Just to pass the time...

Started this as when I used to get back from work, I was usually so hyped I couldn't sleep for a couple of hours. Now just sort of carried it on for the fun, I try to make it funny, if it isn't please don't hurt me... Anyway, try to enjoy :)

Friday, 11 May 2018

A Big Fat Vent

So maybe I've gone completely mad.

I'm sat here with everything I've ever wanted with my life but I literally cannot - and I mean CANNOT - sleep, like whatsoever.

It also seems that my first blog post in, hmmmm, forever, is going to be pretty much a huge vent.

I'm pretty sure venting was the reason I created this thing in the first place. I never really intended for anyone to read it. And if I'm honest, I'm sort of hoping no one does. This is all for me.

So, this time last year I was kind of skinny. Well...really really skinny. And I've put on weight this year. I'm guessing that there's less stress now than before, and I've got over the starvation as a means of self-harm (I didn't even realise I did that until I stopped?) So naturally my thighs have got a bit bigger, so have my boobs. But I keep looking back on photos of myself and missing the way I looked back then.

It's dumb, I know. I played jump rope with the 18.9 and the 19.1 on the BMI scale. But damn, I looked good in shorts.

Don't get me wrong, the relationship I currently have with food is great. I love it. I love cooking it, and I eat all of it. I never used to do that.

And thank God I have boobs. Looking at those photos, I just didn't have any at all. And my collarbone looks less sharp. That's pretty nice as well.

Another thing that's been bugging me is my guitar.

It's been sat in the cupboard since we moved here. And I don't think it will ever come out.

I had an accident just after we moved, and I severed 3 tendons in my fingers on my left hand. GREAT, because I'm right handed. Not so great, because that was my fretting hand.

I had an emergency operation to fix it, put under general anaesthetic. Missed my first module at university. Alex had to stop going to college to look after me as I kept getting frustrated. My whole arm was out of use for months.

And then, when I was told it was all great, turns out I have something called tendon adhesion and I can't move my middle finger properly. And it constantly hurts. They'll have to operate again, but I want some time first.

So if this doesn't get better, I might never use that guitar again. All because I cut my finger. Which just sounds like a joke. Which is what I thought it was when they told me I needed an operation. A big fat joke.

So I'm lying here, next to my sleeping husband who has no idea that I haven't been sleeping. I don't think he'd wake up if I threw some sort of party in here. He probably wouldn't even if the building collapsed.

I get my new laptop from the university people on Tuesday, so I don't have to type anymore. Because of my fucked hand, as well as dislocating wrists. Not sure how I'd feel saying this stuff out loud. I'll probably still type it.

But it's exciting, I'm getting my first ever brand new boxed laptop. And it's a modern one and a really good one. And lightweight. Can you tell I'm excited??

I'm going to try and sleep now, more because my headphones are running out than anything.

Tuesday, 13 June 2017

Girl with Five Colours in Her Hair

On my sixth form leavers day, this was the title of the award that I won.

Interesting, isn't it? That someone can win am award for having colourful hair. But you may be thinking, what is it that makes her hair so colourful...?

Good question! Now let me explain....

I really enjoy dying my hair interesting colours. This all started around 18 months ago when I dyed the middle layer of my hair turquoise. It was amazingly pretty and I stuck with this for a good few months.

Between you and me, the main reason I did it was to piss my mother off...but I loved it all the same.

In the summer, I bleached it all and dyed it all blue. It didn't quite work out, so I tried the whole silver hair thing and that worked pretty well. I kept it for a couple of months.

And then I went ginger. And it actually suited.

So again, I kept the ginger hair for like 6 months and a few months ago I dyed it brown with blonde ombre and then started dying the ends crazy colours.

First was pink, then red, then purple and blue, then turquoise, then violet and then blue.

So you can see where the award was generated from.

I've got quite good at dying hair now, I feel quite proud of it. I've just dyed it all over red and it's quite shocking but I think I like it.

I even managed to convince Alex to let me dye his hair a couple of times. But he sort of ended up looking like Sonic the Hedgehog and I wasn't popular for a good few days.

It's probably not healthy to dye hair so many times, but most the time I avoid chemical dyes so never really does any harm (:

The new L'Oreal colorista range is pretty good, in case anyone out there wants to experiment for a bit. And for something a lot more permanent, Directions is literally a blessing.

I've got university in a few months and I'm determined to kind of reinvent myself a bit before September. Alex is fully supportive of this, he's helping me pay for a motorcycle and a license (as I literally suck so bad at driving a car). This will mean I don't have to be a bus wanker anymore!

I've tried my driving test twice now and messed it up both times by being far too nervous. There's no way of fixing nerves. I'd just have to try again and again and again until it was sorted and frankly, it's gonna be expensive. With a bike, at least they have to pass me at some point. So that's a bonus.

He's also helping me pay for a tattoo to cover my scars. To be honest, it kinda terrifies me but I figure a pretty tattoo is a lot more explainable than a whole bunch of ugly marks all up my arm. Loads of people have them. Just because I know my parents wouldn't approve, why should I be afraid to get one too?

So yeah, two years later and I'm back to trying to reinvent myself xD will I ever change? The only thing I'm ever really certain about is that I love writing, and so that's what I'm doing at university.

Finally, I can start on something I can enjoy and find myself, and my freedom.

Monday, 12 June 2017

The Leap of Faith

So in recent months it has come to my attention that I have made the leap from being a child to being a fully-fledged adult.

When I say leap, I more mean a kind of dramatic fall, landing in an awkward position and breaking at least 6 bones on the way down.

But hey. I'm 18 now, I can legally go out drinking.

My first ever attempt at heavy drinking did not at all go well. Age 17 (just!), school trip in Rome, legal drinking age 16, cheap vodka...oh no.

As I was in the room of a group of my friends rather than my own room, I was hidden in the closet while teachers instructed lights out. Upon returning to my own room, with a head that was spinning as though I was in a washing machine, I needed to throw up. I didn't want to trip over on the way to the bathroom and wake everyone up....so I vomited out of the window.

I know, I know. Classy, right?

But that's not a patch on Alex's 21st birthday.

I'm not really a big drinker, I tend to prefer staying sober and even if I do drink a lot, I still tend to stay sober.

Alex on the other hand....while he denys it like crazy, is sort of a lightweight. We were at the pub, he was drinking beer and was already pretty out of it when his alleged "mates" started calling shots.
Being the sensible one, I tried to point out this was not the best idea.

Naturally, I was completely ignored.

Fifteen minutes before the bus home, I went to pick up Alex's birthday cards from his parents. That's when it all went tits up.

Apparently, Alex's "mate" James started mouthing off about how controlling I am (for recommending he not do shots...hmmm), which led to Alex getting pretty wound up and throwing his kebab at a phone box before chasing him down the road. Being early November, the pavements were slippery with wet leaves. Alex went down like a sack of potatoes, bounced his head on the concrete and was out cold for a good 30 seconds.

Meanwhile, 200 metres down the road I realised that Alex wasn't on the bus, didn't get on it myself and started panicking. A few minutes later, James sprints down the road at an alarming pace and refuses to slow down or stop to tell me where Alex was.

A few minutes later, two girls who had been down the pub came running down the road and informed me Alex had been in an accident, whacked his head and gone AWOL. This marked the start of a wild goose chase, with Alex running away and being aggressive, his mate Tristan punching him in the head to get him to stop, Alex losing half an hours worth of memories and believing that his injuries were a result of being punched.

Eventually, a paramedic came as we were worried Alex had done some serious damage with the way he was rambling on and obviously had lost a few brain cells on the way down. But in the end, he was okay, just had to have a CAT scan.

I can't say the parties I've been to have ended fantastically. One ended up with someone being bottled, another someone mixed two things that ought not be mixed and started having fits, during another someone punched a hole in a fence.

Exciting, right? But with uni coming up in just a few months I expect this will become the norm.

Sunday, 3 May 2015


So I did have another blog but the website kept saying "504 Gateway Error"
I suppose that means the gateway to Hell.

Let's start this over. Hello. I'm weird. Please just deal with it. It saves time that way.

Yeah, yeah, obviously my name's not weird. Well it is, but my name isn't Weird. That'd be social suicide, if you were to call your child Weird. Almost like Number 42 Bus Shelter.

No. My name's not Weird. Or Number 42 Bus Shelter. It's Bobby. Well, that's a nickname anyway. Why do you even need to know my name? Are you going to stalk me? Please don't.

What always makes me laugh is the fact that everyone seems to hate their own name. I suppose after hearing it so many times it does become a bit old. Especially if it's your parents yelling it up the stairs every half an hour. And the spelling and pronunciations are fantastic. I mean, it isn't if it's your name being spelled and pronounced wrong, but it's pretty entertaining for everyone else.

Anyway, back to topic. What even is the topic? Was there one to start with? I can't remember, so I guess stuff about me.

I have serious issues with remaining upright with both feet on the ground. I like to blame this on my gawky size 8 feet. Sadly, being a girl, size 8 feet doesn't impact the size of anything else thus increasing my masculinity (unfortunately), it just increases my chances of falling down the stairs. By a lot. Thankfully, after a very long time of having feet which dwarf the rest of me, I've become prettyyyy good at covering my tracks. By breaking into some sort of tap dance, pretending to be a swan, or lying on the floor and pretending to be dead.

I also have this weird thing, when I drink through a straw, one of my eyelids flutter and I literally have no control over it. It makes my mum piss herself laughing.

I have weird hobbies. These include lifesaving, sea swimming, reading, writing poetry (because I'm a lonely Starbucks lover) and of course, guitar and writing music. Rock music. Which ruins my persona of an apparently "innocent", "adorable" girl who can either look 8 or 18 depending on how bothered I could be that morning to look presentable. There is no in between. The benefits of full fringes.

Also, I have hamster cheeks when I smile. These basically ruin my chances of being beautiful as I just look like a chubby little rodent that shoved all its sunflower seeds in its cheeks at once. My friends love making me smile just so they can pinch my cheeks and make "coochy coochy coooo" noises. Like I said, 8 or 18. No in between.

Also, I'm meant to be "smart". To me, there are two types of smart. One is the ability to cram loads of pointless information into one's head, vomit it all over a page (or two hundred) in an exam, and then move off to do A-levels and Uni and never have to even think about the quadratic formula or the effects of radiation on cells in the body ever again. Unless you take those subjects, in which case more fool you.

Secondly, there's initiative and common sense, which allow a person to work out things based on the way the world works. I am mostly this. Except when it comes down to the little things, I have absolutely no common sense. These include opening a door that says "pull", gullible jokes, and several incidents that have since been passed off as "blonde moments". For example, sitting at your computer after reading the statement ""Gullible" pronounced slowly sounds like "Oranges"" for half an hour going "Guuuuullllllllllliiiiiiiiiibbbbbbbbbbbbllllllleeeeeee.....NO IT DOESN'T! WHAT THE HELL???" Is not usually considered the antic of a wiser being. I tend to manage to make myself jump by leaning on the hand dryers in bathrooms. If you've done this before, you'll know just how scary it is. It's honestly worse than watching The Exorcism.

I'm the sort of girl that is loud and bubbly when I know you or when I'm feeling like socializing, but when I'm quite comfortable being alone and someone attempts to talk to me, I will literally mumble and hide behind the nearest object that I can conceal myself behind. I make the habit of proving to passers by that I am not a teenage thug by smiling and revealing the blobs on either side of my face that mark me as a loveable little ball of fluff to the world. Sometimes, passers-by glare. Sometimes they look worried. Other times, they'll look terrified, hold their children tighter and cross over to the other side of the street. Thankfully, most smile back. Occasionally, people say "good morning" and attempt to start a conversation. This is my cue to become fascinated by the components of tarmac and hurry along.

I get approached a lot by elderly people. The plausible reason for this as suggested by my peers is "Your resting-bitch face looks like you're absolutely terrified". Perfect. More hamsters. Next I'll be performing high-pitched squeaking noises to show discomfort. But evidence stacks up. People walk up to me and ask me if I'm okay. I permanently look worried. Honestly, I get more and more attractive by the minute, I swear.

When I get loud and happy, I can become obnoxious and somewhat annoying. This makes me rather unpopular among many people, however most people learn that it is my way, and that I will calm down sooner or later. Just today, I was quite happy, and spent the majority of break head-banging, swishing my hair from side to side because it felt nice, and playing hand keepy-ups with the earphone that was not at that time in my ear. If you find that sort of thing endearing, you need help.

I think that's enough for you to generate a fairly accurate opinion of the weird British girl that writes this blog. But hey, let me tell you one thing: I;m rarely ever boring.

Saturday, 2 May 2015


As a waitress, I meet a lot of interesting people.

I've met several famous people including some actor from "The Bill" which probably would have been way more awesome if I actually knew what "The Bill" was...

I've bumped into teachers, including my English teacher who was on maternity leave, and I'm not sure if she'd had anything to drink, but she didn't leave without announcing very loudly that she'd cry if I didn't get an A* on my English GCSE. She'd had me since year 8 and she's always been my favorite teacher who gave me tips to improve my writing and she's been really supportive, so I can understand her point. I'd probably cry, too, in her situation.

But you also get the weirdest people in the world.

A few weeks ago, an older man asked me for organic sugar and I told him we had Truvia. That's the one with the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang advert, with the "Truly Scrumptious" tune. Just in case you didn't know and needed to know what it was. He then starts telling me about how sweeteners have a chemical in that gives people cancer and goes on and on and on about how dangerous so many foods are, containing elements that are harmful. I stand there quietly nodding, making sounds of agreement. Like you do in those awkward situations where you have nothing to input in a conversation. As he's leaving he asks my boss for an address to the cafe so he can send me some documents that he had that were more informational on the topic. After they'd gone, my boss teased me to no end about me ability to pick up old men.

Scccccooooreeeee to the fringe-midget.

The most awkward was definitely my trial shift at the restaurant I work at currently. I've worked at two previously, and just am employed on an emergency lack of staff back-up at both establishments. I also work at a cafe one day a week which is great fun.

No, this trial shift was pretty awkward. The worst thing you want to happen is for someone you know to walk in. But they did. A guy who gets my bus. He's two years younger than myself but acts older so sometimes, if he sits near myself and my bus-buddy, we talk. He walked in and I was there like "oh fuck". He was there like "oh heeeeeeeeeey!" The awkward tension made it pretty obvious we knew each other and I ended up getting interrogated by his granddad. Awkwardddddd.

The best one though happened to be last week. My third shift at this place (I just got home from my fifth). I'm surveying the restaurant to make sure everything's ay-okay, and my cousins walk in. My. Fucking. Cousins. A guy and a girl, in their twenties. As you know, my resting bitch face already looks terrified, add the entrance of my deranged family members to my establishment of work where I act all professional, I was shitting myself. So my male cousin walks straight up to me and I'm silently praying "Don't say anything don't say anything don't say anything". He looks confused, laughs slightly and goes "watchoo looking so worried for, love?" And I'm there like YES HE'S PRETENDING HE DOESN'T KNOW ME! I was so relieved!

Then my girl cousin pipes up, "Oh, hey Robyn!" (I realised my name is published on here anyway so deal with my full name). And I was like oh dear. Then the guy cousin goes "wait, you know this girl??" My girl cousin was like "Yes, she's our cousin!" It took half an hour to explain the birds and the bees to him, as well as convincing him yes, I had been at all the family events, but eventually he got there, and in his drunken state proclaimed us long-lost cousins, and welcomed me to the family I had been a part of pretty much as long as I could remember. I got lots of apologies, hugs, and selfies which ended up on Facebook. I sold my soul to the Devil and willed him to take me to Hell right there and then, I was so embarrassed.

Tonight, I ended up speaking a lot of French, having been to boarding school over there. It wasn't all that interesting, just a lot of people were surprised seeing as I sound so POSH apparently.

Like, seriously. My friends like to make me say the word "roller" because apparently I sound like the Queen when I say it. I have no idea whether to be flattered or offended.....

And customers can be so annoying! One place I worked, it was just one simple warehouse-like room with tables scattered around. It was the 4 year anniversary and it was busy as it was a special night. There was a band and people were joined arms dancing. I was there carrying huge ceramic insanely heavy plates and people were just waltzing around and nearly knocking me off of my feet.

I may be small but I'm not that small. People can just be so oblivious.

In all honesty, I love my jobs. My favourite parts are meeting the dogs that get brought in and giving them a gravy bone which we keep on top of the microwave (and I can't get down by myself). If you go on Tripadvisor for the cafe, one review mentions a waitress who was attentive and talked to their dog.

Me. It was me. Don't judge, okay?
But apparently I'm getting nine red setters (in-joke, folks).

But there are people who are so hard to please and just complain. You get the babycino and macchiato people who just have to be difficult. Then you just get the interesting and odd characters. I love it.

Friday, 1 May 2015

Teen Stereotypes

So to be honest I think social media is awesome.

I know a lot of people don't share this view, and I really feel strongly about this issue.

Because I know about all the people out there who say that this generation is over-using social media and becoming addicted.

Well excuse me? What? I don't quite understand.

Those who were teenagers in the 60s and 70s... How was the marijuana and LSD, huh? Getting high all the time, listening to John Lennon and driving around from place to place in little VW camper vans, and telling everyone to make love not war. Those glasses and head bands were pretty cool, huh? Bet you loved all that tie-dye malarkey.

Stop fricking criticizing our generation.

Since when did social media ever hurt anyone? It could be worse. We're teenagers. We could be out there spray painting dustbins and setting fire to your cat. Technically, you're all safer with teenagers being sat at home on their phones.

Ditch the stereotypes, please.

So chavs. Yes, they exist. They have lazy accents, have a peculiar fashion taste and the girls tend to wear quite a lot of make up, as well as not nearly enough clothing. Yeah, so I sound stereotypical. I'm listing the stereotypical chav here. The girls post loads of pouty selfies, the boys are loud and arrogant, they all swear a lot and have no consideration for other people around them.

It's not all true. Yes, you get some people like that. You also get some people who tick half the boxes, yet are some of the nicest, politest people you will ever meet.

Then there are the teens like me. The one's that love to read. The ones that prefer to do their homework sat out in the garden even though they know it'll only aggravate their eczema, rather than being stuck inside. The ones that smile at everyone as they walk past, stop to ask if elderly people need a hand getting on or off the bus, strike up conversation with the checkout girl at Primark who looks a bit bored. We can chat to strangers, be polite, and try to make people's days a little bit better.

Yeah. Not all of us are going to steal your handbag and throw your dog on the train tracks.

There are some teenage girls who don't need a paint scraper to take their make-up off in the evenings.

There are some teenage boys who aren't going to swear at you and insult your haircut.

In fact, there are quite a lot. MOST OF THEM, even.

So can we ditch the stereotypes, please? I mean, from what I've heard, 60s and 70s were a bunch of stoners, 80s were all about neon, shoulder pads and leg warmers.

In fact, here, look at this picture I just found (link for full size image):

Does that really not speak for itself? More teens in the 80s smoked. More took drugs. More practiced unprotected sex!

Leave us the fuck alone!

I'm 16. I've never smoked. I've not had sex nor am I interested in it. The only drugs I take are painkillers when I'm not feeling too great. Heck, the only thing not so great we've fallen down on is phones. Yeah we have phones, so what? My mum won't let me out without mine, it's such a dangerous world now. Who's to blame? How about all the rapists out there. The average rapist is 33 years old. I just googled it. Born in the 1980s. What a surprise.

Also, we fall down on the fact that we see a lot of violent movies. Who makes these movies? Adults. Who let us watch these movies? Adults. Ditto video games. So stop blaming us.

Also, in regards to make-up, maybe if you adults making all those adverts and TV shows and magazines would stop airbrushing people to perfection, teens wouldn't feel the need to try to look perfect and end up looking like a deformed orange.

Yeah, so you lot all stereotype teenagers. Look at yourselves please. You all know who you are. Stop judging so many on the actions of so few.

Yes, that's right. You. Dragging your child to the other side of the pavement because I smiled at you. Kicking me out of the shop while I was waiting for the post office to open because I was "loitering". Glaring at me when I have earphones in.

I'm not bitter at all.

Thursday, 30 April 2015


So nowadays yeah, alcoholism is a huge problem

Having experienced it second-hand on two separate accounts, excuse me from being unwilling to go to parties where everyone ends up completely out of their minds, jumping through fires, ripping off banisters, throwing up in every which direction and where people end up going missing.

By all means, go ahead! But please don't expect me to come with you and watch you all making stupid, half-witted decisions like throwing yourself down a flight of stairs to have a cover story for your injuries.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not against drinking. I like to have a couple of glasses of wine with my family when we go out for dinner, and I accept that in moderation alcohol can make people feel more at ease. Even to the point where you're a bit tipsy, I'm fine with that.

But why would you drink so much that you make yourself sick? That you put yourselves and others in danger? You have no idea what you're doing? Say one night you got so drunk you tried to drive home? What if you ran over someone? Think of the consequences, not only punishment but the psychological effects it'll have on you. Imagine having to live with that,

Half the time you don't remember anything anyway. So what's the point?

You know what? I might even stretch to say that having a party where you get wasted every now and then isn't so bad.


What?? Why?? Why would you do that to yourselves? You must live with hangovers! How are your livers still functioning properly?

I fear that if I get drunk, I will become violent and antisocial. When I'm a little tipsy, I'm quite comical. I had a glass of wine on an empty stomach once with hilarious results. I messages two of my best friends asking why steps look like angry teeth, and whether the unicorns were angry at me for telling people that they were real.

Needless to say, they thought I'd had something stronger than a glass of Pinot Grigio. Try cocaine.

The next day I ended up passing out (...suspected low blood sugar...) so it's assumed that the two were related.

Never drink on an empty stomach. It will not end up in your favour.

When my mum gets tipsy, she's like me. On holiday in Florida she spent a walk back to the flat after eating out in a restaurant attempting to lift up my dress in front of passers-by. I can safely say I was not amused. She likes to say now that she was showing off my legs.

I thought parents were supposed to do the opposite of showing off their children to random strangers in what may be considered a sexualised manner.......

So also, in one evening, pelted my 13 year old brother with Hershey's Kisses as they tasted disgusting and then made me film her sneak-attack tickling him. My finger very nearly got broken and swelled up massively during this event.

Just goes to show, really.

Some people get so aggressive after a drink though and I don't want ti find out if I am one of these people.

Who knows, maybe I'll be a violent fringe-midge?

It's in my blood. I don't want to be a violent person. I want to be the happy-go-lucky girl I am now.

Also, I know that if I end up at a party where everyone's pissed I will get frightened and I will end up fixing people up. As a trainee lifeguard I know what to do and it'll end up as girl vs. world and me trying to play Jesus. And I'll be hated for it.

I don't want to be a stuck-up goody two-shoes but this is my gut feeling. I'm not doing it because it's illegal. I just don't want to see people unable to control themselves. I just don't want to become out of control, I like to know what I'm doing.

I'm spontaneous enough without the extra help.