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 :)

Monday 5 September 2016

A Summer Adventure

So a year's gone by since my sad and sorry realisation that sixth form isn't exactly what I'd expected, and after a tiring, demanding and physically draining year, I was fit and ready for the summer holidays.

Lucky for me, having a boyfriend who has an apartment slap bang in the centre of a seaside town, I was able to spend it with my number one favourite person in a beautiful sunny place.

Six weeks of total freedom. How awesome does that sound?

So naturally there were a number of adventures Alex and I got up to, from days at the beach, where he'd pick me up to throw me in the water only for a wave to wash over his trainers in an act of karma, to day trips to London, waking up at 4 in the morning just to maximise our time there, powered by several cans of Monster and a bag of pick 'n' mix.

My favourite has to be our trip to the boot fair.

Don't ask me why I found that so fascinating, it was just such a nice day. Despite my complaining, waking up early made the day last so much longer, and cycling 8 miles at 7am, despite being hot and sweaty, really gave me a sense of achievement.

I mean, it's about the most exercise I've done in months!

But when we got there, I was amazed at all the things on offer, from microwaves and vacuum cleaners to books and jewellery and electrical devices. Alex's greatest find was a guitar hero kit for the Wii in its original packaging.

Mine was a DS Lite, same as I had as a kid, with an R4 card which meant after downloading ROMS online for free, I could play any game I liked. I found that pretty awesome. It's great, being able to relive my childhood by playing all my favourite games.

I also got a couple of nice dresses, and a really neat green coat.

It was a good day out, and call me sad but it was interesting seeing all these people with things they no longer needed, selling them to people who would find better use.

Another of my favourite days was Alex's work barbecue.

It ended up being less of a barbecue and more of a hog roast, and while we mostly kept ourselves to ourselves rather than socialising, we had a great time.

What we learned is that no matter how good he is at it on the Wii, I slaughter Alex at basketball. He managed to embarrass himself, the 6 foot plus tall guy, pretty well built, getting bested by his 5ft5, dress -wearing girlfriend.

Thankfully, he did redeem himself by battering me to near oblivion on the inflatable "It's a Knockout", whacking me wherever he could: my ear, my eye, my stomach, my legs. Anyway, he won fair and square, his masculinity was restored and his boss got to watch him beat the shit out of his girlfriend with an inflatable cylinder. Everyone wins.

Naturally, living with your s/o isn't all fun and games. There are constantly chores to be negotiated, and we never really got the hang of negotiating. Washing up was something in particular that always resulted in a disagreement. However, cooking quickly became my job, not only because I love doing it, but because Alex's choice of "warm beans, or cold beans" didn't always sound too mouthwatering. Though to his credit, he did once cook me a lovely dinner which I ruined because my train was cancelled and I got home an hour late. I felt pretty bad about that.

Another reason cooking became my thing was because of Alex's ability to forget. He put a pie in the oven, and as the instructions said, he went to leave it for 55 minutes.

After 10 minutes he began to notice a smell. I don't really pick up on smells, which he knows, but he decided to wait it out. Fast forward another ten minutes, pandemonium. The fire alarm is going off, I'm bricking it, and a very much burnt pie was pulled from the oven. After a bit of scraping it was perfectly edible but how the both of us managed to sit there, with the room going blue with smoke, and not bat an eyelid, is something I'll wonder for many years to come.

So all in all, a successful summer. I was able to relax for once, excluding the trauma I was put through to every time Alex got impatient and dashed across a busy road. It was great being able to cuddle up on the sofa and watch movies, and I have lots of memories to cherish.

Sadly, I'm in year 13 now, and probably won't even have the time to think about them.

Help.

Tuesday 19 April 2016

Nostalgia, Pot Noodle and the Issues of Multilingualism

It's occurred to me that in a matter of weeks I'll have been writing this blog for a whole year....

What?!!

A WHOLE YEAR?!?!

That's right.

In a way, I feel like this thing is kind of like a diary for me. I look back on some on my earlier entries and I have a bit of a nostalgic giggle.

Even then, I was naive. I read the very anti-alcohol one and remember the time around 6 weeks ago I drank too much cheap vodka and threw up out of a window.

I know, I know, Classy, right?

It's a shame, I used to keep written diaries and realised this afternoon they accidentally got thrown away. It feels like 5 years of my life just got thrown away.

My favourite memory in them is the year my nan sent me 3 birthday cards because, thanks to her dementia, she'd forgotten she'd already sent one. I'd put all the cards in my diary.

My dad says that as long as I keep my memories locked up in my head, it doesn't matter that the diaries are gone. But reading words written when my biggest issue was whether I was going to be able to go to the cinema to see Harry Potter or not that weekend is sort of relaxing and made me smile.

So here's to many years to come on this blog, with years worth of memories to cherish, all here, on my own little website,

This will be something to one day show the next generations of mini-me's :)

Anyway, today I discovered something absolutely horrifying at school.

After weeks of near-starvation due to a combination of my poorness and my refusal to bring sandwiches to school, I decided to bring a pot noodle to school and get it filled up at the common room cafe.

This was only to discover that the school is by law, not allowed to fill up a pot noodle.

Naturally, I was fuming...not allowed to fill up a pot noodle?? What is this rule???

Apparently, it's a Government policy, so that students can't sue schools.

So the first thing I did was bring up the contact line for David Cameron and start angrily writing an email before i figured out a loophole....

I decided to buy a mug of hot water for 20p and then just poured it into my pot noodle,

Winner.

Dad's found me a mini flask for hot water for tomorrow, but the dilemma is actually whether I want to bring water, or mocha.

I hated coffee a week ago and now I'm hooked on mixing coffee with hot chocolate. It's actually so nice, to the point I smell coffee and start craving it badly.

It's a downhill spiral from here, I'm sure.

Talking of downhill, my German speaking AS exam is fast approaching and I am bricking it.

It's such an angry, yet adorable language at the same time.

Like the word for glove is a "Handschuh". A hand shoe. Isn't that just the cutest?

But then science.

French: Science
Spanish: Ciencia
Italian: Scienza
German: NATURWISSENSCHAFTEN!!!

Or... NATURWISS for short.

So while for the others I generally get somewhere with guessing...German...naaaaaaah.

What generally happens is I'm speaking and then I'm like "damn, what's the word for 'something'".

And I'll be sat there and suddenly "QUELQUE CHOSE" pops in to my head.

But, shit. That's French,

So I'm sat there and all that's going through my head is "quelque chose quelque chose quelque chose quelque chose"

And I'm sat there with my mouth hanging open, catching flies while the teacher is desperately trying to coax me to talk again.

"What word are you stuck on, Robyn?"

And by that point I can't even remember the English word any more, all I've got is "quelque chose"

And so I just have to say the French word and hope the teacher catches on.

You think I'm kidding but this is an experience I had during a mock speaking back in like October or something.

Turns out the word I wanted was "etwas".

So yup. If that happens in my AS I am pretty much screwed.

So wish me luck!

It's got to the wonderful point again where I'm going to be cheeky and ask for a bit of feedback. I've even added a poll to the bottom of this blog page so yeah, just click on what you think...

Make my day, or crush my hopes and dreams. It's entirely up to you.

But yeah, any comments, votes on my poll or +1s would be greatly appreciated

Thanks guys! Hope you enjoyed!

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Wednesday 6 April 2016

The late-night adventures of Robyn and Alex

So, Tuesday night was probably the most eventful night of my entire life.

Not in a sexual way, before you even try and interpret that. You dirty, dirty little pervert. You should be ashamed of yourself.

I mean in an all-night adventure which started with me waking up next to my boyfriend in literal agony.

And there I am writhing around, crying and screaming that I want to die, Alex is pinning me down and trying to get me to take my medication and it's all a huge, scary mess.

So I force co-codamol down my throat and lie there hoping to die. But the pain doesn't stop and I can't stop twisting and turning and crying and Alex is getting irritated as he doesn't know what to do, he's trying to hug me to calm me down but I keep moving and pulling away.

So I decide to phone 111, the NHS helpline to see what they say.

I'm explaining my issue through floods of tears and the guy on the other end says "do you think you could get up and make yourself a cup of tea?"

I reply "but I don't like tea."

Apparently it was a figurative question, I wasn't meant to take it seriously. 10/10 to me.

Then we're standing on the pavement outside the house waiting for the ambulance the 111 guy called, Alex wrapped up in the duvet and me constantly moving and hyperventilating.

He's trying to grab me, wrap me in the duvet with him and comfort me but I'm just wriggling out, sitting on the pavement, leaning against the car, trying to shake it off like some kind of spastic but it just won't go away.

The ambulance shows up and it's this little car. The lady asks if we can go inside. We say no because everyone is asleep and we don't want to wake them. She seems kind of pissed off about that one. But then it is like 3am, I'd be pissed off too if I had to work at that time.

I have all these things measured, my oxygen levels and heart rate, blood pressure, my blood sugar level (which is very low) and my temperature (which is very high).

So it gets decided that I need to go to the hospital. As I've had a recent urinary tract infection, it's discussed that it may have spread to my kidneys and caused the amount of pain I'm in.

The blood sugar is due to me having had a bottle of cider. Good God, the party animal in me is beginning to destroy my health.

The only issue with going to hospital is there's only one seat in the car. And there's no chance in hell I'm going anywhere without Alex.

There's also the issue of emergency equipment needed. So a big ambulance gets called.

When it arrives some 15 minutes later, I get taken inside the ambulance and sit on a chair, my problems are told to the new paramedics. One's a bloke and one's a lady who seems quite cheerful and funny.

Then I'm given a breathing thingy, which I'm told is laughing gas, and it won't have a lasting effect.

Alex gets sooooo jealous at that. Look how the tables have turned - now I'm the badass.

I'm then handed a little bottle of sickly sweet gel and told to eat it. It's for blood sugar. It's meant to be forest fruits flavour but just tastes of sugar.

As I'm under 18, we have to go to Margate, to QEQM. To the paediatric ward.

Fml.

Blood sugar back up again and we arrive in Margate, I'm helped out of the ambulance, donned in pyjama bottoms, Alex's sweatshirt and a denim jacket, with my tatty pink blanket wrapped over my shoulders.

Alex is stood near me, wearing his classic hoodie, and a pair of baggy blue trackies, wearing trainers with no socks. His hair's all ruffled and he's got his sleepy face on.

We're shown to the waiting room, where we buy coffee, Coke and watch the BBC news about female circumcision. By this point, the painkillers have kicked in and I'm feeling slightly better.

There's a couple in there, a man and a woman. The woman declares loudly that she likes my hair as soon as we walk in the room. I'm quite taken aback but manage to have a discussion about hair dye.

While I'm in the toilet, Alex has a chat with the bloke. Apparently they'd met that night and were planning on eloping together as soon as they'd left the hospital.

All I find out is that they'd been escorted here by the police.

Well you meet some interesting folk in Marga... I mean, the hospital.

After ages, I'm called into the consultation room. Nothing gets said much, I'm just given a tube to fill with my pee.

Back in the waiting room and Alex and I curl up together and try to sleep on the many chairs we have at our disposal. We also buy some food to eat out of the vending machine.

An age later, we're called by a doctor, who sits us down and takes away my pee. Good riddance. We're quickly moved to the paediatric ward, which only has one light on as I'm the only child in the hospital.

I lie on the bed, get poked and prodded a bit and am told that I have still a mild UTI. Then I'm given hardcore painkillers and antibiotics and sent on my merry way.

We ask the chap how far the train station is.

He replies "Oooh, is far. Is very very far."

Greaaaaaat.

So we walk to Westwood Cross at 6am, as one does, still dressed in pyjamas, Alex with my blanket tightly wrapped around him. He pretends to be irritated in the fact I dragged him to hospital at 3am but he later admits he'd never ever leave me in a situation where I needed him.

We make it to McDonalds at 6:20am. We explain to the guy at the till that we've been in hospital. I must look fucking rough because the guy offers me a free drink and hash brown.

We manage to get 2 buses and a train home, and 8am just crash.

So basically, I got fobbed off with more painkillers and no real solution to the problem.

Alex wants us to go back to hospital to actually find out why I'm hurting so bad but I just wanna sleep. So much.

But anyway, it was definitely an adventure!

Such exciting things happen to ones like me.

Wednesday 16 March 2016

Broken Fences and Cartwheeling Trampolines


I haven’t written in in a while… Sorry about that.

Don't get me wrong. I love writing this blog. But there's just so much for me to do.

Like studying and eating and studying and breathing and studying and sleeping and studying and showering and studying. The list is just goddamn endless.

And what doesn't help is that life has literally grabbed me with both its grubby mitts, thrown me down its ugly pie-hole, chewed me for a while before spitting my mangled, saliva-clad corpse back on to the pavement to ferment.

Though I doubt it would ferment in this type of weather. Maybe freeze so all my toes fall off and I end up an ugly purple mess.

So yes. I'm an ugly, purple, over-worked, stressed out, cold-ridden, nervous mess.

So I apologise profusely for not having written in.

In regards to the topic of this entry, which I am yet to decide... Let me just decide a topic quickly.

I have just started learning to drive.

Crazy to think of 5"5 little bespectacled me driving around in a little white Skoda Fabia and wreaking havoc on the Kentish roads.

But then it's also crazy to think that it's an act of treason, punishable by death, to place a postage stamp upside down on an envelope.

Yes. In 2016 that's punishable by death.

Anyway, back to maniac Marchant over here, just driving around the abandoned area of a local town called Deal (no stalkers plz). For those who know, opposite to Fowlmead.

So I had the liberty of a roundabout, a small car park, and a stretch of road.

And a car.

I stalled the damn thing like 15 times because I'm badass.

But the most interesting situation was me trying to turn the car around in this pathetic little excuse of a car park.

My dad starts shouting next to me "Slow down! Slow DOWN! SLOW DOWN!"

The obvious course of action in this circumstance would have been to slow down.
But, see, I'm not that intelligent.

Ohhhh no.
Instead, I decided to floor the accelerator in a blind panic and crash in to a wooden fence.

Smart, I know

My intelligence never fails to amaze me. Just this afternoon I was asked to hold a tent down to stop the 40mph winds grabbing hold of it and pulling it off to Timbuktoo.

So naturally, I let go.

Up, up and up the tent went, and soared over the six foot garden fence and to the gardens beyond.

Needless to say, Alex was not impressed. He went on a bit of a rant about women and how I’m completely incompetent at times.

Someone needs to remind him who’s the only one who can put the tent down again.

HINT: It’s me.

We ended up knocking for next door to try and get it, but no answer.

So we’re both standing on the kids’ trampoline trying to see where the tent went and then Alex ends up letting the duvet fly over the goddamn fence as well.

Hypocritical much?

We ended up managing to retrieve both tent and duvet and weighting it down with paving slabs.

Hoorah to us!

So we decided all the hard work had earned us some chicken nuggets.

Walking down the road in the dark and blustery conditions, we see a 12 foot trampoline escaping a garden over a massive hedge.

And that’s when we realised, even the worst situations could, theoretically, be so much worse.

It was also quite funny.