human again.

It had been five days since i had laughed or had a proper conversation with anyone, silently frozen in that state of wanting to run but so desperatly wanting to relax and being my usual self i think i was laughing in shear relief to find someone who had the same sense of homour. until that point i had even wondered why they had accepted me on the DTS if I was so different to everyone else.
its had been a tense week but that joke seemed to break a barrier and suddenly i was free to be myself. you know that stage where everyone stops seeming so unrelatable and totally holy and seems to become a person.

The base its self i was starting to hate although i must have explored the neighbouring area the most, one thing i was going to stop if it killed me was cabin fever, i had learnt from a friend who had been on mission last summer that taking his own space was invaluble to him, and going without it wasnt an option, it had raised an alarm bell within me when he´d said it. knowing more than anything i needed my freedom and space, to come back under authority, confinment, rules and day in day out community i was going to have to find a few bolt holes if i wasnt to go mad or worse still take the head of some poor missionary off.

The routine and planning of the day was fine, breakfast at 7.45 an hours personal devotion before classes at 9.30 were fine, infact they gave me time back in my anoyingly morning person routine. The rest of the day follows without much breathing space, classes of intercession or teaching stretched til 2 with a half hour in the middle for coffee and biscuits. lunch at 2.30 was followed by daily jobs, kitchen duty usually took me til 4 and an hour and a half was mine til whatever mentor small group or prayers at 5.30. Knocked on the head with dinner at 7.30 and evening sessionsed resumed till 10.

Saturday i was glad to get out and go to madrid with the others, at first pursuing the idea of going on my own but finally i admitted to myself i should stop cutting off my nose to spite my face there would be time to bolt and get space later, first things first, get to madrid.

Two buses and metros later our heads popped up in Sol, the meeting of roads, stations, shops and people in central Madrid. A guy in a white jacket, sat on a funky moped, his mobile wedged to his ear by the bright orange helmet as his sat effortlessly stylishly in traffic chatting away.

shoe shop after shoe shop with knee hig boots starting at 12 euros could easily turn this missionary trainee into a Carry Bradshaw, but no. priorities were suddenly flooding to my mind, i could be meeting my dad this week, it would have been 8 years and i wasnt about to turn up in the usual jeans and body warmer with only a face of make-up to hint at the woman below.
As panic set in i ravaged the sales of every store going to find a smart coat and pair of decent tailored pants, and some boots wouldnt go astray either. As the others headed home i stayed on glad of the freedom and independence once again alone in a big city, the world my oyster.