HAS

HAS MY BOY! Ok I know, lame and gay, but it's very exciting for me. Although admittedly offputting that he's watching me type this. Which is funny because the other day I was thinking how great this very thing would BE clearly I am psychic. I know, no punctuation, no coherent thought and no real effort put into this one - tis the season. Happy Christmas all!

Also, we decorated the tree a couple of hours ago (how atrociously slack of us). It looks about as merry as a bunch of plastic covered in tinsel and lights can possibly look. Which is very.

EDIT: Hello, this is Anna's "boy". I have a name, and it is Gav. It's quite a nice name, certainly it is in the view of my parents, who gave it to me, but Anna thinks that "boy" suffices, despite my being several years her senior. I picked her up along with my Ferrari Testerossa and custom made golf clubs (NOTE: not true. Rumours of a mid life crisis are exaggerated).

Aaaanyway, here I sit in the house of her family. I got to meet two of her eighteen sisters and her brother, they're all apparently what Roast Beef would describe as "good people, pretty much". We did indeed decorate the tree, which I actually found rather touching.

I've behaved myself so far. I haven't done a sick on the floor!!!!!

Plans for Festivus

It's amazing how much I've missed in the short time I've been away. All the drama continued without me, only (according to my sources) worse because I wasn't there to calm everyone down! I completely believe it. But I say that without a trace of arrogance, because if I was really that great I'd have taught them to be sensible for themselves. Never mind, I'm sure they'll sort it out, and everyone will be talking to everyone else again in no time.

In case I don't have time to update the blog over the coming few days, this is the plan: my boy comes down to the Isle of Wight tomorrow afternoon, we will go for a meal with my friends from school on Saturday, we'll head up to his family on Sunday, spend Christmas there, go up to his friends for New Year's, then I'll come back here and then return to Plymouth. I'd much rather not go back to Plymouth.
Not because it sucks, just because I still don't belong there. Meh, never mind.

Still! Thank goodness I'm seeing my boy soon, been missing him like CRAZY. It has been... 2 1/2 weeks? My gosh. That's not really very long, although it certainly feels it. Long distance relationships are hard... it would only be worth it for him.

Interesting Thing Of The Day: The procrastination flowchart.

Thankful

In light of the extreme negativity of my last post, I thought I'd make a point of telling everyone what I'm grateful for.

My home



My friends


My family



How utterly gorgeous the world can be



Art and creativity!



My boy.

There are plenty of other things to be thankful for this Christmas, but these are a few of my favourites. They are precious and wonderful to me.

My room

My home has always been messy. Like, really, REALLY messy. And my room was no exception until I was meant to be revising for my A-levels. I had all that spare time and I didn't want to work, so I tidied my room. I made it beautiful, a haven from the chaos that is the world. I made it clean. The vacuum cleaner stayed in my room for months because I used it the most. I cleaned the window sill, the light switch, everything and I couldn't have been prouder of the result. My room's gorgeous; large, with a huge south-facing window. That was brilliant. My little brother and sister would hang out in my room, I'd have a beanbag and an inflatable chair out for them and some music playing.

Within the first four months of me temporarily living away from home, my parents decided to redecorate. Not as a nice surprise for me or anything, they were moving in. They pulled all my furniture into the middle of the room and pulled the wallpaper down. This was presumably stage one in some grand master plan that never happened.

So, I spent Christmas that year in the disaster area-slash-building site, unable to put my stuff away because everything was in the middle of the room.
Then I spent the summer holidays there.
Now this Christmas, nothing more has been done. And since nobody ever goes in there, it's dusty like you can't believe, so for the past few nights, instead of falling asleep peacefully, I've sneezed myself into a state of abject exhausted misery before finally getting some rest.

Sorry this has been such a whiny post. Yes, I do resent the fact that I don't have a sanctuary any more, but the truth is I had no right to expect my parents to keep it nice for me. As they keep reminding me, I can do what I want when I have my own home. Assuming that ever happens.

So, I'll just go and moan in the corner by myself, shall I? Splendid.

This is why nothing ever gets done.

Ahhhh. You know what, Baileys is probably the only thing that can replace a hug. It's as if it wraps my insides in its creamy arms and kisses me good night.

I started writing my essay! TRUE STORY! And the plan was really easy. Don't know if I'll be able to make 2000 words, but whatever... I'll do a good job. I'll just get back to work now.

As soon as I've filed my nails.

Beatboxer of the month

Because hobbies are like relationships - if your friend loves them, you gotta learn to live with them ;)



Ollie Trew aka Boris FX. Mad liprolls!

I should be working.

I have all the best intentions in the world to start any second now, I SWEAR, but sadly this has been the case for about a decade now.

I went to bed just after midnight last night, which for me is shockingly reasonable. I did lots of praying and tried to get an early night, but I kept being disturbed by rustling sounds in my room. It was a mouse; bigger than Jeffers and with darker fur. Thus commenced a mousehunt that would have been comedic if I wasn't so darn skilled. I ended up cornering him in my giant luggage bag , until he slipped out underneath my door. I couldn't find him after that; I suspect he went into Michelle's room - she's gone home for Christmas already.

but y'know, it was a lot cuter when it was just Jeffers - I'm considerably less keen on the concept of us having MICE.

I can't think of anything to write, which is tragic because I'm writing about having nothing to write in yet another transparent attempt to avoid work.

Oh well, tata all. Do stuff I wouldn't do and report back. x x

Bristol and such!

I was standing in Bristol in the pouring rain, in a circle of people I've met once or not at all (and one I know almost as well as myself), making odd noises with my mouth. And just as I started to get privately proud of my bass sounds (pretty deep for a lass, I think), I suddenly thought "I wonder what Nana would think of all this."
My mum's mother died years ago, when I was about eleven I think, and sometimes I regret that I never really knew her. Don't get me wrong, we weren't estranged; after my parents, she's probably the person my siblings and I spent most of our formative years with; but to be completely honest I didn't realise until I was about 12 that adults were more than just a complicated combination of times I got my way and times I didn't. As a result, my impression of her is one of a very genteel and caring woman whose house had Rules, and I haven't got the faintest idea what she would think of things.
I think she wouldn't approve that I keep dropping my T's. Even I don't approve of that.As for beatboxing, would she be completely baffled at what I saw in it, or would she want to know all about it? I wouldn't fancy trying to persuade her that it's ok to meet a group of strange men from the internet, but in this case (NOT in all cases, it is important to feel safe) I knew it was a good idea.I know she'd be thrilled about Gavin. she'd absolutely LOVE him, which is a wonderful thing to realise actually.
The beatboxing jam was amazing though, I'm so glad I went! I'd genuinely missed a few of those guys, and was very glad to meet the others, and i was NOT LAME and actually did some beatboxing (very quietly!) which is Most Pleasing and earned me a pack of peanut M&Ms that I shared. Bribery FTW.
The rest of the night consisted mainly of pubbing with the lads, cuddling my boy, hurting my poor little ankle, deciding going back to Plymouth would be ass, and going to Cardiff instead. So I actually came back on Sunday. Four hours of travel, two changes, over an hour on a packed bus, and then I had to walk back to the house on the aforementioned poor little ankle.
The best thing about this weekend is that no matter what happens from here, I have memories that I know are going to bring me a lot of joy and will stay with me forever.