P.S - Rabbits

During the week, I attempted to introduce some students to the art of Cockney Rhyming Slang, of which I am no expert myself. I learnt many things, they on the other hand did not learn very much and now think everyone in South London is a poet, or absolutely balmy and should stop drinking warm beer. Either way, it was a roaring success and now I have tribes of German children telling people to 'stop rabbiting on'.



When I was younger (as in, up to the last time I had a chance to speak to my Dad; 1 day still counts as younger...) he would continually tell me that I had 'more rabbit than Sainsburys', and I would secretly laugh at him despite the fact I was getting told off. I thought he was mad: 'errrrr Daddy, Sainsburys don't even SELL rabbits!', and would merrily continue with my aimless one sided babbling, much to his displeasure.

Now, anyone clued up enough to know that 'rabbit' clearly refers to 'rabbit and pork', which obviously means 'talk', will understand what my wonderful father was saying.



Older, not much wiser, yet still monopolising the rabbit market, I realised that when I'm writing, 99.9% of the time I do not know to whom I am writing; I merely just keep going on until my fingers hurt or I run out of things to write, or realise that I am just writing to myself and that the whole process is a little comical. Not only do I own more rabbits that Sainsburys, but also Waitrose and the local butcher (Tescos and Morrisons aren't posh enough to stock rabbit).

But maybe there's method to my madness. Maybe by unleashing the rabbits onto the big wide web, I will save my poor boyfriend from premature deafness, and leave reminders to my 60 year old self about what happened in my 22 year old brain. I am writing to the future me; I want to remind myself of all the fabulous things I have done and seen, all the weird and wonderful people I have met, the best and worst beers I have consumed, the reasons I should or shouldn't be allowed to drink tequila, the colour of the best sunset this spring, the smell of currywurst, the feeling of freezing snow being blasted down your neck, and the sweet euphoria of sniding a coffee before a lesson at 7.30am with 28 moody 13 year olds.

I haven't written a lot recently, because I have been having too many adventures. I'm sorry to brag, but that is the truth. One day I will have to be a grown up and earn proper money in a proper job, and it will probably be pants, so I may as well enjoy myself while I can. With that in mind, I am going to try and write about every adventure I have had since the first adventure here in Germany, and I'm going to call the whole collection:

"the Rabbit House Incident (whereby myself and Samuel woke up in a house full of rabbits)"

Just thought I'd warn ya.

- Jo