My first ever football match

So last night I went along, with everyone to the pub to watch the England match against Sweden. I've never been to the pub to watch football before, and I think I've only ever watched a handful of matches before... so clearly, this was a new experience.
I put up with a LOT of rowdiness before the match from everyone in the room, including the halfwit that brought a horn into a tiny room. So far I was not impressed, and as I drank my pint I began to contemplate that leaving halfway through might not be such a bad idea. I was also pining for my bed, with its soft pillows, comfy mattress and snug duvet.
Then it started, and I became quickly entranced in watching a ball being bopped around by 22 men, something I never thought I'd say. When we scored I got mildly excited and found my hands uncontrollably clapping by themselves, a grin on my face. When they scored, my hands again, acting without instruction, clamped themselves up to my mouth in horror. When we scored again I leapt out of my chair and started bouncing around like a true fan, before quickly falling over and landing involuntarily on my arse again! When they scored the second equaliser I wanted to shout rude things, but refrained.
All in all, I got very excited.
I was however, told in half time that this was not 'the interval' nor was it an 'intermission', it was 'half time' and the match was not over yet.
Mike also confused me by at the start telling me the tiny children that were paired up on the pitch in front of the players while they mouthed the words half heartedly to the national anthem, were , infact, their substitutes...this clearly could not be the case since they were mostly about 4 years old, and even I'm not that stupid, but I had had a long day, was tired and drinking and did cock my head in suprise before catching on.

Other news as I've not written for a while, well, the only other news that is BIG news, is that I have finished and my results are...well, we think that I got a first. Only because my department is silly, it is actually a distinction...but I'm distinctly calling it a first. I average out at 71.6 % so only just scraped it, but it means the hard work, the sweat, blood and toil of this year was worth it, oh so worth it. It's what I wanted since my tutor at the end of last year told me I had the potential to achieve, and I wanted it even more this year when she reiterated it along with my dissertation tutor. My dissertation, my god, I got an 80 in it! Astounded I cried when my tutor told me that, and then she cried and then we all cried...lol. I am so pleased, and so chuffed with myself, as was my dad when I told him. He was speechless, something, that anyone who knows my father will agree, never happens. He's one of these people who always has an answer for everything, this often irritates me, and is one of the reasons I could never go and live back home- we clash too much. We have got on so much better since I left home, and just visit. Well firstly he didnt' know what to say except of course 'well done' and 'congratulations' and then 'wow', then he started trying to talk about something else completely incoherently, then he went back to talking about me, and then he made a noise, not dissimilar to 'woooooooooooooooooooooo' down the phone. More than anything that was what I wanted, he told me over and over how proud he was of me, and although my folks have told me throughout life they are proud of me whatever I do, he was actually proud of me for achieving the very best. He always just says 'yes' or agrees with mum whenever she says she's proud, and he always has criticism at the ready even if you've done your best...when I passed my driving test first time I was ecstatic, he was in the driveway when I pulled up and I thought 'this time, this time he'll be over the moon and have no criticism or anything', I ran up to him and he said 'so?' and I was like 'I passed, I passed' and he smiled and said 'Of course I knew you'd passed, because your instructor was driving' and that was it. Nothing else. I remember crying for hours because of that. No 'well done' or 'congratulations'. When I got my GCSE's and A-Levels it was the same he just said things to the effect of 'well we knew you could do it' and 'as long as you did your best it doesn't matter' or 'that's very good' that's another favourite phrase of his, and although I know he is proud of me, it never quite comes across, I always feel he knew already what I'd get and had prepared himself for it, there was never any spotanaeity like with mum, it always seemed pre-prepared and thought out, nothing ever suprised him. And I worked myself into a hole of depression and sheer tiredness this year for it, and I felt so relieved. I pulled out all the stops amid grieving, arguments and a rough patch with Mike, and I DID IT. Finally, after 16 years of education, I've got what I wanted more than anything, my father being suprised and well and truly proud of my achievement without expecting it, or being prepared for it, or having any pre-prepared unemotional speeches ready for me. I heard down the phone his suprise, his love and his emotions for, I think, the first time ever to do with my education and achievement.

That's why I'm proud of my first; it nearly killed me doing it, but hearing that one 20 minute phone call made it all worth while.

admitting our mistakes can sometimes be a bigger challenge than learning from them

So I did what I said I wouldn't do- deleted not one, but all 3 posts off of here regarding my stress last week of exams.
Why?
I'm not sure. I think it has something to do with coming to my senses that ok, maybe I shouldn't have ranted on here because it wasn't the most constructive thing to do, and that I quite obviously did not like comments recieved on it because it not only hurt, but angered me that no-one could see my POV even when I'd tried to (what I thought was) rationally explain my motives behind the rant. I've not posted since because of it, because I've been mulling over whether I should really have a blog if I dislike comments that are posted on it. I've also been mulling it over because I'm not sure I should write a blog; I'm not sure that what I write should be read if you see what I mean. I warned when I started this that I needed some space here to rant occasionally, but in retrospect I don't think this is the right place, because clearly some poeple misinterpret it and take offence. Offence is the last thing I want to cause and so I didn't write.
I missed it a bit. But not fanatically. I use this mostly instead of my diary, which I've severely neglected since November when I wrote about my Grandad dying. I didn't want to write in it after that as it upset me too much to read over what was written. It still does, so I'm still avoiding my diary. I did need somewhere else to write things down though, and that has become here. Maybe though I am better suited to my diary, where things are private and kept private; where they cannot be judged or cause offence.
Somehow though I'm reluctant to give this up, mostly I think because this is how I've been communicating with people, especially those like Meryn and Kirsty who are far away and whom I miss terribly as friends. Also though to those that are closer to me, I'm not a good person when it comes to communication. I don't DO communication very well, which is odd perhaps for someone in my job. If I was a young person coming to me saying these things, I'd encourage me to go and talk to my friends about issues, instead of just clamming up and hiding in my room for days and sometimes weeks. I'd reassure myself that actually they wouldnt' think me stupid or stark raving mad. And yet, somehow even though I know all this deep down inside, I still don't talk. It's my biggest fault. I know some people think I'm being deliberately awkward when I do that, sit in my room, don't talk, cry at night, and I know I am being awkward, but it's not that deliberate, it's just that I honestly don't know how to properly talk to people. I never have. I've never ever done that. Never sat down to someone and talked. See I can write this, and I can even write this knowing that people will read it, but I could never actually say this to someone; not unless I was really really close to them, like Mike. Mike knows these things, but it took me a while to confide in him as to how I am.
I've just never let myself get close to people, I'm afraid of being hurt like I was once before. And I know that you should never let past experiences marr the present, but they do, everyone has at least one that does have some impact on the present. This is mine. I dont' even know where this is going. I'm just writing for the sake of writing maybe, maybe for my own sanity. I don't know any more.
I can't talk any more about anything, because I'm getting too upset now and I'll say things, not that I don't want people to know, but that I'm not ready to admit to people just yet. All I ask at the moment is for some understanding and patience from my friends. And to forgive me if I'm short tempered, or angry for no reason, or if I inadvertantly annoy them or offend them. And whilst it may sometimes look like I'm pushing people away, really, I'm crying out for some help and support.

Forgive me.

x

Giant Twister

So today, instead of revising I managed to quite spectacularly procrastinate, to the point where first thing this morning (9am) I went to the Uni, to the Aston Webb Media Centre to learn what I'm going to be doing next week with a bunch of kids. This was followed by going home via Tesco's where I met a Blind guy from Bristol, got talking about Public Policy, had a debate about equal rights, ended up going for coffee and lunch to debate it further, and then leaving Via Mike's house...where I used my powers of persuasion to get them all to agree to come with me to the Guild, again, to play Giant Twister. I then went home to put my Tesco's shopping in the fridge, Said Goodbye to Tariq who left today, went back and collected 53's rabble, and went to the Astroturf where Giant twister happened. I then spent a nice afternoon in the sun playing Giant twister, flashing my knickers, and failing quite spectacularly to catch frisbees and mini rugby balls. I then declined an offer to spend the rest of the late afternoon in the Goose and instead answered my brain's guilty cries of revision and finally finished typing up the essay I wrote yesterday, and made a plan of it, and then repeated the plan over and over. I am now in the process of trying to learn said plan.

It bothers me that really, for once, I'm not stressing about this exam. Don't know why, maybe I've lost my will to fight, I think that is it, I feel I've been fighting academia and hence being stressed out since September. I don't think I can do it any more. I don't want to do it any more! I refuse to get stressed out over this exam. I know the stuff, I have recently written about it, no more than 3 weeks ago in my dissertation. I just need to learn the plan and I will be able to write it. Why Stress?

Of course this might all change tomorrow when I realise I have ONLY tomorrow to learn the plan!

Visit to the zoo

So today we went to the zoo for Nic's 21st Birthday- although that was actually a week ago now, but nevermind, we can't help it if she goes swanning off to France.
So many great things happened, so many fantastic animals...Lemeurs, Wallabies, Kangaroo's, Moongooses, Meercats, Red Panda's, Giraffes, Goats!, Cocks!!!, Pigs, Sheep....starting to sound like a glorified farmyard now isn't it....ok well it was cool anyway.

Several great moments of the day and pictures to go with some.
Firstly, when we all mounted an elephant!! Not a real one, a miniature one made of fibreglass. Whilst Kirsty was doing her 'balletic' impression of it, I was shouting helpful things such as 'Get your leg over' and 'Go on, mount it' to Gill's disgust. She pointed out there was a child nearby- a two year old who I think had been left out in the sun too long, she was wandering round in circles, clapping her hands and singing to herself, either that or she was possessed. I told Gill it was just a child, but then Gill did point out to me that said possessed child might repeat what it heard to its parents!! Ooops.
Anyway: photo of us mounting an elephant...and you can see my weird arms in it, my funny elbows that bend the wrong way!


Moment of the day two was when we were by the Giraffes....
'Aaaah' I said 'look, at the back' I pointed to the far reaches of the enclosure so Tariq could see 'look at the goat'
"That's not a goat!" said Tariq, "It's a baby Giraffe!"
"No, Tariq, it's a goat!" I proclaimed
"No, Ali, It's a baby Giraffe"
"Tariq!!" I said, losing all patience "It's not a bloody baby giraffe, its a goat. Baby Giraffes are not that small....that's a long way to drop when you're a baby giraffe! Look it has horns, it's a goat!" I looked around "That" I said "Is a baby Giraffe" Pointing to an animal about 20 times the size of the goat!
"Ooooh" Said Tariq.
Here is picture of said 'Baby Giraffe' against real baby Giraffe!!!!

My other highlight was definitely seeing the Lemeurs, they were amazing in the walk through enclosure, although one did try to molest lucy! They leap across from log to log, rope to rope, and are so agile it's amazing. Sometimes I think they don't even appear to 'jump' they don't appear to put any effort into it at all, more like just bouncing, but from a static position. I do love lemeurs. We had been watching them and one jumped across to near us, and looked like it was going to jump onto the fence in front of us, when I sneezed suddenly behind Tariq....it wasn't the lemeur that jumped 5 feet into the air I can tell you that!

I decided later on that I was going to attempt to try a 'balletic' pose of my own in the castle, I thought I could at least half decently do it. Unfortunately my first attempt resorted in me looking like I only have one leg (and yes, I do have my eyes closed, and yes, I do look stupid!):

I also attempted imitating an ape, not balletically!

The future laywers of our country are saying things like this:

Gill: so have you blogged about the zoo today yet? You've had 5 hours, what else have you been doing?
Nic: Well, I made dinner, I straightened Lucy's hair, I straightened Kirsty's hair, I had a conversation with Ali about Rainbow Trout...
Me: Yes, she tried to convince me to bone it.
Gill suffocates a laugh
Tariq meanwhile starts saying something else as he misheard and Nic replies, I see Gill unable to control herself and reply "not like that"
Gill bursts out laughing, before saying "you mean, remove the bones?'
Me: Yes
Gill: So de-bone
Me: it's called boning
Gill laughs again and says "It means something else to me"
Me: Don't be so dirty
Mike.M: Gill only men can bone cos they have a boner, women can't bone anything.
Gill: Don't be sexist!

Rude Awakening

And there I was, running, running through the field, a warm, happy sensation flowing over me, freedom at last...

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggg........

Feeling confused I regained consciousness and blearily peered at my clock, I can't even remember the time, but I reckon it was just before 9am, once I had established it was very early (oh yes it is! I didn't go to bed til nearly 2) I then quickly backtracked to what had woken me up...my legs were working faster than my brain, for I was already at my door putting on my dressing gown and on the landing before my brain had caught up to the fact that it was the doorbell. Kirst was of a similar mind, also just coming out of her room. Speculating about who the HELL this could be calling on a student house at this hour of the morning (definitely not another student that much is certain) we made our way downstairs.

With Bed hair quite specatacular even for me, and bleary eyes, I yawned and opened the door.....to quite a cute guy. Cheerfully he bid me goodmorning and explained that he had come to look at our boiler and he had told our landlord (who had neglected to tell us...oh no, wait, what's this...) the phone rang at that point (yes our landlord!)....kirsty and I were not amused at all, but graciously showed the man in to the kitchen, whereby I remembered my manners and offered him a cup of tea while he was still apologising for waking us up.

So the boiler farce continues now, fantastic news- Kirsty may have to move out of her room! LOL. He was telling us, after we had checked rooms for thermastats and goodness knows what else, that the situation is that basically our boiler is fucked. Something I have been trying to tell our landlord from day one last year when it first broke. It's obvious...I'm not an engineer, or a mechanical person, although I do my fair share of tampering when something is broken and trying to fix it, but even to a simpleton such as me, it is blatantly obvious that the boiler is much older than the 12 years the last engineer tried to convince us it was. It is knackered, broke beyond belief, it should go off to the boiler heaven and be put out of its misery. Yes I am advocating euthanasia for this boiler and so would you if you saw its distress, and more importantly, our distress every time it breaks.
So it has to be replaced, much to the Landlord's annoyance. And this, the engineer was telling us, may require the laying of new pipes...through kirsty's room...which requires the pulling up of carpet and the removal of all things Kirsty. Our landlord inevitably won't tell us when this will happen, considering he didn't tell us the guy was coming this morning until he'd actually turned up, so it will probably be a hit and miss and rush job to get everything out...and she will probably have to stay in one of our rooms!

On the plus side, our new house has had it's tenants evicted (apparently they were horrible) so there may be the chance to move in early...which may benefit kirsty!!