Rubik's, changing perspective and toast (almost)

1. Amongst all the sour-faced Line 10 commuters there's a guy playing with a retro-coloured Rubik's cube. To me, he is the epitome of cool.

2. When I come out of the metro station at Duque de Pastrana to go and give an English class to the children, I can see the cuatro torres, but what seems to be an exact mirror image of them; the most modern of the four is on the wrong side, whereas usually it's the one closest to me. When I emerge out of Begoña station later on I turn and I am magically on the right side of the towers again. It makes the city seem a lot smaller.

3. I attempt toast in the toastie-maker. The result is slightly crispy white bread with toasted edges. The slight crispiness is toast enough for me after not having it for months on end.

For my Milliecat

My cat Millie's been really ill for a number of months and it can't have been much of a life for her lately. She's been with me since I was about 8 and she was a lovely, inexorably friendly little cat, not shy of anyone and always around to say hello. The things I will remember about her most are the tinkle of her bell, the weird noises she made and her general cuddliness. She slipped away last night, my parents were with her, and although I am a very sad bean indeed, I feel relieved that she's not having to struggle anymore.

Bye for now, my much-loved Milliecat.

Fog rolling out, mini bubbles and tumbleweeds

1. I roll into university, dragging my feet all the way to doom. The last two exams of the week over, I step out of the building beneath vaulted blue skies and for the first time in a while I can actually feel the heat of the sun on my skin. The fog cleared after all!

2. The plume of diddy bubbles as I plonk the washing-up liquid bottle down on the counter with a dull thud.

3. Time to do whatever I like. It was like an unintentional lonely night in, but it's peace, in the flat and in my mind.

Mischief, coffee and 2 croissants

1. The final B2-level Spanish class passes happily, even though we're doing a quiz. In typical Spanish fashion, Paula does not seem bothered to look up from her newspaper the entire hour and a half while we complete our quizzes, so we have fun taking cheeky glances at each other's essays and giggling because we know we're being silly. Thankfully, it wasn't that serious a test...!

2. I follow the initiative of a fellow Madrileñan wannabe (from Austria) and dip the singed corner of my croissant into my (very, very strong) milky coffee. At first, I don't like it, then the pastry gives way and sweet and savoury work in harmony.

3. Philibert teaches me some German words and turns of phrase - my particular favourites, zauber and löl ('spell' and the Germanised 'lol') So, like the linguist I aspire to be, I give him a rough translation of something French to say to someone else. In the end I think he ended up saying something along the lines of, "I am a magician and I like to grow croissants." I tried!

Time for a wander, camaraderie and a lazy day

1. I arrive earlier than expected to the Cantoblanco campus- 7 minutes earlier, actually. So I can wander up the diagonal path through the chilled, dewy trees while everyone rushes around me.

2. Before my phonetics exam starts I talk to the one girl I know speaks English in the class. We both speak Spanish normally, but it's nice to joke about things, including how the tutor can come across as a being a bit intimidating, even though she's alright, really!

3. After the exam seems to go fairly well I head straight back home through the mild weather to a day of doing nothing but watching How I Met Your Mother (which I've now definitely 'gotten into') and resting my over-stuffed head.

Examen 1, Tea Partaaay and sunnier climes

1. First exam does not go so well. I realise with a fluttering heart that I don't know how to do one of the questions, so I do all of the others and hope that they're okay. On the upside, I finally introduce myself to a couple of other Erasmus students in the class, one of whom I see in the cafeteria, and he waves and says ciao as I leave.

2. I am very much looking forward to officially proposing the Tea Party this weekend! I lugged a mountain of the UK's finest biscuits, chocolate and tea with me to Madrid, and it's been waiting to put a show on.

3. Madrid is shrouded in fog. It seems to reflect my state of mind, and by the end of the week I hope to see sunny skies.

Hero #1, Hero #2 and the great outdoors

1. Mum's repeated Skype-efforts to keep me chirpy about revision. Of course, she knows it hardly changes the way I feel about it all, but she keeps doing it, and this eventually gives me heart.

2. Also, Sarah's beaming smile and happy disposition give me courage, and I tell her so.

3. My mind thrums to a bored rhythm, so to step out of the flat and breathe in a gulp of fresh(ish) air seems to give gravity to all the distracting stuff floating around in my head.

A raucous conversation, a mural and a quiz

1. Exam stress gets to me and I can't work any longer. Suddenly, loudly talking with a friend on Skype brings me back to myself, and the laughter just tumbles out.

2. In a moment of procrastination I bring out the photos I ordered while at home and stick them all up strategically on the mostly-bare white wall of my bedroom. When I'm finished, I can be in Madrid with all the grinning faces of family and friends from both here and home.

3. The pub quiz. It rings of home but is so completely different; as I push my way through the crowded bar I am greeted by familiar, happy faces that make me beam back in return.

Leafy Cantoblanco, a happy reunion and a puff of gold

1. The Cantoblanco campus is no longer glittering evilly with ice every morning. I can breathe a sigh of relief as the scene slowly returns to the orange sun-splashed, leafy outlook that I'm used to.

2. Smiling Koreans. "Wooooow...!"

3. The perfect croissant; it has a little quiff and is evenly golden-brown all over. To tear into its luxuriant layers gives me a strange sort of satisfaction. If they're this good in Spain, I wonder what real French croissants must be like.

Treat 'em mean, ready for sunshine and a regular conversation

1. My English to Spanish translation teacher is refreshingly unpatronising in today's lesson. "...and when you're in the review session, please don't cry. No, really. Every year, it happens, without fail. Okay, so you're crying, it doesn't mean I'm going to change your exam grade." This man earns big respect from behind his tiny glasses.

2. Walking somewhat aimlessly up one of the grandiose streets that branches off Puerta del Sol, the early-evening sunlight ricochets off far-off buildings and I can almost feel without a shadow of a doubt how wonderful (and almost unbearably hot) the city will be in summer.

3. Confessing to feeling blue about something, even if it's only half-heartedly, takes some weight from the battle.

3a. Mum's chuckling as we talk about nothing in particular on Skype.

A very early start, tired times and a prize

Had a bit of a Christmas break, the next few days will be hectic as I return to Madrid on Sunday and from there, the thoughtettes will continue!

1. Despite the cold darkness of the morning, driving at 5:30am with my sister and mother to the airport is brightened by our half-sleepy jokes. Leila is smiling brightly as she leaves for her work in Cyprus, "I'm going to go straight to Departures. You can save yourselves paying extra in the car park- I'm going to do my nails while I wait." 

2. Mum and I go on a hunt for an early breakfast, and end up stumbling upon more than decent coffee in McDonald's of all places. We spend the day finding bargains and traversing the land in a tired stupor. Later, we both fall asleep to the sound of Brian Cox and Dara O'Briain's BBC Stargazing LIVE (which I love, check it out at http://www.bbc.co.uk/stargazing)

3.  Having started the day almostly stupidly (for me!) early, I am repeatedly amazed at the time at intervals during the day. I make a face and sound incredulous as I state the time, but inwardly I feel like I've somehow won a part of the day I don't normally see.

Travel stories, a mewling cat and a breather

1. I wake up late and have a lazy morning. Mid-breakfast the doorbell rings and I feel flustered as family friend Liz has arrived to see my mum, who still hasn't arrived from work. When we sit down and she begins to tell me stories of her trip to Germany, though, I'm all ears.

2. Millie gives me that looking-into-your-soul stare, and I feel all the crueller for squirting medicated water down her throat.

3. I have an evening to breathe and catch up on a few things that have been bothering me just because they haven't been done yet.

Peace, moon and markets

1. An early (early, early..) start at Waitrose leaves me feeling frosty and groggy. I breathe a huge sigh of relief when they open the shop at 8am and just one or two men trickle through the door- very different to the usual surge, and I am glad for another hour's peace before the madness.

2. I can see the whole of Cheshire, the white-quilted fields and icy trees, from the train. I look to my right and both I and a lady next to me are momentarily transfixed by the moon hanging in the still-light sky, perfectly round and huge, with a slight yellow/red tinge.

3. Wandering Manchester's German Christmas Markets, it's good to be among the crowds of warm bodies, taking in all the exotic produce and smells and music with Tom, an old friend from home.

Another one I forgot, the most important of the day!

4. Julia, a lady I met in my first year at Manchester, appears at the end of the queue at my till, and she actually jumps up and down grinning because I'm finally in the shop when she is. Julia and I went to the conglomerated university choir together in Manchester; she was a mature student on an art course at Manchester Metropolitan and I was studying English Language and Spanish at the Uni of Manchester. We had such fun and when we found out that we live in neighbouring towns we became good friends and have kept in touch, through choir, and postcards from Madrid after that. Even though she's in her 50s she's one of the most smiley, youthful people I know all crammed into a teeny, tiny body and I am utterly happy to see her.

Back in the groove, macaroni cheese and trees

1. Getting behind the till in Waitrose feels as normal as ever. "Have you seen Anisa? It's like she never left." My supervisors have a giggle behind me.

2. Real macaroni cheese, with real cheddar, and real cornflour. I am bowled over by the awesomeness of British produce.

3. We finally get the tree up, even if it lacks the usual twinkly lights (0 out of 4 sets were functional!)

Chilling, a comrade and chocolate Santas

1. A comfortable morning drinking warm, milky coffee and laughing about the antics of the night before.

2. I appreciate how nice it is to have someone like Dave who knows both my home-world and the new one we've created in Madrid.

3. I arrive home to see a pack of bright, shiny chocolate tree decorations next to my laptop. They will go nicely with the two bags of little chocolate Santas I bought while I was out!