Hey Guys

I have a new blog over at www.eighteenexcuses.blogspot.com if you hadn't already noticed.
xox

Of Swimming and Tortuous Tube Journeys

I've got the kids to take swimming this evening, and I'm really wishing (since the sky has done me the personal favour of turning dark already) that I could just go, get it over and done with!

Last week I enjoyed the thrill of walking that mile in the cold, frosty, pitch black night with three impressionable youngsters, telling them cool stories about the ghostly gardener, who occupies that churchyard today I'm looking at that omnious sky and thinking about warm cosy places I'd rather be!

....In other news, was going through an old Lesson Diary from 2002, and found it filled with all sorts of uninteresting dribbles. I'm not sure I was a very interesting person at that age. I found full listing of everything I'd recieved as birthday presents (who ever knew it was so easy to please a 10 year old? Mobile Phone? Set up for life!), a complete account of the recent congregational meeting from church and musings on farms I'd been to.

A few days on from my birthday was the entry telling me I'd put a security code on my phone and forgotten it (How little it takes to cast your entire world into despair at that age!)
I really wish I'd kept a personal diary through those years!

Anyway the point of pointing this out was something different. On a page dated for January there was a little riddle. How cute! (Okay, maybe that's strange to say that about oneself...)
It took me nearly 10 minutes to work out a riddle which I'd written myself! I mean, when all is said and done, who in the world knows my mind and its workings better than...well, ME? This story is a little sad.

I interupt this fascinating writing to tell you that Max has just arrived by my elbow (he says Hi) - telling me that I'm looking uncommonly lovely tonight.Awww.I'm not falling for that again.As I take a quick look at him, maybe he is thinking something is lovely, and while he may be addressing me, his mind is on my chewing gum... I can see that little glance!

Little brothers aside, I was on the tube again yesterday. Not the most interesting of rides, but not the most boring either.As I shoved into the carriage (last one in - people these days! I was the youngest by 20 years if a day) I felt a prodding in my back.

Naturally in situations such as these, although one is precariously balancing on the very edge of the doorway, one must turn round.

A much shorter woman, in her late twenties was standing there, trying to create space with her umbrella. I just had to admire her brain, and use of appropriate weaponary! Just as the doors were closing she managed to squeeze in, just beside me. She put her umbrella down between her bag and the door, grinned widely and told me:
"Just providing your entertainment, to keep you going until the weekend!"

Australian...hmmmmm, how did I guess she wouldn't be English? I smiled widely back, entertainment she did provide!

She left at the next stop, leaving me a little bit of space (not much, but a little)just enough for the guy on the other side to shift slightly and stand on my foot.He looked so English that I was unprepared for

"Eeeee, o! I am soo sorrrrrieee"

One obviously reassures that they have sustained no lasting damage, but without thinking I just said in my very best French accent
"Eh? No no, s'okay" I then blanched with horror, but he grinned widely again (the theme of this tube journey) and nodded, rather obviously acknowleging a fellow countryman. I now know I should do this more often.

Then a random guy gave up his seat for a pregnant woman, something I've never seen in all my train journeys of all time (It's always women who give up their seats) - it was an amazing moment!

Lastly I want to say that I woke up today minus my ability to climb stairs. I'm used to this feeling when I've done something dreadful in martial arts - or maybe lots of swimming, but I did nothing yesterday!

Do you think I went sleepwalking up a hill or something? This is worrying.

Of Messy Bedrooms and Piano Concerts`

I'm faced with two choices, go to bed or continue cleaning my room.
Naturally I chose what wasn't a choice and went on facebook (do you blame me?)So here I am Friday night, lying on my bedroom floor since my bed is full with all my clothes that were on the floor typing into my iPod.... I have such a busy social life.

But no, complaining (I was told today) is for the lower classes.

I still don't get that, there's hardly such a thing as "class" anymore...

Wednesday evening I went with dad to a piano concert!! Amazing! I know what CD I'm gonna buy for my "sleep" playlist.

We were so close to the front I could have given Ludivico advice on where he needed botox. Not to be rude or anything.

I'd also devised a plan. If we stayed to get Dads CD signed, and I got to meet him, i would smile and ask if he remembered me. Of course, he would say yes.That's when I'd shudder and exclaim how weird that was, since I'd never met him.Dad disapproved wholeheartedly of the idea and we left without waiting for a CD signing (my real plan all along of course)

I passed the time noting the few interesting details. Ludivico (the pianist) had managed, since I saw him last year, to lose at least 50% more hair. There was a guy with a cello!

Yes yes, the guy with the cello (you can just tell I was sitting in my second to front row seat looking for information for sa blogpost...)

The guy with the cello was very Italian, late forties, astonishing Afro hair style, and made such amazing facial expressions during every piece... He was incredible to watch. Later on to my delight, he laid his cello down and pulled out a xylaphone (sp?) Lol, every time he hit the board his eyebrows would shoot up in surprise and I would giggle.

Hmmm, I was rather bored for a few moments, but then along came this shocking board which sounded when he it it!

At one point it did look very poetical, the stage wreathed in blue light, the five men in black (Ludivico, a violinist, a violinist/tamboriner [what? I don't know what it's called], a violinist/guitarist and the sound effects dude) were gently swaying to the music before rapidly switching to tortured expressions, agonising lines of mouth and over analysed emotions as the music reached fever pitch.

The cello squeaked, the guitar rapidly strummed, violins avidly played, the piano added deep chords, and the man in front of me contributed with his snores.

That totally RUINED the whole effect. (but on the whole I really couldn't fault his taste)

The other minor details became mildly amusing, the tamboriner guy was wearing a top that was just too short, and when he bowed, swung his arms around so much I became convinced he was doing a secret warm-up.

Sound effects fellow waved like a three-year-old.

Violinist with no other talents pushed his glasses back up twelve times.

Cello fellow had to fix his jacket (corduroy... No taste these days) and to do so had to sort of reach round the back of the enormous cello, just as his piece was about to begin, he pushed and pulled... I anxiously awaited a smash that never came.

Einaudi himself mouthed the "bang bang bang" when the piano banged. I was impressed with that, I bet he had to have extreme confidence to do that in front of 2 thousand people!

We were sitting on fold up seats that used to be in the buses, so when I (reluctantly? of course not, they provided quite an unusual sort of entertainment!) stood at the very end, my glasses, on the seat, in my bag, nearly died.

Worried about them I almost (but not quite) missed the head on collision between cello bow and tamborine player's head.)

The apology was obviously not in English, so I decided it wasn't worth it to loudly mutter "not corduroy!! Please!" as the cello man walked off stage.

I think I learnt a lot about music and how to listen to it that evening.

In other news: I worked today and listened happily to all those compliments, I have severely sprained one foot (never you mind what I was doing) and now everyone thinks I have a limp..., I told three spooky stories on the way swimming (grin, I now have no need to hold onto Max and Julius's hands, they hold onto mine....) and I've been looking at an untidy bedroom for the last hour or so!
Now I shall go where duty calls and tidy to the soundtrack of Annabelle snoring.
Nightx

Birthdays, Aunts, Siblings - Life`

I'm now counting down those desperate hours. It reminds me of the time when I was a child and I anxiously awaited the arrival of dawn, and the sports' day.

Funny how with a night like that I hardly ever won anything.

To clarify, I should point out that it's my 17th Birthday tomorrow! I suddenly feel so old. Not that there is any difference really, from today to tomorrow, I may change my exact age, but I
am not getting any older than I did as Wednesday turned to Thursday.

But man, do I actually feel older. 16 sounds cute. 17 sounds likes 70. That is not a good thought.
Botox, here I come!!

It could be worse. I know someone who mentioned in passing that they like to mournfully look at the glasses when they clear the table (it's a family of four...) and take one away before saying to themselves (no doubt in haunting tones) "That's all I've got left"

Being nearly twenty five, the person is question seems to be rather hopeful as to their age at death.

I went to see my Aunt Marie again today. I have a cold! Yep, a cold. No big deal. Or is it?? Aunt Marie (Great Aunt Marie) believes that if you have a cold you have eaten too much.

You can now laugh.

Every time I coughed, I got a remark on my weight and the sighed hope that I would skip my next meal to make up for my recent overeating. In vain I attempted (27 times) to explain that colds are caused by the passing on of germs from one tragic person to another unlucky one.

She lives at the top of a block of flats (no 109) and since the time when a woman took a little while to climb all those stairs, and Aunt Marie told me in a whisper that the woman must be fat (she was) I have felt such a stupid urge to run up those stairs as fast as possible.

Anyways, today guess what? I finally reached a sensible conclusion. It was always painful and rather silly clattering up those stairs in my heels (or whatever I was wearing at the time) so I removed my outer footwear and ran up the stairs so easily I felt like I'd won the marathon.

I hope none of her neighbours come out of their flats while I'm running, my shoes swinging off my hand.

A sibling told me the other day (this poor exploited child shall remain unnamed) that they were in the top eight men of all times. Sun Tzu was there, Moses, Samson, Solomon was stuck in that
list somewhere.

When he meets the real world he's going to need some help. He's just....far too humble for his own good!! He needs to learn some self-confidence. That is what it's all about these days, and he would do well to have a better view of himeslf.

Not to worry, I helped him already. Although I had to knock him a little when I assured him he was wrong - there are only two truly great people in the world. Margaret Thatcher and myself.

(Before you email my mother, I'm not that self-centred, but it was worth the look of shock on his face)

Anyway - what a year! Highlight = HRC Youth Camp!!!
Lowlight = There's too many to count. Maybe the time I lost my shoe in the middle of a Zebra Crossing. In front of the whole town.

To quote a genius "What do we live for but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in turn!"

Me, I prefer the quote "Silence!!!! I kill you!"

Better suited to stem the forthcoming giggles from all the shopkeepers, shoppers and random passerbys.
Byexx

Kleptomaniac Tendencies

(I think that title has the correct spelling... one can never be sure)

I went shopping to Bexleyheath with Lucy the other day. It was an... interesting experience.I think the funniest part of the trip was when I went to the door in Primark to collect a basket.

However, my marching toward the door, arms filled, somehow alerted the security guard to my presence and she eyed me very severely as I got closer to the exit. Just as I was about to get the basket (no, honest, really) I heard Lucy's voice behind me
"Constance?! What do you think you're doing?"

Things are coming to a pretty pass if my own sister, who knows that I haven't shoplifted yet, (and should know that I never will), begins to doubt me!!

Well, I turned back with the basket and walked back inside the store, feeling the stare of the security guard burning holes in the back if my head

"I thought you were going to leave, just make a run for it" Lucy told me, somewhat distressed "I could see the security woman getting ready to run after you"

I could see the woman eavesdropping the conversation so felt the need to ask

"Have I ever shoplifted yet?"in my poshest, coldest voice. Then, seeing Lucy looking so apologetic and the woman listening with interest I suddenly had to confess

"All right" I said sufficiently loud "I did for one second - one millisecond really -have the terrible thought 'let's see how fast this one can run'

As I turned back I could see the woman making a valiant attempt not to smile. She lost the battle and began to grin like a Cheshire cat.

I don't know about you, but I like to think I achieved the impossible, got a security guard to smile!!!!!!!!

(apart from this one I knew in 2002 who would smile everytime he saw me and tell me England would lose the world cup... That sort of thing can really knock the confidence of a child!)

Thinking back, however, maybe I shouldn't have said that about running, I might have ended up in trouble lol, but it 'was' irresistable.

A bit like when an Immigration official hands you your passport application and asks you to swear every word of it is true, and you suddenly get the urge to stop for a moment, spend a good two long minutes thinking to yourself and then say absent mindedly

"At least, I think I was born in 1992. Might have been 1982..."

I almost did that once, except instead of the whole date thingy I just nodded happily, then let my face freeze "Oh, I mean unless there is something you're not telling me, Dad?"

Dad said absolutely nothing immediately, but the second we were done and out of there, I got such a telling off!

Oh well, I was younger then, and although it probably wasn't the very wisest thing to do, I think I learnt my lesson.

Since then I've been told hundreds of times that immigration officers have no sense of humour. Dad specialises in immigration...

Not Responding...

Notepad just crashed on me. That's right, the simplest of all my wonderful programs on this laptop has just given me the "Not Responding" sign.

I think it may be time to get a new laptop. I may tag this line to my mother, just to give her a subtle hint. After all, hints can't exactly hurt, can they??

I like the Not Responding sign, by the way. It's amazing - just gives us all a little reminder that computers are only human, and have their own little miffs. Actually it does nothing of the sort, you have to have a rather extreme imagination to imagine that.

But, what if we could have a Not Responding sign? It would be the best! Dad could turn to me and say "Constance, the cat needs feeding" and all I have to do is roll my eyes back and flash up *Not Responding* (I beg you, do not call RSPCA, this was just a scenario)

John Terry, when we crash out of the World Cup (which we will), can look blankly at the nosy reporter demanding an explanation and subtly hint "Not Responding"

What a lovely change it would make in parliament if, when faced once again with the question "What are you going to do about the banks?" Gordon Brown just suddenly goes all stiff and flashes "Not Responding"

That's when we'd know he'd been hacked. He's been waiting for this position for years, he's hardly going to waste it without getting in every word he possibly could.

Talking of crashing out of the World Cup (again), let's hope our footballers actually return from South Africa. I wouldn't like to be security personnel on that trip....

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

Charity Shop

There is something I love about working in a charity shop.

Strange people.

Now, let me start the post properly.

I'm sorry I haven't posted on any days I'm supposed to post, I think I'll start getting back to it soon. You see, the whole routine of life has been turned upside down because of the holidays.

Saturday was one of life's busy days. Dad was out somewhere doing some plumbing for someone, Mum was trying to get the house really tidy with the help of the few kids who weren't with Dad, and I was quite happy to escape to the charity shop.

At least, I was until I got there.

Don't get me wrong here, I absolutely love all of the ladies who work there. I wish I could say the same about the customers.

Some of the customers are alright, the deaf lady who comes in is lovely - and I really like doing the translating for her. She's one of life's nice people. And there are a few 'regulars' who always have a smile for us, and a chat about woolworths closing down or the latest dog dying etc.

Then we move on.

"I've got a baby cot here, it's brand new. Here you are"

"I'm really, really sorry. Due to law and the fact that it may break when somebody buys it, and we could get sued, we're not allowed to take it" (I thought that was kind.)

"I would have thought even a "charity shop" would be less fussy" SLLLLLAAAAAAAMMMMMM goes the door in my face.

"Here is a bag, all full of my daughters clothes. There is some nice stuff in there"

"Thank you!" I say and smile. It's the falsest smile you've ever seen.

Ten minutes later:

"Constance!!! Who gave you that bag?? The woman put clothes on the top, and old sausage rolls, rubbish, old paper, pencils, milk cartons underneath"

"I knew she was a bad 'un" I say

"Constance! Come out here and get this off the top shelf for this young man"

(The young man is every day of fifty, but I guess that's young to them)

I come out of the back room, one pen in my hand, one behind my ear, and another clipped to my t-shirt (You NEED pens in a charity shop)

"Which man, Edna?"

There is only one man there. I come up to his elbow.

"Which one?" I smile cheerfully. He points silently to a flowery lampshade.

I get onto my tiptoes, pull it down and hand it to him.

He looks at it; looks at the price tag 1.75

"Too much" he shakes his head, and I put it back up.

Very, very, very, strange.

I whistle quietly as I waltz into the 'library' - the little room where there are books, videos, dvds and folders.

A very small man in a tight leather jacket (I HATE those things) jumps when he sees my arms full of videos, and my t-shirt with a couple of pens clipped on, and rushes past me. The videos go flying.

I watch him go, eyes narrowed, kneel down, pick the videos up, put them and way and turn round to pick up the dvd cases.

One after the other, after the other; empty. All empty.

There is something rather depressing about people who steal from a charity shop. I take the empty cases and put them in the bin, complete with the price tags I only put on 30 minutes ago.

I'm scowling now as I walk through to the clothing part of the shop, and come across an old lady, every day of seventy trying a pink sequiny jacket (age 13-14) on.

"What do you think??"

I flash her a grin and nod (You see, this is how to do it. I didn't lie did I?) and move on very, very quickly.

So quickly I collide straight into a huge big guy in ANOTHER leather jacket. He looked so scary I quickly felt my pockets to see if everything was still there. I've heard stories about people who bump into you, you see!

"Scuse me miss" I turn round to see a boy, probably about 11 years old.

I'm instantly flattered at being called Miss, and smile at him very nicely :) "Do you have any Play Station2 games in?"

I spend the next ten minutes going through our collection of Play Station 2 games with him

"Got that one"
"Got that one"

"Got that one"

I think you 'got the picture'!?

"We don't have any more" I say at the end of it all.

"That's okay" he says, and puts his hand into his pocket, brings out a half eaten lolipop and proceeds to eat it.

He's barely out of sight when a little girl comes running at top speed toward me, just about to crash into me. I decide to catch her.

"Watch it darling" I tell her "You're gonna get hurt one of these days"

She takes no notice, being of that age, you see, and grabs at a pin on my lapel.

"Sweetie?" she says

Actually, no, that is a 'Support Our Troops' badge.

Let's not start on that one, I'm too tired to argue about how much I don't support the war, but I do support the troops that are out there for as long as they are out there.

The mum of the little girl finally turns up, pushing a huge big double buggy.

"Schelonade come here" Well, that's how it sounded!

Maybe the child was named after the woman in Arabian Nights, however her name is spelt or pronounced

Mary comes walking into the back room, and says "I don't know about those people out there! That man and woman, letting their little girl run round awfully, while they're stealing. Constance dear, do you have the air-freshner?"

Mary is one of life's really nice people.

Whereas, the father of that little girl, turned out to one of life's horrible people.He managed to get away with some really expensive dolls under his coat.

You know what? I think this post is long enough, and my computer is messing up completely (You can probably see it, with the horrible spacing between my lines, it's driving me crazy!) so I think I'll disappear and sort it out!

Have a good week, whatever you're doing

Constxxx

P.S. Talking of Mary, she's quite ill at the moment, and is undergoing tests at Kings College hospital. Prayers would be appreciated.