Nothings...

I had another beautifully written blog post here, and rather unfortunately, it disappeared.
That might have something to do with my laptop suddenly going out of battery. Or it might not.
Anyway, consider yourselves lucky, you escaped having to read a story about accents that thinking back on it, reflecting (and of course, faced with the bother of rewriting it) I've decided it was distinctly unfunny and unblogable.

I hope there is such a word.

Talking of words or, more importantly, English - I was reflecting the other night at three in the morning when I couldn't sleep, that the word 'indeed' has indeed gone 'out of action'. The only people who appear to use this word constantly are geeks, avid Shakespeare fans, and of course the older generation (I was going to write Old People, but suddenly remembered my Mum using the word the other day...)

Take this for example: being English, and uncharacteristically friendly, I remark to an old acquaintance

"It's a nice day!" (what an original line!)

"Indeed"

I suddenly feel out of my depth, out of date. This feeling is not unlike what I imagine cheese must feel when it discovers it past its' sell-by date. I am half expecting the acquaintance to begin to sport a toothbrush mustache, cigarette and make a remark on the 'dratted war' (begging the pardon of all ladies present of course).


Of course, nothing happens of the sort, but times are changing, some for the better, some for the worse.


Cheerleader pom-poms arrived in the shop last Saturday. I can only be thankful that the previous owner had the sense to donate them.

Cheerleading is not my idea of cheering at a sports event. A true English sign of support would be holding up cheap card (Made in China) above the head to create, with thousands of others, an England flag.


I always wondered what would happen if one lone supporter didn't feel like raising his card. Would he be flung out??

Do they have men in the sidelines to fill in for any unsupportive supporter?

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind, when I realised - there is no such thing as an unsupportive supporter. No, actually, what I was meaning to say was there is no such thing as an English Football Supporter, who isn't supportive. He/she may be drunk, may be on their very last legs, but they *will* make it to hold up that last vital card.

It's not a case of failed gymnasts parading around the pitch with pom poms, chanting something along the lines of "We support England, we support Burbery, we support Gordon's Plastic Surgery"


Sour grapes are NOT involved in all this reasoning, by the way. Had I ever wanted to be a cheerleader, I would have undoubtedly made it.


At least that's what my parents have always told me... (it wasn't cheerleading in the offing, if you were wondering at their shameless lack of morals)


A month until I turn 17!


I know I'm now going to sound like someone (everyone) over the age of 40, but I simply cannot believe I'm that old. I won't go so far as to say "I remember me when I was 'this high'" (the speaker will now indicate an impossibly tiny height off the ground - I've seen bigger carrots)


Talking of which, I Iive in a town, I'm not part of a small country village that competes on the size of carrots..

What a hiatus!

After 4 months and 17 days, I'm finally blogging again! It's been so long I forgot my login password.

To start with I'd like to dedicate this post to a man I know from the Charity Shop whose funeral is on Thursday - - - May you die in time - - -
That's right, the poor fellow has arranged for his funeral (presumably because some fortune teller told him he would die this week) and is still as healthy as I've ever known him. Love it!

Secondly I'd like to raise the subject of Lousia May Alcott - what was she thinking?? At the end of Little Women, everything is looking promising, and there is just a hope that Jo and Laurie would make it - by the time we get to Good Wives, everything has gone askew, and every single little hope is out the window.

It's as if she was all set to make Beth recover fully, Meg live happily ever after, Jo accept Laurie - when a fan told her "I know what's going to happen in your sequel"
So, the deluded woman thinks "Oh ho ho, do you?" and suddenly - enter oldish, balding, bearded, foreigner.

The hopes of fans are dashed for all time. Let's face it, while Little Women was a masterpiece, Good Wives was a failure.The whole Meg/Jo thing, it's like Alcott took Pride and Prejudice's Jane and Lizzy to the extreme and left out Darcy. Which of course, is unthinkable.

Anyway that was just a ramble on a book I was reading lately. There have been other, less famous, more mindless books, but I shan't bore you with details.

So....let's see what I've been up to all summer.

*I finally got my NPLQ done, after all that time :D

*My bedroom was redecorated and is now gorgeous

*I finished schoolwork

Ummmm...help me out here....

*Worked overtime

*Went for Job Interviews (why, why, why does nobody ever get back to you on these things?!)

*Decorated my little brothers' bedroom

*Nearly finished a book I've been writing

*Created a lovely video for our school year

*Bought an Apple Ipod Touch (Best thing I did all year...almost)

Oh yes, let's go back a few months -

*In June I went to America, Michigan, Grand Rapids for a Youth Camp, which was pretty amazing

*In August I went to Scotland for a Family Reunion which was considerably less amazing, due to extreme kissing, hugging and introductions

So that's about it really, it's mostly been fun, and definitely been busy. I've finished my last proper school year, but am still studying, as one does. Let's hope I get at least one job to help pay for all those lovely necessities. No wait, I already have one job, I mean a better one.

I've still got gazillions of things to do - namely sort out my photos, finish writing a few birthday cards, get Dad and Mum something for their birthday, tidy my room (again, it's a mystery how it keeps getting messy) sort out my shoes. Apparently, according to Mum, no-one needs forty pairs. I haven't got that many...actually maybe I have, let's scratch that.

I know exactly what to do, I'll donate some to Mum and some to Lucy, and then I'll 'borrow' them back if I want them. Sounds good to me.
I also have to find three school books, go shopping (okay, maybe I don't *have* to) write ten emails, finish three stories, sew fourteen buttons, and put the milk in the fridge.

That's hardly that half of it, but I'll be off now to fulfill at least one of my duties, this milk is looking abandoned. xxx

A Tube Journey of the Most Interesting

I was on the tube on Friday. Yep, I really was.

I like travelling - there is something very peaceful about it :) Well, yes, before I get side-tracked I'll tell you what I was going to tell you about the tube.

Everyone knows that sometimes druggies (what? What would you prefer me to call them? Medical addicts?) or students come onto the tubes and do something to try to get money.

Well, so there I was sitting on the tube (unusual in and of itself, me sitting) and two Irish guys who reminded me very much of someone I met recently, got on and began to address us.

One got out a violin, the other one got out something like a tamborine/guitar - do I mean a ukele? and they began to play Irish waltzes (or it might have been)

It was most interesting. No-one took the slightest bit of notice. No-one lowered their newspapers, not a single soul raised an eyebrow. It's an unspoken English rule - pretend people like this do not exist.

But I felt really bad. Had I been anywhere else, I would have clapped at the end, and said thank-you and really enjoyed it - it took an edge off the montony of the tube ride, but no.

Nothing. No-one noticed, everyone was selectively deaf.

At the end of the song some American voice shouted "Thank you guys!" and began a round of clapping.

Now, I'm English I'm not astonished by people who see right through you and pretend you're not there, so when the round of clapping turned really loud and even the old guy across from me who had displayed the tiniest bit of emotion (annoyance) was clapping his heart out, I was really quite shocked.

Hmmm, very unusual. I suppose it was Friday, so there might have been some extraordinary circumstances.

The next song comes up. Silence again. Blank faces. Everyone looking everywhere but at these two Irish guys....

Of course, I had to pretend I wasn't noticing them too, or everyone would have thought I was a mad American (lol), so began to look at the phone that the woman sitting next to me had.

It was a nice phone. A T-Mobile G1 that these adverts are all about. (The ones where everyone says they have been singing and dancing with half of London. That would be miraculous. Anyway...)

Then I noticed the guy on the display picture.

Everyone familiar with that Muslim fellow who has a hook? He makes mad speeches in England about how we should all be dead or Muslim or posssibly both.

Yes? Well, I could have sworn that was him. On the front of a mobile phone.

I began to edge away from the woman next to me very slowly. . inspecting her luggage at the same time, and came to the conclusion that if she was about to blow us up, there was a bomb in her handbag, which as everyone knows, are made big enough nowadays to carry a 2 yr old baby, forget a bomb.

I was happy the next stop was my stop :)

Maybe her husband just had the unfortunatatily (new word!) to be like the man with the hook, because I haven't heard of any circle line trains blowing up, but I'd rather not have stuck around to find out!

So yes, a tube journey out of the ordinary. Not one I'd actually like to repeat, but interesting :)

Till next time,

Cxx

Swine Flu, My Kids, you know - the usuals!

Everyone is in the most delightful panic; I can't wait to go into London tomorrow and see if people are wearing masks everywhere.

The French have a much better word for the virus. On Le Monde (which is my homepage - how sad) there are constant reminders that 'de grippe porcine' is imininent.

De Grippe Porcine, I have to absolutely love, = The Pig Illness.

Much, much better than swine flu. I mean, honestly, when does anyone use the word swine now-a-days anyway?

To be perfectly honest, I wouldn't mind getting Swine Flu myself.

A few days in bed having everyone worried over whether I would die, weeks to 'recover' in which everyone will wait on me hand and foot, and I'll get to eat everything I want, have laptop in my room.

Yes... *cough* *sniff* - wait! I think I'm coming down with something....

Please do not go out and buy a sympathy card for my family at this present moment in time. I do not believe I have 'The Pig Illness', and I'm not quite dead yet.

Today I was in a shop paying for something with my two youngest brothers, and being a generous sort of person, gave them some change from my handbag to put in the collection box.

Julius did this then came rushing up to me and said "Can I have some more money?"

The lady at the till laughed, and to me it seemed an overloud evil laugh, but it was probably her version of pleasant"It gets worse from here" she assured me "It's always 'Mum can I have some money?'"

Cough, well, yes, whatever - (you do know I would have been ten?)

And it's very nearly ten already, so I'd better get myself off this computer and up to bed. I've got another busy day tomorrow, and it's Max's birthday!

(Happy Birthday to him)

I'm only writing that so that if he ever reads this in later years I don't get into trouble :-) I don't think it would matter so much now if I write a happy birthday on a blog or not, just so long as I get him a few toy cars.

Goodnightxx

Scales?

I knew it was bad

(I've had a leg injury which required stitches so am out of sports for 4 weeks)

So I have not been doing any sport recently - hence why I knew it was bad. I jumped on the scales, talking to my mother (one likes to be multitasking) and was completely unprepared for the figures/words that faced me


SYSTEM OVERLOAD


WHAT????!?!?!??!


At first I thought it was a conspiracy, then I wondered if someone was on the scales with me. Then I wondered if I was wearing weights or something. Nothing. It was just me, and the scales.


I just about burst into tears on the spot.


I mean, okay I'm used to eating tons, but doing Choi twice a week (probably 300 sit-ups/pushups between the two sessions), swimming, teaching gymnastics, walking everywhere, and general things such as tennis some evenings, it all balances out, right?


But system overload? I mean really!


So, obviously I jumped off, reset the scales and jumped on again.

Thankfully it didn't exactly say overload, but it might as well have...


I forsee a LOT of exercise coming up.


Now I've got to go and find a calculator. It's impossible, but I seem to have lost about six calculators this school year. I know everyone borrows them, and no-one ever puts them back.


(That above sentence means I'm probably going to put off finding a calculator till tomorrow and go on facebook :)


Conzxxx

Yay, a month to the date.

It's great really, one day a woman turns up on Britain's got Talent, shocks the world because she has a good voice and bad eyebrows (they usually don't coincide), and of course, after everyone points this out, she gets a makeover.

Does she not realise I'll never be able to wear 'my' Burberry scarf again?

Everyone will think I'm a 'I Dreamed a Dream' wannabe. Which I might be, but that is beside the question.

Oh, another question - why have I not been blogging so much recently, uh well, yeah, that :) I've been very tired/busy/harrassed. You know, the usual.


Oh yeah, I forgot the extra - I'm the only one who reads my own blog, so to save myself perpetual embarrasment, it's easier not to write it more than once a month or so.


You know, embarrassing!


Mum's on the telephone at the moment, and it's half past ten at night (I wonder who it is. Probably her parents, who go to bed astonishingly late. I should have been born in that family)

In 11 and a half hours I'll be starting work, and I have the strangest feeling that by 3 in the afternoon I'll be so tired I'll be saying good morning to everyone, and drinking tea by the gallon.

Yes, that reminds me - I need to get teabags in - we're out of them. It's terrible really, I'm the only one who really takes the time to buy the teabags.Well, I might be the only one what uses them too, but still(!)

Anyway, it's late and I've got work tomorrow, and I'm sure I've got something else on, but I can't remember it.(It can't have been all that important)


ttfn

Constxx

Environmentally Friendly :-)

How's it going??


Anyone been up to anything much? I had a very busy weekend recently, and my schoolwork seems to be suffering for some reason I cannot figure.



Two words can sum up what the theme this month seems to have been. Evironmentally Friendly.
Seriously, though, who thinks up these things??

My chemistry, biology and geography have all dealt with the Carbon Cycle, and its effect on the human race in the last few weeks.


I honestly don't care if the way I'm living means that my great-great-great-nieces are going to have to have their laptops (or whatever they'll have) made of aluminium because plastic has run out and wood is rationed.


A few people seem to have drawn the conclusion that I'm anti-human, dangerous and thoughtless.


I admit, they do have something they sketch this conclusion off. I'm partial to using plastic carrier bags at the supermarket.


However, in my opinion, this one weakness should not warrant looks that would normally be directed toward a criminal whose face is on sheets around town with a WANTED sign above his head.

To be fair, though, the main perpetrator in this dreadful affair probably has a husband whose sole dependence of income is his job on an oil rig.


But does it matter if Ms. Smart from Bond Street, visiting her mother stops by at one of the stores for a bunch of flowers, and smartly asks for a carrier bag? No, no of course not.


(Maybe it was figured that if treated with deference, Ms. Smart might employ said husband who may, or may not, work on an oil rig.)


So, suddenly we are under tremendous pressure to sort out our rubbish, and stick our paper in a paper bin, think twice before we chop down rainforests, take the bus instead of a car. What next? Will the amount of trees we're allowed in our back garden be rationed?



Will we have to start growing a jungle in the house to create enough oxygen to compensate the amount we use?



Will we have to go back to burning peat fires, so the fossil fuels don't run out, and above husband doesn't lose his job??



Enviromentally friendly, you say? Whatever happen to humanly friendly? Maybe a lack of oxygen does this to people.

It's been a while...

The neglect, though terrible, is not intended.

I really should think about removing that subtitle.

I'm not even making myself laugh, and I've definitely stopped criticising Self-Defence (in public.)

Actually, I think, just to make this blog a whole lot more interesting, I should make it a fiction blog.
Such as:

What a day today! I shot out of bed and slid downstairs.

Hit the breakfast table (without literally hitting it) - and got on the go.

It's interesting, but one does not expect to see the Prime Minister sailing down the high street in an upended umbrella on the way to work, but the normality that each of the shoppers and shopkeepers were practicing forced me to keep my face straight.

(It also made me wonder if I could be hallucinating)
The start to the day seemed to dictate, however, that it would be no ordinary morning.
I reached the shop, and the picture before me made me sway on my high heels, and turn as pale as a sheet.
Gypsies had camped around the shop. That was not all. Adding insult to injury; they were audaciously refusing to let us in!!

Their grim faces assured us that they would outfit themselves from our shelves, eat our biscuits and sit on our chairs before they deigned to leave.
Some-one thought about calling the police
None of us noticed the over 60s campaign for "Free Botox" spilling along the high-street....

You see??? Far more interesting than:

It was a tiring day. I'm tired. I saw this gorgeous handbag. I couldn't afford it.

I think I need a camera!

xxx

"This is it!"

Does anyone here NOT have a cold?



I've got one.

Actually, I think I've got two at the same time, as my yearly cough has just set in (you'd think by now he'd get the hint - after all the cough medicine I've poured on him all these years, but no.)


I've got three weeks until I lose my singing voice - another week before I lose my speaking voice, and then I won't be able to sing for another three months.



Life can be somewhat unfair.


Now, while I've covered 'like', 'rhetorical questions', and 'y'alright', I've decided to look at 'This is it!'


If you're Scottish, it's "Is that right?" in a very Scottish accent, or American, it's quite surely "For Real??"


I stand in a charity shop, day in and day out and hear



"She wasn't even busy, she was standing there filing her nails and didn't even call me up to have me hair done for another twenty minutes"



And the sympathetic listener says:

"I mean, this is it!!"


Or

"British Heart Foundation prices are extortionate. No wonder every time I go past them they don't have anyone in there"



"This is it!"


This is what?


Is it some type of strange language that I don't understand?



Is it a code word that no-one has bothered to tell me about??

Or is it frightfully old-fashioned, and therefore way behind my time?


After much umming, awwing, checking my Dictionary.



Then my Thesaurus. Then my French Dictionary, German Dictionary, Dutch Dictionary, Spanish Dictionary - you catch my drift - I decided that 'this is it' is something that is said that translated means this:


"I haven't heard a word of what you are saying. I wasn't listening. But if it makes you feel better, I'll agree with you"


I think I've got a headache.

I'm off

xxx

Cleverness?

It's quite a relief to be clever at times.

Not that I'm stating out blank that I am clever, I'm merely pointing out what philosophers have been pointing out over the last few centuries.

There are many people who one can keep up with, in the event one is clever, (I do not profess anything of the sort) - and one can follow all kinds of witty conversations.

Now and again though, those of us who are quite clever - er, I mean those people who are quite clever (I'm saying nothing :-) stop to talk to someone, who turns out to be somewhat cleverer than they are!

I know from experience - Of course, I mean I've read somehwhere - that this is decidedly unpleasant. Suddenly I - um, the poor person, is reduced to a quivering mass of humiliation (It's gotta be Shakespeare - Or Dickens??)

In a terrible twist of fate, I am --- cough, 'they are' practically begging for someone to speak in proper English.

I am (they are!) used to using idiosyncratic words themselves (having looked them up in a dictionary and painstakingly added them to their vocabulary - not that I know this, I just have heard it.)

I/ Hem, they, are being insulted so subtly that they wake up at three o'clock the next morning and realise it (these things always occur at three in the morning)

This never normally happens.

Can anyone recommend cleverness classes? Or maybe a brain transplant (installing brain with higher I.Q) would help.

Then again, someone once remarked to me that if I thought there was such a thing as a brain transplant, I would need one.

:-)

TNT

xx

Nightmare?? No, that was reality.

Why?

Why does it always happen to me?

Why can't it happen to Angelina Jolie? (and no, just because I mentioned her does not mean for a second that I admire her, or aspire to be like her, or even have taken much interest in her. But I have heard her name. . .)

Alnd I'm aware that she is somebody famous who would never do what I just did)

Am I clear?


Good, let's move on.

I take some of the younger siblings swimming once a week.

Well, yesterday was no different.

Er, well, except the part that I was wearing high heels.

Again.

Yes, I know, I know. But my ballet pumps are completely worn out, and my other three hundred pairs of shoes are unsuitable.

Anyway, this interesting (note sarcasm, note sarcasm) problem wasn't any problem at all. Until. The Zebra Crossing. (Americans - check Google for translation).


Now, to go out with a few younger children, quite apart from a remarkably good nature, a brave feeling and good storytelling abilites (for the bus of course), you need to hold tightly onto the two youngest, to ensure that they are not inclined to go running in any direction of a white van, or after a dog.

And to hold JTJ's hand proves to be quite difficult at times, so I hold onto him tightly. Ensuring that he stays close to me.


This works perfectly, you understand, until he steps on my shoe. My foot moves. My shoe stays still.


I'm shoeless. In the middle of the road. With my siblings surrounding me.


And on both sides of the crossing, drivers are impatient to get home to their shepherd's pie, or cheese on toast or whatever. . .

So, I turned around, practically hopping, and went after my shoe. Just as I was about to slide it back onto my foot, J trips, and sends it flying over the zebra part and onto the road. So, as some of us cross to the other side, I hold tight on to J and make my way toward this shoe.

(Please bear in mind both drivers were drumming on their steering wheels with impatience, and shopkeepers were sticking their heads out of shops to see what was causing the commotion on the road. Shoppers were stopping, looking and staring. The ladies in the nail salon painted all the way on to their customers' arms while keeping an eye on me dancing across the road)

And I remained steady, stable and in good character.

Retrieving my prodigal shoe, I strode to the end of the crossing, mouthing "sorry" with an apolgetic grin to each of the drivers.
Then, as soon as I was on my way down our road, I started to laugh.
Well, what else could you do?? It was that or cry.
I've been working on this reputation for years; you know, the cool, calm collected, (funny, witty, clever :0) - somewhat based off Elizabeth Bennet demeanour.
Demeaning is exactly what it was.
Let's move on.......
*Wail* it was so embarrasing!!

Out ---

Hello again.

My recent trips all over the place have yielded many interesting results. I can now add the picture of an old man blow drying his feet to my reportoire.
(Whatever that is)

The old man in question was immediately suspicious upon seeing me; suspicious that I might knock him down.

You understand, he was in somewhat of a precarious situation, having to balance against the wall to blow dry his feet.

I emphasize feet rather than foot.

After considering him for a few moments, I came to the conclusion that I might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb -or whatever that saying is - and knocked him down with a frying pan anyway.

No, no, I didn't really - there is no need to email my parents this time.

I'm sure you've guessed that I didn't see this old man drying his feet in a telephone box, on the bus, or even in the library - it was the swimming pool.

I felt the need to clarify that.

I really need to get a camera, there are moments that are just asking to be captured on film for posterity.

Not that I'd show them to you. That just makes me run the risk of being sued. I don't think they'd really have a chance of much money, suing me, by the way, but it is far better to be safe than sorry.

And now I have to run. Not really run, but get a move on.

I've got an orthodontist appointment to go to later, and a lot to get in before then.Yes, I know, the reason I jumped up into the air and yelled when I got my braces off was I because thought I'd never have to see an orthodontist again.

Now, nearly two years later, I'm going back to one.

I'll stop talking.

xx

It's late - I know

I'm sorry.

I've been busy.

Very busy indeed.
Righto, apologies over (I never did like those things much) - let's get down to business.First of all

- Happy New Year to all of you who haven't already received this sentiment from me, and many happy returns.

I hope 2009 is a good year for you, etc, etc, (you know the drill)

I haven't been up to much, just getting back to self defence, getting back to gymnastics, swimming, working, all the things you do at the beginning of the year.

I haven't had any time to do anything on the computer anymore - because I've been trying to beat my siblings' stats in a computer game.

I know, I know, how sad is all that??

But you know, it has paid off. Somewhere I'm sure I'm cleverer for it.
But no, that isn't all I've been doing since I wrote here last. I've been working steadily at the piano, and now have everyone in the family gazing at me in awe and saying:

"Dad! Constance is a genius"

And one person, who had been told that Einaudi (a composer/pianist) was a genius said grumpily when I finished one of his pieces:

"It must be writing the music that's hard"

Well, actually, yes it is.

Let's move on.

I've also been working hard at my self-defence and listening to everything the teacher says, and practising almost every second of the day.

I know, doesn't sound like me does it?

Of course, the small part where I made it up, might have something to do with that.

I've run away from that old guy four or five times since you heard from me, been followed round a shop on suspicion of shop-lifting, been to the dentist, watched fascinated as an old man blew dry his FEET, broken my back trying to lift a girl that was too heavy at gymnastics (almost), had a cold, worked hard and learnt about eutrophic lakes, (Something that once I've passed the exam I'll never think about again. Something I will never need to know unless I want to be a pond engineer. Which I don't) - we had the heating installed, picked up leaves and all the rest.

Of course, that is just looking at the 'good' things I've done.

I've also put my feet up, drunk loads of tea, read a hundred books, played hide and seek, told endless stories about when I was little, 'not' tidied my bedroom, failed to get out of bed on time some mornings, and eaten far too much chocolate.

It balances doesn't it?

And now, I have 53 equations to balance in my chemistry book.

If you'll excuse me...

TTFN

Constxx