I want to go Rome.

I want to go Rome.

I want to go Rome.

I want to go Rome.

I want to go Rome.

I want to go Rome.

I don’t care I just went Rome less than 2 months ago.

I will gladly go again this time, as a Part II of my Moscow trip last year.

I will beg for leave(WOOHOO, I got one more day of off in lieu, which means I can take a decent week off should I scoot off), do anything(just not swear on my daughter’s life or anything that uses her name in vain -winks-) just to fly there in 3 weeks’ time.

This time I will prance around Rome, skip along the beautiful pavements, and leave marks of glee and giggles as I go around, slowly taking in the city again, and perhaps, recreating memories of what the city means to me.

And a trip to Venice and Florence, like finally.

Oh man. Oh man. Oh my. I can almost imagine how my trails will be made, the places I will walk to, the eateries I will sit down to enjoy my pizza(no carbonara!) and nice lemon tea(europe has lemon tea! Moscow and Rome! Praise the Lord!), and singing the swan song with the rest of the Red Devils’ fan.

If anyone, so kindly, so lovely, so magnificently has a spare ticket for me to watch Manchester United in Rome(I pai seh to ask the awesome Ming liao, and my other contact that might give me a glimpse of hope… is in London and I don’t have her contact and it is blardy complicated)…. I will love you very deep.

And I know, time to wake up from this perfect fantasy.

And oh, I don’t even need a damn visa for this!

I am just so spontaneous that, all I need, is a blardy ticket to get me in to the damn stadium.

Believe, baybeh, BELIEVE.