Superiority complex

Without naming names, I've just read a very unpleasant blog post concerning the people we were honoured with meeting in India. It makes me very sad that someone in our position, with our wealth, education and understanding of poverty should be so close minded and condescending in thier description of the slums, and the families within.

True, these people are poor, well below the poverty line, and lacking in much of the basic education, healthcare and facilities that westerners take for granted. But this does not give us any reason whatsoever to look down on them as simple, dirty people. And that's me avoiding quoting the blog in question, as it made me too angry to repeat. These people are rich in hope, and determination to better thier lives. They are proud of thier work, thier families. They want to be talked to, to tell you thier name and learn yours. I admire them, for thier strength in the face of the poverty they endure - I would never dream of looking down on them.

And you. You with your superiority complex. You'd do well to do the same.

Cuddle Weather

Sometimes I need to remember that although we are not together anymore, we're still under the same sky. Just because you are out of arms reach does not mean you're not still under my skin, coursing through my veins. I haven't talked to you today, but you'll call. I know you'll call.

At least I didn't have to say goodbye.

Short addendum

I still exist, i'm just in India for a bit.

Pre-knitting season preparations

I have decided, in one of my more creative moods, to start a proper collection of patterns. Nice ones, not all jumpers and hats and scarves. I have recently discovered Alan Dart's collections which are gorgeous if not a little tricky...

My cut-throat ebaying should secure me a sizeable collection alongside much pleading on the knitting network.

I have a feeling you'll be reading some frustrated "how-the-hell-does-this-work!" posts with some half finished project pictures soon :)

The curse of genetics

There is no way of being "un-related" to your immediate family.

This could be my phd in the making.

Um, that's not a synonym.

So, my friends let me down. Again.

I know this counts as venting, it counts because it's been more than a month since I posted on here. I don't care. I don't get to go on my only holiday of the year because people who are not meant to let me down, did just that - and only one of them said "I'm sorry."

Also, on a nicer note - my room smells like chocolate cheesecake brownies and tomorrow I'm having squid. My cocktail books came today and hopefully my fimo will come tomorrow so I can make a low-grade replica of the ring I left on the train. My favourite ring. The beautiful £25 ring that I adored, cannot find anywhere on the internet and will never see again. I am an idiot.

I get to go into town tomorrow and walk the 8minute walk to Georgey's, knock on his door till he gets out of bed and lets me in then he'll make me cheese on toast (he'll eat the cheese before it's toasted) and we'll cuddle up on the couch and watch top gear reruns. I might bring breakfast pudding. George told me he'd drive all the way to Wales to make me happy, which is why we're going to London to see Wicked instead and stay in a posh hotel :)

But! He, and my best friend are going away this week, for 2 weeks. George to Malaysia and Rachel to Michigan. I will miss them in equal measures in different ways. I don't even know where Malaysia is but it's 11hours on the plane. That's far too far away.

I'm going to get back to season 3 of The West Wing now, it's disk 5 and I want to get hold of the other 4 seasons before summer so I don't have to go too long without seeing what happens next (Little is lending.)

Tschuss.

"I had a dream...

I dreamed it for you. Well someone tell me when is it my turn, don't I get a dream for myself. Get off of my runway."

Today, no, this week, this month and this year have been the worst 6months of the making of my future.

Ask me what I wanted to be 6 months ago and i'd have given you the whole 5yr plan. The grades, the summer, the degree, the speciality, the job, the flat, the car. Then, well, you know the rest. Here I am signing on at the job centre for fifty quid a week and living at home with all my friends going away to make something of all this education we'd worked so hard on together.

I feel cheated. Cheated out of my own life.

Umm?

I'm still not going to university...

I don't know if i'm ok with that.

I've got a soul to feed.

I believe that right now, revising like there's nothing else to do in the world is damaging to my internal balances.

It's ok just to stop, put the pens down, turn the book over, sit back and turn the music up. Go and make a cup of tea, stack up some jaffa cakes and just come back to it in 10minutes.

You won't be able to sit in an exam and do well if you already destroyed your soul working for it 6weeks before it's due to happen.

Mr. Wainwright, you are just the right amount of chilled for such a break.

Dear Sarah.

Stop faffing about in the garden and do your PE coursework.

Stupid girl.

Go f**k yourself Mario.

Your restaurant is a dump and your manners stink. You treat me like shit then you have the audacity to send a snotty email insulting my school?! Giant tit.

Anyway. Now that's out of my system.

Fajeaster was yummy :) Warwick was pretty and pizza express throw pizzas alot. That sums up my easter so far apart from my lovely anniversary yesterday. We went to wagamamas and I got spoiled rotten. Yumyumyum.

Tomorrow I continue with my vegetable patch project that at the moment mainly consists of me pulling up the lawn. Come summer I will be reaping the sweet harvest of self sufficiency and seeds from 1994.

Stupid cat.

There's something vaguely soul destroying about listening to your poor skinny little cat crying under a table but if she refuses to eat for herself she'll just have to put up with being trapped between my knees having the cat sludge squirted in her mouth.

That's just how it works cat.

Well of course it's worrying.

I have the house to myself for the next 3 days.

I must remember to do a myriad of important things. First and foremost, play doctors and nurse (and vets?) with the cat. She will not eat of her own accord neither will she drink so the only solution is to shove cat medicine down her throat and occasionaly make up a soup of greybrown cat sludge and force feed her that as well. She hates me, I can see it in her eyes.

Also, the fish need feeding. But they don't need it forcing down thier throats. Do fish even have throats? Well that interesting.

Ummm, it's raining, so my amazing gardening has ground (lol, gettit) to a halt. So I shall have to continue discovering potatoes all along the back fence and jumping up and down in the garden waste bin tomorrow. Also, you can't mow wet grass - which I discovered after overloading the motor and having it cut out on me.

What on earth am I supposed to do now? I feel like an elderly retired person with only her moody cat for company. Although if I ever turn into one of those old people who actually make lengthy conversation about the fact that Bungay bus shelter now has perspex sides I will have to do the world a favour and jump off a very tall building, because honest to God I could have screamed after listening to those 3 old Bungalites going on and on and on about it. You'd think there were more interesting things in the world to talk about than perspex. Really.

I'm going to go cook for one now. And be spinsterish. For goodness sake somebody ring me.

An Education.

Here are some things I have learnt today.

You can't pick up the phone just after waking up and NOT sound like a 80yr old man. This was upsetting when I discovered it in the middle of my lie in. I seriously must change my ringtone to something other than very loud carribean steel drums.

Once you've overfilled the washing machine with fabric softener, you can't get it back out of the freaking drawer. Everything smells very very very comfort-y now.

You can't microwave chicken dippers.

Cats won't eat shrivelled, burnt chicken dippers.

Birds won't either.

We don't have a bike pump in our house, or our garage. Neither does Simon next door, or Robert next door to him, or Pauline next door to him.

You can ride a bike with flat tires.

You can't balance hot banana bread on your lap whilst cycling on flat tires.

You can't buy a guardian after 10am

You can buy The Times.

Don't think you're being selfless by giving the lad at the bus stop 50p for the fare. According to the loud and obnoxious conversation he was having with "Tev" on the phone, he'd spent all his money on mephodrone on Tuesday night. Tool.

Babies think it's ok to yell on buses, and some mothers should be slapped.

Tom makes an ok cuppa.

Strawberry cider is nice-ish.

I cook a good bolognaise.

Ipods are shit.

So that's about it - note the absense of any life changing lessons in there? Don't do mephs kids. You won't have enough for the bus 3 days later.

To do and done. Hurrah!

Still to do -

• Washing up (it's mother's day, this is a given.)
• Ironing - the crumpled look is out this spring.
• Homework - I haven't checked yet, but bets are I have some.
• 2 sleeves of one very overdue cardigan.

DONE -

• Unpacked that bloody suitcase that's been loitering in my bedroom since New York.
• Hoovered the bits of pringle off the floor from girls night
• Tidied everything up in here, there is a floor - who'd have known?

Happy Mum's day Mum, what a lovely mum I do have.

Yeh I know.

Raspberry Sambuca

How I love you so.

Just what you need to wash down the other assorted shots of whatever the hell we were buying last night :)

A day late

getting my results. I'm off ill today, though i'm not technically ill. I was ill yesterday - today I just have a lump on my head and a headache. But that's not important.

I don't think i'm nervous about what is in the envelope - I already know my a-level results dont matter. Though it's nice to do well at at least one thing I try.

Also, after not being able to go to the blood donation session because it was all fully booked with Aviva staff the other day, a few of us in the canteen were talking about becoming donors and I was quite suprised to hear that everyone at the table would be willing to take part. Looking at the site I found out that you can organise sessions at your uni/college so I got onto them and after asking some obscure questions about myself and Notre Dame they said they'd be in touch with some more details. I'll make sure to go to 6th form council tomorrow to pitch it to Everett etc. Seeing as you have to be 17+ to donate, it would only be 6th form and staff involved. I think it's a good idea though - and with it being not-quite-exams season, it's as good a time as any to do it.

We'll see.

My last picture of progress.

My last ever school report. Handed to me this morning in the customary brown envelope, and paying my usual regard to the address on the front I had a look. Same old. Only this time, I am well aware that that piece of paper could say anything - and it would mean the same to me.

I've applied for a diploma - I only need GCSEs to get onto it. So my 3 predicted Bs can go take a running jump.

18 days left to wait - had an email today from the UEA informing me that they have recieved my 2nd application and it is being considered. But now I'm worrying that it's 21 days from receipt of said application and not the UCAS clicking moment.

I misspelled "synergy" 3 times today, then decided it didn't fit into my essay very nicely and just scrubbed it out. I need some better words in my vocab bank. I'm determined that this essay will be eloquent and informative with just the right amount of analysis.

Perhaps i'll stick the Glee soundtrack on whilst I do it :)

I don't live here.

I'm not meeting Hatti and Rachel till 3ish4ish so George has gone to his dad's and left me at his to watch top gear and eat ice cream :)

It's girls night tonight, last night was me trawling through university websites looking for somehwere to go next year. I had my options narrowed down to Canterbury Christ Church (but i'd have to go to the chatham campus and study 24miles from London - which I dodn't want to do very much.) Second was City University in London - busy, expensive, exciting London. Or the UEA. The UEA course isn't quite the one I was hoping for - adult nursing as opposed to child nursing. But as past experience has shown - I can't get into child nursing. So i'll get there, get going, and see if I can sidle on over to child nursing after I get there.

Now I have to wait 21 days for a yeh or a nah.

So this morning, caramel chew chew for breakfast, house to ourselves, George and I spent the morning on the sofa watching Saturday kitchen. It's a good job I decided that quarter to 12 was a good time to get dressed, because about 10minutes later there's a knock at the door. George had only just got out of the shower and opening his own door would have been wildly inappropriate, so I skipped past him and ran downstairs. It was Mr. Little. Oh the weirdness.
After brief and slightly awkward conversation, he left.

So now i'm sat on my own, watching top gear and blogging. Another hour and a half till I can go out and do fun things. Must remember to pick up some wine for tonight :)