winter blues

so yeah, winter's great for snuggling up by the fire with a movie surrounded by chocolate, but after a while and a few stone later, you begin to wonder why people crave winter so much. christmas is fun, yes, but no one hates more the experience of having to open presents in front of the person who bought it for you. feigning surprise and utter enthusiasm when you open book vouchers and a pencil case. even if the present is exactly what you wanted, the best present in the world; it still feels forced when you smile and thank them. i've always wondered why that is.

i want to be back in summer. back when slipping into tiny shorts and a tshirt was enough for the day. having to keep perfectly preened and bronzed all the time. not having a care in the world.
my favourite place to be, is probably with a becks in the sun, sitting outside a pub. salcombe, camden, they'll all do. the utter feeling you get when you are sitting there, sipping, breathing in the warm air, letting the cool breeze wash over you, knowing that what you are doing right now, isn't really impacting any major part of your life.
summer is the one time where you can let all your cares free and smile.

the past couple of days have been mysterious and drama filled to say the least.

yesterday i overdosed on pills.

ok so they were paracetemol and ibuprofen. but they were still strong enough to knock me out. feels like a milestone in my life. first suicide attempt. surely that's gotta be one for the grandkids?

ok so it wasn't a suicide attempt, i'm just an idiot who cannot be trusted. harsh but true.

started the day with a pounding migraine. couldn't see straight, complaining in class how i felt like my head was going to explode, followed by laughs from the piss taking lads in my class.
popped a couple of paracetamol. didn't do a thing. had another about an hour later. still nothing. well, i thought, this is ridiculous, if it isn't making any difference then it could do no harm but to take another one.
referred to the medical centre by my matron, i am given another dose of painkillers, guiltily slurping them down in silence, avoiding the trouble i'd be in if authority found out i keep over the counter drugs in my room. VERY AGAINST THE RULES.
as i was walking to dinner, i started to feel floppy and dizzy, my knees started to wobble and my hands proceeded to shake. i piled my plate high, putting the faintness down to lack of food, rushed to my seat, nervously steadying my tray and praying i wouldn't fall to the floor in front of everyone. wolfed down a large portion of sausage and mash. started to shake profusely as my face reddened and my temperature rose alarmingly. assuring myself that it was because i was still hungry, i rushed back up to the servery to collect another large helping. wolfed it down. shaking. hot. dizzy. head pounding. decided i had to leave. right now.
calmly walked out of the dining room accompanied by two friends when we bumped into some male company who proceeded to walk with us, cracking jokes and taking the piss. i opened my mouth to answer back, when slurred words and slow, uncontrollable peals of laughter came out. they immediately went on to loudly announce that i was very drunk, and even after my proclaims otherwise, told me that i would slowly start to bleed from every orofice. whatever that is.
got back to house, the room began to slowly spin, nauseau over took me, i grabbed out for the nearest object to me but it was too late, i felt the floor rolling from beneath my feet; the carpet edging closer and closer towards me. i crashed to the ground.

then i was out.

it's so weird having nothing to do
at boarding school our days are literally mapped out for us minute by minute; there is always some place i have to be
whereas now i am home for the week, this is my first night back and i am already sitting alone wondering what to do. if this were the case at school i would simply wander into the next room and see what my fellow house mates are getting up to.
whereas here..
facebooks so shit. i cannot bring myself to sit staring at it night after night this week.
i need to focus on my work and become a genius by january when i start taking the most important exams of my life.
i need to focus on my driving so i can gladly hold a pink license in my hand by christmas and live my own life.
or
I NEED TO GET I.D AND GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW.

off on a beautiful trip to brighton with my absolute lover.
harry and greg are going on an adventure to the gay capital of the world. PERF.

let me introduce you to the guy who keeps me going

 james alexander treays

literally the love of my life right here.
people claim to be in love with their favorite artist, but trust me, its not an 'obsession' like a 13 year old and justin bieber. i am actually in LOVE with jamie t.
his music. his swagger. his sexy voice. everything about him is just gorgeous.
any other girl who takes a look at him is repulsed by his uncleanliness, facial hair and unkempt appearance. but that's exactly what i like about him. i can imagine his smell. stale cigarettes and aftershave. what a beautiful aroma that must be. his voice flooding through my head and his quirky little quips are really what keeps me going through the long days and nights. i can sit for hours and listen to his albums on repeat and still be thirsty for more.

i'm what some would call a daydreamer

i sit during my 'study periods' and look at people's blogs or sit staring at my facebook news feed. i used to have the excitement of refreshing it every few moments, but now i have the pleasure of sitting back and watch it flash and change on it's own accord, then eagerly sit forward when someone changes their profile picture or writes something mildy amusing on another person's wall. facebook stalking. we all do it. it's human nature.   i find i know a lot more than i should about people i have never met through the wonders of facebook. i'm out and about when i'm struck with a surge of recognition with a non-descript fellow walking towards me. have i met this person in a past life? were we lovers? is this chance encounter supposed to mean something? is this my destiny?

oh wait, yeah that's right i was stalking them on facey b last night, 34 mutual friends, you know how it is. 

it's actually got to the sickening stage where i feel lost without my use of facebook during school hours when it is blocked. yeah, still at school. i actually have the priviledge of going to a fancy boarding school in the countryside. priviledge. strong word. it could be referring to the acres of beautiful land and scenery, the excellent facilities and mind-numbingly brilliant teaching staff. 

or it could refer to the truth. boarding school..is different. 

on saturday nights we get the pleasure of attending the school 'club' where all the girls get a chance to push the boobs up, stick the bums out, and show all da bois their crackin bods.. when we have made our not so significant entrance we hide in corners and slurp down the 2 glasses of wine we are given in order to attempt to get 'wasted'. doesn't usually work. spinning in the ladies toilet usually does the trick though. stumbling back onto the dance floor watching the room spin around is fun for about 2 seconds when it wears off and you realise you're at school and its 9.30pm.

i did have the novel idea of drinking extra substances on top of the 2 beverages provided, and indeed this filled the gap and i proceeded to have a cuh-razay night skankin it up on the dancefloor without a care in the world. of course, i immediately regretted it when i arrived back to my boarding house to be greeted by my housemistress holding the one peice of equipment we all fear: the breathalizer. 

turns out i was 3 times over the drink driving limit. that's pretty awkward seeing as i had approximately 3 sips of an extra beer..BADMAN WHAT?! 

that's the brilliant thing about being such a ridiculous lightweight. i can have 2 shots of vodka and i am READY2GO. 

it can be a bit of a nightmare sometimes though, i remember the first time i consumed alcohol i decided it would be necessary to down an entire bottle of white wine within the space of about 30 minutes. let's just say, i certainly was not present to welcome the new year in that night. 

it's all well and good getting your booze on on saturday nights, but one thing i dont understand is why people of our age take hardcore drugs for fun. i know i sound like an old granny with a pole shoved up her arse, but i really don't get it. for example, lately at school 'seeds' have become very popular amongst the students. from what i've gathered from various reports of students who have taken seeds, you have a short, mildy interesting high, mind numbing hallucinations, and then proceed to vomit anything you have ever ingested for hours on end. mate that sounds SICK, SET ME SOME??!!!

don't take life too seriously. you'll never escape it alive anyway

welcome to st. tropez

'shotgun the middle one. oh wait i think it's a girl'

the taxi's ain't cheap

save water, drink champagne

papagayo

martini sippin'

invites to all the best parties

cosmo cosmo politans

ms hilton

sir allen sugar joins the party at club 55

i wanna rock and roll all night

loverbier.

apres ski

farinet 

coco

dance floor surfing

mummbombs

up the hill

adopted aussie fathers

the weekend a lot of us will never forget

When someone mentions something they will never forget, most people immediately think of a life changing experience such sky diving or shark taming; moments filled with enough thrills and adrenaline sources to bring a non-existent being back to life. However, I, living my life on the less experienced side of the spectrum, have no such tales to share. However, something I would like to share would be my first experience at a festival. It may not be life changing in most people's eyes, but it surely will not be a weekend I cherish to forget.
When I was preparing myself for the festival, I had no idea what to expect. Images of torrential rain staining my face as I sludge through quick-sand style mud baths sprang to mind, but I shook them away, determined to march in there with a completely open mind.
Sludging through the squelching mud, I ferociously wiped heavy raindrops off my face. Okay, the festival was exactly how I had imagined. But the bad weather was nothing compared to the memories and experiences I have gained from that single weekend.




Everyone has one useless friend. Unfortunately, all of my friends happen to be as useless and uncoordinated as I am, which made the whole tent-putting-up business a very tricky situation to go about, especially as at the time, a minor monsoon as decided to errupt, causing havoc on the happy little campsite we were on which had the very ironically suited name, 'Green'. I could see and smell a lot of Green on this campsite, however none of it was growing happily as a lawn, but instead rising from giggling tents as festival go-ers 'get the party started' in their too-good-for-this-rubbish-but-may-as-well-go-along-with-what-everyone-else-is-doing manner. Personally, I don't touch the stuff. I can think of plenty of cheaper, better alternatives to 'go absolutely fockin mental' cheers.
The surprising thing about Reading Festival, was that every single person who was there was just so happy, all the time. I think it's something they put in the metal flavoured drinking water. You could walk past a person, stamp on their foot and whack them round the chin and they'd throw their arms up in the air and exclaim "CMON YES, SHE'S GETTING INTO THE SPIRIT, HIGH FIVES ALL ROUND'.
During one of the many rainy spells of the weekend, my generously breasted friend Imogen and I decided to partake in a 'Sun Dance', which involved swanning around doing yoga and sun related positions encouraging the sun to come out. Obviously, this technique proved very useful as expected, and the sun politely obeyed it's orders and remained out for at least 3 minutes before giving in to it's superior; the rain. Whilst we were standing in the middle of a very busy walk way making movements and singing for the sun, not one festival go-er batted an eyelid or even took their eyes off their oh-so-original matching onesies for long enough to care. One could do anything at a festival and I guarantee if you are not ignored, you are joined.

Tell me honestly that it didn't run through your mind.

I'm sure you are familiar with the sickening guilty feeling you get after assuming that somebody is 'special' when actually they are just extremely unfortunate looking. For example, my fellow festival buddies and I rocked up to see our all time favourite band 'The Strokes' at the Main Stage. We were so psyched at the insanity of seeing them so close and were generally so high on life that we decided to become best friends with the first friendly people we came across. Soon enough, we had two extremely jumpy and hyper 34 year old men latching onto our every word (although, i'll be honest...we were all singing along to the same song at the time). And I'm rather embarrassed to admit that I was extra nice to one of these friendly men in particular because...I assumed...judging by his face that....that he was...okay just have a look for yourself at the picture.
Turns out he is completely normal.

AWKWARDDDDD.
Yeah I feel awful now. Sickening isn't it, the guilt. 


Another experience I would like to painfully share will need to be dug deeply out from my repressed mind. Moshing.

the expressions say it all really

I had never been close to doing anything like moshing before. And let me tell you, it was a mother of a shock to the system. My wolfpack and I bounded up to the already heaving crowd, fresh faced and ready to see our first band of the weekend. We all agreed it would be a terribly wise idea to wade as far into the tightly packed cluster of people as humanely possible. And then a bit further. So, we find ourselves comfortably wedged in between a huge crowd of lairy lads, ready to show the girls how hard they really are by heaving the entire crowd back and forth by force. We were wedged so much so, that my feet could have lifted off the ground and I would still be standing tall. At one point, I decided to stop battling and let my arms rest against my chest and face, as I did not have the energy to muster enough strength to move my own hands to sit by my sides. Before the music had even begun I was already starting to break out in a sweat. I calmly told myself to grow a pair and stand this out, as I had been desperate to see this band performing live and could certainly not give up now. As the drums began to boom and the guitars began to strum, the crowd I was being propped up by began to rumble, and I could feel myself moving back and forth with them, through no movement of my own accord. After a while, my lungs decided they fancied a break, and I proceeded to spend the next five minutes gasping in the (lack of) air and struggling to catch any sign of breath. Fantastic. The organ which is used to pump blood around my body decided to work overtime to compensate for it's slacking coworkers, so therefore my beating chest was also moving of it's own accord. Was I controlling any of my bodily movements and functions during that horrendous 10 minutes? No, no I don't think I was.

JUMP ON SOME MASSIVE SHOULDERS

But no fear, I have found the most satisfactory solution to my problem...
Shuffle up to a strong(ish) looking man and politely ask if he would mind crouching down, enabling you to firmly wrap your legs around the back of his neck. I'm sure he wont object. Then, when he stands up you can see everything, and be protected from the crowds. As well as being the envy of the entire arena whilst you give them the two finger salute.










Everyone needs a skankin' buddy.

you just can't beat it. 

Thankfully, I've got mine. Melanie Seddon. Manz is Mel. Boy, has she got some moves. Take this girl into a place with some pumping music and you are done for. If a the building went up in flames she would start skankin' to the beat of the fire bell and imitate the flickering of the flames. However, a new discovery we made at the festival called a Silent Disco was still no match for mel. You walk into a collossal tent full of people hopping and jittering around, and all you can hear is a chorus of incomprehendable, out of tune nonsense which one could only assume is an attempt at singing. However, once placing massive DJ style headphones on your head and entering the floor, pumping dance music floods your ears and you immediately realise what the fellow festival go-ers were trying to sing and your body immediately starts jigging around to the beat (or to any kind of beat in mel's case). The most ingenius part of this whole experience is, that you can change the song.
With this feature in my hands, anything is possible. You could be gettin' low to some bump and grind whilst your skankin' buddy is letting loose to some filthy drum and bass,  or your festival lads could be swaying to some Beyonce whilst you're getting down and dirty to the Macarena. And the best part is; no one cares. 
The funniest part of having Mel as my skankin' buddy, is that neither of us can dance to save our lives. Our other quarters, Imogen and Emma, are only slightly better. Emma is prone to pouting and flicking her hair but not doing much else. Plays it safe. Still gorgeous though, that's something she can't really help unfortunately. Bless.
Imogen is, lets say, relatively gifted in the boobs department, and makes very good use of these and her A Level dance skills to work her way down the floor, as well as around every single breathing male in the Arena before coming up for air. On the other hand, Mel and I have no technique, no rhythm, no flexibility, and certainly no charm. This is how we were brought together and decided to take up skankin'. This involves the pair of us taking centre stage of the dance floor and proceeding to shake and dart our hands and arms around to the beat of the music with a moronic expression on our faces, occasionally kicking our legs in the air to remind everyone we still got style. Ah. Facing the floor and shaking our arms in the air is also a method in our book of tricks, however we usually have to watch out for other dancers so as not to injure them. Hmm.
But before you try any of this at home, remember this one thing..


'You can't skank in a ski jacket' - Mel Seddon, Champion Skanker