Better To Just Be Real. Show Up, Do Your Job And Be A Nice Person

That Time We Discussed My Declining Years and The Disparity Between Your Early Twenties and Mid-Late Twenties

Oh yes, dear readers, it's another rant.

I've come home from work, quickly demolished two glasses of wine and of course a Blog Post has been born.

Strap yourselves in; it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Buckle up now.

As I am sure I have complained about before, and as we all know, I have studied Law at University and now for some unknown reason have completed the Legal Practice Course at Law School as well.

An example of the many, many hoops I have jumped through thus far on my journey to become a badass solicitor.

Not bitter.

Obviously.

(Although my bank account is still crying from the last round of financial assault the Solicitors Regulation Authority managed to get away with.)

ANYWAY.

The next step after a 4 year Law degree, 2 years at Law School and 6 years' work experience as a paralegal/legal assistant is a 2 year training contract completed on the job and a Professional Skills Course repeating much of what I have already undertaken at Law School.

Do you understand why I have a permanent eye twitch yet, dear readers?!

ARE WE HAVING FUN YET?!

The next step requires training contract applications.  Having waited several years for a training contract to plop itself down in my lap (not really sure why I thought that was a valid tactic), I have decided to take a more pro-active approach to the whole farcical situation.  Better late than never, or so I'm told.

The other night I sat down ready for application hell and discovered...well...exactly that actually.

I was half way through an application when I got to a set of three boxes that enraged me so much that I had to go and watch calming videos of people applying acrylic nail polish to calm myself down lest I fling my laptop across the room.

Oh hush, you big baby, I didn't go through with it!

The application enraged me so much that I have decided to write this Blog Post and correct the glaring errors in employers' ways.

For it is not just one application that is needlessly grueling; all applications seem to be designed to confound, irritate and otherwise perplex.

So, here are my attempts to help those misguided HR departments out there...

1. Questions to Avoid

"Why do you want to work for this firm?"

Stop, stop, stop asking me this.  The answer is, invariably; "Because you have a vacancy and I need money."

Which apparently employers don't like.  Even if it is the truth.

Case. Point.

But then why do I have to explain myself to this stranger in a dodgy pinstripe suit.  Tell me why YOU want ME, Big Partner Solicitor Person.

Apparently employers don't like that either.

The truth hurts, boo.

I know that you are supposed to say a load of buzz words that you have managed to pick out from the firm's website but, let's be honest, it's always a lie.

Is this the way we want to start this new glorious relationship, potential employer?

Oh, apparently it is because I can hear you muttering about how important the work/life balance is in this firm (normally exclusively reserved for Partners who need to spend the afternoon boozing with some clients), progression is available (after 5 years and we dangle that carrot in front of you for the whole time to make sure you work your little yoga bum off) and that our salaries are competitive (competitively shit for this over saturated market you mean).

Ah.  So lying it is then.

And they say lawyers are unscrupulous. 

2. Provide Results From All University Modules, Exams, Driving Test and All Smear Tests

I'm not saying that academic results aren't important; of course they are. Especially in a career in Law.  All I'm saying is, why do I need to provide every single result of every single exam since I was 15 years old?  I got 9 GCSEs, 4 A Levels, a University Degree and a Post-Graduate Diploma.

Do you realise how many exams that adds up to?!

I do: 53.

53 individual exam results I need to include on every single training contract application.

I mean...seriously?! Is anyone even looking at these at this point?

Apparently not.

Isn't it enough to say that I passed them? Can't I just give a vague outline instead of the actual percentage that I got in each module at Uni? (This is not an exaggeration - I have to type out the number for each exam.)

And haven't we got passed that ideal that only academics can make it in the Law world? What if I didn't excel at school but have a great work ethic, an understanding of how to handle clients without wanting to poke my eyes out with a stapler remover and the ability to click buttons in my case management system which generates all the necessary letters for me anyway...don't get me started on that last one.

I understand that employers need a bar by which to judge the multitude of applicants against but why does it need to be in this much detail? If I was a complete fraud and unable to string a coherent thought together I am pretty sure one of these institutions would have outed me by now.

No caption required.

3. My Life Is Empty and Has No Meaning

And, finally, the questions in the training contract application that lead to this Blog Post in the first place:

- List your hobbies/interests and membership of clubs
- List your involvement in the community and/or charity work
- Positions of responsibilities

I was looking at the above questions and pulled this face:-

And am just as cute. Obviously.

Hobbies and memberships of clubs? Err...next.

Involvement in the community/charity work. Umm...

Positions of responsibilities. ...my boss let's me put the clean tea towels out sometimes?

Looking at these questions blankly and scratching my head (which incidentally is turning grey because I'm old) it struck me how geared up these applications were for University students.  In fact, the only things I could include in most of these questions took me all the way back to my early twenties.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became.  These questions started making me question my life: why wasn't I a member of a club? Why didn't I do any charity work? What did I actually do in my spare time?!

My new Facebook profile pic.

And the more I pondered, the more I thought...why the hell should I have to explain myself to you, anonymous and mystical training contract giver?

I like my life.  My life is fulfilling and fun and full of light, laughter, love, family and friends.  If I want to spend the entire weekend in my pyjamas watching Big Bang Theory or bouncing around in muddy puddles with the Boyfriend and Nessie, in what way does that affect my ability to do a fantastic job 9-5, Monday to Friday?

It doesn't and that is what infuriated me so much.  Why should I spend my time filling these boxes with guff from years ago?  What employer wants to know I joined the snow sports team (but only for the socials) or that when I had loads of free time and wasn't desperately trying to pay off Law School loans (thanks again, SRA!) I had the time and inclination to raise money for charity.  I work damn hard in the week and if I want to devote my weekends to doing nothing that is my prerogative.

My thoughts exactly Mr Puss Cat

Why wasn't there a box for 'shit you do really well at work', 'list all the jobs you've had and the experience you gained i.e. leave a URL to your Linkedin here' and 'what is the nicest thing you've done for a colleague' or 'would any of your employers have you back or would they laugh in your face and tell you to take a long walk off a short pier?'

See? I fixed your stupid application, Head of HR.

It was at this point that I put the application away for fear of typing in caps lock 'WHO THE CARES?'

Won't some magical training contract guru think about us, the aging, work weary wretches of the world that didn't get off our arses at Uni and make all these application at the appropriate time?

Please?

Pretty, pussycat please?

In light of the above, maybe it has become clearer to some of the non-Law crowd as to why I have been preparing my lap for the training contact ploppage instead of actually filling out the applications.

Or maybe it just goes to show I'm too lazy to be a solicitor.

Eh.

Paralegal for lyfe, innit?

(I didn't say any of those GCSEs were in English.)

&&Fin.

If You Don't Do Laundry Today, You'll Have To Buy Clothes Tomorrow

That Time We Discussed Some Fashion Trends

Those of you that know me will know that I would not class myself as a fashionista.

Fashion, frankly, baffles me.

Maybe I am too boring to understand some of the trends that pop up from time to time. Maybe I find some of them too pretentious and am actually a reverse-snob. Who knows?

Normally I would not give fashion a second thought but several things have happened recently which have clothes and trends on my brain. Which, of course, only leads to The Blog. (The poor, poor neglected Blog.)

Before we get started on this list, dear readers, please be aware that the following are my opinions only and we all know what a sarcastic, vicious little brain I am harbouring. So apologies now for anyone that finds these comments in bad taste.

Comfort yourself in the knowledge that I really don't know what I'm talking about most of the time so why should a published Blog be any different?

Okay, here we go...

1. Release The Hounds

I know, I know, I thought this was a post about horrendous clothing trends that we could snigger at from behind the safety of our computer/phone screens while we spill spaghetti bolognese down ourselves too!

Bear with.

Release The Hounds: Famous and Freaked returned to our tellyboxes this week with an all celebrity special season. (To be honest, they have taken certain liberties with the term 'celebrity' but it is ITV2 and we'll forgive them for not being able to get big stars like ITV1 and the Hello Campers team.)

Anyway, for anyone that hasn't seen the programme, rest assured, there are no spoilers here.

For you lovely readers that haven't seen the show, invariably it involves a group of three drama queens that would squeal at the drop of a hat being dumped in a Lithuanian forest in the late afternoon. A grinning and undeniably giddy Reggie Yates greets the unfortunate victims for that week, hands them a bright red back pack with a walkie talkie and points them in the direction of the woods. From there, the somewhat depleted Mystery Inc gang have to solve puzzles in order to obtain a key to a chest full of money. Once they have the key they can take the money but, in order to keep the money, they have to outrun a pack of dogs.

The trick of course is that the quicker they solve the puzzle, the bigger the head start they have over the hounds.

This newest series started off with a pretty creepy bang. However, watching the show did annoy me in a slightly unusual way.

As I've explained, the main aim of the game is to outrun the dogs at the end of the tasks.

So why, oh why, do all the contestants insist on wearing jeans?!

Jeans.

More jeans.

JEANS EVERYWHERE. DID I MISS THE MEMO ON JEANS?!

Again, I'm assuming that most of these nitwits have seen the show previously (or maybe they haven't – makes more sense as to why they would volunteer in the first place to be honest) so they should know that most of the tasks involve water or liquid of some kind.

What would possess someone to run in wet jeans?

The answer is, of course, a pack of slavering, barking dogs at their heels which I suppose is sort of the point...

Anyway, this inexplicably frustrates me.

Fashion – nil points so far.

2. Sparkle Particle

Introducing ... Glitter Roots! The new way to disguise your roots. ...apparently.

I mean, is this even a thing?!

The first time I saw mention of this trend was admittedly on the Daily Fail (whoops Mail) website so it could be a load of twaddle. Like most of their articles.

But instagram seems to disagree.

I mean, just on a practical note, that looks like it would be a nightmare to shampoo out.

Whole campaigns have been based on making your hair look as flake free as possible but apparently this is The New Thing.

Don't look Head and Shoulders; you'll only upset yourself.

I can kind of understand this look for a festival (particularly Wilderness) but you're already not really washing properly and a bit sticky and covered in goodness knows what so might as well chuck on something that is at least sparkly I guess.

But imagine your Mum's face when you go home and explain that all of that will be clogging up her shower drain in about an hour.

"Oh yeah, and here's my bag of washing. What's for dinner, I'm starving!"

Anyone that knows me, knows that I love a bit of sparkle so it's not that I'm just anti-glitter but I can feel my hair retracting back into the follicles just thinking about smearing a load of that all over my scalp.

Maybe I'm just not Down With The Kids Anymore.

Afterall, I remember when we used to think this looked good.

"I'm totally ready for the school disco now!"

And all those little butterfly clips...

What exactly were those clips holding up? Probably our badly cut fringes that we instantly regretted.

You know what? The less said about hair in the 90s and early 00s the better.

Moving on!

3. Naked Attraction

On to another television show now and this one is the uncomfortable viewing pleasure that is Naked Attraction.

Those of you under 18, of a delicate disposition and/or my Grandmother, avert your gaze now.

Basically: 6 strangers stand naked in coloured pods, slowly their bodies are revealed (in reverse so from tail to top) and the contestant picks one to knock out each round by deciding which one they fancy less based on pure physical attraction.

My housemate and I ended up watching this cringe fest together with a glass of wine (alcohol consumption definitely recommended).

And the thing that struck us the most about the show was the comment that people kept making that it was 'the best way to judge someone without being shallow'.

Errr...what?!

You just dumped someone on the based only on their body from the waist down.

If that isn't shallow I don't know what is.

Apparently, the best way to 'get to know someone' and to 'judge and find someone for who they are' (nobody on the show is struck by the irony in these phrases fyi) is to have 6 strangers stand naked before you for your abrupt perusal like you are looking for your next bull at some cattle market.

“Ooh, yes, Anna Richardson, who seems to always be involved with these pseudo-sexual programmes on channel 4, his foreskin is particularly long, isn't it? I don't like.” -Somewhere offstage Simon Cowell hits a large red buzzer in the background-

(The above is almost a direct quote from the show just so you don't think I'm being disgusting.)

(Disclaimer – apart from Simon Cowell. He did not hit the big red buzzer. He likey. Or wait...is that Paddy McGuinness? Eurgh, all these dodgy innuendos are getting my pop culture references mixed up.)

Maybe I'm just a massive prude but it wasn't so much the nakedness as the almost rude comments people were making about the bodies they were presented with.

Is that a fashion these days? To have no regard for anyone else's feelings? Sometimes it really does feel that way. I'm not saying that we all need to find each other unbearably attractive; nothing would get done, but does anybody really need to hear the phrase “what other willies are you drawn to?” or “I've never seen a vagina like this...you can see a lot of it. But she does like to shave” (disappointed face) or “how do you feel about the fact that that is one hell of a hairy crack?” Again – quoting from the show here. Literally episode 1.

Again, let's be clear; it's not a problem that I have with the show itself people being naked on the telly doesn't give me the heebie jeebies but why try and dress it up to be something it's not? And why are all the comments so crude and clinical?

Did these people really need someone peering at their naked personage and passing judgement?

But then I suppose telling people what they should be wearing is just as bad.

'Murica.

Let's not even go there. That's a whole new Blog Post.

And finally, the big one, the traumatic experience that has inspired this entire post...

4. It's A Nice Day For A White Wedding

As some of you may know, I have been invited to a wedding this year.

Not only do I love a good wedding but this is a particularly special event as this is the first of my university friends to tie the knot. And it's on the day before my birthday.

I. Am. So. Excited.

And this of course has lead to the requirement for a shopping expedition. As is well established, if my house mate isn't there to dress me I am a hot mess.

Plus, I have shopping vouchers; just call me the coupon Queen.

Mother and I ventured off to find a suitable wedding guest outfit in January and found the shopping centre wanting.

The choice was awful, there was no colour anywhere (seriously what is with all the grey and khaki errrrrywhere?) and anything that was even half decent cost an arm and a leg even on sale.

We trawled through rack after rack for 3 hours and, after finding only disappointment and a lacklustre service in the Debenhams cafe (what happened to you?!), we left with only a few purchases which were actually gifts for other people.

Not quite what we had in mind.

Nevertheless, I was not deterred; namely because I don't actually have anything suitable rather than an abundance of enthusiasm for the task.

So the online shopping began.

The first thing that I noticed was that lots of websites had a very helpful section called 'wedding guest'.

'Perfect!' I hear you cry. Not so, dear reader, not so.

For within this section of clothing there was very little that was appropriate. It was either too short, too formal or too white.

Err...no, Asos, don't think the bride will thank me for this one.

When did this suddenly become A Thing?

I thought it was an unwritten rule that you were not to wear white to a wedding? Maybe this is a rule that I've made up but if your dress is more than 50% white maybe you should have a re-think.

Again, cannot stress enough, this is in the wedding guest section.

And if it looks like this....maybe skip the wedding, take a good long look in the mirror and work on you for a bit. #nojudgement #butloadsofjudgement

I mean, even Glamour agrees with me and, to be honest, that's like gospel in the fashion world.

Maybe.

I'm also against dressing all in black at a wedding. It feels a bit too funeral-y, especially when lots of the blokes only really have the option of dark, formal-wear. I like a splash of colour but, judging from the various online shops, I am wrong on this front as well.

The number of LBDs (is the wedding in a night club?) or other black dresses made me think that maybe colour is over-rated these days?

I told you I wasn't a fashionista.

In any event, the search for a decent (not even perfect! I have realistic expectations I promise) wedding guest dress continues. Goodness only knows what I'll end up wearing.

All I know is if anybody wears a white dress to my wedding they will be on the receiving end of an 'accident' with a glass of red wine.

You have all been warned.

Whoopsie! Sozlol.

I think what we have all learned from this is that I should continue to keep fashion at arm's length and everyone will be happy.

Although, if I do follow current fashion trends, I will be attending the wedding in April in a pair of white jeans, naked from the waist up, covered in glitter.

Maybe it will catch on.

#trendsetter.

Or maybe I'll finally be carted off to the loonie bin for good.

&&Fin.

When I Feel The Heat, I See The Light

That Time I Had Vivid Dreams

Well, hello, dear readers.

Long time, no see and all that.

I have sadly neglected the Blog for some time - apologies.  As ever (I'm a broken record really) life has been insanely busy and I have barely been home long enough to think about Blogs let alone write one.

Yes, yes, I'm a Bad Person, okay?

In between starting my new job, friends, family, Brexit (I cried, k?! #noshame) passing Law school and adventures in between I have been crazy busy.

But enough with the excuses; here we are and I am raring to go with a new Blog Post.

The last couple of weeks have been insanely hot.

...show offs.

Well...hot for England anyway.

So hot, in fact, that poor BF has been suffering at night.  Although that has very little to do with the heat affecting him and entirely to do with his less than mentally stable girlfriend (c'est moi for those not following my eloquent ramblings).

The hot weather does strange things to me.  And my dreams.

I tend to have very vivid dreams throughout the year but, for some reason, when it is really warm at night (the sticky, oppressive, kick-the-duvet-off kind of heat) they get really weird but very real.

NB: Some of the following circumstances and conversations may have been dramatized (slightly) for humorous effect.

(Act 1, Scene 1. 
Two bodies lie in bed next to each other.  It is dark. It is silent. Suddenly...)

AJ: (gasps and sits up in bed) 

BF: (roused from slumber by movement next to him but voice laden with sleep) Huh? What is it?

AJ: I just need to check something. (AJ scrambles from the bed and moves towards the door.)

BF: Mm-hmm...sure....(Sleep is beginning to reclaim BF as he rolls over to continue peaceful slumber).

AJ: I'm just going to turn the light on. (AJ is stood with finger on the main light switch)

BF: Wait...

AJ: Ready? (AJ is poised)

BF: Wait, what?....ARGH!

(AJ has turned on the bedroom light and BF lies blinking owlishly as he is blinded. AJ has been prepared and has covered her eyes against the glare)

BF: AJ, do you have to do that now?! (BF is grumbling and rightfully indignant as he rolls back over)

AJ: (stunned that BF can even ask such a question as the vital necessity of turning the light on appears to have been lost on BF.  AJ must correct the misunderstanding)  I had to check for the jellyfish and octopuses!! (Author's Note: octopussies? octopussi?)

BF: (amazed silence)

AJ: There are jellyfish in the bed! They were on me. (AJ huffs and turns off the light, satisfied that the jellyfish and octopuses have moved on and will not return.  AJ returns to bed.) 

(As if that wasn't enough. A few minutes later...)

(AJ is curled up into a tiny ball on the edge of the bed and is clearly Throwing A Huff if her scrunched up face is anything to go by.  BF, now on the verge of sleep, edges closer and touches AJ's foot with his.  AJ pulls away.  The face scrunching worsens.)

AJ: I can't believe you had a go at me like that.  I was just checking for the jellyfsh! Unless you want jellyfish to be in bed with us.  

BF: (amazed silence - BF realises that this may be something of a trend during this relationship)

AJ: Harrumph.

BF: Love you, you nutter.

(The face scrunching stops.  AJ appears to have realised that there were never jellyfishes in the bed and that she has just woken up BF at 3am on a work night and that his slight annoyance at having been woken up in the middle of the night is, in fact, entirely justifiable.

AJ rolls over to BF's side of the bed and, for the remainder of the night, there may not be jellyfishes in the bed but there is certainly at least one limpet.)

And they lived happily ever after....until the next night where AJ decided there was a weedle in the bed that needed to be caught in a Pokeball stat.

Oh...don't look at me like that.  Did anyone really think that I wouldn't download this game?!

The Pokemon theme song is in my wedding playlist for goodness sake. (Sozlol, BF.)

&&Fin.

We Hear What We Want To Hear

That Time I Was Dissed By A Pre-Teen

It's that time of year, dear readers.

People wear hideous jumpers 'ironically', Starbucks' red cups litter the ground and the smell of donkey poop is in the air.

It must be Christmas.

I'm onto you, Donkey Face.

Don't be fooled by my flippant comments about Christmas, dear readers; I love it. 

From the music to the food to the drinks to the board games to the smell of cloves in EVERYTHING. 

I seriously love Christmas and can usually be found curled up in a corner making snowflakes or brightly coloured paper chains. 

Given my love of Christmas (and my family) it seemed only fitting that my sister and I join our dear mother at her school's Christmas fete. 

Nothing like this.  In case you were wondering.

Among the home made games stalls, tombola and bric-a-brac stalls there was a glorious tea, bacon sandwich and cake stand. 

It was here that we found refuge from the bitter winds and sat down for a cuppa. 

As my mother works at the school, lots of children would say hello or chat to her and, as a former small human myself, I have a fondness for the cute little snotballs. 

And so it was that I found myself talking to one such small human that we shall call Freddy.  Freddy was a friendly, if slightly shy, boy and so when I engaged him in conversation I was rather proud of myself as it seemed that he had opened up to me.

As the Christmas carols filtered across the playground and the welcoming scent of bacon hung in the cold December air, Freddy and I bonded.  

Until our conversation went as follows:-

Me: So Freddy, how old do you think I am? Because Mrs J is my Mum. 

Freddy: Err..I don't know. ...22?

Me: Well, that's very close Freddy! I'm actually 25 so that was a very good guess indeed. 

Freddy: ....I said 32.

Me: Oh. 

I'll just be over here...tears falling down my 32(!!) year old looking face.

So yeah...turns out I'm not all that fond of snotballs after all. 

Sorry Mum, add another few years onto the waiting list for grandchildren.

&&Fin.

Always Focus On The Front Wind Shield And Not The Rear View Mirror

That Time I Pretended To Be A Proper Adult And Changed The Oil In The Glorious Accord

Notice there is no 'tried' in that title, dear readers.

I am an actual, certified grown up and have changed the oil in my car.

...This was no mean feat however.

The adventure started when I casually informed my Father that my oil light kept flashing on when I went round corners.  The slightly horrified look he gave me should have signified that this was of more importance than I had perhaps assigned it previously.

Fatherama: So when does this big, red warning light come on?
Amy: Err (sheepish) ... when I go round corners, sometimes on hills, if I brake sharply...(trails off)
Fatherama: *Heavy breathing*
Amy: Heh.
Fatherama: And just how long has this light been coming on?
Amy: About a week ... or three.
Fatherama: AMY!! 

Fatherama quickly informed me that if the red warning light for oil flashes on in your car you should pull into a garage sharp-ish and get that shizzle sorted as a major priority.

Which, in Amy language, meant I had another week or so to get it sorted.

In any event (and an unspecified amount of time later), I eventually stopped off at a Tesco petrol station to buy some more oil.  This was not as difficult as I had feared it might be as I just grabbed a big bottle of motor oil which stated it was suitable for 'old engines'.

Perfect!

The Honda is a bit of a relic so anything which says it's suitable for OAPs is ace in my book.  Last thing we want is to pour some new-fangled gunk into the abused and already suffering engine.

Once that was all paid for and the tank was full (all my money gets spent on the hungry Honda sob), I pulled into the Tesco car park and popped the bonnet on my car with little to no misadventure (might have burned my .

However, this is when the trouble started.

First, it was pitch black and I was unsure where, exactly, the oil cap was located.  Then, when I spotted a big cap marked 'OIL', I started to second-guess my car mechanic skills.

Was this for the engine oil that I needed to re-fill or was this some other secret oil that I had no idea about?

My car is a pretty mischievous beast at the best of times and it would be typical that it would have multiple oil orifices just to trip me up.

I wasn't taking any chances.

So I called my Mum.

After asking me if there was a nice bloke about that could help me (! It's 2015, mother!), she advised that the oil cap I had located would be the correct one.

Thanking her for her input I, rather mistakenly in hindsight, believed that was my trial over.

It was then that I discovered my true challenge was only just beginning.

I could not, for love nor money, remove the flipping oil cap.

Oh, Honda, you test my patience!

Problem? NOPE. NOT HERE. vjnigjbgoigbnsmgn

After several attempts, and I'm sure I could hear some laughter from the minivan parked behind me, I gave up and drove home.

Thus ended day 1 of the War on Oil.

Day 2 was not much better.

In the morning I, once again, popped the bonnet and this time, I was determined to see this thing through. If not for me, then for the suffering Honda chariot.

Bonnet popped.  Oil cap...off!

Huzzah! Managed to pry the bloody thing off.

Now to just pour the oil into the engine....can't open the bottle of oil.

Friday morning. 7.30am. ...sorry neighbours. 

I had to break the seal of the cap using my thumb nail.

Thank God for base coat nail polish, dear readers.

Once I had wrestled the cap off the bottle, I then proceeded to pour the. Entire. Carton. In my engine.

It was only later that I realised I was supposed to use the dipstick to check the oil levels and make sure I poured the right amount in.

I felt like such a ... well ... let's avoid the obvious insult.

So yes, tried to be a real grown up and failed epically.  I am no longer allowed to try and do anything to maintain, fix or otherwise improve my car with the exception of filling it up with petrol.

...or was it diesel?

&&Fin.

How Did It Get So Late So Soon?

That Time I Was Rubbish At Posting On Time (The First, But I Expect Not The Last)

Dear readers, I do apologise for missing the Monday What The Buzz post.

This week has been crazy.

As per my previous post, I was at Law school over the weekend which in and of itself is normally rather draining but this week was gruelling for a whole new and entirely foul reason.

So when Monday rolled around, the last thing on my mind was posting to the Blog.

And I do apologise as there were plenty of good hashtags to choose from.

But let me run through the rest of the week for comparison:

Tuesday: Off to my parents to cook dinner

Every week (read as: 'most weeks when I remember') I visit my parents and my younger sister and do some 'experimental' cooking by trying out a brand new recipe from the BBC website.

So far it has been quite successful with different menus including a home made curry with raita and onion bhajis or the sticky bbq chicken or even the most recent sausage and bacon rustic hotpot.  As my younger sister is a vegetarian this can sometimes be a bit of a challenge as it requires making two separate meals.  But in general I really enjoy it and it gives me an excuse to go round and visit and not feel like a free-loader.

Or not.  As the case may be.

Wednesday: Out for dinner with a friend

I went out for dinner with a friend in the evening which I have been looking forward to immensely.  Unfortunately, we are both very busy and also have the tendency of cancelling on one another either due to illness or just because we are super busy and life gets in the way.  But she is one of the few people in my life that knows time will be made eventually and that we are both grown ups with busy lives. 

It was a lovely evening and, even though one of our topics of conversation was probably a little unusual, it was great to catch up and be able to talk about things candidly. 

But it meant that I was out for the whole evening and didn't get home until nearly 11. 

Thursday: Mum and Dad's Wedding Anniversary

As it was my Mum and Dad's 32nd (32nd!!) wedding anniversary, my sister and I bought flowers and treated them both to a takeaway for dinner. 

The whole evening was great as I love spending time with ma famille.  And after dinner we played a new board game (new for us at least) - Betrayal at House on the Hill.

Ooooh, the spooks!

My family has a 'thing' about board games and card games.  So we were all looking forward to trying out this new co-operative game.

Or were we...?

The game is cooperative to begin with but then somebody becomes a traitor.  Ooooh.  The intrigue. 

It's a really good game but I think it will be more enjoyable the second time round when we already understand some of the rules as much of the evening consisted of me flicking rapidly through the rule book and getting flustered when I couldn't answer various questions about die rolls and coal chutes. 

(Don't ask.)

Friday: Alex B's last day in the office (aka the last day of term)

Today was a work colleague's (a friend's) last day in the office.  It was a pretty emosh day but it was hard to take anything too seriously as it was also Children in Need and we were all in fancy dress as heroes and villains. 

I was dressed as Bat Girl.

"Yes, I take your personal injury claim very seriously, Mr Bloggs..."

So nothing I said was really going to come across that seriously.

After many larks in the office and pretty much getting no work done (sorry, boss!) we all headed to the pub for a few farewell drinkies.  I was supposed to be out until the wee hours of the morning but, as you can see, I made it home fairly early.  

And therefore had the chance to write this beautiful catch up post for you, dear readers. 

And there you have it; my week in a very brief nutshell. 

Insert clever pun here.

It's been busy but good (in some ways - in others not so much but let us not dwell).  

So I hope you forgive me for not posting the scheduled What The Buzz post this week.  This post is really just one long excuse and I really hate that but I genuinely have been super busy.

Please stay tuned for your regular scheduled programmes and I will endeavour to get my life together by next Monday. 

&&Fin.

PS. I have been watching Twitch a lot recently and one streamer in particular 'IamslowLoris' has been playing Dark Souls and his commentary is actually really funny plus the chat is very friendly.  If you have five minutes and like Dark Souls, I would recommend you check out his streams - 8pm on the weekdays. Peace!

Be Careful When You Cast Out Demons That You Don't Throw Away The Best of Yourself

That Time A Demon Tried to Crawl Out From Inside of Me

Eurgh.

I am suffering with a case of mild food poisoning, dear readers.

This is what you get for ordering an Indian takeaway from Just Eat in the middle of Leicester city centre.

It honestly feels like some evil creature is trying to escape - rather forcefully - from my poor, broken body.

This.  Right Here. #perfect

I was at Law School this weekend and had to suffer through all of Sunday with my stomach making suspicious gurgling noises and sharp pains in my side.  This did not make it easy to focus on my revision lectures (on a side note exams are now less than a month away - don't know how that happened!).

Instead of listening to what was, undoubtedly, fantastic exam advice from my knowledgeable and patient tutors, I was exercising all of my brain and will power to prevent any explosive incidences in the back of the classroom.  My stomach actually aches from all the clenching.

I made it through 5 hours of lectures and that was no mean feat, let me tell you.

...I then had a three hour drive home.

This was somewhat harder as the gaseous build up had been so intense that my stomach was now painfully bloated.  Each and every bump in the road brought me one step closer to disgracing myself.

There comes a point, dear readers, in every adult's life in which they have to admit that they are unsure whether the pressure they next feel in their nether regions is purely gas in formation or whether there may be more substance than first indicated.  It becomes a personal choice as to whether the risk is taken but I was less than 50% sure that I knew the answer and did not want to risk ruining my beloved jeans and/or driver's seat.

Besides, we all know the phrase 'farts are a bit like love...if you have to force it, then it is probably shit'.

See?!

...no? Just me? Ah.  Moving swiftly on then!

You may be relieved to hear that I did not have any embarrassing incidences on the journey home.

But my house mate did give me a somewhat strange look when I arrived home only to barrel past her throwing 'hi, talk later, bai' over my shoulder before holing myself up in the bathroom for the better part of 20 minutes.

Sweet, sweet relief.

This has been part of the Firstflier: TMI series.

You. Are. Welcome.

&&Fin.

The True Sign Of Intelligence Is Not Knowledge But Imagination.

Day ?? - That Time I Got Sucked In

I have been re-watching the first season of the American-Australian TV show 'Farscape'. Not only because A) it's awesome but B) I am bored of revision.

And, as I was watching, I got to an episode where John lands on a planet and is left there for 3 months. Somehow he becomes Tom Hanks (sans Wilson the volleyball) and has no power to get off the planet. I was so sucked in by the show that I actually said ALOUD (bear in mind that I was watching it alone) 'wow, that planet looks a lot like Earth'.

Where does my brain think the rest of the scenes are filmed?

But, I swear, I honestly forgot for one second that I was watching a sci-fi TV show.

If that's not the sign of a good show then I don't know what is.

&& Fin.

A Dress Makes No Sense Unless It Inspires Men To Want To Take It Off You

Day ?? - That Time I Took Stock

So the past few days have been a bit of a blur.

The weather has been fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that I left the house in shorts and a cardigan on Tuesday. What started out as a labelling me a fashionista soon turned into quite the fashion faux pas.

Turns out that it's cold in October. Regardless of whether the sun is out or not.

I went for lunch and coffee with a friend and ended up having to buy a pair of jeans to change into. Luckily, they were only 10 euros in the H&M sale and I did need a new pair anyway. But still. Felt like a bit of a moron going into the Academic building to shimmy out of shorts and jam on my new (far, far too skinny no wonder they were in the sale. They were made for Twiggy I swear.) jeans.

Anyway, this purchase got me thinking about what I've bought since I've been out in the Netherlands clothes wise. I moved with just 4 pairs of shoes in my suitcase and I know I've bought some since I've been here but I thought it would be interesting to see (roughly) what I've been spending my hard earned cash on. I took pictures of everything.

And now I'm a little ashamed to share.

So first, my lunch today was awesome. Bacon sandwiches and salad. It's allllll good.

Now, as to my shopping. We must bear in mind that I came over without a rain coat and with only one pair of flat shoes. And only like 2 (or 5) dresses. So some of this has been necessary purchases. Sort of.

(I'm sorry, Mum)

Gulp.

And then there is all the socks I bought the other week because I realised I had like 3 pairs. =/

Moving on...my money saving scheme is in place. I am not buying too much at the supermarket because I refuse to throw away food anymore. I am also not going out as much. This has less to do with saving money and more to do with the fact that I have exams in less than two weeks and I don't feel like I've learnt anything yet! Eek. This is insane. One of my courses has actually ended already. 

Ask me anything about Anthropology.

I guarantee you that the answer will be 'I don't know'. I think I'm going to have to hole myself away for a solid week and revise. 

And we all know how good I am at revision, dear readers. 

Where are my very kind, very patient flat mates when I need them?! 

This plan is somewhat hindered by the fact that I have been invited to the Hague on Friday to sit in on a War Crimes case in the International Court of Justice and I really, really want to go. The question is not about money or even passing my degree.

The real question is: can I be bothered to get to the train station for 6AM?

The answer, dear friends, is looking rather bleak I must admit.

&&Fin