Au Revoir Mes Petits Fils!

[Actual photo of where we're going, gotta love Google!]

See you in September!

Boiling Bunnies

I am starting to worry myself.
Over the past few days I have been worried that I'm becoming a bunny boiler. Steve's been out of contact for a while, because he's been in the field, and even when he's back on camp he seems to constantly have no signal. As a result, I've ended up repeatedly txting him without expecting a reply, and getting excited every time my phone vibrates ( not because it's in my knickers!)

It's wrong, isn't it? We're not together!

H was shocked when she overheard 'love you' in the middle of a phonecall to him. And my friends pester me about why we're not together if I admit to being in love with him. But at the same time I have other friends agreeing with me that it's the right thing to do and nodding their head in an I've-been-there fashion.


I'd not heard from him in days and I knew why; he'd told me he'd be in the field and un-contactable. But tonight is my last night in England, before I disappear off on holiday, and I didn't want to go without talking to him. I thought maybe he'd feel the same. So when I called I expected to get his voicemail because he had no signal... Except I didn't. And he called me back, to tell me they left camp this morning and they're in Lancaster where there is ample signal and ample opportunity to call to say goodbye before I go away.

But he was tired, understandably so. And so he'd not called because he'd been too tired? So I'm not being a bunny boiler and the feelings are mutual? I sound like a bunny boiler. It's not like I can call back and clarify, because that would be the behaviour of a bunny boiler.

I think I need sleep and a holiday.

Our Flight is in less than 16hrs!

I absolutely bloody detest packing. I thought I'd got used to it; you'd think I would have. This year I've been all over the bloody country... Liverpool, Leamington, Lancaster, Doncaster, Norfolk, York, Manchester, Shrewsbury, Birmingham, Brighton, London, Cornwall, Dundee, Nottingham - gosh, I've never really worked out a list!

I even bought a lovely little zebra-print carry case to make the packing process easier. It's gone everywhere with me, and I love the case, but I still can't stand packing.

So Caroline is coming over sometime this evening to add her stuff to my bag. We decided to cheapen our flights by only taking one suitcase between the two of us. It seemed a good idea at the time, and it saved us £16, but now I just wish we'd spent the money. I want to take too much stuff, and I want to pack in my own time (i.e. at 2am tonight when I'm really panicking).

Fuck it. Why don't we just pay the £16 and take my whole wardrobe?

Oh, that's why; because RyanAir don't answer their booking line telephones!

Summer At Home

I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB!

After complaining yesterday that they'd not been in touch, I re-checked my Inbox and discovered an email from Scott Dunn offering me the job I wanted! Woop! I've not heard back from the other company yet, but I don't want the job even if they offer it me. Scott Dunn pays substantially more, it's a nicer working environment, and the company appealed to me so much more. I AM SO EXCITED!
The only possible downside is that they've offered me a place at Courchevel instead of Merribel. But it's only the resort next door, and I've not been to either; I was just going on the recommendation of a friend.

So screw you parents who had no faith in my ski season plans!


Hillariously, I have just received an email from the other company saying that, unfortunately, they can't offer me a job. Ha! I don't want your job! It's rather funny that the job that demanded the least skill; the job that paid the least, don't want me. Maybe it came across in interview that I'd already decided I didn't want to work for them... or maybe they overheard me and another girl in the waiting room discussing how a) she didn't like working with the public, and b) how you've got to "elaborate" slightly on CVs because everyone else does. Mm, maybe that was it.
Although it means I can't tell them where to go, which sucks.

Food

On a different note; I keep forgetting to eat. Like, seriously.
Without someone there to remind me, I just forget about food.
When I do eat, I eat properly. I probably eat too much.

Like, now; I've not eaten since about 7pm last night. I suppose I am hungry, but I don't really fancy anything. I've happily gone through my day, pottering about, and forgetting about food. The only thing I can really say I fancy right now is some bread I bought yesterday. But even then, it's not tempting me enough to end this fast.

Malnutrition is so not a good look.

I think I just need a chef to cook for me and plonk food in front of me when it's meal time. Hey, if I get my job in the Alps I suppose that's what will happen! Speaking of which... they said they'd let me know today whether or not I've got the job. It's past 4pm and I've not heard a peep.
No news is good news? Crap.

Growing-Up Backwards

Okay, okay, I'll update. I can you all on my StatCounter, wondering where I've disappeared to!


I took Tess to H in Nottingham. She's still there now and the house seems horribly empty. Just when we were starting to bond again, she goes on holiday. Yeah... I'm talking about the dog! I usually come home from uni and kind of dismiss her; she's not the bouncy puppy she was before I left. She's fat (thanks to the parents mal-care), can barely walk (because she's 14 - 98 in dog years!), and has lumps, bumps, and old-dog problems. A nerve is firing wrongly somewhere, because every now and then she does this spazzy thing with her head!
But, bless her, the more time I've spent looking after her, the more I've realised that she still is that same puppy. And every now and then she springs to life and wants to play fight, or chase her tail, or juggle grapes across the kitchen floor.

Nottingham was ace. I met H's new work friends, and I thought she seemed genuinely happier than I've seen her in a long while. I'm sure she's growing up backwards; she managed to be the most sensible student I ever encountered and now, as she settles down and cracks the World Of Work, she starts to party more and discover a liking for sambucca.
I just think that next time I need to neck my drinks a bit faster, because when H gets drunk before me I can't seem to get as wasted. It's not that it's her, it's just that whenever someone else seems drunker than me, I end up feeling like I have to somehow look after them. Even when they clearly don't need looking after.
Regardless of my near-sobriety, I had a fantastic evening. I loved the company, and felt happier as happy can be to have such a sister.

Photos to follow, when I have the desire to upload them!

The Walk of Shame minus sex.

Last night became one of those crazy random nights that ends up being bigger than it was supposed to be. As a result, I am suffering a hellish hangover! I don't know why it's so bad, but it's been a while since I suffered this much.

The preface for going out, was that it was a friends surprise 21st birthday party. I'm not that close to the birthday girl, but Mandy is, and so it was a nice opportunity to spend some time with her. Two of Mandy's friends from university also used it as an excuse to have a night out, and so we soon ditched the party to entertain ourselves elsewhere. We ended up having a hillarious time together, and we all got on so well.

I think it must have been the tequila shots. I'm blaming the crazy behaviour and banging head on the tequila.

One guy tried sleazing on us in Moo, so we decided to have some fun at his expense:
"Do you... oh, sorry, it doesn't matter!"
"Go on, what were you going to say?"
"No, really, we were just being silly!"
"Go on..."
"Well... We were just wondering; d'you model for Quiksilver because you look like a surfing model?!"
"Um, yea, I do actually! Wow, I can't believe you recognised me!" - He then proceeded to go back and show off to his friends while we all stood there in hysterics! I think one of his friends must have told him we were taking the piss, because we didn't see much of him after that.

The night ended very strangely, with me going back to Alasdair's. But before conclusions are jumped to, I should clarify that everything is fine and dandy between us... He understands it's just friendship and knows that this is all it's ever going to be. I think I was a bit forceful and layed down the law a few too many times, but at least there's no confusion over the matter! I'd hate to lose him as a friend, so I'm really happy with how it is.
It did mean, however, that I had to do The Walk of Shame home in the morning... in my short skirt and stilettos, I looked an awful sight! It's a bit of a bitch doing The Walk, and having nothing fun to be ashamed about!

Single?

Am I single? I don't actually know.

Steve and I broke up on Summer Camp. We talked for a good long time, involving lots of tears, but the conclusion was that we shouldn't be together. And seeing as it was the 3rd time we broke up, we both knew that that meant it was the last time.
But then we spent the whole of Cadet Camp together. We spent two weeks in each others' pockets, having great sex and, despite the squabbles and serious talks, I loved it. Absolutely loved it.
Facebook says we're still together and I don't want to change that.
I miss him like hell and wish he was here with me now. We talk every day on the phone like any long-distance couple would.

BUT... I'm going away for 5months. He lives in Lancaster and I live in Leamington. We have the ability to make each other absolutely miserable, and we blow most arguments totally out of proportion.


I don't feel single. I suppose I don't want to be single. I won't really be single until I'm no longer in love with Steve, and God knows what's going to happen for that to come about.

We're all going on a summer holiday...

The good bit:
We finally sorted out and booked our holiday! Becca, Caroline and I are flying out to the south of France to spend 10days at a lovely little cottage village place. Cheap and cheerful, with a bit of sunshine (hopefully).

The bad bit:
The cheap flights we booked weren't cheap for long, after RyanAir charged us extra for booking, luggage and breathing. Then I got an email from the place we're staying saying they're checking availability, despite the website saying that they were available... if they turn around and say they have no room for us, we're pretty much fucked.
To add more stress, H is having a panic about looking after the dog. I dropped the bombshell that her bladder won't last the 9hrs she'll be at work for. Maybe I should have clarified that before I clicked the "book flights" button that raped my current account.


And my back is still fucked. It actually hurts to breath. That's not a good thing, is it?

And, cherry on the cake? I fucked up on Tuesday night. But that's a whole new other story.

It's not faaaaaaaaair!

After much jubilation last night at the realisation that I finally, finally!, can stop, I planned on a good long lie-in today and to spend as much of my day as possible in pyjamas. I have no 6am breakfasts to attend, no interviews to get dressed up for, no job to be on time for. I can finally take a breather and just stop.

The lie-in wasn't meant to be. Throughout the morning I received 5 txts, which I ignored. On my mobile I had 3 missed calls, and I was woken up on multiple occasions by the house phones annoying trill. When I finally gave in and checked the answerphone I discovered multiple abusive messages from the grandparents because I dared to not answer the phone to them.

I've not lived at home for the past 3yrs. They've never cared enough to call me even once over those past 3yrs. Now, just because my parents have gone away and left me in charge of the house they feel the need to check up on me. And if I dare to leave the house, or just choose not to answer the phone, they panic that I have somehow killed myself. Did they call my sister at the same time to check she's still alive? No, of course they didn't! They only call me because I'm living in my parents house... maybe they're worried that if I die the plants will die, and they wouldn't want their son to come home to a house full of dead plants now, would they?

I returned the calls, to be severely chastised for my thoughtless behaviour - "Yes Grannie, no Grannie, sorry Grannie, I will Grannie". Apparently I need to check the answerphone every day in case there's a message from her or the parents... I could have mentioned that I already do (hence why I knew there were 3 messages left by her this morning, and one left by the parents yesterday). Then I had to hear that the parents are (unsurprisingly) having a wonderful time! And that when they spoke to them it was "as clear as anything - as if they were in the next room!". Gosh, the wonders of modern technology eh, Grannie?


But after being rudely awoken from my freaky dreams (one in which we were using a shelf in Asda to store our own food. Such as lemon curd pies... and there was a shop assistant called Sausage Roll. Another where I was carrying a friends baby round, showing her dogs that resembled lions and a lake with acid water.) for the hundredth time, I gave in and crawled out of bed... only to discover I have done something horrible to my back.

Maybe I slept in a funny way, or maybe all this cycling I've been doing recently really isn't good for me. But something is wrong, and painful, and just sitting here typing is causing me quite a bit of pain.
So I cancelled my swimming plans with Becca and, instead, I'm wallowing in self-pity. Actually, scratch that, I'm not very good at self-pity... I'm just going to attempt to watch some of the Olympics and eat the box of Thornton's Dad bought before he left. Plan.

Time After drunken Time...

Wine + ABBA + VodBull before an interview = BAD NEWS

Why is it that these things only become clear after you've done it??


Actually, I don't feel too bad, but that's probably because I'm still a bit drunk and the hangover hasn't quite kicked in yet. A sausage sarnie and a bike-ride to the station might help me out. And because I was very organised yesterday, I now know where the office is that I'm heading to and how long it'll take me to get there. So there'll be no need to panic about getting to this interview too early (like I did yesterday).

Yesterday's went fabtastically. Like, seriously. If I don't get it I will really be confused. She was lovely and we got on so well. Instead of properly interviewing me she took me to a bar for a drink, and we managed to chat endlessly. I think the only thing really holding me back is my experience, but she told me to just brush up on waitressing before I go to training. This means my family and friends are going to be treated to silver service breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next 3months.

When I get home you may be treated to a showing of Cyndi Lauper performed by 2 very drunk girls with screen cleaner aerosol cans as microphones. Don't get too excited!

Impending Interviewday

Those interviews in London that I mentioned in my last post are tomorrow. Shitfuck. I'd completely lost track of dates and days, and somehow realised this morning that today is Monday. So tomorrow is Interviewday.

I'm not particularly worried... I don't really mind interviews; I have the relevant work experience (ok, ok, the last time I did Silver Service was when I was 16 and only for one week, but I'm sure it's just like riding a bike!), and a friend who worked for the company last year has told me I'm what they're looking for. So, it'll be a breeze, right?

All I'm worried about is whether or not I'll look smart enough, and navigating myself to their offices. Going to a non-uniform school doesn't really prepare one very well for "office dress". I have a hatred for suits, and an innate need to personalise anything resembling a uniform. Their office appears to be in a part of London I never knew existed. Basically, it's not on the tourist maps. I just know I'll end up panicking, turning up too early and having to sit awkwardly in their waiting room, or outside in the rain.

I wonder if I should risk leaving my bike locked up in front of the train station all day, or whether that's just asking for trouble? I can't really afford a taxi.

It's me! Rosie! From next door!

How embarrassing. I just nipped across the road to ask the neighbours if they'd be ever so kind and keep an eye on the dog while I venture to London for my interviews next week. Despite my parents already mentioning it to them, they stared back at me, blank-faced; "Sorry, I don't recognise you?"

I started to worry that maybe they were going senile, but they're can't be a day over 55.

Then I wondered if I'd changed, and when was the last time I'd seen them? For sure, we used to go catching frogs in their pond, asking if their boring daughter wanted to play out, and they were always happy to lend me the spare key when I was locked out after school. But then it dawned on me that I've been away from Leamington for three years. I've been back during the odd holiday, but those three years have really flown by. And, thinking about it, I really have grown up since the last time I was locked out and knocking on their door.

The teachers I bump into in town and still recognise won't recognise me back; they still remember me as the little child they taught. Isn't it strange that we grow and change so much when we're younger, but older people change very little and stay recognisable?

"Miss you like a child misses their blanketttt..."

I managed to spend the past fortnight with two of the most important people in my life - Phyll and Steve. Due to fluke, we were placed within the same company which meant we spent literally 24/7 with each other.

We've had our ups and downs; arguements and tears; hysterical laughter and emotional hugs. I can't think of a better way to properly say goodbye to them, and goodbye to the greens. It may not be a goodbye forever... I might join the Army Cadet Force as an instructor, and I've not ruled out the Territorial Army, but it's a goodbye for now. It's a goodbye to Liverpool UOTC.

The fortnight made me realise how much I absolutely adore Phyll. She's like my twin. We're different in so many ways, but so similar at the same time. We don't do things together on purpose, but somehow we end up looking the same, dressing the same and saying the same things. When we're together we become incapable of making a decision without asking the other one first.
I'm not going to miss her, because I'm not letting her leave my life. Next month we're together for a week's adventurous training, and I'm visiting her in Doncaster before that. Not to mention my impending visit to Durham when she's moved into her new house. She's my other half, and she's for keeps.

Steve on the other hand... I don't know what to write about him.
I just wish we'd lived in the same city for the past 3yrs, because this last fortnight has been the longest we've ever spent together and it's been the best time we've had. Yeah, we've had our arguements, but they're absolutely over-shadowed by the amazing times we had alongside them.
If only things were different.

Home.

I'm back, again! Full of stories, again. Absolutely exhausted, again. Time for sleep.