back up blog

Randomly, whilst teaching 120 people how to be an English tutor: Boy: Are you afraid of snakes? Me: Urm. It would seem a silly thing NOT to be afraid of... Boy: You seem like the kind of girl that wouldn't be afraid of snakes. Me: Well, now I think about some of the guys I've dated...

The woman was old enough to find fortune in seeing in her next birthday. Her husband was even older. The dark-haired Italian Stallion lunged toward the white lines of the crossing where they slowly walked across, the van propelled by it's own weight. The woman looked up, fear in her eyes. The van screeched to a halt. " Arrrrree-a-youuuuuu-a-scaaaaaared? " said the Italian Staliion, laughing. I watched my knuckles turn white. Welcome to Italy, bitch.

I've not written about my time in the States enough, apparently. I've guest blogged at Pond Parleys here and my ego thinks that you should go and read it. (Please?)

Mum: Shall I just do a nice big salad as your last family meal before you go? I mean, rather than the fish and chips you were on about? Me: Is that a trick question?

I jumped around in time with the music, bobbing up and down to some unknown heavy rock tune that I wasn't cool enough to know the lyrics to. It was awkward. There were many dreadlocks and mohawks and split ends and sweetie. That just 'aint me. "We need some Cheryl!" shouted Calum's boyfriend, as he tried to headbang whilst keeping his carefully styled hair in place. He sort of threw his head down, and then put his hands to his forehead on the way back up and looked around self-consciously. We'd make eye-conatct, laugh, and then he'd do it again. Repeat, repeat, repeat. I was beside myself, then, when a song I vaguely recognised came on- I was all over it. " THIS MY SONG! " I cried. There was some changing of the lightbulbs, Internet, and feeding of the chickens. You know the stuff- shuffling here, spinning there. I won't lie. There was also some shopping trolley action (which, having tried to illustrate by way of YouTube I stumbled across th...

For a minute there, life was on pause. Or at least in slow motion. Living with mum and dad for a month, no car, no money, nowhere to be... it was an abrupt stop to 2010, which has been filled with saying yes to life loudly and proudly and smoking too many cigarettes and spending money I haven't got- which suddenly clarifies exactly why I'm more destitute than Sarah York. Anyone fancy giving me half a million big ones if I introduce you to my dad? Ah yes, but wait. I'd have to pay YOU to come and hang out at Chez Loony-Ville. Got it. I'll continue to entertain myself, then. Thanks for your time. No. This month has been less JUST DO IT! and more, ahhhhh. Well alright then. There isn't much on the telly anyway and I've already cut my toenails. But suddenly, it is nearly time for the next adventure. I sort of fell asleep at the wheel, just for a hot second, and now I'm upturned at the side of the country lane that is Packing Panic and shit! Do I have enough co...

It was my birthday on Saturday. And boy-oh-boy, was I dreading it.  The older I get the less mature I seem to be- I'm living my life backwards. At 19 I had a job that was destined to become (shock! horror!) A CAREER, a long-term boyfriend I thought I'd marry, a flat of my own, my own brand-new car and private health insurance. NINETEEN.  You think I'd let MY nineteen year old daughter shack up with her bloke? IF SHE IS ANYTHING LIKE YOU JUST TRY AND STOP HER, says Mama. I remember when I was in the same neck of the woods as my cousin and his new baby and stopped by to say hello. His baby-mama was lay in bed with the newborn, and when I walked in I said to her as way of introduction, "I bet you feel like a bloody giraffe in a zoo with everybody coming at staring at you both," and this new mother looked at me gratefully and said excitedly, "How many have you got then?" NINETEEN. I sounded like I had my own kids! I WAS 19! Then. The day before my 24th birth...