It's my favourite kind of rain.

The frozen, powdery kind. No, I lie, summer thunderstorms are prolly my favourite, but there is no dispute over the sheer beauty of a snow covered Norfolk.

It was this morning when I loved it the most. sure, I had to get out of bed and go to work at 8am, but when I got out of the house and padded my way down that little road. My footprints were the first of the day, they made that wonderful squashing noise that only untrodden snow can make. And it wasn't quite day yet, it was morning, dawn, there were thick, dark, snow clouds throwing a fine covering of snow at me, and when it wasn't too windy for it to fall straight, you couldn't even see to the other side of the street through it.
And it's silent.
You can't hear snow falling, it just does, and it mutes everything it covers, snowy roads are so quiet, even with cars struggling to hold onto them and crawling at 3mph in 4th gear down them, it just sounds like someone walking on a duvet. It's brilliant.

I've had fun with my snow days, guilty kinda, "I-should-be-revising-not-making-snowmen" fun, but more fun then I would have had worrying about my impending failure at Notre Dame.

Roll on Monday.

Adventures

One day, when I can drive and you can drive and we have a whole day to ourselves.

We're going to get in your little car and go on an adventure. I don't mid where we go as long as there is candyfloss when we get there, and we can play show tunes on the way.

Oh Norwich, how I love you.

I never want to leave Norwich - call me what you will but why leave when I love this lovely place?

Sitting in my little box on saturdays I can give the customers directions to just about anywhere, I am a tiny map of Norwich. And meeting all of my NYFC friends in the centre, we could hardly find a space on the streets where we couldn't hear music. Wether it be the slightly unnerving puppet man, or the wonderful middle eastern muic from outside the market - Norwich was alive with the sound of buskers like us. We were even interrupted by a medievel procession with recorders and drums, although they did stop for a little to watch us.

I know which deli does the best sandwiches, and which make thier soup fresh in the morning. I can tell you where to get the best latté in Norwich, and where's the best place to drink it. I can tell you where you can get a cup of spiced apple and raspberry juice before wandering through the cobbled twisty streets and watching the sun go down behind the cathedral whilst hurried people pass, wrapped in coats and scarves, rubbing thier hands together.

My friends are there, my job, my school, George.
Sure, it's nice to go somewhere new, but if you're happy just where you are - there's just no sense in not making it the place you always come back to.

Stress level : High

I do not have a costume for Robyn's birthday. I wish to utilise my yellow tights that I only bought for a halloween party anyway. They were expensive! Pfft.

So, it was non-school uniform today, which always confuses me. I don't know who I can and can't growl at for walking too slowly down the wind tunnel when i'm trying to get to biology. Not that I did anything in biology, but the intention was there. I was actually sad enough to not get up to do some very importnant tasks because I had one of the awesome chools that would definately be pinched if I got up. I just sat and counted change and ate satsumas.

No eating in the lab.

So I spent my lunchtime removing hair from various gentlemen in the EX 6th form common room. I ripped wax strips off 2 year 11 boys, Mr. Everett (oh sweet revenge) and Mr. Harrison - who didn't seem phased. Regular waxer methinks. I then took over the shaving of Jem's head, which was quite fun. Especially seeing how much I hated those stupid sideburns he's been sporting for weeks.

Tell you what though, if anybody comes to me after tomorrow asking for a hoody I shall have them skewered. So many 6th formers - most likely the ones that skip assembly - have not told me if they want a damn hoody. I'm getting sick of them. Pfft. You're not getting one. So there.

Here are your points for consideration of the day.

• Why does rootbeer have a mouthwash-y aftertaste?
• How do you get satsuma oil off your jeans?
• Why do people think that if they have a certain ritual for sctraching the panels off a scratchcard they're more likely to win?
• When did facebook become an absolutely essential service?

I have been informed

that George does not have the answers, merely stupid questions of his own.

Ee Larv 'im. x

So i've been thinking...

How long does it take for a raindrop to get from cloud to floor? How far has it travelled? Did it collide with another raindrop on the way down to make an even bigger one?

Maybe make one of those huge fat ones that always goes in your eye or down your neck - not at all pleasant.

And now i'm sat here eating peas I wonder, how long has this pea been a pea? At what point is it even called a pea? It had to come from a pod yes? How long did that take? And why is it so yummy...?

Maybe George Kwiatkowski will have the answers to these and so many more of my pointless questions...

Well at least it's half finished.

My essay, I have a title, I have 3 non-sensical rambling paragraphs but no point, no conclusion and no analysis. The end is not in sight. This means no gospel meeting, no Norwich, no George.

Drat.

On the plus side, I've finished season one of House. I'm hooked. Season two please Georgey?

1am is a very quiet hour.

At what point does not being very tired turn into insomnia? I'm not quite there yet but I want to be sure of the tipping point so as when I arrive at it - I can be sure of my self diagnosed inability to sleep.

I don't know why i'm up at 1am checking up on my cupcake blogs, my political ramblings, rachel's most recent minidates. I just am. No, you on facebook, it has nothing to do with my obsession with facebook application games. Yes, they're sad, and no I don't have 'a problem' they're simply entertaining. And all I think about all day...

I kid, honestly.

So, methinks the norovirus has gone away. I consumed an entire scotch egg earlier and it has only left me with mild rumblings from the stomach area as opposed to the hideously unpleasant repercussions I have been suffering all week from anything other than lucozade and gala apples. I even ventured forth from my house today in a bold attempt to outwit my stomach into thinking I was no longer governed by it, rather I was in control. This, my dear readers was a fatal error. Do not walk to school, get on a bus for an hour, sit in the cantine, go into town, have a cup of tea, sit for 3hrs in Neros and then walk back to Georgey's house if you have a funny tum. It will hurt. It does hurt. I am in pain.

This I blame for my being up at 1am.

Is everyone ill?

I really think they are. Anna, Rach, Me, Oscar...

I think i've now read every web comic, watched every episode of friends, scrubs, gilmore girls and veronica mars there is. And consumed nothing but lucozade and apples.

Have lost 3lbs. Lookin' good, feelin' gross.

Daytime Television.

Is crap.

I've been off ill today and yesterday and I am not looking forward to going to work tomorrow. Not that I can afford not to, it's getting too close to all these birthdays for me to be losing money. But sitting in a box coughing and feeling sick is going to be crappy.

I'm watching the gymnastics thing yon telly, all the ones i've seen so far have fllen off, fallen over or landed on their bums. It's such a shame, they're all so nervous and all those people watching. I can't even talk to strangers on the phone without mild panic setting in, how these people fling themselves around in leotards under such pressure is beyond me.

Euuuurgh, I wish George was here. Being ill is boring.

Alex Stobbs

Is possibly my favourite person. If you haven't heard of him already - he is a 21 year old boy at cambridge university studying music. He has cystic fibrosis. He doesn't play on it, or let it ruin his life. Quite the opposite. He is an absolute inspiration and I am in awe of his playing, his composing, and his conducting. So sad that such a genius should be so plagued by such a terribe illness...

I've been glued to the telly tonight.

Sarah McLachlan

Spend all your time waiting

For that second chance

For a break that would make it okay

There's always one reason

To feel not good enough

And it's hard at the end of the day

I need some distraction

Oh beautiful release

Memory seeps from my veins

Let me be empty

And weightless and maybe

I'll find some peace tonight

In the arms of an angel

Fly away from here

From this dark cold hotel room

And the endlessness that you fear

You are pulled from the wreckage

Of your silent reverie

You're in the arms of the angel

May you find some comfort there

So tired of the straight line

And everywhere you turn

There's vultures and thieves at your back

And the storm keeps on twisting

You keep on building the lie

That you make up for all that you lack

It don't make no difference

Escaping one last time

It's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh

This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees

In the arms of an angel

Fly away from here

From this dark cold hotel room

And the endlessness that you fear

You are pulled from the wreckage

Of your silent reverie

You're in the arms of the angel

May you find some comfort there

You're in the arms of the angel

May you find some comfort here

Because you're worth it.

Love is a good haircut. Gorgeous to look at from any angle. It doesn't stick out or go frizzy in the rain. You don't have to shower it with expensive things for it to look healthy, and make you look happy. You can hide behind it when you don't feel like facing the world, or you can dress it up with a pretty bow to make people notice what a good thing you're got going on up there. It'll still be there, any day, good or bad. It will wait for you, if you don't think you have that extra 10minutes this morning. It doesn't mind behind pulled up into a ponytail for a little bit if it's getting in the way - it won't kink.

It likes being part of you, the bit that catches the sunshine first. The bit that you can make your own. It likes to make you feel confident and beautiful.

My hair is just perfect.

If music be the food of love, play on.

Give me excess of it.

The course of true love never did run smooth, but like all great stories first the lovers must face trying times if for no other purpose than to prove thier love for one another. I write this for 2 of the people in my life, one more obvious than the other. To my Romeo, whilst journeys end in lovers meeting - i do not wish to stop just yet. I wouldnt want to walk beside anybody but you.

To Florizel, I hope you find love again with Perdita.

When you do dance, I wish you a wave of the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.

I remain mobile.

Derren Brown - anyone watch it? Did it work for you?

Maybe I was too close minded to the idea that through the powers of suggestion a man in a studio somewhere very far away could persuade my unconscious mind that I had no choice but to stay exactly where I was sat. Maybe I was affected, maybe some tiny bit of me was stuck - just not the bit connected to my chair.

Or maybe it was a load of rubbish, as I suspected...

Fallen arches are shit.

As if my nagging incessant coughing/sniffing predicament wasn't fun enough - lets chuck in a suprisingly painful fallen arch for good meaure. Oh and, instead of missing some crappy lesson to go to the doctors - how about I miss my frees to WALK there to get it looked at? Mhm? Sound good?

I need another cinnabun. I made 9 today. I've eaten 2. Fattyfattyfatfat.

Torben - girls are not crap at maths.

Beej - answer your phone.

Hannah - i'm sorry I wasn't in today to give you your Tim Minchin CDs, if it's any consolation they're very very funny.

Ami - Hurry up with the Sims 3. I want a go.

If I could be anywhere right now.

I would be on a futon in smallborough drinking carrot and strawberry wine.

Anywhere but anywhere without you.

Leggings are not trousers.

Dear Y12. I know that it's very exciting moving up from GCSEs to ALevels and the thrill of being able to dress as you please is an overwhelming one. But could you please cling onto the shred of common decency that our mothers hope we have retained and stop flashing your bums at me whilst I am trudging around school. The novelty will wear off and your bottom will get cold. On another note, thankyou to those of you who have opted for leggings AND a skirt, not OR a skirt. You latter few end up with the same gross misdemenour as the forementioned ladies in the arse department. Forgive me for sounding like a teacher, but it's neither dress code, nor pleasant.

Dear George. You stole my latté you crafty clownfish. Joke's on you though, it had no shot of caramel unlike my usual non-free beverages. I did however enjoy my letter. I love you alot.
Happy 5monthaversavery my lovely boyfriend.

I could have done better.

I know it.

I haven't totally failed. I did at maths, but screw that. Wasn't worth the stress and worry I gave it last year. Biology was fine, Pe was fine (I aced one module and nearly failed the other one, dragged it right down) Politics was a bit shakey but it's never been my strongpoint. I just feel like I could have done better, I worked so hard...

Right, that's my self-pity done with.

Viki threw a great party last night, I suffered a little this morning (we all did) but I had a lovely time. Viki always throws the best parties.

Missing George to bits, I really am. I have to wait another 6days for a cuddle. I could do with one now please?

Watching stars without you.

It was this time last week that I was strolling along the beach with George, we'd spent all week camping just behind the sand dunes. Having BBQs, making dreamcatchers and campfires. Hiding in our tent when it rained, playing cards. Lying on the beach or swimming in the sea when the sun was out. I even got a very faint tan.

I so wish I was back there - George is so far away! (fittingly, Des'ree is playing, thats where I got the title from today, and it's just passed the bit where it goes "where are you now?") He's all the way in Florida having a smashing time in the American sunshine. I am in the English afernoon dullness, knitting wintery pre-emptive cardigans and wooly socks.

Results in a week minus a day. I'm not being silly and telling everyone i'm SO EXCITED cos i'm not, or ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED cos i'm not. I'm curious, maybe a little aprehensive (not nervous, that's different.) But whatever I get, life will go on. I'll still be at Notre Dame for Y13, i'm not that dippy. I might even hang on and wait for George to come back so we can open them together - unless I just can't control myself and open them anyway. I hope my friends do as well as they hoped they have, and that all the cocky bastards who didn't do any revision do worse than they could have. That'll learn them :).

Do I go to that party tonight? Hmmmm. Nehhhhh. We'll see.

Ooo, before I go. Happy Birthday Viki. Welcome to being 17 :)