.

Well obviously I could go on about weekends away at the beaches, but I didn’t want to depress you all having heard about the little chilly spell there in Europe.

I mean do you really want to read about my experiences on secluded, isolated, palm strewn beaches watching a man shimmy up a tree to tap it for ‘poyo’ (palm wine).

Are you honestly telling me that you want to see these types images, captured while drinking this freshly harvested brew, silently watching the sun go down? Or afterwards lying on the still warm sand looking up to a sky so bright with stars that it dazzles the eyes.

I’m sure one or two of you would find it interesting that on one of these beach retreats I found myself drunk, unashamedly holding my skirt above my head wading through the sea to get back to my hut, having been caught out by the tide.

OK some would find it funny that by the time I got back my underwear was soaked, but the rest of you I know, you would just worry so I’ll keep it to myself. And I certainly know that one or two of you would be most unhappy to read about how I nearly poisoned myself by reaching out for the ‘snacks’ on the bar table, only to find it as in fact a communal bowl of cannabis, place there on a ‘roll your own basis.’ (10p a joint). Some things are best left unsaid.

And my family in particular will freak when they realize that this is my new favourite swimming pool

And I know it will not please any of you to read that I this morning I cannot answer my phone after stupidly giving my card to the deputy home office minister who was buying me vodka's all evening. What was I thinking, he's the bloody home office, he can get me evicted…… Please, I don't want to have to sleep with the deputy minister for home affairs

But to be honest, these experiences are precious, and like the ex-pat charity worker staple food, Laughing Cow Cracker Sandwiches, they save your life here. (One day I will let you all in on the infamous Laughing Cow Cracker Sandwiches)

However getting enough of these experiences to balance against the daily arduous, drudge of working life here is difficult. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid of hard work. OK that’s a big fat lie I’ve never been convinced it’s for me really, but in the most part I get stuck in and have a bash.

Here though, I seem to work all the hours God sends and it’s never anywhere close to being enough. Oh and don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about me being on a one woman crusade here to take on the country’s poverty by single handedly feeding and educating the population. No what I do, is probably, in the grand scheme of things, just bullshit. I do shit that someone thought was a good idea, they asked the EU for money to do it, and they gave it so I do it.

I mean I’m doing exactly what it says on the tin, but you know it doesn’t work. I’m following all the instructions, but it still just seems broken. In fact that’s just it. It’s broken.

And I’m not sure I want to play with broken toys. Despite the Poyo, the sea, the stars and of course the Laughing Cow Cracker Sandwiches, playing with broken toys is not so much fun.