Holy Mary Mother of God

What a week.

I told you the trolley man from the supermarket was bringing round a box of the old communional vino? Well as it turns out he had an altogether strange idea of how to purge our sins. He liked the flaggelation thing, but only if I hit him across the arse, and that wasn't a pretty sight believe you me. He asked if I did French but I told him I'd only learned Latin in the nunnery, and he seemed a bit disappointed. But he did leave a generous donation on the sideboard on his way out. Pleasant man, he said he'd tell his friends. I might do more good for the community on the outside than I ever could have on the inside.

i was a little shocked to see a beady little eye at one of my condensation-holes when I was in the shower the other day, but it turns out the man upstairs was just checking to make sure the condensation was all escaping. So nice of him. He says in his eyes I'm still a nun so he can see me naked all the time and I don't have to worry about him getting the wrong idea. I feel a lot better about it now. I didn't even mind when I got out of the bath this morning to find him washing the windows, he really is very kind. Not the sharpest tool in the box though, he'd forgotten his bucket and everything.

I decided to join a gym this week, went along to the local Fitness First got a free first training session. A very nice woman helped me with my stretches, and showed me how to use some of the machines, the weights and the cycles and the treadmills, got me quite sweaty. Then she showed me how the showers work. Of course, in the nunnery we didn't comment in the showers, communal though they were, I suppose I just have to get used to the outside world.

She invited me to go for a drink with her on Saturday night, down in Brighton, she goes down there a lot apparently, she laughed when she said that so it must be a pretty fun place. She said she'd bring some friends and we'd have a proper party, asked me to bring my habit, it sounds like fun.

I have to go now, the trolley man said he'd teach me French today, I have to prepare. He said all I needed was my mouth but I'm sure I should buy a phrasebook at least.

Peace be with you

Jesus, Mary and Joseph

That Father Francis is a dirty little fecker. I think. All I know is I woke up on Tuesday afternoon slumped over in the back pew, with my nun-like-but-not-official-uniform undernunwear all bunched up under my (fake) habit, inside out and back to front. I suppose I'll just have to keep an eye on the Parish Newsletter and see whether there's any more disciplinary action in the works. Surely they wouldn't have been so daft as to make another video.

Anyway apparently everyone just thought I was doing one of those nunny prayer fasting things, that's why they didn't disturb me. They thought the foamy mouth was just dehydration. And of course, the random rambling, they thought that was speaking in tongues. If I was speaking in tongues, why would I be speaking ABOUT tongues. *sigh* people, what are they like?

So of course I spent the rest of Tuesday and all of Wednesday at the chiropractor, getting my spine sorted after all that hunching, he was a bit handsy I think but of course never having tried it before, for all I know the fleshy bits might need as much massaging as the rest. The arse I could understand, it was pretty much totally flattened out from the wooden pew, but my little pert nun-boobies? They didn't even hurt, I don't know why they took so long to work out.

On Thursday I thought it was about time I did some laundry. I couldn't find a stream and a rock, that's how we did it back at the nunnery, but the man upstairs told me about the laundrette round the corner when he came down to drill the airholes in my bathroom ceiling, I never even knew that condensation could cause so much trouble if you didn't let it out. Anyway so I went round to the laundrette and it took me all day to get all my washing done. The guys down there told me about how you have to wash all your knickers together, then all your bras together, then all your petticoats together, and they were nice enough to watch them all go round and round while I looked in the paper for a job. And then they separated them all out and put them in the drier for me, and watched them again, and then they even folded everything all up for me, took them ages, they kept double-checking to make sure it was all clean enough.

On Friday I went to the supermarket, that wasn't easy. I had no idea what to buy, at the nunnery I never got the kitchen work, it was always just dumped in front of me in a bowl with a wooden spoon. I didn't recognise anything at all, other than potatoes and peas, so I got a few green things to experiment with... artichokes, basil, and courgettes. I got some mince, that looked quite familiar, and a loaf of bread, but it was all soft and bendy, I'm not used to that, I hope it gets better soon. I nearly fell over with laughing when I saw the drinks, I can't believe people pay for water. And wine, such little bottles, I'm used to it coming in barrels and being siphoned off as and when it's needed. I asked about it, some guy that was collecting trolleys said the best he could do was to bring a box round tomorrow night when his wife thinks he's on the night shift, I thought that was nice of him. Home delivery in this day and age. Chivalry isn't dead. I wasn't sure about him lying to his wife but he says she gets terribly jealous. And apparently the local wives have warned their husbands not to come near me. If she's going to be unreasonable about it, I don't see what I can do.

Yesterday was Saturday, I thought I'd try cooking the greens I'd bought. As it turns out, basil isn't much use on its own. You add it to other things. But not, I'm told, to artichokes and courgettes and mince. I didn't really get the best combination apparently. So the man from downstairs tells me. He came up to bring me my post and to check my drawers. He said he'd heard from the last girl in here that they were a bit sticky, especially the one I keep my underwear in. I don't know how he knew the last girl kept her underwear in the same drawer as I keep mine in, but that's the sticky one he said. Took him all day to sort it out, I hadn't even noticed it was clunky but he certainly seemed to hear it.

And so to Sunday. This morning I tried to go back to St Anthony's but that didn't go so well, I don't want to talk about it. All I will say is I think stoning was harsh in the middle ages, and it's harsh now. I've spent all day trying to atone myself. I self-flagellated and everything, but the neighbours complained about the noise, and the man upstairs said I was only allowed to do that in the bathroom, but there's no space, so I just had to give up trying. I'm starting to like TV though, but Eastenders was a bit stressful for me, I don' really understand what happened cos I don't know how it ended.

Now I have to go and see where Kings Cross is on the map, I have an interview there in the morning, from an ad I answered in the paper. I hope I get it, I have all the qualities they asked for. I do have a good sense of humour, I am young female, inexperienced, willing to try new things, and I don't mind working with several people at once. Wish me luck!

Peace be with you.

First Sunday out of the nunnery

I can't believe it, I'm livid, livid I tell you!

OK, so I'm not living at the nunnery any more, but that doesn't mean I don't want to go to church! I got up bright and early this morning and headed down to St Anthony's for morning Mass, and can you believe they bloody turned me away at the door!

Apparently the priest's all pissed off at me about the other thing. Doesn't matter that it was only discovered cos they were stupid enough to video the whole episode then return the tape to Blockbusters in the Sleepers box. I never said a word but they're still blaming me for their best alter boys being taken away.

There's a thought, the local altar boys have been sent down to St Mary's, they've probably got my name in lights...

I'm going to head down there and see whether they'll let me in. I seem to remember young Father Francis offering to lay his wafer on my tongue any day of the week. I hope the offer's still open.

Peace be with you.

Peace Be With You

So here's me, poor little Sister Maria Virginie, fresh from the nunnery, out in the big bad world.

I took some computer classes before I left, so I thought the internet would be a lovely way to make friends, I've heard of how easy it is to find people online.

Eventually I'd like to track down the motherfucker that got me punted from the nunnery. It was so blatantly a set-up in hindsight, how was I supposed to know that they don't really do exchanges with the seminary down the road? I thought it was a bit odd when they said I'd have to do confession with all of them one at a time, and plain weird when they said that since I was a nun and they were priests we could both sit in the same side of the confessional. "Come on, sit on my knee Marie Virginie, don't bother with that, it's just my rosary beads in my pocket."

I'm still not altogether sure what I'm supposed to have done wrong. It's not like I told anyone. And I did all my Hail Mary and Our Fathers. And I never told anyone what I saw behind the massive organ.

All in all I got a bum deal. But it could've been worse, from what the altar boy was telling me his bum's been dealt much worse.

So I hope to be posting here regularly, my new life on the outside, and I hope it's not too dull, poor little me learning the ways of the world.

Peace be with you.