You have to be 18 to drink coke??!!

This weekend has been odd.

Saturday turned out to be not as bright and sunny as I had planned, and therefore wearing flip flops became a rather ridiculous idea. After sliding and skidding to work in my feeble foam footwear, my lesson was cancelled. I had the sum total of three students, and after waiting half an hour, the three had become two. It was still a fairly productive morning as I sped around the office (in bare feet) organising the school trip letters that had to be translated into Somali. (Not by me..)

Afterwards, I caught the bus to mums. It only takes about half an hour, but my parents live in a lovely little village well out of the smoky suburbs. It was marvellous to see all the greenery that exists outside of the hard, grey buildings of the city. We spent the afternoon making sushi (Quite successfully I may add) and relaxing. Next weekend is the planned pond party (aka, pond digging and not much partying) which looks to be rigorous work.

Sunday was a tad on the dull side, however, I did manage to make a rather sumptuous dinner of Keema motta (mince and peas-yep, peas), bombay potatoes and rice. We tried to watch X men in preperation for the third one on Film 4 this evening. Unfortunately, the damn thing didn't load quick enough, and we had to watch it in bits until the internet cut off and we couldn't watch the end. I watched The Devil Wears Prada instead, while mr peas feigned interest. I had forgotten how fabulous that flick is.

This morning followed on from the dullness, (as ever on a monday morning.) with a magnificent meeting about how to complete a funding bid form. Joys.
I spent most of the meeting dreaming of a delicious Scream Burger dripping with cheese and BBQ sauce. When I finally arrived at the bar of the Dog, after having run to catch the 22, coat, bag and boobs flying in opposite directions, the conversation went something like this:

me "Could I have a coke please?" imbecile "Can I see some ID?" me (incredulous) "Sorry, I want a coke please?" imbecile "I need to see some ID." me (baffled) "I don't have any on me.. it's a coke." imbecile "I can't let you drink here if you're not 18."

YOU WHAT??
I nearly asked him how old you had to be to work in a pub, and point out that I am 21 in three weeks, and an English teacher.

We ended up in Varsity. (Not before I had used the toilets though. Rebel.)

After a rather ravishing meal and coke in a decidedly better pub, feeling inspired by the Devil Wears Prada, I scooted down to Peacocks and bought myself a new fabulous red skirt, black sweat shirt thing and a beautiful new bag. What was even more fabulous was the mere £31.00 I shelled out for all three. I will now be able to stroll into Crewe and feel magnificent and not the slightest bit barfy. I still need to sort out my 2 minute speech which will be on modern foreign languages in the primary school. I pretty much have it pinned, but I just need to sort out statistics, and a fun and interesting way of putting my point of view forward. (The naked presentation giving suggested by one of my friends was quickly squashed.)

I am about to bob back out to work again, despite feeling that it is about the last thing I want to do now, but I am rather desperate for the dough!

The Gilmore Girls make me happy :)
clicky.. go on!

Has anyone noticed how racist nail polish remover is?

It's 7:00 0n Saturday morning my time.

You heard me.

7:00.
I've actually been awake since about 6. I should be in the land of all the other sane people living around me- aka the land of the sleeping dead. I should be dreaming about lollipops and jelly and clouds and ponies. I'm not. I'm one hundred percent alive and kicking.

This is all thanks to mr peas, who has a training day for his new job today in London. Now, when mr peas has to get up early, he feels that snoozing his alarm clock three, or four times is compulsory. At 6:00 on a Saturday morning, I tend to disagree, but due to general sleepiness and lack of intelligence at that time in the morning, it's pretty hard to vocalise my disagreement.

On the plus side, his new job has meant a need for a certain amount of market research on the products his cafe sells. So this implies a regular and tasty dosage of cakes, fruit salads, paninis and pasta tubs for our delectation. Bingo! Of course, this is not helpful towards my "diet" but it's bloody marvellous to come home after a tiring day of shouting children and find cake awaiting your return. Lets face it, everyone loves cake.

(As one of my friends suggested.. imagine a world where cakes eat humans..)

The other good thing was the post yesterday. Firstly, I received my CRB form (Criminal Record Bureau- you need it for working with children, and people who are more vulnerable than most.) I'm not a criminal, so that's good news.
Secondly, as a potential student at Sheffield Hallam University, I received my pre course booklet for the Primary Education course. :) It's a heck of a lot of work. It's not that I don't mind all the work, because I honestly don't. It's just that over the summer, I will be working 6 days a week, and over 50 hours in those 6 days. I'm not sure when I'm going to have time. Luckily, in the Science section, most of what is needed are practical tests (putting salt and water in a dish and leaving it to evaporate etc etc.) which I think will be rather fun. So I'm off to mums later today after work to conduct the blindfolded herb and spices test, as she has a splendid array of the aforementioned testing equipment.

I have an hour before I have to surface from my marvellous mountain of mattress, so facebook, fruit salad and a failed attempt at slumber are on the menu until 8:30. Yay.

Brassed off with Buses.

So, six days into blogging (does no one else think that that's a frankly odd term that sounds somewhat like a bowel movement?) and I've begun to realise just how addictive this actually is.

After finding myself subconsciously narrating my day ("Today I saw a perky young fellow enjoying a picnic in a cemetary- at 9:00 in the morning no less") I came to the conclusion that I am turning into a slightly more masculine version of Doctor John Dorian.

But despite the side effect of vacant expressions and vivid day dreams, I have discovered that instead of gloomily analysing the day ahead of me, I take much more notice of the things around me. One such example was this:


Now I do feel personally targeted by this recent event. Quite possibly because of my blog the other day. What annoys me the most is the fact that the Government are "hell bent" on reducing our carbon footprint and the amount of crap we exhale every day. One obvious step forward for anyone whose head isn't wedged firmly up their tumescent buttocks, is public transport. And give them their due, Park and Rides are being introduced here, there and everywhere. But increasing prices, is by far their best idea to date. Hell, why not charge us all an arm and a leg to travel on public transport and reduce our weight; therefore solving the obesity problem and the pollution problem all in one simple act?

How bloody ridiculous.


Incidentally- I have recently started noticing these adverts popping up. What is with these?

Confuzzled

There are many things in this life that I frankly cannot comprehend. It’s not that I am unintelligent, (not to blow my own trumpet) but rather that they are just so baffling that the mere process of trying to logically work out their existence leaves my brain throbbing and impedes any other thoughts for the rest of the day. One such complexity is the idea of plastic sunglasses with horizontal lines across the lenses, so called "Shutter Shades". These fashion accessories just stump me. Why on earth would you want to look like Kanye West? And does it not look like you are trapped in a pink plastic prison?

• · Baldness- the skinhead look doesn’t suit many of those who choose to sport it. The line between looking like a genius (Lex Luther), or a thug is extremely thin and therefore most skin heads, whilst assuming they now look like Nietzsche, actually look like a Nazi.

• · Peas. Small, round, and green, they are like weirder versions of those hairy, odd pollen balls that stick to your clothes on a sunny afternoon stroll through a meadow. Mr peas is as perplexed by my dislike of peas as I am by the existence of them. “But they don’t taste of anything!” Exactly my point. Small, green, round, and tasteless.

• · Imagine two gentlemen sat in a beautiful, English lounge, pipes in mouth, tea in hand. All of a sudden, one of them sits up and vocalises an idea he has been pondering on for the last few seconds; that of a vast holey lawn, a small, heavy, pitted ball and a stick with a blob at the end. Well blow me down with a feather. What an amazing idea! Hit the ball into the hole, pick it out, and hit it into another hole! Riveting.

Mr peas is my lobster.

Curiouser and curiouser.. is that how you spell it??

There was a young girl from Rabat,

who had triplets, Nat, Pat and Tat;

It was fun in the breeding,

But hell in the feeding,

When she found she had no tit for Tat.



I just found this on my bed. I have a feeling it's courtesy of mr peas.

Of Public Transport

Whenever people ask me why I don’t drive, I usually give them a monetary rationale along the lines of; driving lessons are too expensive, petrol is too expensive and maintaining a car is too expensive. But actually, I rather enjoy travelling by public transport. Life seems to slow down for those few minutes and you see things that you wouldn’t see whilst concentrating on driving.

For example, just yesterday, I saw an exceptionally nimble horse scratching it’s ear with it’s back right hoof, a sign post plastered onto the side of a demolished building made entirely of bin bags and cellotape and a woman with an amazingly bouffant hair style about the length of her arm reaching vertcially upright from the base of her head, all wrapped up in a grey scarf.

And it’s not just outside of the bus; who would pass on being serenaded in dulcet tones by the man sat behind you? Or listening to an elderly man’s vast mobile phone music library consisting of two songs; flying without wings and an Alicia Keys number?

Screaming babies, 13 year olds smoking weed and the odd nutter aside, public transport is often a highly entertaining method of getting to work, and saves a heck of a lot on parking fees. :)

Scream.

Things I learnt today:

1. Don't eat one of these:


whilst wearing tight belted jeans.

2. Check you're doing the right task at work before you do it 100 times.

3. Don't wear your old sandals on the first day of summer all day. (mainly because it only ends in you having to hobble.)

4. Drinking Fruli makes mr peas kisses taste of strawberries. :)

So aside from sore feet and a very stretched belt, today so far has been lovely. met mr peas for lunch at our favourite pub- The Loaded Dog. http://www.myspace.com/loadeddog

This pub is our favourite for several reasons. The deers head (Buck) suspended over the fireplace, the fantastic little bits and pieces that adorn the walls, the beer glass light shades, the cushions attached by velcro, (pillow fights anyone?) two meals for £5, the legendary scream burger (onion rings, cheese, lettuce, bacon, tomatoes, bbq sauce and a big, fat, generous burger on two sesame buns) and the spiderman pin ball machine.



So all in all, it's a rather spiffing place.

Also, many thanks to BagLady for heading me in the direction of the unmentionable dress on Gok Wan last week. You life saver.

Came home to find an innumerable amount of take away menus. But no cheque. Rent is already a week late and looks to remain that way. Shall shortly be writing to you from my rather comfy, if somewhat leaky, cardboard box.




I think I should learn Sign Language.

First blog of many I hope.

Things to note before I duly start:

my m key is well and truly knackered. That means that little "m"s, "v's" or wierd squiggles are not errors in my part, but typos in my haste to get the blasted "m" on the page.

I am addicted to scotch eggs. And I DO hate peas. These are not claimed to make me sound more interesting than I actually am. I am actually that interesting.



So.. I feel a little guilty today, mainly towards myself. It's a beautiful sunny day, the sky is a brilliant blue and the trees are so green they shine.

And yet, I'm stuck indoors watching (admittedly a rather fantastically old version of) Oliver Twist. I should technically be frollicking outdoors, but I've put off tramping to the nearby library and dropping off my extremely over due library books and hiking over to my friend's house to drop off the dvd's she leant me that I've lost.

From now on, I will have to warn people before they lend me things that they will never get them back.

mr peas will be rather happy when he returns from work as I have done all the washing up. Those who don't know me won't realise how much of a miracle this deceptively small action was. I do not do washing up. Cooking, hoovering (sometimes) and dusting are all fine by me. Washing up is not. I hate the feeling off soggy food bouncing off my fingers. And I always worry I won't do it properly and poison us. (Well, that's my excuse anyway.)

"It's not madness, it's meat!" Fantastic.

Back to work properly tomorrow. As a teacher, most of my classes are cancelled over the Easter break. That means two weeks of luxurious luxury, lazing about and laughing (?) Unfortunately, my idle mind gets bored after about three days. So aside from the lie ins and wodas (a day off work backwards) are exceptionally dull. mr peas has a new job which means that although he has a purpose, for 14 days I don't. And I have no playmate either. Decidedly dull.

I shall tie this up with the prospect of my University Interview dawning in two weeks. Considering in my last one I couldn't open my mouth for fear of vomiting on the table, I'm understandably apprehensive about next Wednesday. At least I have a place under my belt so if it does all go tits up I have something to fall back on.

In the meantime, I shall stick to my opinion that all hot weather deserves an ice cream and bob off down to the shops.

Ta ta for now.