Phone network

It came to my attention yesterday that people actually read this haha what why would you do that? It's just my weird thought processes written down.

....shout out to my boss xD

I figured that today was pretty interesting, so I'd better put it on here.

Bank holiday Monday. Working at the cafe. Where to begin?

It started off pretty nice, people coming in, ordering, us making their order, taking it to them, and then someone else would come in and we could fix them up too. Nice, relaxed, but still keeping us busy.

Then more and more people started arriving and just didn't stop. So I'd be trying to take an order, and then make it, but I'd finish taking an order and then someone else would want to order and so on and so forth until I had 6 or 7 orders to do all at once and was getting pretty flustered.

Meanwhile, the other waitress was trying to clear tables to accommodate everyone and load the dishwasher that so I had the crockery to use. Which still didn't happen, we ended up running out of most things and having to wash it up as we went. Which added to the fun.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job. Just stress erghhhh I can't even.

The highlight of my shift was definitely this family who came in and ordered lunch. "Ooh, one more thing," the man said to me "Could we get the omelette without any dairy? My daughter's a vegan."

What. The. Heck.

Either they were having me on, or this person is a very bad vegan. I mean, I was just like "uhh, absolutely not a problem" smiling sweetly like butter wouldn't melt the entire time while my head was reeling with "what the heckkkkkkk???"

If you don't understand my issue with the whole "I'm going to order a vegan omelette" thing, please google what a vegan is.

I didn't have time to think about that for long. Queues of people. Hoards of people. Continuous. Coffee and icing everywhere. Clean crockery nowhere. The worst was teaspoons. We always seem to run out of fricking teaspoons.

But hey, it's all okay. It's all preparation for the summer season!

I was meant to be on a day out today! But then karma intervened (it's always karma because I always probably did something wrong) and it got cancelled.

So an opportunity arose for me to get out the house and quit moping and I, like the spontaneous little chicken that I am, seized it with both hands!

At least I get payed for working. I don't get payed for introducing my friend to my family. (Hey Danny!) Though I think I should, really. It's gonna be tough.....

I also don't get paid for dressing him up in flower headbands in Claire's. Though I think I deserve some sort of award for befriending  the only guy in Britain who would allow her to do it and probably flaunt it, agreeing on how fabulous he is. (Admit it though, you would)

I basically got through the day by muttering "I'm going to KILL him!" in a variety of different languages under my breath. I mean I'm not actually angry at him, I never was, it just helped somehow....I don't quite know how it works but hey-ho!

So after that was all under wraps, I had to get ready for my next job, and my shift at the restaurant was meant to start 20 minutes after my shift at the cafe ended.

So for a bit of sanity I tried to call someone. But my phone was having none of it. No service anywhere. So I walk around town like "ALL I WANT IS TO MAKE A GODDAMN PHONE CALL!" and then I bump into one of my colleagues from the cafe who works in the kitchen.

She was having the same problem.

And then she asks me a question which made me question my intelligence so much.

"So what time to the buses run on Sunday to Canterbury, as it's bank holiday?"

Biggest. Face palm. Ever.

How am I mean to work until after half nine if the last bus home is at 7pm?

I could ask my parents for a lift? I could phone for a taxi?

Oh wait. Phone network's down. Fuck.

So I walk to the restaurant having a mini-breakdown and tell them what's happened. They're there like "So, you got the Sunday service bus over here and didn't realise that it was Sunday service?"

I did wonder why it was late...

My boss says that it's okay, that they can cover it without me as it's not so busy and to just get the next bus home. So I grovel some more, say thank you, and go and wait for the bus.

Waiting for a long time, I was.

Yeah, Yoda I now am. With it you must deal.

I tried to contact Danny so I wasn't lonely (hey again!) and Facebook called him like 12 times or something because I'm annoying. Then it gets to the point where I've been waiting an hour and so I Facebook call my bestie who lives just down the road from the bus stop and she came to keep me company.

So we snapchatted a bunch of random things, and prank called Danny to inform him of a tragic accident where I'd been hit by a bus and there was ketchup everywhere that Trish didn't want with her chips, while I screamed "Brains! Brains on the pavement!" and groaning in the background. Mature.

He said it was basically only screaming and the only word he could make out was "bus". Shame.

So after like half an hour of top-notch banter, I tried to phone my parents on Trisha's phone. It came up with a recorded message "Please hold while we try to connect you".

"Trish," I said, "Your phone isn't working either!"

Took us several minutes to realise we'd already phoned Danny on it so it must be okay. So I tried my dad's mobile number and he picked up and said he'd meet me at my nan's.

Later my mum asked why I didn't just use the phone box. Well, last time I used it, it robbed me of my 60p and didn't let me call anyone anyway. Not having that.

Also, I knew that the second I left that bus stop, the bus would show up. I mean, it's inevitable. Which is why I waited so long.

Got home around 7:30pm. Started out at that bus stop at like 17:15. G'job.

Turns out my mum accidentally unplugged the whole home phones system in a bid to fix the card machine.

It runs in families....

Glad I got to spend some time with Trish though. I needed all that laughter and giggling what with exams and everything!

Aaaand now I can chill until tomorrow where we have to clear the house from top to bottom....

Peace out

Paranoia

Okay, so I am probably the single most paranoid person that you can ever imagine.

I have a seriously overactive imagination so every little thing that someone does, I generally assume that I did something to upset or annoy them.

The worst is text messages. Don't reply to my message? In my head you've been hit by a bus, axe-murdered and thrown in the Stour, kidnapped by a gang on balaclava-wearing thugs, and are in hospital having some sort of life-or-death operation.

The worst is where I think they're ignoring me. I hate being ignored because it makes me feel like I've done something wrong.

But instead of just waiting for them to reply to the first message, I have to send a couple more. Just in case. I get desperate for a response, and in my head I have a little rule set up in my head:

If they don't reply within 24 hours, they're probably dead. Or worse. They secretly hate me.

I wish I could be more relaxed about people but I just care too much. I mean, I could probably move to Mexico, change my name, my number and social media and no one would give a damn. When I get my phone confiscated or I'm working for a long time or there's some other reason I don't have any contact with people, I expect a tonne of messages.

Usually I have nothing. It's super sad.

Then from time to time I turn on my phone and I'll have 256 unread messages and 14 notifications. Generally some sort of group chat but still. Makes me sort of happy.

So, let's use today as an example. There are people I know who are in a lot of trouble over exams and are intending to go all out and revise every single second they get.

Yeah. I have tried to say that over-doing it is just going to make things worse. But hey, what do I know? Not like I ever revised, huh. I remember getting so stressed out on my first set of exams in school in France when I was 10 years old. We had termly insignificant tests but I was told they were like the most important things ever and as technically a primary school kid I believed them.

Went too far. Stopped eating. Didn't sleep all that much. Ended up just not very well.

So basically I keep trying to be like "don't stress" and trying to make everyone happy again.

Because that is my definitive purpose in life. To make other people happy.

No replies. Not seen any of the messages. It's been over 24 hours.

Dead. Obviously.

I make light of the situation but in all seriousness I am proper worried and I hate being like this. I know that revising's going on and I'm guessing that phones are off and stuff but jeez what if something did happen and I didn't know.

Like, just before Christmas James took the day off school and I had no idea he'd gone to hospital and was diagnosed with appendicitis. He didn't reply to any of my messages asking what was going on (obviously). I then texted his sister who was like "Oh, mum and dad said they thought you knew - he's having an operation!"

Bloody fantastic, I'm telling you.

So I just sort of have to text people over and over reminding them of the paranoia so I sort of get a pity message at God-knows-what time and can actually sleep rather than freaking out about something that is 100% not happening.

And if I talk about it to someone else?

"Maybe he's just busy."

Great. Thanks. Busy. Being murdered!

I suck at being cool and collected. I just have mental breakdowns over everything.

I hate that I probably come across pretty clingy as a person. But honestly, I just assume everyone's in jeopardy 100% of the time.

I mean, with earthquakes now happening in Kent, what am I meant to assume?

Bus wankers!

Today has honestly been brilliant.

On the way to school, I was walking down the farm track that runs along the side of my house and I spotted something on the ground.

"No way..." I said

"No fucking way! How is that fair!" My 14 year old brother exclaimed.

I picked up a second £5 note from the ground. As Danny says, I'll be Mrs Monopoly at this rate. Though I'm not sure who I'm married to. All I need is a top hat and a monocle!

So then I got the bus with one of my close friends and we had a laugh, so that's always a great way to start the day. I also got a text which made me smile so that always makes my day that bit better. Because I'm a cheesy little potato.

I got to see my best friend James for the first time in nearly a week, so that was a happy reunion and I was pleased to see him. We insult each other non-stop. A typical conversation goes:

James: I thought of a song that reminds me of you the other day, you know.
Me: *expecting something nice*
Awwwwhh really, what song?
James: 'I'm A Mess' by Ed Sheeran
Me: Oh right, well I got one for you, too!
James: Quoi?
Me: 'Mean' by Taylor Swift!

Me: *just about to leave my group of friends sat by the river to go off with Danny*
James: You going?
Me: Yes, I am going.....TO PUSH YOU IN THE FREAKIN' RIVER AHAHAAHAHAHAHA
James: Okay, see you next Tuesday

So yeah, we're mean to each other non-stop. But I love that. S'like having a brother I actually enjoy hanging out with and who actually helps me study rather than sabotaging my books and tapping on the wall to piss me off.

So yeah, seeing Mesh made me happy.

I call him Mesh based on a stupid typo. My friend accidentally forgot to put a space between "James" and "he" so it came out as "Jameshe". So naturally, me being me, I started calling him "Jameshe" as a joke. Then it was just " Meshy" and then because I am one lazy son of a gun, it was just Mesh.

Aaaaaand it stuck.

I'm the bestest friend in the whole wide world.

FWEND!

So, on that note, after my exam which went surprisingly well (touch wood), I went to get the bus home with Conor. This was at like 11am so it was pretty deserted. I decided to run and get a drink from the shop quickly. When I came back, Conor looked at me sheepishly and said:

"I just got bus wankered".

This honestly MADE MY DAY! A yellow car had come speeding past the bus stop (YES! Yellow!) and it was only a small car, so it had only had front windows. Whoever was sat in the back had leaned forward and yelled "Bus wanker!" out of the front window. Conor said because of this, it wasn't exactly well executed, but I still found it pretty entertaining anyhow.

It always seems to happen to Conor. He got peanutted by a Year 7 kid that is seriously annoying (ref. "At least all the windows are open" bus accident child) for the raw price of 15p.

Worth it.

So I get home and do a bit of revision. Aka, my revision guide was open on the floor nearby while I played guitar. I've got this revision lark down to a "T" now. So good at it.

My mum then comes home and asks if I want to go to Tesco's with her. As a procrastinating GCSE student, it didn't take much persuasion for me to agree to go.

As I live in a B&B, my mum loves putting little extras in the rooms like little bottles of brandy, fruit bowls and a specialty of hers is little boxes of chocolates, just so we can strive to be the best!

So I notice a "Reduced to Clear" sale on Thornton's boxes, and at £1 each, mum and I think "shucks, this is great!" and throw the lot in our trolley. Literally sweeping them off the shelf and into our trolley. The looks we got, if you can imagine....

Mum was there looking embarrassed and repeatedly saying "They're for the guest rooms, they're complimentary, I have a B&B!"

We were getting looks like we were mad people. I mean, the women looked understanding. The men looked horrified.

And my dad walked away and pretended to have nothing to do with us. Like a true gentleman.

So by the end of that shopping trip, we had 22 boxes of Thornton's and 13 boxes of Pergale's. Not to mention all the yoghurt I bought because other than toast it is pretty much the only thing I can deal with eating when I'm stressed.

We bought Skyr. It's Icelandic yoghurt which is really thick. I went to Iceland a couple of years back on a school trip and they sell the stuff out of vending machines over there. In leisure centres. It's brilliant.

So naturally I saw it and was like "MUM MUM MUM MUM MUM MUM" and started hyperventilating.

I explained to her what it was and then she was like "OOOOOHH I saw an advert for this, brilliant!" and chucks four pots of the stuff in the trolley. I then found the second-best vanilla yoghurt there (they didn't have my Rachel's!!!!) and grabbed two pots.

Then there was a fair amount of ginger ale in the trolley. Yeah. We're a normal family.

And of course the entire time I was being a midget with a back injury attempting to push a fully-loaded trolley with literally no handling, wearing really slippy shoes, with a three-year old sat in the trolley going "SING PEPPA PIG ROWYN! SING PEPPA PIG!"

101 reasons why I shouldn't leave the house.

To be honest it's been a brilliant day and I don't think I've really stopped smiling. There are just some days where I can't stop being Sunshine Girl.

Random events...

So my life is built up of a bunch of random mood swings and random events and basically...

...random everything.

So after spending a pessimistic day doing the ironing, reading John Green books and feeling pretty goddamn down about life, I go to the shop for my mum.

Stuff's so stressful at the moment. Exams going on, drama with friends, drama with family, everyone's busy and I guess I sorta stupidly feel neglected and assume people are dying.

I love being outdoors in the sun. I have no idea why I didn't just go sit in the garden to cheer myself up.

So I step out of my back door, and walk to the farm track which runs along the side of my house, and nearly get ploughed down by a Jeep doing at least 40mph down a dirt track. He smiled at me as he drove past, that much I did catch. He knows my parents evidently.

Manic, huh? I leave the house and within 10 seconds I nearly die.

Well I'm exaggerating a bit. I did hear it coming so that's how I managed to save myself.

Craziest part was 10 metres up the farm track, what should I find other than a £5 note.

Bingo.

I joked it's a form of prostitution. I nearly die, I get payed for it. Snazzy stuff.

I found a 5p on the way back as well. It just gets better and better, doesn't it?

Also pretty random, yesterday I just started sneezing and just didn't stop...

It was awful, my eyes were all teary, my nose was running, I looked like a troll and constantly felt like I was about to sneeze. Like stuck on the "ah" in "ahtishoo". Allergy tablets did nothing. It kept up all day and I felt so rotten I had to phone in sick for that evening at the restaurant.

I felt terrible, but I couldn't go in and just sneeze on everyone. That would be extremely unprofessional and I'm sure would have been worse than phoning in.

I ended up falling asleep at 8pm and waking up again at 11:30pm wondering who what why where when how?

I had a bit of a headache today but other than a sneezing fit at the co-op I've been clear.

Aaaaand now I've managed to become extremely happy, find a song about being crazy and mental relationships, and am the opposite of tired.

I mean, I got to the part of Looking For Alaska where she's driven off drunk after she remembered what day it is.

Continuing that would be a total mood killer.

As for the crazy song, you might wanna check it out, it's by someone called "Hunter Hayes" and it's called "I Want Crazy". Downright story of my life, I have to say.

Now to find someone to annoy until I fall asleep }:)

I have English Lit tomorrow, which will be fun as I love being creative, unique, or "quirky" as my German teacher called me. Still not sure how I was meant to take that....

What I don't like is "reading between the lines". I just don't understand. You're an author, say what you mean, don't imply stuff that people can argue the meaning over, what is the point??

What the author meant is what the author says. Ditto the poet. I write stories and poems and I have never written between the lines. I say the curtains are blue?

The curtains are fucking blue!

Blue's my favourite colour, that's probably why. It's all a bit pointless to me. Novels, plays and poems are written for enjoyment of others.

Not so you can sit down a group of kids in a classroom and make them come up for reasons as to why the curtains could possibly have been written in as being blue, as opposed to being, say, red.

Maybe the author looked out the window and thought, hmmm, the sky looks blue today. Blue. The curtains are blue.

Man, this is going to be exciting. But to be honest, for someone who doesn't understand the point, I tend to get good grades.

So naturally I'm taking it next year for A-level.

Still super pissed off that I couldn't do language for A-level. Apparently it's not challenging enough or something, as my deputy head told me.

Oh cheers. Thanks so much. My special "talent" or "flair" isn't even difficult. That makes me feel reaaaaal special.

Well fine. I'll go and be special in my own way somewhere else.

*hmph*

Serious, unanswered questions

How do Smurfs reproduce?

Smurfette was the latest addition to the Smurf family after being created by the evil wizard Gargamel and as the only female, I do not understand how the Smurf population came to be.

These are the sort of issues that I discuss with my friend Danny over Skype....

Unfortunately, Google did not have any decent answers to this question, and so we remain in the dark as to the answer of this nail-bitingly important issue.

I mean, do they reproduce asexually and just divide as bacteria would do? Or is it something like a scene out of the Gremlins and just add water and poof! You've got another batch of brand-spanking new Smurfs ready to roll. 

This is an issue that needs to be addressed. Unfortunately, I'm fairly certain that the original writer of "The Smurfs" died a while back....yeah, in 1992.

Yes. I know Smurfs are fictional character, but plot holes much?

Equally, think about Cinderella.

So, when the clock struck midnight, she had to dash away from her handsome Price Charming, etc, etc, and poof! Her lavish accessories all vanished, her staff became animals again, and she was left dressed in rags once more.

So why didn't the glass slipper disappear too???

Sorry if I just ruined that entire story for you, but you've got to admit, it is a perplexing thought.

It's similar to The Little Mermaid. She signed the goddamn contract, she could clearly write very well. So why didn't she just write down everything that was happening for her wonderful Prince Eric to read? It would have avoided the whole near-end-of-the-sea thing and saved a lot of hassle.

"Fish language," Danny said. "Maybe she could only write in fish language."

She could speak English pretty darn well after she got her voice back, don't ya think?

Disney. What are you doing?

You reach near-adulthood and suddenly you start seeing plot holes in all these things and poof! That's your childhood ruined.

How many times can I say "poof" in one article?

It's a good word, though. "Poof". Onomatopoeic. Now this can count towards my English revision.

So we're both tired and still talking over Skype and Danny says:

"There are three moths flying around my room. Moths are just ugly butterflies. D'ya think that when a caterpillar goes into a cocoon and comes out as a moth, it's disappointed?"

Well there's a thought....

I argued that surely a caterpillar knows what it is already, I mean there are different types of caterpillar for different types of moth and butterfly so they probably know what they're going to emerge from that chrysalis as before they go in.

But Danny is adamant that unless caterpillars can talk among themselves then they have no way of knowing what they will be when they break out of the cocoon, and seeing the plain brown papery wings, they are almost certain to be a bit annoyed.

I suggested that maybe caterpillars can talk. 

Who knows? Maybe caterpillars have their own language. It's no weirder a suggestion as fish language.

These types of conversations are the ones that are honestly worth living for.

These are the conversations that make me smile.

So much stress

Ok so calmmmmmmmm

Easier said than done, though.

I mean, seriously. I swear everything's happening at a super bad time.

So after that bus accident, I'm in constant pain. I mean, it's manageable. If I lay on my bed and don't move.

So yeah, it would all be okay.

If I didn't have my first fucking GCSE tomorrow.

Well I had ICT last week. But it's ICT, who cares about that?

Tomorrow I have French. And seeing as I want to be an interpreter when I grow up, translating poetry and novels into French for non-English speakers to also enjoy, I sortaaaa need to do good.

Fuck.

I am so screwed.

But it's all okay. Coz my Doctor told me that she can't get me referred to a specialist right away, but come back on Thursday, and it'll be sorted. Just take codeine in the meantime.

I bought some codeine. It says in big letters on the front "THIS MEDICATION IS ADDICTIVE IF TAKEN FOR MORE THAN THREE CONSECUTIVE DAYS".

Well that's just great, don't you think?

They better sort me out quickly. Soon enough I'll have an exam every day.

I'd take paracetamol and ibuprofen but it works for like an hour and then it all comes flooding back. I actually got sent home from work Friday night, because I was so pale and clearly in pain.

Where's my Oscar goddamnit?

I actually felt so bad I took a day off work on Saturday.
I
Took
A
Day
Off.

I felt terrible afterwards. I was lying on the sofa with a case of death just there like "I hate myself. I am a despicable human being. How could I let everyone down like this?? I'm the worst person to have ever walked the face of the Earth!"

My Jeremy Cricket's quite loud. More like an cicada.

I know this blog entry's quite whiny. I understand that it's the exam season. Everyone's feeling the pressure.

I know I'm not alone.

And I really want to say thank you to those who have been putting up with me being temperamental. And also just mental. So shout-out to my amazing boyfriend who I am honestly surprised isn't sick to death of me already. Always saying the right thing :)

Honestly. There is just too much to do. And this is probably going to be the longest 36 days of my life.

Spoke to a nice girl in McDonald's in Canterbury yesterday. She said they're always looking for French speakers, as a lot of the tourists are French over there and the staff struggle a lot with trying to understand them all.

That's me sorted, then.

So on a funnier note as this is kinda depressing, I saw a joke earlier that killed me. It's not even that funny:

"A Mexican magician tells the audience he will disappear on the count of three. He says "Uno, dos..." *poof*....He disappeared without a tres."

I swear I nearly wet myself laughing. It's not even that funny,

It's always the little things in life...

Accidents

So today I was involved in a bus crash.

It wasn't like a serious head-on collision or anything. Everyone's still alive. Only two of us suffered any kind of injury.

What happened was a really weird sequence of events. In the afternoons, I always get the bus with my bus-buddy. I'm sure he won't kill me, and no one will manage to track him down if I say his name's Conor. So I got to the bus stop by a garage and waited for the bus, chatting. After 15 minutes, the bus decides to make an appearance, and in the driver's cabin is very clearly a trainee, as he has a supervisor overseeing. After a joking argument about who would save a seat and who wouldn't, I managed to get on the bus first and save a seat for Conor, me by the window, him by the aisle.

So we traipse slowly around the town and head up the road out of town, by which point the bus was 20 minutes behind schedule. Then, we head up around this sharp corner near the local primary school, where we met another bus heading the opposite way. The second bus stops. Ours tries to carefully maneuver around the second bus by mounting the pavement, but the wing mirror of the second bus collides with the window of ours. This happens all the time, so I look at Conor and go "oohp!" and then there's this huge noise as the front of the other bus goes straight through the window in front of my seat. It doesn't stop there. The bus keeps moving, dragging the front corner and wing-mirror of the second bus through the window, sending glass raining down on everyone.

I threw myself into the brace position and screamed very loudly.

It's all like a huge blur. It seemed so surreal. I kept thinking "this is a dream, wake up". These sorts of things didn't happen to normal people. I couldn't move at first, it was too unbelievable to do anything. I was completely transfixed. The shower of glass seemed to move towards me in slow motion. When I finally managed to break away my gaze I dived down and to the left, so I was nearer Conor as opposed to the bus coming through my window.

There was in my hair. There was glass in my shoes. Down my shirt. On my lap. It was everywhere. It was quite pretty at first, sun shining down on it in a way that almost seemed as though the floor was littered with diamonds. I looked at Conor, who hadn't moved a muscle throughout the whole thing; he reached up and tousled his hair and said "There's glass in my hair". Painfully, I stood up and moved into the aisle.

Of course, everyone got their phones out and started to take pictures. No one was seriously hurt. People were laughing. I was laughing and taking pictures, the situation seemed almost comical. Then, after 5 or so minutes, I woke up. I was on a smashed in bus, with 50 or so other kids pressed together.

I wanted out. I started yelling at everyone to get off of the bus. A year 7 next to me said "well at least the windows are open!"

Yeah. Great. Thanks.

Finally, everyone started herding off of the bus, coaxed by some 6th formers. Finally I was out on the pavement with Conor who was so excited about what had just happened. The younger students were absolutely buzzing with excitement. Conor was shaking shards of glass out of the back of his shirt, laughing. I wasn't laughing any more.

I phoned my mum and told her what happened. She asked if I was hurt and I replied, no, I wasn't and she said she'd come and pick up my brother and I. After the call, I picked up my rucksack and like a cool kid, I swung it on to my shoulder and then I became aware of the pain at the top of my back.

With my long history of back problems, I knew this was going to be a problem.

Obviously, some people had cuts. You can't smash in a bus and expect no one to get cut. Someone had pointed out that my knee was bleeding, and I'd picked out the shard of glass. I had to take my shoes off as there was so much glass in them they were cutting my feet.

My mum phoned again to ask where we were and I told her about the pain. She told me to make sure my name was written down by the bus driver.

I told Conor and my brother and the pain. Conor took me inside the primary school, carrying my bags for me and told me to sit down on the sofa. It was his old primary school. I didn't sit for long, I went to talk to the bus driver, and after a very stressful conversation on the spelling of my address, I was ay-okay to wait for my mum.

Soon enough she showed up, I said goodbye to a happy Conor and his brother, and got in the car.

I spent the rest of the evening in tears, thinking about what happened. Shock.

I'm going to the doctor's tomorrow for them to look at my back. We think that I've jarred it. Tomorrow is my last day at school before study leave.

Greeeeaaaat.

The other person who was injured went to hospital and had the glass removed from her scalp at Minor Injuries. She's okay and says she doesn't really remember what happened.

So it wasn't a disaster, but it certainly wasn't something I'll be boasting about having been through.

And it isn't likely to be something I'll forget, either.