Wednesday, 26 November 2008

Blowing my own trumpet...

I just finished my last morning at school. It's left me all emotional! The class teacher I work with told me I'm the best Teaching Assistant she's ever had - I nearly cried. It was completely out of the blue. And the dinner ladies silenced the dining room so the whole school could say goodbye to me!

I'm going to miss them all so much.

Tuesday, 25 November 2008

Merry Christmas

It's Chriiiiiiistmas! Therefore my recently played list is full of christmas cheesy goodness:

It also means, I am slightly rather tipsy from pink champagne and stuffed full of gluttonous goodness.
We've opened Nanny's presents and they didn't disappoint. I'd love to detail the fantastic bits of tacky goodness she's got us this year, but I don't want to spoil the surprise for H when she opens hers on Actual Christmas Day. I love my nanny. Of course it couldn't have been Christmas without my father getting stressed and attempting to cause some kind of argument, but traditions will be traditions. Tomorrow is technically my Birthday, so let's see if I end up in tears like every other year... But I'm happy, so I don't want to end this post on a bad note. Instead I'll leave it with a picture of my mother modeling her new the scarf and glove set, complete with singing Merry Christmas! hat:

I love my Mumma.

Monday, 24 November 2008


This afternoon I got implanted. I don't mean that, do I? I mean, I had an implant.

After reading Ayemiy's blogpost a while ago (gosh, it must be well over a year??) when she got hers, I've been intrigued. I had a poke at hers, and it really is very strange feeling it under the skin, but it seemed to make complete sense. However, with two-ings and fro-ings between Liverpool and Leamington, I never found the right time to get mine... until today!

Despite the doctor not anaesthetising me properly the first time, and the strange sensation when she actually put it in (pressure, and a kind of tugging at my skin, but no pain), it was quite a nice experience! There was me, a female nurse, a female doctor, and a female student doctor, all just having a nice girly time. Laughs and giggles and lady-talk.

It slightly settled some of my fears about France... At the induction day it was 90% female, which thoroughly scared me because I much prefer working with guys. Girls are usually so bitchy and less fun; you can have banter with guys; a bit of healthy flirting. But I suppose we're not all bad, and I just hope I find some girls I can click with. [And then my first-day-of-school fears rear their ugly head and I start to worry that noone will like me, noone will be like me, and I'll end up lonely... ah!]

It was also interesting trying to explain the implant to my mum... No, it's not because I want to be an absolute whore while I'm in France. It just makes sense.

Sunday, 23 November 2008


My head hurts and I can still taste tequila. I really do feel rough. I remember making myself sick at some point last night - that's never a good thing, is it? That's probably why I feel so vile today.

Despite my epic hangover, I managed to spend over £60 in Boots. 20 of that was paid for using Boots points - genius, eh? And because I spent such a ridiculous amount, I got £10 worth of points back on my card. So when I come back from France, someone remind me to spend that... Is there a Boots in France? Maybe it's called Bottes.

I came home to discover my father had downloaded a film onto my laptop, which lead to a huge argument. How dare he use my computer without asking?! He could have just called and asked! And how dare he download 1.5Gb onto it?! It could have been riddled with all kinds of nasty stuff.
I don't really have much on here to hide... There are un-posted blog entries, photos a father shouldn't see and some personal bits 'n' bobs. Thankfully I have two profiles; one which is password protected and one that's not, so there wasn't really much he could do. But that's not the point.
He didn't see the problem and went off on one about how he lets me use his computer... the family computer. And then ranted for a while about it being his fridge and his food. Ugh, wanker. Me and my laptop will only be imposing on him for 5 more days anyway!

Saturday, 22 November 2008

It's Christmas on Tuesday!

I'm sure I'll be busying about the place this week and I'm not entirely sure how much time I'll have to update. Then after Friday I'll be in France for a week's training and a week's settling in, so who knows when I'll have the time to sit down and write a blog post.

Last night Drew came home to Leamington! I'd love to say he'd come to visit me, but I think it's more likely that it's because it's his Dad's birthday today and he knew that Becca would be in Leam'. He wanted to meet for a drink yesterday afternoon, and I was looking forward to it, but then his train was delayed by an hour (which meant we missed Wilde's happy hour - £3 for champagne, yes please!) and Mum was in town asking if I wanted a lift home... I was easily persuaded because it was damn cold and I didn't fancy walking back. So I didn't meet him, and I think he was slightly mad.

However, tonight, Becca is home! Yeeeeeeeah! She's having to fit me in somewhere between her family time. She, too, isn't visiting purely to see me; she's back to celebrate her sister's engagement. I'm not complaining... it'll be nice just to see her really. So hopefully I might be a wee bit hungover tomorrow. You never know!

On Monday I shall be sorting out money and buying gallons of Norwegian Formula (thank you Ami). I've just spent fortune at because they were surprisingly cheap for a lot of what I needed, but there are still the odd few things that they didn't have. I've also now got three people's Boots cards which I will be raping for points!
After properly looking into everything money-wise (thank you so much for those comments, they really were very helpful) I've decided to (not really take your advice, sorry, and) open a joint account with mon pere. It means he'll have access to my spendings, but that will result in me spending less and I think it's probably a good thing. Travellers cheques seemed to just result in me losing money through commission and there were warnings against there on every advice website I looked on. A pre-paid credit card looked to be a good idea, but I really can't trust myself. I remember too well last Christmas Eve when I burst into tears after receiving a letter from the bank telling me I was in financial hell. I still owe my Dad nearly £900 from that...

It's Christmas on Tuesday!! Ok... it's not... but it is in my household!
I'm going to be family-less on Christmas Day and my birthday (Boxing Day), and I don't have the packing space to take a lot of presents with me, so Mumma decided we'd have a mini Christmas a month early! We went to one of those cheap cheap shops (The Depot, or Bargain Village, or something stupid like that) and bought as much tack as we could. We have musical hats, party horns, the cheapest crackers we could find, a plastic table cloth, and I'm about to dig out the old faithful family christmas casette tape. Everything we bought is a different clashing colour - there'll be no coordination or taste whatsoever! Dad's even bought a turkey.

On Wednesday it's my last day in work, so I'm making a batch of Nigella's Intense Chocolate Cookies because I made them a few weeks ago and they're, well, intense. Oh, Nigella! I'm going to ruin whatever luxurious/alluring/intense air they might have by decorating them with goodbye sentiments along the lines of "It was nice knowing you", "Have a nice life" and "Auf wiedersehen, pet".

Thursday is going to involve a lot of packing... Hopefully by then my vacuum bags will have been delivered, along with my Superdrug booty, and I'll be able to squeeze everything into one bag. One bloody bag! It's a joke! But it's got to be do-able.

And Friday... Well Friday is when all the fun begins - with a 24hr coach journey.

Friday, 21 November 2008

Answers on a postcard (or comment)

So now the interview is over, the panicking may commence: Bloody hell I'm leaving the country for 5months on Friday!! Shit, THAT'S A WEEK TODAY!

Firstly, packing. I bloody hate packing. I've had to do it so many times throughout the university years that you'd think I'd just get on with it... Well, I hate it. I leave it til the last minute - I once packed the entire contents of my room between 3am and 7am with a bottle of wine in one hand. I had no idea where anything was when it was unpacked back at home, but at least it gone done.

Packing for France is going to be a nightmare. I have to take 5months worth of everything, as well as ski stuff and work stuff. So... Question No.1 - Has anyone used vacuum storage bags before? Do they work?? Will they actually save me much space? Because, I was thinking, salopettes must be full of a lot of air, as must towels and jumpers etc. I've just bought some from Amazon and spent more on postage and packaging than the damn things cost! But I need to make sure they're here ASAP as I have no time left.

I also, apparently, need some good hand cream because, apparently, with the constant two-ing and fro-ing from warm chalet to cold piste my hands are going to wither and crack. Hand cream sounds like a very old lady thing to use and I have no idea... So Question No.2 - Does anyone use hand cream and, if so, what's a good one? I don't want to come home with minging hands.

Then I need to sort out everything money-wise... Basically, if I use my English account over there they'll charge me to withdraw money from a cash machine. So I tried to open an account at Nationwide which would give me free foreign withdrawals but because I'm just a lowly graduate I have a useless credit rating and so they told me where to go. I could open a joint account with my father, but I don't think I want him to have access to my accounts and see how much I'm spending. My second way of getting around it, would be to open a French account, but that involves having a French permanent address and apparently takes forever so I might as well forget it. The third way of doing things is to use Travellers Cheques... but I have no idea about Travellers Cheques! So... Question No.3 - Does anyone understand Travellers Cheques? I understand that I have to buy them before I leave and then I can cash them when I'm out there. So if I take, like, £1000 worth of cheques in small denominations and cash them as and when I need money, that will work, right?

I'm sure there are so many other things I need to sort out and work out. I just know I'm going to forget something really important. Help!

On top of all of that... I have a week's 'boot camp' training that I'm probably going to fail. They're expecting a really high standard of waitressing from me, which I've really never done. I worked in chain pubs for god sake and the nearest I got to waitressing was carrying plates from the kitchen to the table of a chav/student. Maybe I should have been a bit more honest at the interview... I need to get working on my multiple plate carrying skills and learn how to pour a bottle of wine with one hand.

Thursday, 20 November 2008

London baby, yeah!

So I headed down to London yesterday morning, armed with a folder full of news stories relating to education to read on the train. I got into New Cross station an hour earlier than anticipated because vastly overestimates their journey times. I suppose early is better than late... So I sat in the sunshine, read over their prospectus, and made a nerve-settling phonecall to Becca!
The interview went fabtastically; very relaxed, lots of nods and smiles, and I cold see him ticking boxes on his sheet. And at one point he shouted Bingo! which can only be seen as a good thing, right?

So how does Equal Opportunities transpire in the classroom?
Well, for instance, when asking children to draw self portraits, you make sure there are various 'skin coloured' crayons on the table and not just pink or white ones.
BINGO! Nail on head, Rosie!

Judging by today's news of an offer, it really did go well!

The interview lasted only 45minutes so I was out by 12.30 and my only other plan was to meet someone at 5pm when she finished work. So... I spent three hours in the V&A! I got completely lost, wandered round in circles, totally on my own, in my own little world. Loved it. I was there for 3hrs and didn't even visit the main exhibition - it cost money and there was more than enough to keep me entertained. Realising I'd never been (yet seen the film plenty of times), I ventured to Notting Hill in the dark, stared in a few quirky shop windows and stopped myself from going in and buying anything. I need to stop spending money, you see.

At around half 5, after being asked 3 times by the same man whether or not I wanted "free promotional condoms, I managed to find Sophie at Waterloo station.
Soph and I go way back. We were best friends throughout secondary school... we got caught skiving together, we had our first hangovers together, we bought our first bong together, we got suspended together. And then we went to different colleges and became totally different people. It could be a sad story, but it's really not. I love her to bits, but I know that we are now very different to how we were.

She's now living in London; working for Miss Selfridge as some high-flying, art-directing, personal assistiting, fashion styling something-or-other, and loving it. We were both always going to end up in London... Ever since we hit Oxford Street on her 14th birthday... and very soon we'll both be there!

Whoever says a night out in London will leave me empty pocketed is a liar... I spent nothing! Sophie bought the first bottle and a drunk man thrust £20 into my hand and demanded I let him pay for our second! After seeing his warrant card and realising we were surrounded by 15 police men (albeit drunk police men), I decided I couldn't really say no and gladly accepted his alcoholic offering! However, bearing in mind that I have an inability to remember to eat, it proably wasn't the best idea to meet for drinks rather than dinner... We got through our two bottles of vino and all I'd had to eat was a bowl of cereal and a tangerine - oops.

I'm amazed I managed to get home to be honest... I only have vague memories of being on the tube, and only really remember sleeping on the train (yet I apparently managed to have multiple drunk conversations with Phyll). I discovered this morning that I'd managed to buy a huge bottle of Vittel water, and Heat magazine - I suppose I've bought much more ludicrous things when drunk before!

I also discovered this morning that Steve and I had sent a few texts between us... my last ending with "miss you". Cringe. Although I do miss him very much, I should know not to stir that all up again!

Clever me.

I GOT IN I GOT IN I GOT IN! Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah!!

I have so much to write about... but the main thing is: I'M GOING TO GOLDSMITHS! He told me that I wouldn't know for a few days, but I just checked on the web system and it says they've made me an offer! Woo!
So I'll be starting there next September and I really can't wait.

However, right now I'm pretty hungover, absolutely exhausted, and on my way back to school to watch my class's assembly on Florence Nightingale. I wish I could curl up in bed but I promised them I'd be there. And it took me ages to make that damn lamp, so I want to see it in action!

Monday, 17 November 2008

Twitter Twoo

I'm far too busy at the moment to properly write here... Hasn't it been a long time since that happened?!

I can't think about blogging until I know everything's sorted for my departure to France. And I can't worry about leaving for France until I've got Wednesday's interview over and done with.

So I think I'll be Twittering instead. Or maybe I won't. We shall see.

Saturday, 15 November 2008

Wedding Bells

More friends are getting married. Surely I'm too young to be feeling like Bridget Jones?

Becca's sister got engaged last night. We've known for months that he was going to propose, but we didn't know when! It's not like we could call her and ask, is it? He popped the question last night. She said yes, of course.

I really can't even imagine marriage at the moment. That far into the future is just a blur to me.

But I'm so excited for Anna and Sam. They better not have the wedding in the next 5months - I'm not missing seeing my bestfriend in a bridesmaid's dress!

Friday, 14 November 2008


I'm not in the mood to write a proper post, but I'm watching Children In Need and feel the need to jot some bits down.

There is a Pudsey Bear perfume?? Does it make you smell like a bear? Or maybe a needy child?

I absolutely adore Terry Wogan but I can't help thinking it's time he gave up this presenting lark. He doesn't seem to be particularly on top of things this year.

I made little yellow Pudsey ears for half the staff at school today. The kids loved it. My hangover didn't!

Fearne Cotton is presenting... I discovered whilst watching the MTV EMAs that Katy Perry is nearly as annoying as Fearne Cotton. How many (stupid) outfit changes did she need?

The Sugababes look strangely swollen. Curvy in tight dresses. It's possibly because they came on the stage after the stick-like Girls Aloud. I want to pop them with a pin.

According to Midlands Today, women only watch Top Gear because they fancy Richard Hammond. I don't.

Aw... McFly...

Thursday, 13 November 2008

Protect The Innocent

Tonight has been absolutely hilarious. I'm not drunk; just slightly tipsy. And noone else needed looking after. Ergo, a positive night out, oui?

Of course, I've been surrounded by middle-aged women:
Lady A* - Possibly in her mid-40s, but acts older. Very reserved. Very serious about her job. Apparently, rarely takes up offers of extra-curricular social events. She realised tonight who my mother is... which lead to her hanging her head in shame and apologising profusely all night. Seriously; if you've not heard me called Miss C[surname] there is no reason why you'd know my mum is the secretary! She couldn't get over it...
Lady B* - Similar to Lady A, she's older than her years. But apparently makes the effort for nights out, despite sitting in the corner and not really 'fitting in'. She's lovley. But left at 10pm with Lady A to ensure they're not tired tomorrow... We're all going to be hungover tomorrow. Get. Over. It. But she's a sweetie so I shouldn't bitch!
Lady C* - In your face. I-am-who-I-am. Showed us her suck-it-in knickers in the middle of the restuaurant by undoing her flies. A perfect example when explaining that the most confident people are often those with the most to hide. I adore her, but I know she's not as open as she'd like to make out. She's probably very similar to me.
Lady D* - As far as I can gather she's in her late 40s, divorced, and now sleeping with 'Frank*'. I know her daughter, and she has a younger son. Frank, apparently, is damn good in bed and due to his prowess, she has discovered that Durex Vibrating Cock Rings only vibrate for 40mins.
Lady E* - A happily married 30-something-yr-old with 4 children. She hasn't had a single epidural and regrets it for all 4 children. She's the youngest at heart (and in mind), and has discovered, similar to Lady D, that Ann Summers Rhythm Riders only last 30mins.
Charlotte - My closest friend due to our similarities in age... The queen of School Gossip, she loves to hear it all; whether it concerns her or not, and loves to tell it; whether I care or not. Today I met her boyfriend/ex-boyf who she is too good for and knows it. I hope they break up before I leave the country so that I can see her finally be happy with somone she is good enough for. Seriously.

Gosh, fingers crossed that they're all too computer illiterate to discover how I've summarised them. Although they're true and not particularly offensive... I'd hate them to be annoyed with me for it.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent! ...they're don't all share the first name Lady, really!

The Kids Of Today

The plan to keep my impending interview quiet at work failed instantly. In my excitement yesterday I'd sent Charlotte a message about it - the biggest mistake imaginable. When I walked into the staff meeting this morning she jumped up and squealed "CONGRATULATIONS!" at me and, of course, I had to explain to the rest of the room why I was celebrating. As there were only the other Teaching Assistants in the room, I explained that I didn't want to shout about it incase it goes badly, so could they ever so kindly keep it on the low? Despite the understanding nods, I knew they wouldn't, and they didn't.

I can't really complain though; it was absolutely fantastic news and I would have loved to have been able to shout about it. The various good lucks in the corridor and offers to write me glowing references (without me even asking!) were really appreciated. It's nice to be able to tell someone and have them realise how much it means to me... I think I need to apologise to Phyll for calling her yesterday and spending the whole conversation talking about how excited I am! But I knew she'd understand and share my excitement.

This evening is the Teaching Assistants Night Out... It's going to be an interesting one. Due to their complete lack of descretion, I know they've been collecting money all week to buy me a 'leaving gift'. I feel bad for working it out, and slightly vain for assuming it's for me, but the hushed talk of "Oh, I need to give you that money for...shhh!" when I walk in the room left me in no doubt. I also had to leave the staff meeting 'because the secretary [my mum] needs to talk to you" about... whether or not I wanted her to make me a sandwich at lunchtime. Good cover story there, Mum.

So far I've had a 'leaving weekend' 4weeks early when Helly and Becca came to Leam. They gave Caroline and I leaving presents, and we said our goodbyes, despite the fact there were still a month left til my departure. As I mentioned before; they realised it was a bit premature and so will be re-paying me a visit next weekend! And now I'm having a 'leaving do' 2weeks early! I'm not complaining. It's really lovely of them to think of me, considering I've only been there 6weeks or so. Mum reckons they don't usually give TAs much of a send off...

It's going to be interesting though. Apart from Charlotte, they're all mums and a good few years older than me. I find myself joining in conversations about The Kids Of Today and what looks good in the Avon catalogue (not much). Although today I managed to get wrapped up in a conversation about Ann Summers parties... but that's as good as it gets. They're all excited because we're going to a cheap cheap curry place where there's cheap wine so they can afford to drink a whole bottle each! Golly gosh. I have a feeling that either I'll end up looking after them, or they'll end up looking after me. We shall see.

Wednesday, 12 November 2008



Now, I know that doesn't mean that I've got a place... But, hell yeah! I GOT AN INTERVIEW! The bad news is that it's next Wednesday and that is rather soon. But I've been preparing for this bad boy for half my life so I'm not panicking.

I'm just not sure how publicly I should make known it at work. Charlotte had an interview for Warwick last year and told everyone about it... Then she didn't get it (I hasten to add; not because she's particularly useless but, I think, because she didn't apply until there were no places left). It meant that everyone at school kept asking if she'd heard back and she eventually had to let the whole staff population know her depressing news.

So... I want to tell people, because I want to pick their brains and ask them to write glorious references, but I don't want to have to tell them if I don't get it. I guess I'll just have to make sure I do myself proud, eh?

Tuesday, 11 November 2008

Run, Forest


I know that's not normally something to shout about but it's really bloomin' good news as far as I'm concerned!
Over the summer I spent a week in the Lake District with the OTC for Adventurous Training (cycling, kayaking, hillwalking, climbing). By the end of the week I was seriously wanging (a term coined by home friends for someone who drags one leg behind them). I didn't know what was wrong, but my hip was painful. I carried on regardless and just over-dosed on Ibuprofen. When I returned home it pained me to go shopping... and when something gets in the way of me spending money there must be a problem, so I wanged myself to the doctors.

The doctor ended up giving me a prescription for anti-inflammatories and banned me from running and walking long distances for 5weeks. Five bloody weeks?! I really love running... which is really very strange because when in school I faked my mum's signature so many times to get out of PE the teacher wouldn't have recognised a legitimate signature. University somehow helped the sportsman in me make an appearance. I love being able to get away from everything with a good long run... But for five weeks I had to resign myself to swimming and the odd bit of cycling.

Last week I finally finished my prescription and have been worrying for the past few days about whether or not to test my hip out. I don't want it to mess up again because I leave the country soon (incase you'd missed me mentioning it in every other post) and the doctor threatened steroid injections if the tablets didn't work.

Well - touch-wood/fingers-crossed - it seems to be ok! Mum went swimming while I went on a run through Warwick and it was really bloody good. My hip didn't die on me, and I don't seem to have lost much fitness because of all the swimming I've been doing.

Can I get a woop woop? (Someone please remind me to never search for Woop Woop on YouTube again)

Monday, 10 November 2008


This Sunday I went with my parents to Coventry's Remembrance Parade. I wasn't planning on going, but then I remembered being in Belgium and crying my eyes out as the Last Post played. It hit home again why I'd bought my poppy. I don't wear it as an ostentatious display of patriotism, or to shout "Yay, we won the war aren't we the dog's bollocks" as Alasdair accused 'too many people' of doing. In fact, I think you'd be hard pushed to find someone with that attitude who wasn't a member of the BNP. Especially considering that the poppy is the result of a Canadian's poem, and introduced by a French woman.

But as for deciding whether or not to support the day... The clue is in the name; Remembrance Day.
    Remembrance Day – also known as Poppy Day, Armistice Day (the event it commemorates) or Veterans Day – is a day to commemorate the sacrifices of members of the armed forces and of civilians in times of war, specifically since the First World War.
I didn't see a single Union Flag being waved, and I didn't hear celebratory words about winning any wars. Instead it was a somber occasion highlighting how much war has meant we've lost. It makes sense to me that someone taking a remotely anti-war stance should support the Poppy Appeal in an attempt to publicise the horrific loss that comes from war. Surely it highlights a key reason why we should stop our fighting?

The day was full of remembrance for me, in more ways than one.

It dragged up that fear of mine again; that disconcertment joining the OTC instilled in me. My choice of university society has resulted in me knowing too many people who have chosen a career in the Army. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help but worry that something will, inevitably, happen to one of them. Palmer has just got back from Kosovo and is off to Kenya soon before deploying to Afghanistan. Jon has 2010 pencilled in his diary for his tour of Afghanistan. Lee is counting down the days until he flies out from Briars Norton.

That fear also gets me thinking about Bash. I'm supposed to have buried that demon, but I think it'll always haunt me. I worry that one day I'll hear bad news about him and know that we left everything on such bad terms. To make it more poignant the service was at Memorial Park; where Bash and I had lunch together on his birthday. I still hate that I allow him to have this effect on me.

Remembrance Day is also a chance for me to feel proud of my dad. I've never written about when he left for Iraq. It was a very strange time for us, not only because he was going, but for a whole host of reasons that I don't think I'll ever write about. I don't necessarily feel proud because he went; he was doing what he was trained to do. But I feel pride because of what he's doing now... He secretaries an association for all the retired members of his regiment. I met some of them at the weekend and they were fantastic! They were full of stories and memories, and they really were marching for their fallen comrades. They'd lived through it, but some of their friends had not. I don't know what they'd do with themselves if they didn't have their Association.

With regards to poppies; who am I to say whether or not you should wear one? I went through a period of refusing to because I thought they were tacky. But then I grew up.

Sunday, 9 November 2008

Gunpowder Action

I need to learn to start writing posts when I think about things. When I have time to think to myself (which seems to be a lot of the time), I write some fantastic posts in my head... and then either I forget them, or I cut+paste in so many changes so it becomes a mishmash of everything.

I had a lot of time to think on Saturday night.

After the shenanigans with Alasdair on Thursday evening, I chickened out of our firework rendez-vous. I decided that the next time we saw each other was going to be inevitably weird, and I'd have lots of things I needed to get off my chest, so meeting him with a herd of his friends just wasn't going to work. Also, it was cold, wet, and in Kenilworth.

Instead, I wandered down the road in the dark to the firework display at work (the local school). I wasn't sure if it was the best idea... Firstly, it's work and I've never been able to understand why people socialise where they work. Secondly, I was going on my own.

Ma and Pa have apparently only "tolerated" fireworks for the past 21yrs because it made H & I happy, so although they offered to accompany me I couldn't really say yes and drag them into the cold. Liz & Family were there but I didn't particularly want to intrude. And, let's be honest, the world might implode if Ben, Liz and I were to ever actually be in the same place at the same time (which reminds me of this post)! Charlotte was supposed to meet me there but didn't get my facebook message with my phone number before deciding she was too tired to go.

So... off I toddled into the night with my wellies, thermal undies, and an over-sized hoodie. There was no way I was missing out on some gunpowder action! I knew I wasn't actually going to be on my own because I'd know people there. I heard multiple children shout "Hello Miss C!" at me, but due to the darkness I couldn't work out which child I was waving back at. However, despite the odd familiar face in the crowd, I was very much on my own. Which is, well, pretty sad, isn't it?

I do enjoy my own company, and I'm not afraid to do things on my own. But something like Bonfire Night... shouldn't it be shared with someone? It's the kind of evening where you need someone to hold your hand to keep you warm. And there's nothing more romantic than watching fireworks reflect in someone elses eyes...

I think I'm just feeling a wee bit sorry for myself, as you could probably judge from my previous moaning post.

Good news though; Becca and Helly are coming home the weekend before I leave for France! They weren't supposed to be... we said our big goodbyes last time I saw them. But due to fantastic circumstances they're coming back to see me! I know it's not for a while, but I am so excited!

Saturday, 8 November 2008


I miss everyone.

After last nights 'turmoil' I needed girly chats. I spoke to Crystal on the phone briefly, but Phylli & I kept missing each other. I txt Caroline in Canada. I have a new friend at work, Charlotte. We gossip while we're on lunchtime duty (dinnerlady time), but today I went home for dinner and so we couldn't properly talk. Every time we passed in the corridor she'd tell me she was excited to know what had happened - I'd talked to her about it the day before so she was expecting a good gossip today! But... it didn't happen.

I just really needed a glass of pinot and someone to laugh at me. That's how I make myself feel better; I take the piss out of myself. But there's noone here to do that with.

I want my girls.

Friday, 7 November 2008


I started writing this when I got home last night. I appear to be a more eloquent writer whilst drunk - much like I am a better french-speaker quand je suis ivres. However I also appear to have been pretty angry last night... So this post has been slightly censored, and added to this evening. I know that my writing is pretty open, but that's always been my style...

Why did I go and do that?

Alasdair, you're going to read this. I know you will. Either... don't, or enjoy it.

My previous cryptic post was with regards to Alasdair. Alas-bloody-dair. We're friends. Really good friends, as far as I was concerned. But as far as he was concerned, we were more than that and he'd been trying to get into my knickers ever since we met. Quote.
I always saw it as that we were just friends. Until he started telling me about the American, and his dates with her. Suddenly my jealous streak reared it's ugly head and I suddenly cared. I realised a couple of nights ago that, well, I missed him. The previous post attempted to convey my emotions without being particularly forthright. It was, apparently, screamingly obvious that he was the subject of my thoughts.

Yesterday evening we met for dinner, under the premise that I'd "missed" him. As friends do... I had missed him. But I'd also let my mind wander over what might be, and what someone else might take away from me.

So the evening ended in his room, with my Internal Turmoil routine. Very amdram of me but essential nonetheless.
    Firstly, I don't want to start anything. When I leave the country I am not leaving anything or anyone behind. I doubt even Steve and I would have survived my time away, and we managed a long-distance relationship for 12months (ish).
    Alasdair's response is that we're not starting anything and I'm overreacting. Just because we kiss, or sleep together, we don't necessarily have to the grand romance of the century. Which leads me on to my second point..

    If I start something now, I don't particularly want something that isn't serious. I'm fed up with casual dalliances. As pathetic as it may sound, I read an article in Glamour Magazine about ditching casual sex. It was written by a girl who was much like me and I really related to it. I'm fed up of things being about sex... and it's me that's got to do something about it. I'm not saying I'm staying celibate and hunting for The One, but I'm slowing my bed-hopping to a more reserved pace. I suppose it's kind of about self-respect.

So. Yes. I'm back to my screwing with unsuspectors heads. Go me.

Thursday, 6 November 2008


So when I was in Liverpool last week, I managed to cram my day with meet and greets. I met (and gret) Ciaran, The Barrister, The LabTech, Griff+Baby, went to a party with the old OTC crowd and stayed at Crystal & Tom's posh flat. It was exhausting, but absolutely worthwhile. Leaving university has left me not only missing those who were nearest and dearest, but those people that were constantly in the background of my life.

Ciaran, The Barrister, The LabTech and Griff couldn't be 4 more different men.

Ciaran and I had been seeing eachother on and off for the whole 3yrs I was at university. How the hell we met I really cannot remember. Take 2: I just looked him up in my old journal; we met one night in a club. We were both having shit, nearly sober nights and got chatting. Since that day we've been on numurous "dates", never slept together, and both had various boy/girlfriends that neither of us ever met. We'd happily turn up at each others' houses at silly hours in the morning just because we knew we could.
So he got in touch and I fitted him into my Meet & Greets. He wanted to take me for dinner, but I persuaded him that just a few drinks would be fine. Conversation flowed. I realised again how well we get on, but also I realised how uncompatible we are. I can't escape the fact that I don't find him particularly physically attractive, and my days of dating guys with a penchant for coke are long gone.
After saying our goodbyes I wandered off up the street with a skip in my step and a smile on my face. He'd made me feel attractive again; he'd treated me like a princess and we'd flirted. It feels like it's been an age since I had a good flirt. He txt to say he'd had a lovely time, but then added a line on the end to make me stop dead in my tracks; "I'm taking you out to dinner next time..." - no, that wasn't what made me stop - it was "I'm taking you out for dinner next time Chuckles". Who the hell calls someone Chuckles?? It absolutely ruined it. Chuckles??
So I kind of left it at that. I know it's a silly little thing, but I found it really strange. He got in touch couple of days later to see how my Induction Day went, but Chuckles hasn't let me feeling particularly upset about not seeing him for 6months...

The Barrister, The LabTech and Griff can wait til another day.

Wednesday, 5 November 2008


Ugh. I'm thinking confusing (probably hormone-induced) thoughts. Should I? Shouldn't I? Do I? Don't I? Why??

I think I know my mind one day, and then the next I go and think something absolutely crazy that seems to make no sense whatsoever. The worst bit is that I'm a terribly impulsive person so I do things and suffer the consequences later. At least it keeps life interesting for me.

Oh to be an oestrogen-less man!

But then I wouldn't be able to multitask. Gosh, choices choices.

Miss Bitch

Teaching makes me become such a bitch.

It's Wednesday, so I have my lesson (yay!), but today I also had a couple of other mini-lessons with smaller groups making 'Slime' (Cornflour + Water + Food Dye... try it, it's ace). I know my "I'm the teacher" time with the kids is short and sporadic, but when they're with me they genuinely behave impeccably. It makes me go warm and fuzzy inside to think about my little darlings sat there in near-silence, beavering away at their work. I felt myself physically ooze with pride when a teacher commented in the staff room today (in front of half the staff), saying that she'd popped her head into the classroom to say something and decided not to disturb me because she was so "wowed" by how well I was handling the class. It's things like this that just make my life.

As I said, my teaching times are short and sporadic, so it's probably relatively easy to control behaviour. I can spoil them with short-term rewards, or lay the discipline on thick without needing to follow it up in later lessons. That's what makes me feel like a bitch... I usually draw a chart on the whiteboard and tally good behaviour points. It's so easy to give them and take them away. "Oh look, I think I'm going to have to wipe another point off your tally! Oh dear." and with one quick swish of my finger their hopes of being House Champion (or whatever it is) are swished away.

The ultimate bitch moment of today however, was when I was with Foundation this afternoon. I was working on the drawing table with groups of children. Yasmin had already drawn her picture, and others needed her place at the table to do theirs, so I asked her to leave. She asked for more paper to do another. I said no, told her to go away. She came and asked again. I repeated no. On the third time of asking I got mad and told her that if Miss C says no, she means it so do not ask again. She stopped and stared dumbstruck at me for a good, long minute, before absolutely bawling her eyes out and crying that she wanted Mummy. Fuck. So, of course, I couldn't back down, and got stuck in one of those internal arguements over whether or not I should hug the little thing... as her cries got louder and louder...


Rains/Pours Update: Guy With The Girlf called me at midnight and left me a voicemail telling me he'd broken up with Girlf. It happened at the weekend, and he was planning on telling me when he saw me... He sent a few txts after, saying he genuinely missed me etc etc and might visit me in France.
I still think I made the right decision. Girlf or not, I didn't trust him. It's just a bitch that he's so hot.

Tuesday, 4 November 2008

Jiminy Cricket Action

"It's a potentially bad idea because last time I saw you a) we couldn't keep our hands off each other, b) you smashed a pint of milk on my kitchen floor, and c) you refused to leave my house til 5am. But hey, it was entertaining!" - "Ha, well I promise I won't spill any milk! At least I was entertaining... Where do you want to meet??"

So... I didn't go! I didn't meet him. I gave him a lame excuse about eating dinner with the parents. His lack of response to my "we couldn't keep our hands off each other" comment confirmed that he was probably expecting the same thing to happen again. And a call from Becca asking me what my motives were made my conscience kick in. Gotta love some Jiminy Cricket action.

Will someone please be proud of me?

The Guy With The Girlfriend

I feel the need to update on the Rains/Pours posts.

The Guy With The Girlfriend is leaving me in a bit of a pickle. He called me on Hallowe'en because we were both out in London. I don't entirely remember what he said, but he'd left the partying early, and I think he'd had an argument with The Girlfriend. He said he was looking forward to seeing me when he visits Leam' this week... I tried to be good and tried saying it wasn't a good idea;
"What about your girlfriend?" - "I just want to say goodbye, nothing more than that"
"Well I'm not going out of my way to see you" - "I'll take you for dinner"
"But your girlfriend...?" - "I'm allowed to ear dinner with friends!"

And despite Genever hopping about next to me pulling unimpressed faces... I agreed to meet him and started looking forward to it. He convinced me (and I convinced myself) that it really is just platonic. You know... two friends, meeting for dinner before one of us leaves the country...
It could all be very well and true, apart from the tiny fact(s) that:
a) we've slept together;
b) he had a girlfriend (that I didn't know about at the time)
c) he's still with that very same girlfriend;
d) despite said girlfriend, we've still kissed when drunk and he repeatedly tries to persuade me to sleep with him.

I slipped it into conversation with Becca this weekend and she went mad at me because she knows what he's like. Then a mutual friend Facebook'd me asking if we're going to be "sleeping/spending time with each other".

But... but... we just had this conversation via txt:
My weekend went from bad to worse. I'll tell you more when I see you. You're still up for dinner, right? - I'm not entirely convinced it's a particularly good idea, but yes. - Why would it not be a good idea??

...and I've not replied. Am I, and everyone else, jumping to conclusions? Maybe he really is over his cheating ways and really does want to see me as just a friend. Maybe I'm just being big-headed and far too assuming.

Monday, 3 November 2008

Make Or Break Time

Ooh I'm all in a flap!

As you may have gathered; I want to be a teacher. And I really want to study for my PGCE at Goldsmiths, in London. However, there is a major flaw in my plan: Goldsmiths conduct their interviews in December and I leave to work in France at the end of November. I thought it would be ok... I submitted my application at the earliest opportunity. A friend knew she had her place at Warwick by the end of last November, so I hoped Goldsmiths would be able to let me know also.

After submitting my aplication I called and emailed the head of PGCE admissions for Goldsmiths and left multiple messages. I was hoping to explain my predicament and get an earlier interview. When he eventually got in touch with me I was working and Mum answered my phone. He advised I called back at the start of November, but didn't think it would be fair on other applicants if I got an early interview(?). He said he might have to call me when I'm in France to conduct a telephone interview(?!).

So... I called him today and had a chat with him. At first he said he didn't have my application, but then we discovered that someone had just copied my surname out wrong. FFS! My timing was perfect as he'd had the first batch of applications sent to him this morning and so it was sat on his desk when I called.

Basically, I'm all in a flap because he is deciding right now whether or not he wants to offer me an interview. Crrrrrap! He said that, if they interview me, he's going to try to do it before I go away - which is even more stressful because that means it'll be in the next 3weeks!

This PGCE means so much to me. It really is totally what I want to do with my life, and Goldsmiths is where I really want to do it. I felt like I totally fitted in there when I went to visit. I was thinking, and realised that if I got sacked for returning from France to go to an interview I would absolutely do it without a second thought. And that's slightly crazy because I'm really really looking forward to working this season.

Fingers crossed for me please...

Sunday, 2 November 2008

No Grand Goodbye

Steve. It’s been a while since I’ve posted about Steve. Don’t worry... it’s not going to be one of those posts; where I decide I want him back again and know I can’t. We’re well and truly not together anymore, and it’s going ok. I do miss him, some times more than others, but our sporadic txt-exchange keeps me sane and allows me to feel like I’ve not lost him completely.

It’s just, this weekend really brought the realisation home that, well, I’m leaving really soon. It’s like leaving for university again, except I won’t be going home at Christmas, and I won’t be nipping home for friends’ birthdays or if I get homesick. I know I’ll make fantastic friends that will become family substitutes, but I have commitment issues. As in, I commit forever. Once I’ve let you in, there’s no way I’m letting go. So... leaving people is going to be hard. And costly, because I’ll end up calling and txting and writing one hell of a lot!

With regards to Steve; I won’t be saying goodbye how I always thought I would. When I pictured leaving I thought we’d still be together (and probably break up because of it). The last time I saw him, in Doncaster, it was a dead cert that I’d be paying him a visit before I went. To say goodbye. We looked up train times and prices. But after our big blown out of proportion argument over the summer, that idea just went out of the window.

The night of that argument*, Steve made Paul find me to take me back home. We ended up walking around Cockermouth for hours because we got lost. Our conversation was pretty intense. Paul basically told me that he didn’t think Steve and I should be together... I don’t want it to sound like it was him saying that that made me realise - he didn’t persuade me - but it really did make it hit home. When Steve and I broke up in the past, friends would agree that it “was probably for the best” or “if you think it’s the right decision” – always something terribly non-committal. But to have someone tell you outright and confirm what I’d already decided... I don’t know, there were some things he said that made me realise that we really did have to call it a day. There was something in the way he talked about Steve, and the effect I had on him, that made it clear to me that I had to leave him alone. There are only so many times I can fuck with his head.

So we’ll have no grand goodbye. When I said goodbye in Doncaster it was nothing; just a hug and a kiss. It was a “see you soon”, not a “this is the last time I’ll ever see you”. And now I can’t do it; it’s too late. We’re too far removed from each others' lives to justify visiting one another. I doubt I could afford the train anyway.

Photos of him are still on my wall. Do I take them to France with me? I guess I should leave them.

Ugh. I’m so tired and emotional so tears are falling too easily. I just watched Don’t Tell The Bride and blubbed when she put her dress on for fuck’s sake.

*I thought I'd written about that night but apparently not.

Cats and Ski

I've been attempting to write about what I've been up to over the last week. Because last night's short, exhausted post doesn't really do it any justice. I've had a fab time! But I've done so much, so writing about it would take forever, and it'll only really be interesting for me to read. Like, Dear Diary...then I did this...and that... and I hate those kinds of posts.

My induction day yesterday has left me really optimistic about going away. Everyone was lovely... there was slight lack of menfolk but I'm sure there will be enough in the resort who are working for different companies. I much prefer working with guys and really need male company sometimes. But yes, noone seemed to be overtly annoying and most people seemed pretty similar to me.

I decided not to join in with the drinking of free wine afterwards... Instead I opted to head back home to give Caroline the send-off she deserves with the other girls. I'd only slept 4hrs the previous night - and Induction Day was 9am-6pm! - so I was pretty exhausted but slept for an hour on the train and then faked livliness for the rest of the evening. Mind over matter... with a bit of help from tequila.

So now Caroline has flown out to Canada, leaving me slightly lonesome in Leamington. It's been strange living here without everyone else, but now my last homegirl has left me... And I've nearly exhausted my university visits about the country. I'm sure I'll survive. It's probably a good thing because it'll give me time to sort my life out and get packed for when I leave.

The countdown really has begun now. They showed us some awesome videos at Induction and I'm just itching to get out there now...

PS. Hallowe'en was awesome; I visited Genever and we went out in Camden dressed as cats.
Wednesday - Liverpool (Mess and house party with the old OTC crew)
Thursday - Will for drinks, Ciaran for drinks, Griff for a catch up, home to Leam'
Friday - London with Gen (House party and Camden. Dressed as a cat.)
Saturday - France Job Induction Day (9am - 6pm with a hangover) followed by Caroline's goodbye meal and night out (with tequila tequila tequila)

I AM DEAD ON MY FEET. Never have I had to leave a club due to such sheer exhaustion.

Tuesday, 28 October 2008

Thank fuck for that.

I FEEL AWFUL! I just nearly killed my dog. Tess, the most lovely dog in the world that has been in my life since I was 7.

Mum and Dad have gone to visit the Grandparents for the day and left Tess with me. So I went to get my bike out of the shed to cycle into town, and called her to follow me so that she could pee before I left her. I didn't think she'd followed me out and so assumed she'd be ok because the parents had already let her out before they left.

So I shopped. I bought about half of the things on my list, and met Caroline on her lunch break to try on sunglasses. I love shopping on my own, but for things like sunglasses you really do need a second opinion.
It started raining, much to my dismay, as my jacket wasn't waterproof and I can't cycle whilst holding an umbrella. So I sheltered in Starbucks with a mint hot chocolate (discovering that, despite everywhere else being prematurely Christmass'd up, Starbucks are yet to release their scrummy Xmas drinks menu - boo). I eventually gave up waiting as the rain turned to hail, and decided to cycle regardless, hovering my bum above the wet seat with my scarf pulled up around my ears, head ducked low.

I got home feeling thoroughly sorry for myself. Soaked through. Suede gloves slightly ruined. Shivering. So I whipped all my wet clothes off and cranked up the central hearing. Then I wandered around the house in my knickers and t-shirt in search of my darling dog to enquire into whether or not she'd had a nice day... But she wasn't in her bed and didn't come when I called her. I searched every room - even upstairs, where she only goes when she's scared. Then panic set in as I thought maybe she could be outside... I ran into the garden, barefoot and scantilly clad, to discover her underneath the garden table, soaking wet and shivering! SHIT.

She'd been out there five hours. In the freezing cold. While it rained, hailed, and had just begun to snow. I scooped her up and ran inside with her.

Bizarrely, she seems fine. I set her down on the carpet and ran to get her a towel, but as I ran she ran with me, tail wagging and bouncing about?! All she wanted to do was bound about the place growling and wagging her bum; like an energetic puppy! I, on the other hand, just wanted to grab her and hug her warm again. She let me, but I think it was more for my comfort than her's!

So... thank fuck for that.
She's 14 and that's pretty old for a dog. When I couldn't find her I panicked I'd discover her dead somwhere and wondered how the hell I'd tell the parents... Poor Tess!!

Exceptionnel Spending

I’m trying to sleep but I can’t. My head is whirring. I think it’s a mixture of a) realising today that I leave the country in only a month’s time and b) staying in bed far too long this morning. I can’t remember when I had a proper lie-in and my body just isn’t used to it. Despite it being half term, my alarm is set for 8am tomorrow morning - I need my routine back.

I spoke to Caroline on the phone earlier today. She’s panicking because she recently discovered she had the start-date wrong for her job in Canada. She’s had to shift her flights forward a week and now has one week to prepare herself, instead of the fortnight she had planned everything into. What a nightmare! However, it’s given me a bit of a kick up the bum because, so far, I’ve ticked off about 2 of my million To Dos.

So as I’ve been lying in bed in the dark and failing to sleep I’ve been thinking about shopping. About ski season shopping, to be precise. And wondering how the fuck I’m going to pay for everything. After a bit of mental arithmetic I realised there is no way I can afford half of what I want. Cuts are going to have to be made.

But... well, I can’t cut out a new pair of GHDs. I know, I know, I should probably buy a cheaper pair of straightners. But cheaper pairs don’t compare. I have thick hair, so it takes a good pair to straighten it. It’s also in a short bob at the moment and it takes styling to get it to sit right. When I’m in The Alps I’ll be starting work early and I’ll be expected to be well presented. So, in conclusion, a decent pair of straightners is a need, not a want, and so cannot be removed from the list despite their £100 price tag. Agreed?

I’m not buying a ski jacket til I’m out there on the advice of friends who worked last season. Firstly, it’ll cut down on packing, and secondly, I’ll want to buy one when I’m out there anyway. Instead I’m buying myself a nice gilet... but I guess the Jack Wills one I really want is too pricey, as is the classic black North Face one...

I’ve decided not to buy myself some new perfume despite really wanting/needing some. My current bottle now contains just a dribble at the bottom, but I’ve managed to talk myself into making it last. And anyway, really, a girl shouldn’t have to buy her own perfume, should she? It’s just a shame I don’t have anyone to buy it for me... And I have a horrid feeling that my Xmas and B’day presents this year will be mostly in the form of Euros {except for my present from Phylli, which I am very excited about and haven’t been shaking to work out what it is, honest}.

Then there’s that Chanel mascara... Mandy gave me a sample of Chanel’s Exceptionnel when I visited her in Bath and, well, it really is exceptional and I’m not entirely sure I can resist buying it. Even though I know I really shouldn’t. But, as above; no one else is going to but it for me!

On top of all that, gloves, baselayers, socks, sunglasses and goggles must be bought. And I don’t really want to buy cheap ones because if I do that I’ll just buy expensive replacements when I’m there and I’ll end up spending silly amounts! So... it’s a good job I opened that graduate bank account, isn’t it? And it’s also pretty handy that the school I’ve been working at for the past 5weeks just got in touch and asked if I’d carry on working for them until I leave! {Replacing the Yr2 Teaching Assistant who unfortunately – but fortunately for me – fell down her stairs... YEAR TWO! Which means I get to teach my half hour lesson once a week, and *fingers crossed* avoid the Foundation child who pooed his pants four times last week.}

Monday, 27 October 2008

What I learnt this weekend...

Fantastically, when searching YouTube for that video, I noticed someone had commented "to see this film you must be drunk, 10 year old or totally idiot" - ignoring the bad grammar - guess which one we were?!

So, what I learnt this weekend was; if you watch High School Musical when you're drunk with two of your best friends, it is the start of a fantastic night! You see, Hinny and Phyll visited this weekend. It was fab. The wine began flowing at lunchtime when I met them off their train; it was just like old times! We took mini wine bottles into the cinema and had the best time. We sang, we clapped, we danced... It's the ultimate feelgood film, and I'm grinning right now as I think about it.

The night that followed was just as fun. I went to Mink for the first time, despite vowing to boycott the pretentious bar (members only and a swimming pool, really?) It wasn't as bad as anticipated, but it was full of pretentious types who were too busy chatting sedately to actually enjoy themselves. Instead, we left and visited a bar I used to frequent when I was 15... Purely because by this time we were hyped up after HSM3, full of alcohol, and in need of somewhere to dance/do silly things. It hadn't changed at bit, and it was heaving with Leamington's gangsta-chav population. Ace. So, of course, we had a fun-filled time pretending that we knew the words to various hip-hop choons and Whoomp (There it is!).

We carried on to various bars, and ended the night in a rather disappointing Smack. But I was too drunk by that point to really care... To make the night end with a bit more of a boom, Hinny fell down the stairs! Despite others gasping and rushing to her aid, Phyll and I could only watch on in hysterical laughter! Of course, Hinny joined in, seeing the funny side of it and, thanks to vodka, she didn't feel the pain until she awoke the morning after with step-shaped bruises down her legs...

Sunday, 26 October 2008

It's art, darling.

Last week the 4yr olds made Leaf Sculptures. The batteries died on the school camera so I had to whip out my phone to capture them before the wind destroyed them. Oh my god; it was hilarious! A child would grab my hand and excitedly drag me over to photograph their "sculpture". They'd suddenly stop and say "There it is!" and point at the ground. Some were okay... a face, a flower. But most were just, well, a pile of leaves.

So, here's a game for you. When you get into the office on Monday morning, after you've read your emails and made a cup of tea, have a guess at what these beauties were supposed to be...

Somewhere in there there's a tree, a fire, a mountain, a man, a flower and 2 faces.

For bigger versions and the answers... go to my Flickr.

Friday, 24 October 2008

An addition to the rains/pours posts.

Oh for fucks sake. I just keep having to add to these rains/pours posts.
I'm not trying to boast, or list the many men hankering for my attention. Because, in all honesty, they don't usually play such a role. Just, for some reason, these menfolk have suddenly decided to make an appearance in my life. It seems the knowledge that I'll be leaving the country has instigated a bout of last-minute dashes to say goodbye.

Not only did Ciaran invite me on a Liverpudlian dinner date but The Barrister, on hearing that I'll be visiting Merseyside, suggested we meet for lunch. He might be free. I've not seen him since... dissertation deadline time, when we met for coffee -5 months ago? And since then I've suspected he's had a girlfriend; judging by the holiday snaps of him and a brunette on Facebook. But we have such a funny relationship that I'm not sure it would strike him to tell me if he started seeing someone. We've dated, but never kissed, ergo, A Funny Relationship.

Whilst on the subject of men, and men in relationships; the guy with the girlfriend has just told me he's coming back to Leamington next week and has asked if I'll be available for lunch. Now I know I should say no because if I've told him to dump [his] girlfriend before trying it on with me once, I've told him a thousand times. But there's always that sucker in me that finds him slightly irrestible. However, part of me also knows that I love the power trip of saying NO. So I'll probably let him pay for lunch and then enjoy telling him to get lost.

To reitterate: When it rains it bloody well pours!

Ciaran just Facebook'd me and asked if he could take me for dinner when I'm in Liverpool next week. Why? Why did he never do that throughout the 3yrs we were at university together? And why is he showing interest when I leave the country in 5weeks?

To reitterate: When it rains it bloody well pours!

Thursday, 23 October 2008

Learning not to piss on the carpet.

"What are you up to?"
"Cleaning the bathroom"
"Oh? Good girl!!"

Seriously. Was there ever a more patronising phrase than good girl?? When I argue with my father I'm told what he expects of me, and when I live up to (or surpass) his expectations I'm greeted with patronisation!

I've always had a theory about the relationship between parents and their teenage/adult children... I just think that parents expect teenage tantrums and so provoke such behaviour. After provocation a teenager reacts and the parent mocks the reactive behavior. And, if you treat someone like a teenage idiot, they act like it.

They're doing the same thing now. Since returning home from university, my parents have treated me like a teenager and, as a result, I have slightly reverted back to how I behaved pre-uni. They don't ask, but I feel I should tell them where I'm going and who with. Sometimes I can't be bothered with the questions and insinuations so I just lie because it's easier. When I told them I was going to the cinema with Alasdair I was mockingly questioned; Ooh, is he your boyfriend?? They are the ones being juvenile! I decided in future to tell them I'm meeting a girl, called Alice; it's easier.

I miss having my own house so much. We didn't keep it totally spick and span because, c'mon, we were students after all. But I knew what needed doing and just did it as part of my day. Now I live with the parents and, although they expect me to do things around the house, I'm never totally sure of what needs doing or in what order or how often it should be done. And my mum over does things anyway - she irons everything! and I'm just not prepared to go to such lengths sometimes.
I'm not allowed to cook because that is Dad's thing and noone else's cooking is ever good enough for him. The last time I cooked (pasta) he took it back to the kitchen, added cheese, put it under the grill, added his own seasoning... What a bastard?! I can't imagine the hell that would be unleashed if I attempted to disrespect him in such a way. And, in all honesty, I don't like most of his cooking. It's not what I choose to eat; it's what's placed in front of me regardless of whether I want to eat it or not.

But then I have Mum constantly doing her Little Red Hen routine and Dad shouting about what he expects from me - threatening to charge me rent.
I told Mum to write a list of things that need doing and I said I'd just do them as and when I'd have time. Now whenever I do something I get praised like a puppy. Like I've just learned not to piss on the carpet.

Wednesday, 22 October 2008

Pride Comes Before A Fall

This weekend, a friend txt me, telling me which 3rd years back in Liverpool were being promoted at OTC. One of them was Steve. I knew he would get it, and I'm so proud of him. But then I got thinking; am I allowed to feel proud of him? We're not together anymore and now we barely speak (because he basically told me to leave him alone). So is it OK for someone to feel proud of their ex??

I txt him to say well done, and discovered that he'd not actually been told that he'd got the position yet. Oops. I made him promise to act surprised when someone tells him officially. It made me laugh though; I'm 100miles away and I still manage to find out OTC gossip quicker than current Officer Cadets without even trying!

Wednesdays are usually my favourite day of the week because I get to teach a mini-lesson. But today Suzie has called in sick and so I'm stuck with the 4yr olds all day. This morning has been bareable, but I miss my class! It's rather sad; this is my last week at this school.

On a happier note - I've found out my transport details for France!! I leave London at 6pm on November 28th... EXCITING!

Tuesday, 21 October 2008

Today has been really fun.

This afternoon I got, basically, shouted at for laughing at a child. I knew it was going to happen some time or another... A child did something that I found hysterically funny and I couldn't hold back my laughter!
Zack (the 4yr-old "I'm a chocolate penguin with a marshmallow hat" boy) decided to attempt to pick up his sweater with his mouth because his hands were full of lunchboxes, coats and book-bags. It was on the floor and so he fell down, head first, nose-bombing into a tangled mess - complete with hysterical-child laughter. It was contagious; I laughed and laughed until tears blurred my vision! The class teacher merely looked at me sternly and told me it wasn't funny.
But it was! She apologised to me later, for raising her voice. But as she spoke the images of Zack crumpled on the floor re-flooded my mind and I couldn't hold back my giggles. Oops. She wasn't amused.

I've only just returned home after school.
I went shopping for ski-stuff straight from the classroom, and then met Jas for dinner. SushiYA was closed, and so we settled for Italian. It was lovely to gossip and catch-up with my token Asian friend. I then met Tom for a few glasses of wine afterwards and, again, we had a good catch-up (including the story of when I broke up with Andy because of his small, deformed penis). Despite the fact it's been 3yrs since we properly saw each other, it was easy to chat; like we'd never been apart. And we said our goodbyes at just the right time - before we ran out of things to say, or fell asleep due to us both being knackered after work.

A very successful and social evening if you ask me.

Monday, 20 October 2008

When it rains, it pours.

This is panning out to be a very interesting week. For some reason people are surprising me and getting in touch without any prompting from me...

This afternoon I had a txt from Palmer, followed by a phonecall. And for the first time in, like, ever, he didn't make me do that heart-stoppage thing. I really do feel differently about him now. I think I've finally got it into my head that I can't let him screw me over.

Later on in the afternoon I had a txt from Jas asking if I wanted to go for sushi with her tomorrow. She cancelled on me last week after a death in the family, and it really is about time we had a good catch-up. I always feel like it's me doing the chasing so it was reassuring to hear from her.

This evening Alasdair came round for wine, TV and chat. It was very lovely and rather out of the blue; I was expecting a night in with me and my baking.

I just went on Facebook and discovered a message from Akilah; an old friend from university. She suddenly realised she'd not heard from anyone in a while and so got in touch to find out what we were all up to.

And then, the strangest of them all; I just went on MSN (which I've not been on since I was about 15) and started a conversation with Tom (I would put a link, but it's been years since I wrote about him!). I've not spoken to him in three years, despite our ridiculously dramatic involvement in each others' love lives during the last 2yrs of school. Anyone who's read this over the years may remember him as the one I cheated on Alex with, or the reason Ben broke up with me? Well, we decided to meet up tomorrow for drinks... So that shall be interesting!

Also, one of the women at work came in today all excited. Telling me she really needed to talk to me. At lunch time she grabbed me and said she had a friend "who does motorcross" who, apparently, "really needs a lovely girl". She asked if she could set us up and I said no. Firstly, motorcross scares me, and secondly, I'm not looking for a guy... I leave the country in just over a month!

Friday, 17 October 2008

I'm going to Briiiighton to buy a... ?

At the mere mention of spending some quality time with my other half, I have an innate desire to speak french. Or at least speak with a french accent and a few "Errr..."s between words. So...

Ce week-end, je vais à Brighton revoir Becca. De sorte que nous puissions rattraper et avoir un rire bébête! Et, aussi, Ludo est réunion nous là - vraiment excitant. ET, aussi, nous allons voir une concurrence Cheerleading! Oh non, un week-end complètement des filles maigres dans des vêtements très petits avec les dents blanches brillantes... je sais que ce sera amusement!

Thursday, 16 October 2008

Chocolate Penguins and Dead Charlotte.

I tried to explain today, to one of the teachers, why it is I want to teach. I'm not going to attempt to do it again here, because I don't think I could do myself justice. There are many reasons why I know it's exactly what I want to do with my life. But I'm not one of those conventional "I just really love working with children!" people. I mean, yea, I do love working with children, but I don't think it's quite the same as how some people do...

One reason, basically, is that I find them hilarious. Abso-fucking-lutely hysterically funny. The things some children come out with are fantastic! You know that TV programme with Michael Barrymore, Kids Say The Funniest Things? Well, something like that. Except, well, I don't mean it in that I find them cute. I'm probably being quite harsh because I laugh at them. I especially love the really thick kids. Of course I don't actually point and laugh, I just snicker to myself. The other teachers don't seem to have the same sense of humour as me and so I have no choice but to laugh to myself.

In Foundation we have The Sad Book and, if a child is naughty, their name goes in the book with a brief description of what they've done wrong. I love reading it because it's always so entertaining! There have been four entries this week:
Charlie - For lifting Ellie's skirt and showing other boys her knickers. Repeatedly.
Dylan - For smacking Jamie's bottom very hard. Said it was because he'd been naughty and so he deserved it.
Camilla - For stealing 25 "Super Star" stickers from Mrs B's desk and covering her t-shirt with them.
Emre - For trying to hammer nails into the white board and other children's ears after being told by Mrs F that it was dangerous.
How can you not find that hilariously funny?? Come onnn... it's a child, hammering another child's ear! With a plastic mallet! And plastic nails! But no. When I read it and turn to another member of staff to invite them to join in the hilarity, I get shocked faces and "I know... isn't it awful?", instead! I know we're supposed to take it seriously at the time, but what harm is there in laughing about it afterwards, out of the kids' earshot?!

An 8yr old n the playground today:
"Is Charlotte really dead?"
"Who's Charlotte? And why would she be dead?"
"We saw her die, yesterday, on the playground. My dad said she's dead. Can I go to her funeral?"
Turns out Charlotte fainted yesterday. I just loved how out-right the questioning was, with no concern for Charlotte whatsoever.

4yr old Isabel today:
"Guess what, Miss C, guess what?"
{Long pause while I pretend to think.}
"My knickers are right up my bum!"

"Zack, why are you walking funny? Do you need the toilet?"
"No, I'm being a chocolate penguin. With a marshmallow hat."
"Oh, of course, how stupid of me! Carry on!"

Post? What post?

I bought them, the boots.
I'm going swimming tomorrow.
My hair looks slightly fit.
I had a lovely evening with Caroline.

I'm going to be a mess tomorrow morning due to exhaustion.
My throat feels like death.

Bed time.

Tuesday, 14 October 2008

Loving the Ultra Chloraseptic Anaesthetic Benzocaine Throat Spray

I feel really rather rubbish. Today was the first day where I was sat in the classroom and thought I really don't want to be here - my throat was killing and my head was banging. 4 year olds understand "We're going to play a quiet game today because Miss C doesn't feel very well", but they act on it for about 5minutes and then it's out of the window and they're wailing at me again in very high-pitched voices. It's not their fault I'm not well, so I can't get cross with them.

I had to cancel drinks with Liz this evening because I knew I needed to give my body a night off. I'm meeting Caroline tomorrow night for drinks, and I can't cancel because I let her down last week. In fact, tomorrow is rather manic; I'm getting my hair cut, going swimming, having dinner with Padre, and meeting Caroline. All from 4pm onwards. This isn't going to do my body any favours, is it?

I'm adamant to still live my life to the full and not let this World Of Work kill my social life. But to what costs? Maybe I do need to give in a bit.
Regardless, this weekend I am off to Brighton to watch Becca's cheerleading competition, and see Ludo again. We met him on holiday and, if he can make the effort to fly from the South of France to see us, I can make the effort to hop on a train to see him... Even if it takes 10 bottles of Ultra Chloraseptic Anaesthetic Benzocaine Throat Spray to get me there.

I can't decide whether or not buying these beauties is a good idea. They're exactly what I want, but they're £75 and, although I have to admit to not really putting in much effort, I've not seen anything else for cheaper. Yay or nay? I should really stop spending so much money... but...

Monday, 13 October 2008

The De-Sashing of Press-Up Preston

I need to stop spending money... This weekend I spent about £40 on train tickets, £70 on food and drink, and over £60 shopping in Bath. It's really not good... but... I'm earning, and not paying rent, so it's not as bad as it could be. I'm blaming it on the fact that it's been ages since anyone's given me a present, haha. That's what sucks about having a Christmas birthday - I only get presents once a year. As a child, I never understood why other people had a birthday and a Christmas.

I love giving presents. This weekend I bought Becca's Christmas present, and I already have bits and bobs for my parents. Before you think it's absolutely ridiculous that I've already started thinking about Christmas, I'll remind you that I'm leaving the country in November and I don't want to have to post presents from France. So I have to buy early. I also hate buying presents for the sake of buying presents. You know, when you shop for a gift because you're supposed to give someone something. I hate setting out with the desire to buy "a present"; I'd rather see something in a shop and buy it knowing that it'll be a great gift for someone. I-Saw-This-And-Thought-Of-You-presents.

Like the last present I got Steve... I saw it (Press-Up Preston) and thought of him, so I had to get it. It wasn't his birthday, and there was no need for it. And like the kaleidoscope I got H a few months ago. Steve and I were at a Navy museum and I remembered H's love for kaleidoscopes when we were little, so I bought it and popped it in the post.
But but but, I'm not writing any of this so that someone will read it and give me a present! I've bought myself enough things already!

On a totally different note... I've discovered the most fantastic (and grotesque) programme ever. It's called Crowned, and I love it. Has anyone seen it?? It's and American programme on Channel 4 and, apparently, it's "The mother of all pageants". Mother and daughter teams compete each week in a pageant-style competition. At the end of each episode a team is de-sashed by the judges. It's fantastic - one of the other competitors has to take The De-Sashing Scissors (which are huge and encrusted with multicoloured gems - not tacky at all) and cut through the losing teams sash, as everyone around them sobs. The next episode starts with the other teams mourning the loss of "such beautiful people"... then they get over it and start bitching/strutting/pouting again.

I've just watched three episodes on 4oD in hysterics. Dad joined me for the last one and we mocked it together. If only Mumma and I could compete... Ha!