In which I remark on how not to blog and things I have noticed of late.

It hasn't really been perishingly cold this winter.
Not after last year.
I have too many essays this Term. 9 is just too much
2nd year is code for how many times can thoughts of YA and too much work reduce Beth to tears?
I hate cold sores.
I haven't blogged enough.
I am currently blogging to avoid having to think about 9 essays. This is a vain attempt to wake up.
I'm already worn out and its only tuesday week 2.
I have the cutest godson ever.
Whom I have now met :)

He is ADORABLE.
And he has pretty awesome Godparents

It broke my heart to have to leave him behind :( Though he was inducing unhealthy levels of broody into my system.


To counteract this, the terrible trio reconvened.


For Markus turned 21 and a day of our particular brand of crazy was therefore absolutely mandatory.


Though there was a shock in store.

Anna had done something drastic. Her hair seemed to have taken leave of its senses and jumped off her head into the not so loving embrace of the stylists shears.
(This seems to be a recurring theme, I have today experienced a similar shock when I arrived in the zoo to discover Mudge had also had a rather drastic meeting with some scissors too.)
On a theme of drastic happenings:

Mark is wearing a bobble hat. A BOBBLE HAT. I nearly fainted! Some miracle worker had parted him from the ubiquitous beanie.


I miss these two so much.

But the lesser spotted Anna having credit helps. (No kidding, shes actually adopted that name, I got a text from someone claiming to be such a creature this afternoon.)


Its was an awesome day, it had been far too long. I need to get skype on Anna's comp so we can conference call.

And that was the end of my holiday.

The next day began with a bump.

followed by a crash,

bang,

thud,

rattle,

and a clatter.

At 8AM.

The scaffolding men had returned to remove the construction that they had put up so my parents could stick solar panels to the roof. (Note: no parents ascended scaffolding and no glue/sellotape/blutack was used)

As at the time the plan was to go home on the Wednesday, I was less than impressed that the final day of my holiday was started in such a fashion. But noise cancelling sennheisers are good for more than just helping me concentrate on work.

Shortly after breakfast i was informed that the plans had changed and I should probably start packing seen as I hadn't started.

I loathe packing. I always have too much stuff and never enough room.

And to have to do it in a hurry?

Some how I remembered it all.

I will never know how.

Then came the petrol station. Never ask me to fill your  car for you, I will waste precious petrol on the floor because despite it being idiot proof as a process my mother's overfangled piece of french discombobulater makes it rather difficult. 

Then we got lost, because the sat nav refused to work and my father who is secretly part homing pigeon wasn't driving. His knack for knowing precisely where he is is disconcerting. My brother is also showing these bizarre tendencies.

They must have studied the A to Z maps.

Its the only rational explanation.

Getting lost wouldn't have been an issue. 

However the car refusing to turn back on stranded us in heaven only knows where for an exceptionally long time. I was somewhat displeased.

The day was finally capped off in the worst possible way. 

I burnt my pizza. A pizza that was short on cheese to start with!

Oh and I had to unpack. 

Unpacking is possibly worse than packing.

I haven't yet decided.

What I have decided is that is enough to keep you going till tomorrow when I will tell you all about the following 4 days and a rather busy first week back. 

Right now its bed time. 

Night!

Beth xx

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

I'm a Godmummy!!!
Which means Becky is a Mummy!
:D
Oh its all so exciting!

I just wanted to tell you all.

Also having just re-read last nights blog, it has become apparent that I shouldn't blog whilst tired and emotional. I repeat words, miss words and letters out and still think it makes perfect sense.

I have since edited the big mistakes. The rest I'm still too tired to notice.
I'm too poor to afford an editor, and the only other option open to me would make complaints about the content, the phraseology and the substandard language.

I'm a Godmummy!!!!

He's no longer a smudge on a scan!! :)

Evil Essays, Cubic Memories and why I am a idiot.

When your lecturers send you off on your holidays, wishing you well, expressing their hopes you come back relaxed and refreshed, you may notice them smiling.
Its because they know what they just did. They made a joke. Only, its only funny to them. As Academics they find no greater pleasure than endless reading and writing, whilst the rest of us would rather be hanging out, watching TV and doing normal people things rather than behaving like Dr. Sheldon Cooper.
I for one hate writing essays, don't hate writing, you already figured that out though. I hate writing about other peoples ideas and then having to writing nearly as much in reference their tasty as chalk dust book.
They love nothing more than making Christmas holidays miserable. I want to have fun. Not write essays.
At one time Child Language Acquisition was the most interesting thing I'd ever come across, at one point I cared if I wrote a decent essay. I remember a time when I didn't need a bat cave full of food to eat just to keep me going.
I have 9 of the blessed things to write next term.
If at some point you find a broken shell that gibbers and looks haggard, and perhaps half resembles me, remove it from the learning zone, take it home, force it to eat and drink nutritious things and then put it to bed.  11 hours I'll fall into the bathroom making comments like "Why am I awake?" ,"How did I get here?",  "Why did they frape me whilst I was delirious?"

I don't remember it but according to my housemate on the first day of uni this year (7AM alarm) I fell out of my room announced "What is this unholy hour?!", Yelped (I stubbed my toe - I remember that),
and crashed into the bathroom.

I don't mornings. I do them about as effectively as I write essays. One A - Level tutor frequently called mine "Utter carnage".

However this afternoon whilst writing one of these horrendous pains in the rear, something quite marvelously procrastinational happened. In fact it was a lot like what we began to reminisce about.
Good times in the Cube.
There were a lot of sucky times at college.
But there were also some epically awesome times.

It involved people like those.

Doing stuff like this:

And throwing very humble people parties:

And other weirder things...

I miss those times. The parties. The violent card games, (trust me you've never played Go Fish! or Cheat! till you've played it with us - or more specifically Josh.), the ceaseless hilarity, the shuddering at the words "ASDA, GUYS?! Pleeeeeeease?" (NO! We will not buy you more food. Buy it yourself!), the terror induced by Conor uttering the words "Well, You see..." (that was always and indication that severe mental trauma was about to be inflicted), picnics in the park and the amazing friendships that remain to this day.

We made a point of accepting anyone. We didn't much like the common room, and they thought we were mighty odd. 

We were, still are and intend to remain so. Admittedly some of us were odder than others. Very few people who were at NEW College in 09/10 have forgotten Jed's Lightsaber battles. Or his karaoke. But that's why we loved him. We were a motley assortment of Characters and that's why we worked and still do.

We get together sometimes. But its not the same, and the room no  longer even exists in the same way. 

This essay is still giving me grief. I'm giving up for today.

Tbf I gave up hours ago.

But that's not why I am a lummox.

Sorry was watching Pirates of the Carribean. No-one uses that word better than Cap'n Jack.

Side note.

No I am a lummox because I can't take advice. Or think such advice is irrelevant to me because I'm not that stupid. I wouldn't make that mistake again.

Turns out I am and have.

And just as my friend told me way back in October, I've gone and got myself hurt.

Because my brain, my heart and I are all at odds with each other.

And the only half cocked plan I've got so far is to avoid the situation entirely.

Refer back to the bit about being a complete numbnuts.

The thing is as well by the time I realised, "I probably should have been more proactive with that advice..." it was already far too late. 

New Year, New Start.

Yeah. Right.

We'll see.

(and I said that in exactly the same way that your parents did when it meant "er, yeah right")

And having said this, I'm never going to mention it again.

See avoiding the situation.

It may serve to help me a bit.

The destruction of Facebook would help too. 

Actually that would help in lots of ways.

Mark Zuckerberg has more to damage my degree than anyone else.

I'm getting rambly.

Always a good indication of its being bed time.

NaNight!

Beth xx