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.}

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...

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.

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!

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.

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!

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.

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!

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!

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.

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...

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!

Scrap That

I've just re-read a post I just wrote and I really don't like it. I think I just had a lot of things to get off my chest and I was in an over-thinking mood. So I'm taking it off and summarising it instead.

Basically:

• this weekend I visited 2 friends in 2 different British cities;
• I didn't like the fact that my friends didn't look out for me;
• I didn't like some of my friends' friends, because they didn't make any effort with me, despite me trying with them;
• I nearly, but didn't, sleep with a guy I slept with 3yrs ago;
• I've lost my voice again, and therefore feel ill again, and also feel quite sorry for myself!

Yep, I think that just about summarises my dragged-out and boring explanation in the previous post!

I meant to write about Joe though... He's an interesting one.
I'm not sure why, but I never mentioned it in my post at the time, but last time I slept with him I vowed I never would again. Joe is really very gorgeous. He's an absolute charmer, hillariously funny, and everybody's best friend. On top of that he has a wealthy family and, now he's graduated, he's working as a boat designer and being paid accordingly. He's a very eligible bachelor. But (and it probably shouldn't be such a big but, and it shouldn't be such a big deal but...) he's useless in bed. SUCH a crying shame! I'm not going to go into details, but it makes me so sad to think about it. So... there was no sexitime this weekend, and there hasn't really been any for a while but, you know, I'm actually quite content with that. I'm still really not interested in menfolk!

The World Gone Mad

This afternoon I discovered my class being taught Baa Baa Black Grey Sheep. You know, that well-loved traditional nursery rhyme? Yea, I was taught it differently too.
I thought it was just rumours being spread about there being a ban on singing Black Sheep, but sadly not.

Baa baa grey sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
One for the kitten and one for the cat,
and one for the guinea pig to knit a woolley hat...

SERIOUSLY?? Has anyone ever seen a grey sheep, anyway?

I meant to ask the teacher at the end of the lesson why the hell she was teaching that version, but I forgot to mention it.

Swim Swim Gym.

I planned on meeting Caroline this evening for our weekly gossip and wine binge, but it hasn't quite worked out. Yesterday evening Alasdair mentioned he was off to see a film at Warwick Arts Centre. I nearly dismissed the invite; I'd got stuck into another World Of Work Rut whereby I think I can't possibly enjoy myself on a school night and believe that spending the night in front of the TV is the sensible thing to do. It is the sensible thing to do, but it's not what I want to do! So I acquiesced and had a lovely evening reading subtitles (seriously, it was lovely. But he's already written about the film better than I would.)

Anywho, after thanking Alasdair for getting me out of my work-hermit lifestyle, I appear to have slipped back into it already! Well, kind of... I have called Caroline and cancelled tonight's frivolities, but for legitimate reasons (namely, that I'm knackered after swimming, and Dad took forever to cook dinner, and I didn't want to walk in the dark, but also didn't want to ask Dad for more lifts.)

This afternoon's swim was slightly fantastic though... It just so happened that an old friend of mine was life-guarding. I've not seen him in 2yrs or so, which meant he gave me a huge hug (the kind of hug where your feet leave the ground). But then his presence meant my swim was pretty good, because I had someone to show off to. I only really push myself when I've got either someone look good in front of, or someone I want to beat. I realised that when I run on my own I'm much more likely to give up and walk, and if I'm swimming on my own I don't do half as many lengths!

This realisation also made me understand a bit more why people go to gyms... I always thought I'd get bored at a gym, just staring at the same walls, but this evening I noticed there were lots of hot men. Surely they'd serve as a distraction? And surely they'd spur me on to show off a bit and push myself more. I think I may be getting myself gym membership soon!

My Baby.

Can you believe someone ever thought this was a good idea for a child's toy??

(Re-posted after being so shocked at seeing it on Stellardreams's Livejournal!)

I remember Tiny Tears when I was younger; a doll that cried and wet it's nappy... but Baby PeePee?? With a retractable penis that sprays middle-aged men in the face?
And then I remembered My Baby All Gone:

My bestfriend Joanne had one of those when we were about seven and I was so jealous. The cherries smelt of, well, cherries!

Baby doll toys are pretty screwed up already, without Baby PeePee adding to it!

Charley and his TukTuks

So Charley Boorman was rather entertaining last night!
He was a guest speaker for the Warwick Words Festival of Literature and Spoken Word. And when Dad brought home the flyer I insisted we got tickets... I just thought it would be a rather amusing evening. I'd love to be able to go on his "adventures" and I find him rather intriguing. He's the son of a film director who clearly can't act; I've never seen anything that he's been in, but none of his films did very well and it seems he only got parts due to nepotism. I think it's also fair to say that he's only really "famous" now because of his friendship with Ewan McGregor. In fact, he didn't even attempt to deny it last night.
I find him amusing in a David Brent kind of way. It's slightly painful and awkward, but ultimately entertaining!

There were a couple of things letting him down last night. One was his frequent use of toilet humour. I just don't understand it or find it remotely amusing. I didn't join in with the raucous laughter when Timon smeared excrement in Alcibiade's face at The Globe, and I didn't find it funny last night when he frequently referenced lighting farts. I just don't get it... and I'm not trying to be condescending!
The second thing letting him down was his interviewer. The chairman of Warwick Words (who was surprisingly hot, and apparently a friend of Father's...) introduced him as a sports journalist from The Mail. I assumed he'd have some nouse*, but his questioning was dull; I could have done a better job. He said something along the lines of "You've always liked bikes - talk about that." at one point... How is that a question?? Why didn't the guy just hand Charley a page of titles to talk about and be done with it?


On another note... As we walked in, the room was full. Apparently it was the most people they've ever had at a Warwick Words event in the 7yrs it's been running - go Charley. We looked around and Mum and I commented on how surprised we were not to recognise anyone. Leamington and Warwick put together are a pretty small, inbred collection of people. And considering I've been to two schools (one in Warwick, one in Leamington) and worked in two pubs (one in Warwick, one in Leamington), I usually know half the place! And we didn't let ourselves down... by the end we had spotted a guy I used to go to school with and a lady my mother used to work with.
Get me to London, please!



*Apparently nouse isn't a word, but I can't think of a synonym so...

Fish in the sea.

So Palmer did end up screwing me, but not in the way I'd have liked. He claimed he was ill and so never made an appearance in Liverpool. I assume he just got a better offer somewhere else. Well, next time he comes a-knocking will someone please remind me to send him (a-)packing? He's not that hot, he's not that special, and there are plenty more fish in the sea!

And... it just so happens that I found one of those "fish" this weekend! Well, kind of.

I traveled up to Liverpool on Friday afternoon and met Crystal for some quality time. I've not seen her in forever (but that is a different story entirely). We ended up at 26K Road; this year's replacement for 60F Road*. I have to say, they did 60F proud; the party was as immense as I remembered them. However it was also as incest-ridden as I remembered them... The bed-hopping was pretty spectacular.

I, however, was a pretty good girl. I found a good-looking guy with no incestuous links to anyone I knew because he was from Manchester OTC, not Liverpool. He fulfilled most of my perfect man criteria:

• He had a hot accent** because he was from Malawi;
• He was really very good-looking and toned like an army boy (the only thing he's ever wanted to do is join the British Army);
• He was intelligent (studying Architectual Engineering despite him just wanting to be an army officer) and interesting;
• He was an absolute gentleman

So I had a lovely evening being entertained by him and, thanks to his gentlemanly-ness, I went home satisfied with just a kiss (although rumour grenades have already been thrown around detailing our imaginary antics). It was really nice to wake up snuggled up to someone though, that's something I really miss about having a boyfriend; nothing beats using a man's chest as a pillow! [Ooh gosh, guess who just added me on Facebook? I didn't expect that!]

Despite the lovely evening, I woke up to discover I had lost my voice so I sounded like a man. I really wasn't very well... So I didn't carry on to Carlisle as planned and, instead, took myself home to bed. I slept for 14hrs last night!
This evening I'm off to the theatre to hear Charlie Boorman talk about By Any Means. Hopefully I'll feel well enough to sit through it, and hopefully I'll be better for work tomorrow morning.



* 60 F Road was my student house last year and where the majority of OTC parties took place. It was a student heaven, and a general open house (Crystal even invited in a couple of students she found on the street because they were locked out of the own house one evening). Our house was legendary.
** I've realised I have a penchant for White-African men and their accents. David was from S.Africa, Jamie was from Kenya, and Jason was from Malawi. They were all hot, and sounded hot.

Falling out of love.

Should I write a huge, long, head-clearing post about Steve?
It's been quite a while since I've felt the need to. But a few days ago he told me he wanted me out of his life... which kind of stung. I feel like I need to lay everything out and put him to rest. Dare I say it; I think I'm over us. It has been 3 months or so since we broke up...

Maybe I'll do it later.

Happy Days

Oh today has been fantastic!
Since I started working at School, I've really loved every day. I've come home tired, but I've never come home not wanting to go back. So it's a sure sign that this is what I'm meant to do, isn't it?

Wednesdays are my favourite days in school. Wednesdays are when I'm left to my own devices for half an hour; just me and the kids. I'm generally told what to do - handwriting practice - but they're my lessons. This morning I got my glorious half an hour and I managed to get the class behaving perfectly. When their teacher nipped in to collect something she found them sat at their desks, in near silence, beavering away. It was ace, and I felt so proud. The french teacher was running late, so I managed to have a bit of extra time with them and got the class singing... I was in my element!

I had this afternoon off so I managed to sort my life out a bit. I organised meetings with banks, got waxed (with my new favourite waxist!), and got in a bit of retail therapy. I cycled to and from the town centre... Since the doctor forbid me from running for four months I've really craved some form of exercise. I'm only allowed to cycle or swim until I've gulped down my monster pack of anti-inflammatories. But, after this afternoon, I can at least be seen in my swimming costume without having a Miranda moment!

And tonight (Matthew) I'm going to be... Drinking lots of white wine with my lady friends!