An Afternoon at the Pool

I went on most outings that there were on my language course. If I'd paid for a trip to Rome, of course I was going to go. There were some that cost a little extra, like the trip to see Madama Butterfly in Macerata, or the trip to the club, Babaloo on the Rimini coast. These were fun outings and the kind of thing you sign up to in the heat of the moment and don't give a second thought.

The whole ethic of the language course was to act now and think about it later - most people were wonderfully relaxed and relished not having responsibility. They loved living la dolce vita, spending break times in cafes, spending the evenings in bars, eating pizza and pasta, exploring beautiful places, making great friends, I could go on.

The experience was amazing, but sometimes all I longed for was a bit of peace and quiet: some time to explore on my own, take some time out to do my own thing. Though I loved the friends I'd made, I knew our friendship would probably benefit from taking five minutes out here and there.

To be honest, things in my house were getting a little frustrating. Gaby, now it transpired she was but-a-girl at 19, was acting her age more and more, and showing that she had no idea about communal living and respecting other people's needs in that situation. My bed was in the corner of the room, next to the wardrobe: she'd open the wardrobe doors to get her clothes out and then leave them open - cue me sitting in a tiny, darkened box, shut away from the world. She'd also leave her drawer open so that in order for me to get my stuff out, I'd have to ram her stuff back in said drawer before I could shut it and open mine.

Woh.

Poxy, I know, but it was the little things that really got to me: she'd bought all this food on our behalf, but had no idea how to cook it. I soon decided that we would cook for ourselves from then on. She would often stay out until the wee hours with friends from her class, and then stumble in drunk putting on all the lights possible and making as much noise as she could.

It was getting to the stage where if I didn't take some time out, I was going to spontaneously combust.

I was given a great opportunity to do just this. The school had arranged an afternoon at the pool for us in our third week. It wasn't free - we'd have to pay about 7Eur for the privilege and I'd forgotten my bikini bottoms. I could therefore go, but I'd have to sit on the side, or buy some pants, or borrow some pants - there is always a solution, but I couldn't be bothered with it.

Instead, I was scheming ways to get an afternoon to myself. Lovely.

My friends were really surprised when I said I wasn't going to go and they offered me all kinds of sweeteners, but my mind was made up. I waved them off on the bus and then wandered into a bookshop. I browsed. I browsed a lot. I was looking for English literature translated into Italian.

I love classic literature and so bought Orgoglioso e Pregiudizio (Pride & Prejudice) and Re Lear (King Lear). It was enough to whet my appetite. I went back to my apartment and then decided that I'd head down to the supermarket. I walked all the way down and all the way back up. It was a long slog and I didn't enjoy the last 500m because my arms were about to fall off, but still it was nice to do it on my own, without having to think about making polite small talk with someone else.

I got back to my apartment and then headed off to the deserted piazza to Skype my family. Not long after my friends arrived back. It turned out I hadn't missed very much at all. Ok so it had been fun, but I could tell they were secretly all jealous that I'd had some time alone.

So with all my chores done and the evening stretching out in front of me, I decided to arrange to meet my friends at a bar in the piazza that evening. I could tell my friends were all in need of a drink for different reasons that I was...