The 6th....and 7th Emergency Services

I blame sleep deprivation for the conversations tonight, that and trauma at finding a potentially dead person and the killer and feeling increasing guilt for not doing anything, like calling the emergency services...

'How many emergency services are there?'
'6...no, wait, 5: Police, Ambulance, Firebrigade, Mountain Rescue and Coastguard...but maybe there is a niche for a 6th, Gilly could be the 6th- Bear Rescue'
'she'll come and fight the bears, and Kill them and eat them for you' I laughed
then I did some thinking, something I shouldn't be allowed to do in a state such as I was in.
'Are the AA an Emergency service?'
'hahahahha..you're serious aren't you? NO, you don't dial 999 for the AA, you go to one of their telephones'
'But they are a rescue service?'
'Ye-es, but not emergency'
'I see.' I pondered 'What about helicopters?'
'What about them?'
'Are they part of the emergency services? Air Rescue?'
'hahahahahah help help I need resucing from the air, I'm stuck in the air' Mike mocked me.
'Seriously, they are used aren't they?'
'Yes, but by the other services, they aren't a service themselves'
'hmmmm'
'Ali, when would you need air rescue?'
'Well...' I thought hard 'Like if there was a really tall building, with a pole sticking out of it and a parachutist got caught on the pole...then you'd need air rescue!'
'What???!!!' Nic laughed at me incredulously (but no one actually dismissed it)
Again Mike mocked 'hlep help, I'm 3,000 feet up in the air and I'm stuck, I need rescuing'
'Or, if say, you know those people who work in airports...the ones that wave planes in' (I did helpful mime movements with my arms) I was determined to prove Mike wrong, 'well, what if one of their things got caught, in like, the plane doors, and they were hanging from the plane, THEN you'd need air rescue because you WOULD be 3,000 feet in the air. Stuck!'
Mike mocked more with a phrase not dissimilar to 'What if you decided to talk a walk out of the plane doors and got stuck on the wing, then you'd need air rescue'

I'd love to say it was a one off conversation, but it wasn't. Earlier in the evening (apart from being questioned by Gilly's dad on the validity of my pet dragon Doris for about 1/2 an hour), I was sat looking at my slippers which I always think are a purpley colour, but which in today's light looked blue and wondered about it aloud. My mike said 'no they are purpley' and Gill's mike said 'they're definitely on the red side of blue'
They're definitely on the red side of blue....I thought this phrase over....carefully:
'how do you make blue?'
'You don't make blue' Gilly's mike explained 'it's a primary colour'
'yes, but how do you make it'
'you don't, it's just blue'
'But blue doesn't exist as an entity, it's not a thing, it must come from other things to make it up'
'Are you talking about paint?' my mike asked helpfully, for once not mocking
'Ye-es, sort of. I mean, when you look on a paint packet, it says colour number this, and colour long number that to make up blue, it doesn't just exist'
'Well they use blue dye, it's just blue, it's not other things making it up, its naturally blue'
'like flowers?'
'yes, in the old days they would have used blue flowers to dye things'
'ri-ight' I think I'm getting the hang of this.
'How do you make white?' I said after a long pause where I was clearly mulling it all over according to both mikes who practically saw the cogs turning.
'White light' My mike started
'Is made up of all the colours' we finished together
'yes I know that, but white, like, white shirts'
'White shirts are usually cotton, and cotton is naturally white, that's why when you bleach something it goes white, it strips something of its colour' Said Gill's mike helpfully
We then got onto black and the fabric paint that Gill thought was green (it had a green lid and she claims it looked dark green), but which is black and which I think looks nothing like green. Mike (Gill's not mine) then said he agreed , he had thought it was green too, and, spotting the label of 'vibrant colours' mused aloud that it's not a vibrant black.
'Can you really get vibrant black?' my mike said
'yes' both mike and I replied
'Like Gloss black is vibrant' I said smugly
'Yes', Mike agreed 'Vibrant black for me' Mike said seriously 'would be a really black black that was glossy'
Musing that over I then said

'How black can you get?'

Both Mike's sighed.

Where you paint crush?

Kirsty's party was really fun, we did a lot of drinking, a little dancing, and a lot of laughing at various things.
Last night resulted in many strange texts: One from Tim telling me in cryptic terms that he has applied on my behalf for Top Gear Tickets for me, and one from Nic (sat a mere 60 centimetres from me) saying simply 'Roar!' to name but two.
We managed to fit 6 of us into Kirsty's spare room (with 2 single beds- and we got 4 people on those...mostly). Mike and I shared a bed, and Mike (the other one) and Gill shared a bed. Gilly's Mike laughed in his sleep and Gilly said something amusing just as we were all drifting off, but no one can remember what it was now. My mike fell out of bed to start with; later hogged most of the bed until I elbowed him in the ribs for fear I'd fall off the bed and squash Nic laying in between the two beds. Then he trod on Lucy's head in the night, and hit Nic with his hand - quite abusive sleeping I think you'll agree. Lucy kept grabbing Nic's toes!! And Nic had an eerie 6th sense of knowing when I was awake and in pain- enough to wake up, sit up, say 'are you alright' listen to me say 'no, my tooth hurts' and then literally fall back to sleep again!
I woke up at 5am, hot and with the feeling that someone was driving a pneumatic drill into my jaw- although I had drunk what I thought was copious amounts of alcohol, enough to knock me out for the night - my tooth, or lack of, had other ideas. There was no way I could sleep, so I tossed and turned, had the brief conversation with Nic, before deciding at 6am to sleep on the floor on the other side of the bed. I got stuck. Mike had put his bags down there and I thought I could maybe slip under the bed, but it had boxes under it. It was uncomfortable and so grumpily I dislocated several limbs before getting up and leaving the room. I wander'd through the sleepy house tried the living room, which Simon had to himself but became cold...so found the utility room where I nodded off for a bit against the wall.

Several hours later we found ourselves travelling homeward. We always had the impression it wasn't going to be an easy journey. Yesterday getting there was difficult, so it wasn't going to be any better on a Sunday with fewer trains, shorter bus replacement services, fewer staff who are underpaid and overworked and lots of people to transport, and us, carrying swords and bridal outfits. Especially as before we set off, we discovered Nic had lost her railcard and ticket and so we all ransacked our bags hunting furiously and leaving late for the train, leaving nic behind to search even more. It transpired she eventually went to Northampton station, but we'll return to that story later.
Suprisingly, given all that, the trains were on time, plenty of room, and it was going rather well. I blame Matt for jiinxing it on the bus from Leicester to Nuneaton though 'this isn't that bad, it's not that far at all'. Thankyou Matt. Nuneaton station, the train in the platform ready to go. Gill and Mike went on ahead of us and we lost them but found a carriage...with a body on the floor.
We think the man was just sleeping...deeply...he looked like he was breathing...but he was curled up in the doorway. No one else seemed bothered. When I say no one else, I mean the only other man in the train...who thinking about it could have possibly murdered him. Anyway, we sat and waited, and waited and waited. Mark helpfully told us we were leaving later than advertised.
I got a text from Gill who told us what carriage she was in, I replied with 'we have a potential dead man in ours'; she replied with 'we have annoying girls debating whether spring is a season. Perhaps wish they were dead!'
It was then that the driver announced there was a technical problem with the train and we would leave shortly. Matt could no longer stand the temptation of the Coke Machine directly opposite our window and he and Mark braved the risk of leaping out of the train (coke advert stylee) and grabbing a Coke before leaping back on again...much to the amusement of potential murderer sat next to us.
Then the train driver announced the train on the platform next to us would 'be leaving first' - does this mean we need to let it leave? or we need to get on it to leave?
'Attention everyone, this train is NOT leaving any time soon, please get OFF and go over onto the other train'
We left potential murderer and dead body to quickly take the hint and leave. Why they stayed I don't know. Why the guy who was 'sleeping' didn't wake up at all, despite the intercom beign loud and us being loud I also don't know, furthering my suspicion that he was either dead or unconscious and maybe now in hindsight we should have checked.
We got onto the Virgin train and most of it, it transpired was First Class, we along with everyone else, feeling arsy about our journey just sat down, until the intercom told us that we would have to pay a surplus of £10 to sit there when the inspector came round - they so have cameras hidden on those trains, they KNEW what we were doing. We all moved....down the train to find...NIC. She left 45 minutes after us, at a different station, on a different line, and ended up on the same train as us having changed at Rugby. That if nothing else, shows how fucked up our rail system is.
Nic and I proceeded to annoy everyone in our carriage by looking at the photos from last night on her camera, which made a noise every time you looked at a new one. Occasionally the noise was accompanied by me laughing, and phrases such as 'Gorilla Dancing' and 'Tim Burton bride'. Gilly, aghast that I had deleted the text about paintbrushes the other night, sent me another, equally apallingly spelled text: 'Where your paintcrushes?'
We were just all so relieved to get back after what feels like a few days travelling constantly with corpses and murderers, and the weird people we came across in the process too like the guy on the floor...

Artisticali

Having bought Gill's costume pieces with Nic, I left the two of them to do at least one costume without my help (I painted Nic's because she pleaded and did puppy dog eyes at me). Happily I sauntered over the road to watch on Film 4 'Lost in Translation' with Mike who claimed he'd never seen the film, although I could swear watching it with him in the cinema and even describe where we sat and who else was there. I arrived late, not a good start.
About halfway into the film I got a phonecall, from Gill! 'What's happened?' was my immediate reaction.
'Hello?'
'Ali, where is your paintbrush? We need paintbrushes.'
'Oh, um it's here.'
'Ah'
'It's not very big'
'How do you know?'
'I'm holding it in my hand, it's really not very big'
(stifled laughter at innuendo from Mike and Mark)
'Fuck off...no, not you Gill'
Laughter from Gill
'Gill's finally caught on'
'What?'
(or not)
'I'll bring them over shall I?'
'No, no you don't have to bring them over'
'I'll be there in a couple of minutes, hang on.'

What happens next I simply cannot blog any better than Gill did. All I will say is that I ended up staying at ours for the rest of the film, and Mike's romantic night in watching a film he claimed (rightly it turned out) he'd never seen (which gives wonder to the fact of who did I see it with? And more shockingly, did I, at the time, think they were mike?) turned into a romantic night in with Mark watching a film he'd never seen.
Apparently before the phone conversation Gill had sent me a text, which I only discovered when with Gill, it said quite brusquely:
'Where your paintbrush?'
It was followed later that night by another nearly incomprehensible text of 'where are keys to shed thing? They'd not hanging up'. Clearly Gill is so traumatised by becoming an English Graduate she's refusing to follow the laws of the English Language. Although this is coming from someone who said the other day:
'That's cos you made it from scratched innit'
Maybe it's just society in general that is deteriorating.

I swear to tell the tooth, the whole tooth and nothing but the tooth

Monday evening: Cross because I had bad toothache, my wisdom teeth were hurting more than they had ever before.

Tuesday morning, 4am: As the pain awoke me I swore to go to the Dentist in the morning and even set my alarm so that I wouldn't forget. I drifted back to sleep about 5 after my concoction of Bonjela, Corsodyl gel, ibruprofen and antiseptic & Anasthetic throat spray sprayed onto my gum started to work.

Tuesday Morning 7.30am: No chance of forgetting, the pain woke me up as the concoction created a mere 2 and a half hours earlier wore off.

I then waited until 9 and phoned the Dentist, at least I was registered...only they couldn't find my details. Eventually I was asked if I paid for my dental care. I explained I used to have a form that entitled me to reduced dental care but I'd lost it in the move (after looking frantically for it at 4 am). The woman on the end of the phone sympathetically told me in that case I'd have to pay, and it was £25 for an examination (implying it would be more for anything that needed to be done) "I can't afford that" I said incredulously (having previously explained I'm just fresh faced out of uni with a fresh pile of debt to compliment me) "I'm sorry, company policy" the woman said "Ok, I sobbed", she then proceeded to give me another number that 'might be of some help'; on enquiring what it was she was giving me I was told it was another dental practice in Kings Norton. How the fuck was I supposed to get there.

I cried.

I was all alone in a house, with terrible toothache that hurt to do anything, even cry. It hurt when I wasn't doing anything and hurt twice as bad when I was. I wanted my mum, or someone, anyone. And I couldn't afford to go and get my teeth looked at. I felt terrible 'this' I thought 'is what moving away from home really means'. Solitary confinement when one needs it least.

I tried to eat and failed, the pain was too much. I mustered up some spirit that lay within me and told myself to stop being silly. I was going to sort this out. I had to. I phoned the helpline number for Help with NHS costs and explained my situation to the woman on the end of the phone who sounded much more sympathetic than the receptionist in the surgery had to my plight. She explained if I paid for the treatment but attached the receipt to the claim form I would most likely get it back (I really hope I do). She said she'd send me a form in the post.
I then rang back the dentists, and explained all that to them, they were more than happy to accommodate me then. Appointment booked for half eleven.

Half eleven saw me enter the surgery nervously. I don't like Dentists, I've never had a bad experience, infact, back Home we had a very good dentist who always told me that I had near perfect teeth when I was little. I never needed a brace. I've only had a couple of fillings and they were hardly traumatic. I just don't like people poking around in my mouth, especially some new dentist I don't know. I had to fill in more forms that I had done when I registered, I assume to replace the ones they'd lost. Then I was called up to see the Dentist.
He was very nice, charming, Pressing 2, yes, not one, but two, business cards into my hand as I entered. He asked what he could do for me and I explained. Then he reassured me by telling me that I was in good hands (I wasn't in anyone's hands as far as I was aware) and that he was a specialist with over 20 years experience, although he didn't look that old.
He had a look and then he told me that my jaw had stopped growing, that there wasn't room for my teeth (the wisdom's not all of them!!) and that they would have to be removed. 'Ok' I thought, remembering my father's words from earlier when I spoke to him; 'they won't do that today, they'll just give me a painkiller'. He then examined my teeth in general and I'm pleased to say that they were very good (especially considering I've not been to a dentist in at least 4 years). He then told me I would be a perfect candidate for tooth whitening and had I ever thought about it?
No! Idiot.
Who goes around thinking about tooth whitening? No doubt I have now inadvertantly managed to offend half the nation who go around thinking of nothing but tooth whitening, and no doubt they will try to sue me for trauma or something equally as ridiculous- ah well, maybe I can give Gilly some work there.
Then he told me he would see me later and sent me back down to the waiting room.

I waited. Then a woman, who sounded suspiciously like the non sympathetic woman on the phone the first time, came and sat down with an estimation of how much everything was going to cost me. She tried to get me to join a SMILE plan. What is so smiley about it I don't know, you still spend the same, but over a period of months. So instead of being broke now, you can be slightly broke over a few months. No difference to me.
I explained I'd sent off for this HC whatsit form and I would just pay the balance outright. Which I did.
Go on, for a laugh, guess. Guess how much an examination, x-ray, polish and de-scale (I sound like a washing machine) and one tooth to be removed cost me.
No
Not even close.
Oh come on, you must be joking.
No, it cost me a total of £130.00. Yes. I know. What has our National Health service come to, when we have to charge those who have £13,000 of debt and who are £1,000 into their £1,500 overdraft that much just to be rid of pain?
Shocking.
Well I paid. I had x-rays, and I thought that was it, but then the nurse told me that no, he was going to take my tooth out today. Now.
I had not mentally prepared for this, and so I cried. I was in the waiting room. I maintain it was shock, or hormones, or possibly both.
Then she took me back upstairs, with the receptionist calling up behind me, 'Don't worry, DR. Fickert is very good at taking out wisdom teeth, he took 2 of mine out and I hardly felt a thing'
The word I remembered from that throughout the proceedure was 'hardly'.
What did that mean? A bit? A lot? Enough to wince? Enough to cry? One tweak?

Firts I had two injections in my mouth, one in my gum, one in the roof. I swallowed some of the anaesthetic by mistake and made a funny noise, something akin to 'eugggh'. That may explain why I've been feeling sick, but I doubt it somehow. No room for sueing there.
I don't like needles, so I cried...and embarrassingly my leg started to uncontrollably shake...I have no idea why, but the nurses kept giving it strange looks. At one point the other one did it, but then my body clearly decided that the left leg was a better mover than the right and promptly switched back. That has never happened before, although sometimes, if I have a panic attack I shake, and stutter, so maybe that has something to do with it. But all throughout it shook. I wondered if it would come off, but it didn't.

When it went numb it was weird, I could feel the pressure applied to the gum, but no pain. Very odd sensation. And God (and the nurses) only know what he did, I certainly don't because I kept my eyes tightly shut throughout, and believe me, if I could have closed my ears off to the splintering sound of the tooth finally breaking and giving way I would have, because that, psychologically, made it 10 times worse. But that was it. Over in 3 minutes (£60 for 3 minutes!! Not even prostitutes who are destitute charge that).

I sat up and realised I was shaking, the whole of me, I also realised I'd been sobbing throughout the proceedure when the Dentist said in an amused tone 'you've got tears in your ears', if he thought it would make me laugh, he was wrong. He even wiped them out for me, what a nice man.
He then made me sit on a chair until I'd stopped shaking. I was biting down hard on the gauze strip they had inserted into my mouth in place of my tooth. He told me cheerfully to make an appointment for 2 weeks time when another would be taken. And I went downstairs.
I sat in the waiting room, biting my gauze, just incase it decided to shift. The receptionist greeted me with 'how was it?' just like you would to someone returning from holiday. 'Oh the chair was very comfy, the service excellent and the temperature, well would you believe it...' Instead I merely spluttered (the guaze does not take into consideration the function of talking) 'ok, yow were wight, I didwnt fweel a thwing' She smiled and I attempted a smile back, but due to numbing and gauze it probably better resembled a bloody grimace.
They then tried to get me to book and pay a deposit (again with the trying to make it into a holiday) on 2 weeks time, I told them I had forgotten my diary and would phone. It's now Thursday, I still haven't phoned!

I cried all the way home behind my sunglasses, and I have cried several times since. I sort of miss the tooth, there is a gaping hole that feels funny. But at the same time, my mouth feels better without it, less crowded, bigger somehow.
When mike saw my swollen face the words 'David Coulthard' passed his lips, my fist also nearly did. Swollen and sore, and still slightly numb hours later. It is now days later and although yesterday it was still swollen, and is slightly, ever so slightly but not noticeably today, it is reassuring that it is healing. What is not reassuring is that the pain is still very bad. But then the BUPA website said that it may be so up to a week. Oh and I'm to do no rigorous physical exercise (this is Me we're talking about) as it raises your blood pressure which can burst the blood clot over the wound and make you bleed eternally. Well ok, not eternally, but lots.

All this reminds me, it's surely time to get drugged up again...bring on the pills.

Fro-lly it's a new craze sweeping the nation!

"I feel like something sweet" Gilly said prancing around the living room
"I feel like Jelly" I added slouched on the settee.
"I have Jelly!" Gilly announced excitedly, "shall we make some?" her eyes positively lit up, how could I say no?
To point out, this was but moments ago at quarter to eleven, at night!! Not saying we have odd eating habits but...
Gilly mixed the jelly while I washed up (it's strawberry hence the colour of the blog)
"Shall we have one sachet or two?"
"I don't mind"
"Two then"

Moments later...

"Ali!"
"yes?"
"can I have some assistance please?"
"what have you done?" I said entering the conservatory
"well I put the bowl of jelly in the freezer, but when I closed the drawer it spilt out and now it's all in the freezer and it's frozen because the bloody freezer is so cold!"
"hmmm, I see" I said whilst trying to scrape it out "It's really cold. It's, like, frozen already"
"Yeees!" The tone in Gilly's voice hinted at something along the lines of 'I've just told her that...it's a freezer, what does she bloody think it's going to do!!??'
Trying to redeam myself I said in that kind of false joking voice you hear in those dreadful comedy sketches:
"I suppose it would do that wouldn't it? I mean, it's a freezer isn't it? It's going to freeze things, silly me..." I trailed off "I'll go get a bowl of warm water to dissolve it!" I said leaving the conservatory.

Quotes of the day go to....

Standing in train stations does not usually fill me with joy, nor does it usually make me laugh. Today was an exception. Bristol Temple Meads has a bloody good sense of humour!

Bing Bong
(Posh female pre recorded announcement)
This is a customer service announcement. Please would customers not feed the pigeons on the platforms as they are a nuisance and a health hazard. Thankyou.

And a very close second goes to Sky News on the central Train on the way back from New Street:

"...further investigations are being carried out on John Prescott after it emerged that he didn't declare a six hundred pound cowboy outfit he bought either...."
-This led to much wondering of was it:
A) a £600 cowboy outfit
or
B) a 600lb cowboy outfit

Votes on a postcard please!

5 foot 2 inch fish, now that's some impressive breeding!

Friday was a hot day, and Mike took a shower before he and I were due to go out and meet Kirsty, who was over from Berlin, in Bath. I did my daughterly duty and instead of taking a much needed shower went downstairs to duly ooh and aaah over my mum's fancy dress fairy wings which had arrived that morning and had been eagerly anticipated for weeks since ordering! Mum was so excited about them arriving admiring the wings was a necessecity if we wanted to eat over the next few days.

Mike,got out of the shower and went to get changed...
"hello little fish, haven't you grown, you've got so big what have they been feeding you?"

....I hear mike is out of the shower and run upstairs

"They're nearly as big as me!" I burst out as I entered the room.

Mike looked at the fish, and then at me. A look of confusion passed his face.

"The wings!" I said helpfully
"Oh! Only I was just talking to the fish saying hadn't they grown and what were you feeding them and then you burst in saying 'they're nearly as big as me' I thought for a second you had heard me talking to them and were replying."

Back to spit roasting again...

On a warm summers evening, what else is there to do but sit back in the garden with a chilled beer, chatting to your friends and having a BBQ? Personally I can think of few things better, and thus we had our impromptu BBQ at mikes.
Of course I failed to mention what one should chat about with one's friend at said BBQ. You may think, the weather, as it's such a British topic of conversation, but you'd be wrong. You may think Mike's new job, as he starts tomorrow, and whilst that featured briefly, it was not the main topic. Finally you may guess something as wild as our plans for the next year, and you'd not even come close.
You probably wouldn't immediately think we'd discuss sex, more sex, a few strippers, some more sex, lapdancing thrown into the equation for good measure, and spit roasting to finish with!
But that is what happened. Quite how we got onto knowing how X's (preserving annonymity on here, although those who were there know who i'm tlaking about) mum really enjoys sex and how she was heard enjoying sex by X and X's friend who was staying over one night, and how Y's mum didn't know what a blow job was and how Y had to explain it to her I really don't know. The topic gets more bizarre- Puppetry of the Penis *- when discussing this line of conversation my quote realy took the biscuit:
"They do things with it, like make famous landmarks, like the Eiffel Tower...I just don't know how they do it"

Mike whilst laughing at my innocence and possibly stupidity, then said in a mock voice 'can we spit roast a panda?'
"oh shut up, your'e never going to let me forget that are you?"
'No'
"spit roast a what?" said Louise
And thus the downward spiral of conversation continued in one LONG drop! So I made the mistake of trying to explain that quote we all know and love by now.
"I don't understand" Said Louise
Thank the lord there is a God, "Louise doesn't get it either, it's not just me!"
"Yeah is it just me that's not getting what this is?"
Mike sighed
I explained
"spit roast, is, apparently, a sexual position..."
"...involving two men and a woman" Mike completed my sentence (God we're getting so couply we're even completing each other's sentences)
After a bit of 'ah I see' from various others who were innocent like myself, I had the misfortune to open my mouth, and the even bigger misfortune to let words come out of it. Specific words, these words:
"I still don't get how it would work. I mean how does the woman stay in the air?"
Cue raucus laughter from EVERYONE and I do mean everyone.
After 10 or so minutes, it quietens enough for Mike to say
"you don't acutally think the woman is suspended do you?"
I quietly nodded and said 'well I don't know'
More laughter....at me!
"You don't suspend the woman in the air darling, it's not like you put her over a fire and turn her around as well" Mike said between snorts of laughter.
I looked at the floor and felt myself turn a shade of beetroot, I mumbled to myself, trying to console myself.
I get the distinct feeling, that I might just, possibly just, have outdone myself on stupid quotes. I get the even more distinct feeling that no one is going to remember (except possibly Mike) that I admitted to seeing male (and female from a distance) strippers tonight. Neither will they remember that I mentioned my mother once told me where I was conceived. I'm not even sure that X and Y's disclosures earlier mentioned will be remembered. What I am positively sure of, is that tonight, everyone will remember what I said about spit roasting, and what I'm even more positively sure of is that Mike will never, EVER let me live it down or forget it. This is one of the many reasons I should not be allowed to open my mouth in public-oh god, even that in the context of this conversation topic leaves a distasteful feeling....I'm going to shut up now.


* All those who were there tonight, please take note, they are appearing right here, in Birmingham, on the 16th November

Operation Camouflage

Sitting in my room last night, listening to the lulling flow of traffic lurching over the speed bumps outside our house whilst getting undressed for bed. I was suddenly aware of a noise when the traffic fell quiet. A radio noise- someone speaking. My ears strained to pick up what was said and realisation suddenly dawned on me.

The police are outside our house, this exciting realisation came with the annoyance of just having pulled down my blind to get undressed. I heard no engine or voices, and realised with a quickening heartbeat it must be a covert operation.

Shit, I'm in my underwear, I can't look out of my window like this. As I lumbered about my room under the eaves trying not to bang my head and simultaneously find some clothes I realised I had to text Gill this exciting news, it was too good to keep to myself. I pulled my silky nightdress out from under my pillow with one hand, desperately trying to text with the other. I then realised I couldn't look out of my window in my nightdress, it was simply too sexy and suggestive, and having already been told off by Mike once today for getting Mr. Grahams email address, I was NOT going to be suggestive to any more policemen, especially as Mike's house is opposite. I threw the nightdress down, and my distinct lack of ability to do more than one thing at once, nearly resulted in the phone, mid text, being thrown down instead. Picking up a respectable T-shirt and throwing it on I finished the text...

"The Police are outside, I can hear the radio"

Sent.
Almost immediately I turned the light out (I couldn't draw attention to myself when I did pull the blind up) and pulled the blind up, craning to see. At first I thought they'd gone, but sense of not hearing an engine told me to look closer. It was then I spotted the car- dark in colour, blending into the night like a shadow...it must be an undercover car....with what looked like part of a yellow sticker on it...and old people's voices.

"Or a taxi!" I promptly text Gill.

you always use my finger to pick my nose with.

Mike and I lay on my mattress (can't say bed anymore as it's just a mattress on the floor!) talking, and being generally daft as per usual. Suddenly he took control of my hand, made me point a finger, and proceeded to wipe something off the side of my nose with his hand.

"You always use my finger to pick my nose with, you never use your finger to pick my nose with!" I exclaimed as he narrowly missed blinding me.

Amid the following fits of laughter at the comment that was just meant to make him giggle, he managed to wheeze out: 'Ms Evans, exactly what is wrong with your relationship?' 'Well, my boyfriend always uses my finger to pick my nose with, he never uses his finger to pick my nose with!'

Damn right.

Botanical Gardens, frisbee, pedantic parents and ageist staff!

I woke up unhappy. I realised properly for the first time today, that actually, I get an unclassified degree. That I get the same as someone who hardly worked, there will be nothing on my degree certificate to say how hard I worked. There will be nothing to distinguish me apart from those that couldn't be arsed. And I don't even get a payrise- the whole reason I came to uni in the first place was to get the JNC so that my pay was on the JNC scale and therefore an awful lot more than it would otherwise be. Of course, how was I to know that the university I had chosen was one that doesn't award proper degrees. And there was nothing that could have told me that actually, halfway through the degree the JNC payscale would be stopped, so I wouldn't even get more money for doing my job. I felt, this morning, like I had wasted 3 years of my life. And I sobbed. So hard for so long because the realisation truly filled me with sadness. More than anything I would like something that was written to prove how hard I did work for three years constantly, and particularly the last year, where I was on the edge of a breakdown for working so hard. When I realised my average was 71.6 I was elated, I cried. I'd done it, the sweat, the tears, and worse had not been for nothing. This morning, that was dashed, it had been for nothing.

I wasn't really in a good mood and shouldn't have left my bed I realise. On days like this I should just have one of those days you spend lounging around in bed.

I went to the Co-Op instead, which was mistake number 2 (mistake number one was getting out of bed). I had to wait 15 minutes because my card wouldn't work. Not only did it not work, it crashed the system. Mike was impatiently tapping his watch, and the queue were staring at me like I was the devil.
We were late getting back, but somehow we managed to still be ready on time for going to meet Emma and Toni- for we were going to Emma's Pimms Picnic in the Botanical Gardens. Other people alas were not ready, so after a while a few of us left, not wanting to leave Emma and Toni on their own.
When they rocked up at the pub we had a debate about how to get there, nearly everyone was in favour of the bus, so we ambled up through the university to a bus stop (despite me saying you could get a bus from the uni station) and waited. It must have only been a few minutes before someone pointed out there were no buses on a Sunday. Cue, very long walk to the Botanical gardens. I would like to point out at this point also that I was doing all this on the foodfuel of a plum and two forkfuls of spag bol (balanced diet I know!).
Relief when we reached the gardens. But that was where things started to go from bad to worse, seriously worse...

Firstly, paying. Easy you'd think! Clearly not! I had a £10 note, nothing too unusual about that I often have these about me. I showed my student ID and the woman said "£3.60 please" I gave her the note and she said, quite brusquely "do you have anything smaller?"
"I'm sorry, I don't" I replied. She sighed very audibly and I consequently felt I was committing some dreadful crime. "I can probably find the change to make it up though" I said making the mistake of thinking I was being helpful.
"That's no good" she said harshly, followed by patronising tone of "We don't have any five pound notes"
Misunderstanding that they must have SOME money, I said amicably "Oh, I don't mind having coins."
Cue audible sigh again and VERY patronising voice of "We don't have any of those either!" I very nearly said in the same patronising tone "well that's not MY fault" as I was clearly made to feel like it was.
This set the scene for the rest of the day sadly. We proceeded to the main lawn (second pic) sharpish as we were starving, and there was a brass band playing and kids running around and roly polying it down the hill and a group playing cricket and lots of picnics. We set ours up next to the mixed group playing cricket and proceeded to eat and drink Pimms and lemonade...mmmm.

After dining, we decided to play frisbee. I've lost count how many mistakes I've made but this was perhaps the biggest. Unfortunately one of the frisbee throws meant it rolled down the hill and into a man's back. Mike went after it, apologising and the man was fine with it. Sadly though, 10 minutes later it happened again, and rolled onto their little boys foot (makes your heart bleed doesn't it?!) Cue Angry Parents (with appropriate capitals). The man AP decided to shout at me, telling me I was stupid, that it was a compltely inappropriate game to play, and finishing at one point with "Actually I'm going to take this (frisbee) off of you" before deciding that was clearly not a good enough point to stop at and shouting some more at me. I told him politely that I understood, but thought he was being unreasonable and unecessarily rude. Cue AP number two: THE WIFE. Oh the shouting from her was bitchier on a much higher level than I'm used to (of course she was much OLDER than me, so is probably more experienced in underhanded bitchy shouting than I am, how I learned from her what to aim for in life though!) I nearly cried. Nearly. I'm glad I didn't but maybe if I had they may have had some remorse. However, I doubt it after their next actions.
I told them we would leave them alone and not disturb them any more and walked off with the leaving comment of 'Please pick your litter up before you go, it's disgusting' not sure what that was, my tongue trying to get in some bitchiness before I went I think. Who knows? It was, I was pleased to see, being blown over the lawn.
I walked with some dignity back to the group, who I was equally as annoyed with for not coming over and supporting me and allowing me to take the bollocking myself when it wasn't me that threw it. They asked if I wanted to play again and got a curt reply. The group we'd been sat next to, a mixed group of adults, picked up on what had happened and decided to shout, quite loudly things like:
"No ball games here please!" "No running on the grass" "No fun allowed here"
until the AP and child had finished their tea and moved...as they walked past the group more of these things were shouted. Not by us, totally them. It obviously sufficiently pissed them off to see us laughing at their cat calling (at their stupidity and stuck-up ness) for them to go inside and complain. Cue 5 minutes later an ANNOUNCEMENT on the tannoy to say "would all guests please be reminded that throwing games are not permitted" bastards. It would be 'throwing games' wouldn't it? More cat calling from our new friends.

To lighten things up we decided to copy the children and have good clean fun with rolling down the hills races. Nothing wrong with that. We also made it more interesting with rolling me up in a blanket, and then rolling the blanket down so that it unrolled and I kept going. That was fun. Much more like it, the day could still be salvaged.
No.
We were only on our second race when a staff member came over and told us to stop. On enquiring why we had to stop she said that we might roll into other children. I asked her to tell everyone, all the other children to stop too, otherwise that was unfairly picking on us. She then looked at me and said 'are you members?' (clearly implying there are different rules for members) but before I could reply said 'just start acting your age'. Oooh I leapt on that 'Excuse me that is ageist and I find it offensive'. She huffed and walked off.
How rude?
I know, but the best bit was when she first started to come over to us and started telling us to stop, an older member of hte group who had been next to us but started to pack up came over and had a go at her for telling us off, saying 'this is just a group of young people having fun, they're not doing any harm, leave them alone.' That was really good of him. And even as we walked past another family, muttering about not being able to have fun, they were giggling saying 'there was nothing wrong with what you were doing' and 'we were having fun watching you'.
It has really annoyed me, becuase we were so typically typecast as 'troublemakers' by so many people today. As someone pointed out, we could have just gone and drunk beer all day, got pissed and been abusive. As it was we were having a civilized picnic with a little drink and having fun, that was spoilt.
I tell you something though, it totally made me realise how pissed off my young people get when they are typecast like that. It got me really irate. To be told to stop having fun, I fully realised what it must be like for them to be told to stop playing football in the park and to disperse. It really irked me being pigeon holed and treated like that.

And whatever happened to our society to make us like this? When did we start to impose rules that forbid fun for young people? And why? Do we really think it makes them better people? Or are we setting ourselves up for a huge fall when the repurcussions really start? If we treat people in this way, then we are actually part of the problem and can't blame them for backlashes. I was so angry, I really was, all it succeeded in doing to me by telling me not to do it, was A) complain loudly and B) do it even more to piss them off even more. Now I totally understand why young people continue to do things when people shout at them. It's not that they are daft and don't realise the repurcussions, they totally do, it's just worth it to see them pissed off even more. It really caught my rebellious streak, my teenage streak.
I want people to realise this and bear it in mind the next time they want to tell people not to do something fun like playing football in the road. It will only piss them off even more if you do, and they WILL only find a way to pay you back, double (if you're lucky).

And I leave you with the memorable quote of "You are only as old as you feel." Personally, I feel no older than 8 a lot of the time, and that's how I intend to stay, I do not want to become one of the people who conforms to society and the 'standards' they seem to impose, I do not want to be one of these fuddy duddy 'adults' who are too scared to have any kind of fun, or who believe that they MUST conform and be sensible and not let loose their childish side. We all have a bit of a childish streak, harness it, use it, and enjoy having fun. Don't lose that, when you lose that, you really do, in my mind lose out in life.