Christmas and the States

As pretty much the worst excuse for a blogger, I apologise. Things have been pretty hectic, and as I write I'm living the high life in the mighty US of A.

Family holidays to Florida tend to be pretty jam-packed and as for school...

SCHOOL...

It has this habit of lulling you in to this wonderful sense of security that you're on top of all your work and you can start to relax.

NEVER TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY EVER IT IS ALL A LIE

The second you leave your work for a little while because you've got a while and not much else to do, you watch a few films, go on social media, spend some time with your boyfriend, the second you decide that that's a good idea, the worst thing possible happens....

You're in your bubble of security and then you get to school one day only to be given 36 essays and 42 pieces of homework in for next Tuesday.

And the second that happens.... Well, basically... You're fucked.

I've made this mistake 5 or 6 times now and am still waiting to have learnt my lesson. I'll probably make it at least another 13 times. Just, ya know. Just to be sure.

And then it hits December 1st and all you can remember are the lyrics to Slade and Mariah Carey and you couldn't give a flying fuck why the American Civil War started, or the techniques used by Shakespeare to compare the Renaissance and the Medieval. You want to sit by the fireplace drinking hot chocolate in your pyjamas listening to the Christmas classics with a mince pie.

Then you hear on the news it's meant to snow. You think "yay, no school on Friday! I'll leave my homework!".

And then it doesn't snow. And you do have school on Friday. And then once again, you are royally fucked.

Anyway, iit's still the holidays, I need to stop fretting about school before I depress myself.

The last thing that I remember from school in 2015 was an Italian lesson in which my friends all appeared at the window brandishing a bra and shouting "WE HAVE A BRA FOR YOU!!!".

I didn't even bother explaining to the teacher what the circumstances were, but I can assure you it's a other more innocent than you're probably thinking.

Think my friend lent me a strapless bra for holiday so I could wear halternecks as we're the same size.

We girlies like to share more than just gossip.

But Florida.

Something I've noticed here is the fact that everyone is so much friendlier than back at home.

You'll be ambling down a street when someone waves at you and asks how your day is going.

Naturally,  I do the very British thing of looking over my shoulder, believing the stranger us addressing someone other than myself.  But alas, no. They did mean to talk to me.

Even Brits are more friendly to other Brits here. You hear the tones of another English accent and you start chatting to them no matter what and walk away as unlikely chums.

Back in the UK we're far more likely to shove someone down the escalators of the Underground than we are of making smalltalk with strangers.

Think about it. If I passed a stranger in the street back home I'd generally look at the pavement and scuttle along. If I was feeling particularly adventurous maybe I'd attempt a smile.

Here it's everyone talks to everyone, long conversations with waiting staff and parking operatives, and "ohmygawd I LURVE your accent!"

Within an hour of landing in this country I was asked what a Donnex's catchphrase was. I had not the foggiest what this chap from the rental car company was on about until he said "EXTERMINATE!". It then occurred to me that he must have meant a Dalek.

Some stranger walked up to me a couple of days ago at the swimming pool and asked what Premier League football team I supported. They laughed when they said football, as if we Brits were the ones that christened a sport which predominantly uses hands "football".

I had to disappoint him in saying I honestly couldn't give a flying toss about a spherical ball moving up and down a grassy field.

Thinking about it, I'm not very British. I don't even like tea which apparently just strips me of my nationality straight away.

Thankfully I've managed to find out how to mask my IP address on my laptop so we've been able to keep up with all our favour BBC shows. Luther, Call The Midwife, Doctor Who, Sherlock. We've stayed up to date on all our British faves.

A man from Northern USA said to my family the other day that you can always spot a Brit because they'll be the ones wearing socks on the beach. Usually black. True to his word my dad was wearing socks, only they were white.

I haven't worn socks since I got here. I'm really failing on the whole British thing I believe.

Corridor Wars and the Battle of Beauty

I haven't posted in a while. I apologise for this but I've been a bit busy.

I'm here now. That's what counts, aye?

Anyway, I'm not exactly sure what I'm posting about so I figured I'd just let the words leave my fingertips and see where exactly we end up once I'm finished. 

Something I have noticed at school is that everyone lied to me.

I was told all the younger years would be scared of me, dodging me in corridors and scuttling away frightened every time my gaze fixed upon their tiny faces.

Is this the case?

No. No it is not.

Quite on the contrary, these small children just shove me out of the way as if I wasn't even there. 

I'm late for lessons 100% of the time, not because I have abysmal time keeping skills, or dawdle in the corridors, or anything swaggy and IDGAF like that.

I'm late because all the little kids shove me in to walls.

They walk in rows. They walk down narrow corridor in lines, obstructing the whole path and I'm like arrrrgh where do I even go? 

I said "excuse me" the other day and a younger student had a go at me. I felt quite violated and ashamed. Not going to lie about it.

So now I roam the corridors clutching my travel mug tightly to my chest, sporting a fearful expression and prepared to throw hot chocolate over any unfavorable character.

Okay, that's a lie. I wouldn't really throw hot chocolate over a child. But it does get agitating, especially with sarcastic teachers.

"Well good evening, Robyn. Might I ask where you've been?"

*shifty look left. Shifty look right*
"Well the corridor was kinda busy...."

They never buy it.

It doesn't help being near enough the same height/shorter than the majority of them.

I found out how tall I actually am the other day and let's just say I was not darn well impressed.

So having been one of the tallest in my year for a long time everyone was fairly confident I'd be tall enough to be a model. What a disappointment.

I was at the nurse's having a check up for medication (yay...) and she checked my BMI. My weight I scrunched my eyes up so I didn't have to look. My height.....

I stood up against the wall measure, the nurse brought the measurey thing down on to my head.

"One hundred and sixty-three centimetres!"

Half an hour later I googled what this is in feet.

5ft4. What.

I could swear I was 5ft6 at one point. After the vertebral disk injury a couple of years ago I must have shrunk. It's the only explanation.....

So yeah, now I'm one of the midgets.

So yeah, schools pretty stressful at the moment. OBVIOUSLY that's the worst of it though. Not the mountains of homework or anything.

My salvation is my free periods, where I can chill out a bit, slowly work on something while noshing on something that'll make life seem so much better, and giggling away with my girlies,

In a couple of weeks we've all got GCSE presentation evening, so everyone's all having kittens about what dress to wear to it.

This includes me, as my mother decided to buy some the other day which don't look toooo bad on me.

Naturally, I asked my friends and boyfriend, and while Alex was saying I should go for the red one, my girl mates were like "not that one"

So I'm like ahhhh. I guess I'll go in my pyjamas.

I dressed up fairly nice the other week for my cousin Becky's birthday party. It was at a cocktail bar I ended up getting served at and I had a tad too many.

Apparently I was stroking Alex's leg telling him I wanted to kiss him. Nice to know I turn into one hella creepy bitch when drunk. 

It was a great evening though soooo whateverrrr.

After his initial laughing at me, he said it was "kinda cute".

I'm sorry but no.... I just sound like some whacko molester.

All I remember is walking out my house looking and feeling pretty damn awesome and walking back in again feeling very giggly, loved-up and looking like the Joker.

Anyway we all had a great time and I did get to kiss him. So all was well xD

All's well that ends well.

A Damaged Pride Amongst Other Things

So on Saturday I had my first day off in a considerably extended period of time.

So how, do you assume, I spent my relaxing day off?

Going on a wondrous adventure with my boyfriend?

Shopping with my girl mates and having a right old laugh?

Chilling in front of Netflix in my PJs with a steaming cup of luxury hot chocolate?

THINK AGAIN!

I figured a nice way to spend my day off would be at the MIU of my local hospital.

For those with less hospital experience, that's the minor injuries unit.

How, you might ask, did I end up in said predicament?

Well...

You see...

I flew down my cellar steps like the second coming of Lucifer.

Yes. I swear on my life. That's what happened.

I thought, "Well hey, what's the point in going all the way upstairs to get my own shoes when I can just slip my dad's on quickly for nipping down the cellar!"

That thought process, while having occurred and in fact succeeded on multiple occasions, in this instance, was nothing short of insanity.

I got to the second step down and I'm fairly certain I must have slipped.

I'm not entirely certain because I don't really remember what happened up to That Fucking Moment.

That Fucking Moment where you realise.... you fucked up.

You fucked up BIG TIME!

So I sort of became concious that I was falling and that immediate doom was inevitable a few milliseconds before my back collided with the brick step with an incredible force.

Did it stop there?

No it did not.

In the true style of the pull of gravity, I continued my downstairs descent with a "DONK DONK DONK DONK DONK"

The whole "DONK" thing?

Yeah. That was the sound of my spine hitting brick. Somewhere amongst that was also my right elbow hitting brick.

There was basically a lot of me hitting brick.

After I'd stopped donking down the steps, I omitted such a noise that my sister described as a "hurty whale" and led my brother to the belief that a dog had somehow got in to the cellar.

Flattered, as you can imagine.

Anyway, I finally managed to move, found myself unable to move my elbow, laugh, cough or sit down.

So I ended up waiting in the hospital for a considerable amount of time, being told it was ligament and muscle damage in my arm, and told that the muscles in my back, had once again, torn.

Having recently been diagnosed with hypermobility syndrome, this didn't really come as much of a shock.

What was rather shocking though was having to pee in a paper dish and walk out of the toilet, rather skeptical that the thing was going to even hold, and hand it to the nurse looking after me while trying to draw as little attention to myself as possible.

Yep. Had to have my pee checked for blood to make sure my kidneys hadn't taken too much of a bashing. Awkward much.

Anyway, I was sent home with a sling and a considerable dent in my pride.

A Mini Me

Most people have a lot of funny stories from when they were kids but having been talking to my mum, I was honestly such a classic *embarrassing* child it even cracks me up!

So I spent the first few years of my life living in a teeny village alongside the Kentish downs, so it was essentially like living under a very green and spacious rock.

So I saw mostly the same people day in, day out basically. However I did learn things through the TV which made me feel awful smart. I was one of those inquisitive little children that asked questions about literally EVERYTHING. I had to know the ins and outs of just about anything and everything.

Even from a young age I liked swimming, so there I was, swimming with my mum, armbands on, and who do I see other than a black man.

So I'd learnt about different skin colours on the TV but I hadn't really seen it first hand so according to my mum, my little chubby three-year old face lit up and I paddled off before she could do anything about it, to talk to the poor chap.

"You're black, aren't you?" I said, very proud of myself.

"Yes I am," He replied. "And what colour are you?"

My face shone even more and I flicked my head in a very know-all fashion.

"Oh, I'm SILVER!"

Silver. I said I was silver.

Silver. 

SILVER???

Oh my word. Wasn't I just wonderful?

I was also fairly demanding. I still am, really. Reply to my message, hug me, love me... JOKING. Or am I? I'll leave you to suss that one out...

If I wanted something, I wanted it and I would go to extreme lengths to ensure I got what I wanted. So, when I was three I actually lived in Kavala, in Greece for several months because of a work placement my dad had got. So my life was pretty damn chill, beach every day, sandcastles every day, paddling, glorious sunshine. The picture-perfect life, when you think about it.

But I wanted an ice-cream, even though I'd already had one. So my mum said, "No, Robyn, you can't have another one, play nicely now please."

But that wasn't good enough for me.

I waddled up to the kiosk, approached the man who was second-in-line and yelled "BUY ME AN ICE-CREAM, NOW!!"

And to the poor guy's credit, he did. 

So I walked back to mum, happily slurping away at my ice-cream, which shortly followed with a full-blown interrogation as to where I'd got it from.

"That man bought it for me, mummy!"

Just dropped him right in it. I was such a little shit!

So mum had to pay the bloke back and I got away with my ice-cream, although I did get in a LOT of trouble.

Like, a hella lot.

But the "now" thing kind of was kind of a thing for me. We were at some barbecue, I was two years old I think? Anyway, I went up to my mum and I said, "Mummy, I want another drink!"

So, my mother being a wonderful model parent for all the people surrounding us, replied "And what's the magic word, Robyn?"

So I stood up tall and went "NOW!!!" 

Everyone nearby scarpered pretty quickly, like oooh, how embarrassing. I had that effect. I made people walk away from us, I was so embarrassing.

But my all-time personal favourite has to be the time we went to B&Q. Again, I was two and I was stuck at that awkward stage where I called every lady "mummy" and every man "daddy". So mum was trying to get me to kick the habit, like "No Robyn, that's a lady."

This one time though I got it spot on.

So we were browsing for God-knows what around B&Q and the sales assistant walks over and politely asks "Hello there, is there anything I can help you with today?"

My arms dropped down by my sides. My eyes widened like saucers. My jaw hit the floor.

I lifted one arm, pointed at the sales assistant and yelled, at the absolute top of my voice,

"MAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!"

For what was stood in front of me, was reasonably obviously, a male transvestite looking absolutely mortified.

So what did my mum do?

She scooped me up under one arm.

And she ran as fast as she could to get the hell out of there.

She couldn't exactly tell me off; I was merely being honest.

The moral of the story is: don't get caught with me out and about in public, because I have a talent for showing people up.

Yup. That's me.

A Shakespearean Adventure

So last week I went up to London to see Shakespeare's Measure For Measure at the REAL ACTUAL Globe Theatre!

Well. You know. Like the 5th restoration of it.

So I got to go to school in jeans, a T-shirt a hoodie and my beloved Converse.

I walked to meet my friend Jaz and her jaw hit the floor. Apparently seeing me so un-smart was a bit of a shock.

I was in school for one lesson. That was one hour and twenty minutes of "ROBYN OMG you can't wear jeans! They're gonna send you home!"

Bite me, bitch.

The pals I was with had started a group chat the night before which was an agreement to bring a tonne of sugar filled foods which would probably result in us being so hyper we'd be shaking throughout the duration of the trip. This was with Kim, Georgia, and Laura was accepted in to it shortly afterwards.

This group chat had been affectionately named by me as "The Fornication Foundation".

This seems totally weird unless you're actually familiar with the story of Measure For Measure.

Psst....psst...It's about PRE-MARITAL SEX!

Yeah, so we got on the train and tipped our bags out on the table...

We had 2 chocolate oranges, a box of swizzles favourites, a bag of Doritos, a pack of Oreos, Haribo minions, and then bought some Kinder eggs at the station.

If I've forgotten anything guys just comment because I swear there was more....

So we managed to get to the Globe and after wrestling for some lunch at Eat, we took our places in the courtyard of the theatre, where we faced our next biggest issue.,,

Standing up for three hours.

Uh oh.

So we were up to the left of the stage, leaning right on it. I had to be on my tiptoes, because...well...yeah, but the others coped all right.

Within minutes all of us had spotted the same guy opposite from us at the other side of the theatre.

He was a cross between Stephen Mulhern and Leonardo DiCaprio. Dazzling smile. Beautiful face. We all spent the full hour and three quarters of the first half of the play not really paying attention, but more watching "Fit Guy" as he was affectionately christened.

Whenever he looked in our direction, we all looked at each other and giggled, That's how creepy we are.

Okay, I did actually pay attention to most of the play, but it was Shakespeare, and need I say more?

Plus my back was literally killing me, standing for so damn long.

Anyway, after sitting in a massive heap on the floor of the Globe for like 15 minutes, we were told we had to get up to endure *cough cough* whoops, sorry, I meant ENJOY the second half, which wasn't really half at all, but about a fifth of what the first half had been.

But Fit Guy had disappeared so we were much more concerned about finding him than Lucio's marriage to a whore.

Spoiler alert....

Anyway, the highlight of the play was when a wheelbarrow tipped over and fell on the audience at the front and one of the actors had to come out of character to ensure they were okay.

Leaving the Globe, we found Fit Guy, only up so closed we realised...he was not so fit after all.

In fact, he was around 40 years old, with wrinkles, a balding head, clothes a few sizes too big, and a pot belly.

Bit embarrassing....

So we ran.

I kept getting crushed at Waterloo Station, with people walking in to me at all angles while I yelled something along the lines of:

"People!! Everywhere!! I live in the middle of nowhere! There are more people in this station than in a 5 mile radius of my house! Help!"

The train home was somewhat eventful, after not getting a seat and the others scrounging off of my personal hotspot (I ran out of 3G on Friday guys, cheers xD).

There was also a minor incident of Kim vs her Double Whopper and the onion-that-was-meant-to-be-lettuce. But i won't go in to the gory details

But it was a great day out, with lots of laughs (like me failing at hair tutorials) and lessons (such as age before beauty....)

Love you guys!!

Comical Misfortune

I swear it is literally always me....

Some weird cloud of devastation follows me....

But instead of the simple tragic events, I end up with the tragically comedic and just plain pathetic incidents which, while being funny for the majority of onlookers, for me, really aren't actually all that funny.

So yesterday was pretty standard until I sat down on the common room floor awkwardly and couldn't get back up again.

Smooth, I know.

So my friends Kim and Georgia came over to try and help me up, only my shoes don't have all that much grip...I ended up skidding along the floor and landing in an awkward heap, yelling at them about how a chair with three legs would have provided me with more stability while they tried not to wet themselves.

I am literally the essence of attractive *L'Oreal hair flick*

Merely two hours later, I looked over my shoulder to say goodbye to someone and full-on face-planted a bus stop post, thus rebounding a good metre or so.

The poor chap didn't quite know how to react....

For some reason, I always seem to attempt to get off the train on the wrong side. I'll be frantically pressing the button, wondering why the damn thing isn't opening, before realising that everyone else is offloading on the other side of the train and they're all looking at me as if I've been let out for the day...

Whoopsie daisy....

I also have this habit of trying to be a hella lot cooler than I actually am.

So again, yesterday - t'was not a good day - it chucked it down, and in order to jump over a colossal puddle flooding the entrance to a park I had to walk through, I climbed on top of a wall.

It was only like hip height but still, it was a bit of a struggle.... especially as it was dark and raining and my bag weighed a tonne

Then some weird thing...REALLY weird... possessed me to think "jumping over this puddles gonna be hella swag, I should toats magotes film this to up my street cred"

No.

Just. No.

I commenced filming, jumped off the wall and just carried on going down

And down...

...and down

.......and down

.........and just a bit more

Until I landed in the goddamn puddle.

I filmed myself falling in a puddle. What even am I?

Somehow, I turned my Siri on in my pocket yesterday while talking to my dad and I went to check the time and what has Siri deciphered other than:

"Do you like my dick"

No, Siri. Go home. You're drunk.

Today's incident was so unfortunate that I'm surprised I still have my hair on and a functioning cardiac muscle.

I was at band practise, mid-way through a song. I like to film it so we can look back and figure out weaker points.

The fire alarm went off mid-song

And I jumped a mile and screamed the place down.

The worst part is that the fire alarm goes off every single week, as they test them at 4pm on a Friday. They just did it a bit earlier than usual today....

Thanks a bunch. So now I have a video of me having a heart attack.

I never want to hear "Use Somebody" ever again anymore.

It's just tragic. I'm a drama magnet.

Huelp

Quirks & Perks

So here's a small rant about the quirky little things other people may relate to... Or alternatively I'm just super duper weird. Also a possibility...

Firstly.

Hiccups....

I swear I always get these at the most insanely inappropriate moments. I'll be sat in the middle of a test, and for literally no reason, I'm bouncing up and down like some out-of-control space-hopper gone wrong, going "HIC HIC HIC HIC HIC HIC!"

It's not even remotely discreet. It's like I've been possessed. And then people (aka my so-called "friends") start giggling which draws even more unwanted attention upon myself to the point I'm asked to go and get a drink and control the involuntary spasms racking my body.

Secondly, when someone talks to me whilst I'm not expecting it my response will ALWAYS sound sarcastic. For example, I was approached in the common room the other day by my head of year.

Him: "Oh! Robyn! I've got something in my office for you if you'd like to collect it at lunch." (Being my student card)
Me: "OHHH well doesn't that just sound DELIGHTFUL!" 

And that's one way to piss people off. 

People think I'm doing it on purpose, it's difficult to explain that I was actually being genuine... It's just an anti-awkwardness mechanism.

Next, how could I forget that every time I sneeze, I'm met with a chorus of "Bless you!"

I get it. It's polite. But for some reason it really aggravates me.... I'm just sat there minding my own business and then "ATISHOO!". As if that wasn't already bad enough and I wasn't already drawing enough attention, I get blessed.

Don't bless me. I'm evil. It won't work so well in your favour.... As I've already pointed out, I'm fairly certain I'm possessed... I mean, sarcasm and hiccups don't lead up to nothing.

I don't need a blessing. I need an exorcist.

Also, MY JOINTS!!!

I snap and crack more times a day than a raging psychopath under an extortionate amount of pressure.

It's quite fun in exams and in the cinema.

Just think about it. You're watching an intense horror movie and it's the quiet bit where something's about to jump out...

...and

...CRACK!

If I just rotate my ankle, I get "click click click click" which I often use as a metronome whilst practicing guitar. And I'm not even ashamed to admit it.

But when I wake up and am relentlessly trying to be silent, all my joints going off at once really doesn't help. My hips and shoulders sound like someone being shot.

One time, in German class, my hip went off when I wasn't expecting it, I nearly shat myself, and stacked it as a result....

My doctors and physio keep thinking I'm hyper-mobile or something which would explain the back but I've had all these tests and stuff where a had to stretch my fingers out as far as they would go, and things like that, and I'm not. It's just some whacky thing about me which I could easily live without.

It bothers some people too, when I sit there and push in all my knuckles to make them pop. Personally I don't feel the issue....to me it feels like releasing a demon from my fists.

Does anyone else always start hearing people shouting their name the second they put earphones in or are those just the voices in my head that tell me what to do....?

Recently too, I seem to be getting very emotional about trivial things. My phone will be playing music on shuffle and a song I'm not keen on will come on.

And do I skip the song after rolling my eyes? Sighing? Something remotely normal?

Nope. For some reason I mutter "Oh, why don't you just kill yourself!?" under my breath.

....?....

And I don't even make a conscious decision to say it....it's like WORD SPLURGE!

I mean, nice Robyn. Real damn nice.

Sometimes I also do things for LITERALLY NO REASON.

I'll throw a bottle of water on the floor as hard as I can because a bus hasn't shown up.

I'll be doing homework, walk downstairs, open the fridge, close it, and go back to doing my homework.

I'll just randomly say thinks like "a woba bob bob" because I have nothing better to say.

I'll brush my teeth 3 times because it beats whatever I'm meant to be doing.

I'll creep up behind my friends and hug them to death without them noticing until the very last minute purely because they are my friends and I love them to the moon and back.

Okay, so I lied about the last one. 

I actually just do it to scare the living shit out of them. It's the funniest thing in the world. I mean, their FACES! CLASSIC!

I'm evil, remember?