Nothing screams festive spirit like a chocolate Dalek on candy cane stabilisers. It's Christmas tomorrow and I am yet to feel particularly merry about much but we seem to be making it through without killing each other. So far. Doctor Who though, and a huge dinner will probably change the way I feel sooner or later. This whole 'Christmas' thing would probably also explain why there is an enormous cardboard box next to my bed filled with more smaller boxes, newspaper and treats for Ruddles to enjoy tomorrow morning. It says something about the state of our family life when the cats are getting more lavish gifts than we are.

Laura's birthday last night was absolutely bloody brilliant. Muchos entertaining, thanks LauBla!

Ruddles in a shopping bag thanks you for your time.

Fa la la la laa la la la...fuck off*. Though perhaps not really.

Yes indeed people, it is exactly one week to Christmas and that means that it's one week until Doctor Who. If that's not something to be excited about, I don't know what is. Unfortunately the people I work with do not agree with me so when I saw that The Sun (I know, it's what the customers want) was giving away a free DVD of The End Of Time (parts 1 AND 2) and The Eleventh Hour, I pounced. I also took the free supplement magazine thing, ignoring the fact the front cover leads with the line DOCTOR LURVE and instead focusing on the dapper hunk of man that is Matt Smith. But I'm not here to talk about Doctor Who.

It snowed today and it snowed a lot. We shut at 3, an hour early, so the boss could go home to Luton without killing herself in the dark and this meant that I had to run around the shop like a total loon with the stales clip board counting how many sausage rolls we had left whilst people came in and continued to buy said sausage rolls. Why didn't you just wait until you'd locked up? You may be asking, and I shall tell you for why. Because we had 10 minutes to chuck, clean, mop and wash up the whole friggin' shop so we could all get out ASAP. Snow. Friggin' hell.

Anyway on Monday I have to go to town and do all the Christmas shopping (and some birthday shopping) that I've somehow managed to avoid doing until now. Fun times ahead. Sometimes I wonder what Christmas is like for the people who don't spend it simultaneously pretending to hate everything about it (oh God people want to be happy and merry, the sinning bastards) because everyone else does whilst also dreaming about the day she can put up her tree and decorate it with bags of festive crap, listening to crappy Christmas music and generally having a tacky but weirdly enjoyable holiday.

The highlight of today probably came when this foreign man came into work whilst the shop was packed and we were being worked off our little feet and just said "TWO BREAD" and my boss replied, rather quickly, "YOU'RE STANDING IN A BREAD SHOP, MATE". It's lost in the telling but at the time I was trying not to gigglesnort into some woman's Viennese Whirl.

*This is not a personal dig at Anne. I love Anne. I just thought it would be a trendy and witty way of beginning.

We are very small. Space is very, very, very big. The average distance between stars is over 30 million million kilometres. At the speed of light, it would take us seven hours to get to Pluto from Earth. Our nearest neighbour in the cosmos, Proxima Centauri, is 4.3 light years away or a hundred million times further than a trip to the moon. From Pluto, the Sun merely resembles yet another bright star.

I'm telling you this because I like space. I've always liked space and only recently have I started to re-immerse myself in the sheer awesomeness that is our universe. I don't know whether I like space because I used to watch The Clangers a lot or because the lunar travel bit of the Natural History Museum has real moon gloves and space food. My favourite planet has always been Jupiter because it's the biggest and it has a massive red spot and has the most moons. Yeah, I'm shallow.

Often, the opening titles of Star Trek would interest me more than the actual episode. Especially the titles of Star Trek Voyager. I loved the bit in Walking with Dinosaurs when the asteroid smashed into Earth and blew away the T-Rex. I'd love to go to NASA one day. I don't believe in 'aliens' in the way that the movies depict them but sooner or later we will find insect-style life out there, much like the life that evolved here and eventually became us.

This has been very non-sequitur but the point is, space is amazing and I just wanted to say so.

Anne and Laura have both recently been ill and have both recently blogged about being ill and for a little while I thought my hardened immune system (probably glowing an ominous green from all the yellow-stickered foods I've ever eaten) would hold out and I would not have to do a illness blog.

I was wrong. I am ill.

Dad bought me a tomato soup and said it broke his heart that he had to pay for something so expensive, just because of a brand name. He's being nice to me though, so that's good.

I am gross, tired, headachey, pukey ill. I hate cancelling things, and I've had to cancel two important things just today, and will have to, possibly, cancel two important things tomorrow. I'm supposed to have work on Saturday and Oxfam on Sunday.

I guess it's only when you're ill you realise how much you do as a person. I never thought I'd be one of those people who have lives busy enough that being stuck in bed all day is actually not a good thing. I love my bed. But when I'm supposed to be doing other important things, it's the last place I want to be.

Sad and ill Genie is sad and ill.

Because I can't think of anything to blog about that concerns me directly or is vaguely original, I'm simply going to add my opinions to Laura's Blog about being famous. I find it an interesting subject.

In my mind there a four kinds of fame/celebrity:

1. Old School - Old school celebrities include the likes of Brad Pitt, David Beckham, RDJ, Penelope Cruz etc. who have forged a career in the limelight over years and years of hard work. These people are talented but are unfortunately becoming a rarity. They are universally known, and accepted as the top of the fame/celebrity hierarchy.

2. The Inspirational And Tirelessly Brilliant - This category is the one I think we appreciate most. In my mind, the people that fit in here include The League of Gentlemen, The Moff, Matt Smith, Karen Gillan, Simon Pegg etc. who have all come from humble beginnings, appreciate their fans and share many of the traits that us mere mortals do e.g. geekiness, crap in-jokes and the simple pleasure of M&S lunch deals. They are as normal as you can get in the position they are in.

3. The Talented Ones Who Came About Fame The 'Wrong' Way - You can't deny that singers like Leona Lewis and Alexandra Burke have amazing voices and have made considerable profits. Yes, they achieved fame through The X Factor but they do have a talent and do seem to be genuinely be thankful for what they are. JLS didn't win the competition, and they may not be my cup of tea, but I am yet to see an interview with them in which they badmouth other celebrities or come across as rude. Reality talent shows like The X Factor may make untalented people famous for 15 minutes but it also creates a life-changing (cringey cliche alert) opportunity for those who prove they have the talent and the confidence.

4. Reality Stars/Vapid Fame Hungry Whores - Jordan/Katie Price and her partner Whatshisface, Kerry Katona, Tila Tequila, the orange nobs on Jersey Shore, wannabe-WAGS, Katie Waissel, anyone on Big Brother, Vanessa Feltz, Gillian McKeith etc. the list goes on. The most common form of 'celebrity' and unfortunately the ones who get the most publicity. You know the types. The more the media feeds their desires to be front cover, page three or every page features, the longer their fifteen minutes continue, blocking any chance of the really talented and admirable to be noticed.

I'm not saying that the people in Category 4 are disgusting human beings. I'm sure they love their families and their friends and whatever. My problem lies with the fact that they are made out to be the most important things on the planet ever.

I'd never really sat down and watched The X Factor, but this year I can honestly say that Matt Cardle comes across as the most deserving and honest contestent that I've ever seen. I almost don't want him to win, so that he can carve out his career the way he wants rather than the way the recording/branding etc. bosses want him to be.

I also don't know where to put people like David Villa and Leo Messi, who are remarkably talented individuals, who inspire people all round the world and yet do not fit into Category 1 or Category 2. Is excellence in sport really less important than having big tits? Yes, I disagree with players being paid vast sums of money every week when nurses and firemen are being made redundant, but for their skill and the entertainment they provide with a ball, I certainly think they deserve more recognition than X's One Night Stand.

I think the moment I realised that people really saw on seperate levels the difference between talent and celebrity was after the Oscars earlier this year. In Media, we did a table of good role models and bad role models. When my teacher asked me who I thought was a good role model, I said Kathryn Bigelow. My teacher asked me "Who's she?" and I had to explain not just to her, but to the whole class that she is the first woman to win the Best Director Oscar. I didn't know how to feel after that.

I think I was, and still am, disappointed.

You know you're tired when your mother refers to armadillos as 'armadildos' for a whole day and you don't notice until it's time to go home. Fortunately, we were at ZSL London Zoo, not a children's puppet show.

It was very cold. I was hoping it would warm up a little bit but it really didn't. As a result, I had my hands shoved into my coat pockets all day unless they were wrapped round a coffee. This also meant that I didn't pet any baby goats in the children's farm, or stroke the lovely pigs. The Bearded Pigs, by the way, were definitely the stars of the show. They were our first feeding visit of the day, and they were very cute and snorty and generally loveable.

Mum wasn't keen on the Komodo Dragons but they are my favourite, so we watched a keeper sit with the biggest male and pick his skin and give him a massage (which was awesome) and was very envious. The Galapagos Turtles, which were huge, lazy and incredibly slow also made good viewing.

As to be expected, there were school groups but they ran around getting glimpses and moving on so I was glad we had a bit more time to watch animals like the lions and tigers. Who both sat and slept seemingly all day. We visited them twice, a little later on the second time when the big groups had gone and the tigers were obviously aware it was nearly tea time and one of them was up on its feet. Being face to face with him, if just for a moment, was pretty cool.

I was pretty jealous of the lizards, who were in tanks heated to about 27 degrees and looked toasty warm. I wonder what life is like for them. They live longer but they don't have the freedom. Do you think they know they are saving their own species as they just sit there? I wish I could be that valuable and yet that lazy.

It would certainly stop me feeling guilty about having a 'lie-in' until 8:45.

Hey Little World, coincidentally a song by The Hives. My favourite song by The Hives. The point still stands. Hello. I haven't blogged for a while because I've had nothing to say as nothing has happened. Nothing of 'interest' anyway.

I haven't seen Harry Potter yet, I'm not watching I'm A Celebrity, I saw Merlin on Sunday instead of Saturday (anarchy). My new PIN still hasn't arrived so I still don't have any access to my money. I have planned and know what I'm getting LAUBLA for her birthday, though Christmas is still a little fuzzy. I'm five chapters into Black Butterfly by Mark Gatiss, and loving it. My calendar for November remains remarkably empty, but that's probably because I haven't filled it in much. I'm trying to drink more water than I usually do. Was I paid for last week? I still don't know.

Oi, Mr Capello. Play Crouch as a starting forward, not an 84th minute substitute.

Matt Cardle is still on his way to winning The X Factor, by flaunting his glorious arms and beautiful voice. What a sexy bitch. UNF.

Sorry Laura.

Work today was a laugh and a half, let me tell you. Called at 9ish, in by 10ish and out at 4:30. Ish.

I just knew today was going to be awful when a whole group of pikeys walked in. I know 'pikey' is a horrible word and probably offensive but there really is no other word that I can use to describe these creatures. There was a girl in a turquoise velour tracksuit with her mum, I think, and a girl who said nothing but looked alarmingly like a grumpy heron. Her face was remarkably pointy. Anyway they had these bizarre accents and ordered a ton of food like eclairs and a toasted sandwich. Then two more guys came in and were horribly rude to poor Ross who put up with it and made one guy a toasted baguette. As they were toasting my boss signalled for me to come up into the kitchen where she said "...watch out what drinks they're having because they keep taking them off the shelf" and, indeed, they were helping themselves to milk and Red Bull.

Eventually, after 'finishing', the girls stood up and headed for the door, signalling for all the others to go to. I shouted "Excuse me? I think you need to pay?" and the turquoise girl goes "I already have, haven't I?" to which I actually almost laughed. Anyway, she handed the uglier boy a fiver and they all left the shop, even though their order cost £13.11, and this guy just stood there holding out the fiver as my boss pointed out that that really wasn't going to cover it and "...this bill needs paying". So he argued pointlessly that it wasn't even his order, which was fair enough, and shoved a handful of coins into my boss's hand before stomping out himself. All three of us were in a bad mood and weirdly quite shakey, my boss asking me quietly "...are you okay?" as I went to fetch more lettuce.

"Fine," I replied, because I was. "but I think you should tell Ross to put that knife down."

And then, 5 minutes before I could leave, I was cleaning the coffee machine. I hadn't done it for a while so forgot to keep the funnels on the pipe from inside which usually directs the liquid downwards. Instead, I pressed 'rinse' and the boiling hot water shot straight out, straight into the middle of my chest. I shouted an "OH, OH PANTS!" because there was a family trying to eat krispie cakes behind me, and tried to stop the flow with my hands.

If you saw 'The Waters of Mars', it was that kind of jet propulsion but into me, rather than out.

Anyway, Ross ran down and we scrabbled around trying to attach everything back on by which point the water, thankfully, had stopped.

It's now 17:40 and hopefully nothing else crap can happen tonight. Hopefully.

As you probably know by now, the brilliant Martin Freeman has been cast as Bilbo Baggins in the new 2-part adaption of The Hobbit. If you didn't know this, where is this rock you've been living under? What have you been doing with yourself? The God-like Peter Jackson has been quoted as saying "...there has only ever been one Bilbo Baggins for us...Martin is intelligent, funny, surprising and brave. Exactly like Bilbo...". C'mon, the guy even looks like a Hobbit. It's a casting made in Heaven. Returning as their original characters of Gandalf, Gollum and Elrond respectively are Ian McKellen, Andy Serkis and Hugo Weaving. Sylvester McCoy will become Radagast the Brown. Awesome, awesome, awesome.

So that's all well and good but it's not what I wanted to blog about. I want to blog about the casting director's choices for the dwarves. Now, I'm not saying I know anything about being a casting director. From past experience I have perhaps not been the fairest judge of character (*ahem* Matt Smith as the Doctor and my following humiliation as he turned out to be utterly fantastic). On the whole, the choices for the majority of the dwarves in The Hobbit all sound great.

Spooks actor Richard Armitage is lead dwarf Thorin, Being Human actor Aiden Turner is Kili and a host of well-respected Kiwi actors and Jackson-associates complete the casting. It's nice to see quiet, proper actors being given the chance to shine for once.

My problem lies with the casting of Fili. They've cast Rob Kazinsky, an ex-EastEnders actor. For those who are unaware of Mr Kazinsky, he's the guy who got suspended from EastEnders for bombarding a woman with dirty text messages and photos of himself. Including one of a pig with his cock for a head. Classy.

I suppose he's probably a nice guy in real life or whatever and a reasonably good actor, Jackson likes him, but as a big LotR fan, and an admirer of Tolkein in general, I'd really rather have actors who can be relied upon not to act like schoolboys in one of the most anticipated fantasy films in recent years. Sorry if that's uppity, but I can't help it. I just prefer my actors with dignity.

The Hobbit (Part One) will be out in 2012.

In a perfect world the Sun would always be shining. People would be friendly and understanding. Kittens would dance with puppies at a disco arranged by unicorns and Oreos would be a standard health requirement. Unfortunately for all of us, we do not live in a perfect world. Far from it, in fact. Take yesterday for instance. I had a filling, and that meant an injection. It does not usually mean that one side of my face swells up, but that was indeed what happened. Cue an uncomfortable night's sleep after a surprisingly delicious chicken soup. I went to work today in hurricane conditions with a puffy face expecting a normal day. This did not happen.

The front page of The Sun this morning was a large photo of a yob kicking the Tory HQ apart during the 'hijacked' student protest. So this woman comes in and orders a bag full of stuff and when my back is turned, looks at the paper. She then announces after a moment's serious thought "...if they [students] want to go to University, they have to pay for it." She then went on to talk loudly about how students behaved disgustingly on the protest and insinuated heavily that the middle-class already have enough money to pay for it so what are they so protesting about?

Ooh, I don't know. Maybe £9,000+ a year student fees? Perhaps? WELL?

I was actually shaking with rage. My swollen cheek was wobbling with fury. It had a mind of its own. I made extra effort to be super-sloppy with her egg mayo sandwich, enjoying myself as I slapped mayonnaise all over the crusts. That'll teach her. Egg mayo in return for ignorance.

Handily, my bad mood was soon forgotten as a huge gust of wind (tornado-esque) ripped our shop awning from its brackets and across the road, onto the front bonnet of a car trying to reverse. I would've laughed, except someone seriously lacking a sense of humour was trying to order a cheese sandwich. Meanwhile, my boss was running about in the road attempting to gather up the awning in the pissing rain, apologising profusely to the driver and trying not to slip over.

10 minutes later we got a message on the till that honestly read "PLEASE WITHDRAW ALL AWNINGS. WIND IS VERY STRONG." My boss bellowed a "for fuck's sake" which pretty much summed up my exact emotions at that point in time. I shrugged, and got on with wiping bacon off my shoe.

Watch yourself. Changes are a-coming.

Big? Small? Positive? Negative? Who knows?!

Waking up at 6:30am yesterday morning really wasn't as bad as I would otherwise make it out to be. It was (finally) my last university open day, this time at Northampton, the hometown of Matt Smith. After my sausage bap and our coffees in Debenhams, we went to catch the bus following the instructions in the prospectus, which stated that the No. 21 bus runs to the Uni from Stop C. Approaching the bus timetable, we were able to read that in fact, the No. 21 doesn't actually go anywhere on Saturdays as it doesn't even run on weekends.

If you are expecting the day to perk up after this, think again.

Luckily the No. 19 ran to where we needed to go so we hopped on and finally made it to the campus. Opposite an enormous and spacious park, the place itself wasn't too unattractive. Unlike the back end of town which we wandered through, which was dominated with pound shops and a 'Booze City'. We headed for speedy booking, which took longer than turning up without booking, and were told that we'd be collected from the main hall to go to the journalism talk at 11.

While waiting, we played a fun game called 'Guess Who's The Course Leader For What', at which we were reasonably accurate, correctly guessing that the snappily dressed woman was head of fashion and textiles and the man in the braces was English. A man then came in dressed in a black t-shirt, jeans, and bearing a strong resemblance to Edgar Wright. He called the journalism people, as well as media production and film and television studies.

So we headed off to this room, which was already full of people. Edgar then announced to us all that he was actually the head of music production or some other bollocks, but was going to do the talk off a slide show for us for some reason. Meanwhile, an Irish man stood facing away from us, occasionally muttering words we couldn't make out. At the risk of sounding like an old drama teacher, the acoustics were terrible, and as we were at the back, we couldn't hear a thing. The entire talk was focused on media and film and television, with no effort to discuss journalism whatsoever.

After nearly 40 minutes of "mumble numble...rumble...bleughhh" the Irish man, who turned out to be the representative from journalism, announced he was going to take people on tours of the studios. He took the first two rows. There were approximately eight. We were the last. While waiting, Edgar put on a film that we couldn't hear either which did mention some journalism stuff but not much.

We gave up waiting, and went to reception to ask if they had a hall where we could talk to someone one-to-one, like at all the other open days we'd been to. The girl didn't want to say no, so she got this poor man to run around trying to find someone to talk to us. Eventually, the half Dean or something came to see us and announced she didn't really know the journalism course either, that the head of the subject was at home "...because he has a family" and proceeded to spend 15 minutes reading off a booklet we already had, just bullshitting to within an inch of her life. She was really quite good at it.

So we went for lunch, which was pretty cheap (that's a good thing) and decided to check out the library (which was also pretty good) before waiting for 40 minutes at a bus stop to come home.

This morning I got an email asking for my opinion on the open day. Was it well organised? Did I get all I needed from it?

I wonder what I'll put.

I've developed an unattractive habit. Whenever I collapse into an armchair, sofa or bed, I can't help but sigh an audible "Oh, God". I can't be that tired. And I'm not religious. Maybe I'm just grumpy. Maybe it's because I'm flippin' ILL.

Yes, Niagra Nose has returned! And I'm sneezing a lot. But my sore throat has pretty much gone leaving me sounding like a disgruntled Darth Vader. I may have another bath tonight.

It's so exhausting being an up and coming writer. When I'm not rubbing shoulders with actors and producers I'm off having photoshoots. Yes, tomorrow Laura and I are off to have a makeover and photos taken in a studio in Farringdon. I'm very much looking forward to it, and apparently they do photoshopping stuff so my bright red nose can be edited into normality.

"YOU CANNOT BUY MY OPINION, LIKE YOU WOULD BUY A USED MOTOR CAR!"

Okey kokey, pig-in-a-pokey! Time to complete my '10 things...' list.

Psychoville was absolutely excellent last night, and if you haven't seen it yet, do so NOW! Reece Shearsmith was even more brilliant in person than I think Laura and I ever expected. Very fidgety, very funny and generally a really, really awesome person. (I hate the phrase 'down to Earth'). "Steve...I done a bad preview..."

TEN things you wish you could say to TEN different people right now.

10. Right, so...see you at Christmas?

9. I wish you'd stayed behind.

8. I want the old you back. Is it possible?

7. I'm really quite glad it all got sorted out in the end.

6. I wish I'd just done it when I had the chance. Perhaps things would be different.

5. I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you for ages.

4. Stop treating me like a freaking monkey drone.

3. It's really not THAT difficult you know.

2. Please please sort it out! It's really bloody worrying!

1. I was disappointed that I hadn't gone to University this year. But actually, the thought of missing out on all this epicness and general brilliance with you makes me thankful I did stay behind.

NINE things about yourself.

9. I tire of things easily.

8. I know what I want to do...more or less.

7. I have no drive to go back to the gym, but I do have to.

6. I'm pretty excited for the upcoming months.

5. But I fear I'm neglecting the important stuff for the fun stuff.

4. I HATE mouth ulcers (just because I have one right now).

3. I have an insane knowledge of fonts. Like, text ones not religious ones.

2. I have man shoulders and I dislike my hair. Still.

1. Reading Conversations makes me feel better no matter what's wrong.

EIGHT ways to win your heart.

8. Embrace the nerdiness.

7. Cook good stuff.

6. Don't be easily put off.

5. Love Doctor Who, unconditionally.

4. Be ready for laziness.

3. Prepare to watch a lot of scifi/fantasy movies.

2. Be funny.

1. Just...be lovely.

SEVEN things that cross your mind a lot.

7. Migraines.

6. Work.

5. Money.

4. The internet.

3. Stresssssss!

2. Kitties.

1. What am I doing tomorrow?

SIX things you do before you fall asleep?

6. Turn my laptop charger off at the wall.

5. Write my diary.

4. Read.

3. Arrange my pillows.

2. Put Star on the bed.

1. Sleep.

FIVE people who mean a lot to you at the moment.

5. Them, specifically Him.

4. Fam.

3. D-Girrlllll!

2. My friends at Uni.

1. My friends at home.

FOUR things you see right now.

4. The framed prom picture.

3. My picture wall.

2. The Vesuvius Club.

1. My camera.

THREE songs that you listen to often.

3. Oh My God - Ida Maria

2. The xx - VCR

1. Well All Right - The Hives

TWO things you want to do before you die.

1. Tick everything off the list, and a lot of it is unlikely.

2. Be one of them.

ONE confession.

1. Everything is always so difficult. I'm amazed we all cope.

Laura's desktop background is the same as mine, so I'm going to show you what my desk area/work station/laptop zone looks like.

A SUGGESTION FROM BLOGBYKOBRAK:

In the first of a series of blogs in which I discuss my favourite things, I'm going to talk to you this evening about The League of Gentlemen. It seems pretty apt to talk about this, seeing as Laura and I are going to be in the presence of Reece Shearsmith on Sunday night (omdfkgjnkajfhjn!!).

A couple of years ago I had a birthday party during which my room was turned into a little cinema, with a projector playing movies onto my bedroom wall. One of these films was The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse. In retrospect, I feel a bit guilty about watching the film first as I had no idea about the awesomeness that is the television and radio shows. Many a maths lesson was filled with me and Jodie quoting Geoff Tipps ("Braille!?") and Hilary Briss ("They weren't pork...").

In comes Laura with her suggestion a while ago that I watch the first episode of the first season. The rest is history. Since then we have watched and listened to pretty much everything The League have produced. My personal favourites are probably the live Drury Lane show and Series 3. For this reason I found myself in hysterics listening to Steve Pemberton (also in hysterics) doing a fart in a haunted house last night. Or Mark Gatiss telling us about his favourite horror films. And of course, Sunday night with Reece Shearsmith. Have I mentioned Sunday night with Reece Shearsmith?

I think The League appeal to us because they are British, funny, clever and brilliant. Much like our other favourite things (Doctor Who etc.). You shouldn't really be laughing at a toad in a blender or an all too realistic (i.e. shit) theatre company, but that's why it works. Because it's so realistic. And because shouting "Miss...Cathy Carter Smith!" will never not be appropriate.

(From Psychoville S1 E4)

I NEED TO START DOING FUN AND QUIRKY BLOG POSTS.

I just realised the majority of my blogs are about dull things like education and work. I was going through my archive and I thought 'where has all my fun and quirk (?) gone?!'

So please, give me suggestions of things to write about or do. As long as they're not illegal or harmful I will do them. Thankyou!

Right, time for a catch up.

World, you amazing thing, you've finally done it. I've found a University I would love to go to. Before I say where it is, I shall give you the reasons for my choice. The buildings were amazing. They have old, boarding school style buildings but with a massive, modern building as the hub of it all. It was in a quiet little city (I suppose, they have a famous cathedral), with a very close and totally not-wild feel to it. It's one hour on the train from London Waterloo. The guy who did the journalism talk was fantastic and made it very clear what would be expected of us. Their practical production suite was AMAZING. I actually feel very up for the challenge of their selection process (interview, practical and academic tests). The place is Winchester, people, and it is perfect.

On a totally unrelated note -

LAURA AND I ARE GOING TO SEE THE PSYCHOVILLE HALLOWE'EN SPECIAL IN LESS THAN A WEEK WITH THE AMAZING AND UTTERLY BRILLIANT MR REECE SHEARSMITH IN ATTENDANCE!

Once upon a time there was a garden. I was a very nice garden, lots of care had gone into it to make it look lovely and memorable and often people would walk past it and look at it and mutter to each other about how nice it was. It's distinguishing features included a large wooden obelisk in the centre, a spiral of paving slabs (now slightly hidden by plants and flowers) and a large window (or hole) in the hedge. Said hedge was designed to look, apparently, like two elephants following each other. A stone wall was also in place to stop the beautiful garden growing outwards into the street.

One cold dark night, however, an evil machine called a BMW Car decided that it didn't like the stone wall, or the wooden gatepost with the number 19 on it, or, indeed, one of the elephants, and thought that the best thing to do would be to drive itself into said things and knock them all over.

The wall was reduced to rubble, spilling out onto the pavement, the gatepost was knocked backwards and the elephant has been cut in half.

At the very same time, a girl was asleep in the bedroom at the front of the house. Hearing a loud banging sound, she put it down to a car driving over a recycling box and smashing it to pieces. The girl's cat was, at the time, wrapped tightly around her neck, its wheezy face on hers. She was unable to get up.

Finding the destruction the following morning, the girl felt guilty for not following her usual nosy reaction of leaping to the window to see what the noise was therefore, did not get a number plate of the BMW Car, and the perpetrator has escaped.

As the girl's brother pointed out, however, the people across the road have a BMW, and their car hasn't been seen since.

Okay, so last night was seriously one of the most awesome nights I've ever had. The day was great (though I didn't accept my Fox's Glacier Mint reward at the arcade), we walked a lot and ate stuff from Cyber Candy and then went to the BFI with, as it is aptly named, the nice surpise of some Bonus!Reece.

Laura's blog pretty much covers everything, so I'm just posting photos and saying that OMGOKGMGOKGMOMGGOMG like I did last night with Laura as we jumped up and down and literally flailed in our seats at the awesomeness of it all. Humatity does sometimes throw up some really wonderful things. And it was amazing to be able to enjoy it all with other like-minded people.

And on a serious note, my laptop has fallen suddenly into its grave so you know, infrequent blogging will be even more infrequent. Poo.

Now to find a frame...

Sorry, I haven't blogged for a while. It's been a bit hectic. It still is, actually, but I'm sitting here watching Nigella Kitchen wondering how on Earth she has the energy to bake a peanut butter cheesecake in the middle of the night, and I thought it'd be best that I finally do a blog.

I'm working full time at the moment, this week and next week. It's hard but not unpleasant. People tend to be nice and I'm starting to recognise customers and their orders. Lunchtimes are impossible; the queue is often right out the door. Plus my feet ache.

I went to Worcester on Sunday to check out the university, and it was pretty nice. The journalism course looks pretty cool, and there seems to be a possibility of a semester abroad which was not mentioned in the prospectus. Either way, when she was talking about internet journalism, and she asked who had a blog, I was the only one who put a hand up. Kudos.

I seem to have pretty much sealed the deal on being the Press and Publicity Officer for the Carlisle United Supporters' Club London Branch, or rather, Dad has. I appear to have the backing of the club members and quite frankly, it's going to look impressive on my CV and more importantly, my personal statement. Chester on Saturday.

I hope I'm back for Merlin.

Hello, world. New blog, new start.

And so, as many of my age group set out on their next big adventure, Uni, I stay behind. Laura, Anne, Doug and myself face at least half a year slotting the pieces (idealistic and realistic) of our individual lives together and making plans for next year.

My decision as far as Maths goes looks to be this - enter myself for the summer GCSE and get myself a tutor in order to get the teaching part of it sorted. I'll be going into school on Wednesday to see if that can be arranged. Followed by League of Gentlemen raves at Laura's. See? I have my priorities sorted.

I've been asked to work full time for a couple of weeks at Simmons in order to cover for the co-manager who's off to Florida on Tuesday. I'll work this Friday and Saturday, then two weeks, then a Monday and then I'm done. It'll be tiring but shouldn't be all that bad.

On the 12th of October, I've booked tickets for Laura and I to go to a special preview of The Sarah Jane Adventures episode entitled Death of the Doctor. The showing will apparently be followed by a panel discussion with Elisabeth Sladen and the producers, script editors etc. It says cast and crew in attendence, though I don't know if that just means the aforementioned or others, but I guess we won't know until we get there. It's going to be AWESOME though.

I have an open day at the University of Worcester on Sunday to look forward to as well.

Bon. That's what's been happening with me, cool cool?

So I was watching The One Show earlier this evening, and Stephen Fry was the guest, and he made a point that triggered a stream of thought in my little brain. He was talking about how he only went to three lectures at University, because they cut into his own personal schedules. When asked what he did instead, he answered that he read books, digested them, thought about them and discussed them. That was the way he learnt.

And, since finishing school, I've found myself with this thirst for intellectuality that I can't seem to stop. Not that I didn't read before, but since getting back from Corfu I've gone from book to book to book without any prolonged pauses. Maybe it's because I have more time on my hands but I certainly didn't make time in the evenings and mornings where I'd read for an hour in the past.

I've caught myself willingly watching documentaries on BBC4 and watching the news instead of breakfast television. I'm listening to Classic FM and the BBC Proms on iPlayer in my free time. I'm reading the Money, Work and main sections of the Guardian rather than just the Weekend and Sport.

Perhaps for this reason, being told today that Luton College's Maths GCSE course is full and that I can't study there, or at West Herts (who ~helpfully told Dad and I when I went to enrol last week that they'd pulled the course a week before) is making me more depressed than I'm being told it probably should. All colleges have begun their terms.

I don't know what to do. I'm worrying.

No Maths GCSE = no Uni, no employment in my future and generally, well, nothing.

Geez, what a downer blog. I didn't mean it to be. Honest.

MY FRIENDS AND OTHER PIGEONS
A video account of Corfu. Or some of it, anyway.

Oh my GOD,

I got a JOB!

Hi post-results people. How did you do? I hope all went well for you.
This is just a quick blog to say:

Media Studies: A
English Lit: B
Drama: C

And that is the end of that. Party party party tonight.

We went out for dinner last night because it was Mum's birthday on Wednesday and we couldn't go out on Wednesday because Neil had football and football is too important to cancel for a birthday meal. Anyway, we went to Cafe Rouge, somewhere I'd never been before, and it was really nice. I had a crab cake starter, then mussels and a herb mash and then blackcurrant sorbet for pudding. I drew a picture of Mum and Dad on a napkin because we didn't have a camera and Neil and I kept saying things like "the food was cold, the plate was cold, the meat was cold, the cardigan was cold..." in a northern accent and miming for the bill like Lee Evans.

The group on the table next to us, however, were a proper bunch of weirdos. The woman closest to us sat with her hand in the ice bucket all evening, occasionally bringing it out to check on her fingers. Mum and I overheard her say at one point "...yeah, and he just tripped over and cracked his head open and that was it..." and I caught Mum's eye and we giggled loudly into our mains. Then she started talking about fundraiser where Jude Law turned up with his kids. When their puddings arrived, the man opposite her (husband?) said nothing and the woman said "...you ordered the apple tart, didn't you BABE?" and ended the evening by nodding to the waitress and saying "...that poor woman isn't going to want me back, I've just sat here with my hand in a bucket of ice all evening".

On Thursday night/early Friday morning, there was a massive argument going on across the road from our house. I cracked the curtain open, and saw a girl (drunk) and 2 guys standing and yelling at each other. The girl kept shouting "I'M NOT A FUCKING POODLE!" at the top of her voice, "SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" and occasionally slapping her male friends who were trying to get her to shut up and win the argument at the same time by saying things like "...be quiet, you call me worse things than 'poodle', you call me fat and a minger...". Eventually, our neighbour stuck his head out of the window and shouted "Could you take your argument somewhere else please? The whole street doesn't want to hear it!" To which the girl shouted back: "But he called me a POODLE!"

Eventually they went up to the top of the street where there is a small bench. I had crept into Neil's room by this point, and we were both watching the proceedings with childish excitement. We almost died laughing when we heard the girl screech "...I'm not a DOG, I'm a GIRL!" and when she walked back down the street with a girl friend who'd managed to calm her down, Neil asked me if it would be a good idea to shout "OI! POODLE!" out of the window and see if she responded.

My life isn't usually this exciting and I'm not used to it.

Black cloud and thunderstorm mood has gone. It is replaced by an overcast with sunny intervals mood. What a pleasant change. Put on your coats and thermals because here comes another weather metaphor update.

Okay. So. In town today I got some information (with Laura's help) on where to do a maths GCSE part time. West Hert's College, would you believe. And I'm keen to sign up and get going but I suppose I should perhaps explore some more options before spending the £300+ cost. I know. If all goes to plan I'll be sorted for enrolment by the end of the week.

I've re-written my CV, in the hopes that it may give me a bit more luck with jobs etc. but you never know.

Dad spoke to his 'connections' in Carlisle and there is a possibility that I may get on a three week internship doing press/media/journalism related stuff for Carlisle United. There's a foot in the door that'll certainly help when it comes to application time. Hopefully. It should be awesome, anyhow. Now to work it in around the maths...

Anyway, if none of it works out, I read in my book earlier that the Moon is moving away from us at a speed of 4cm a year, and in 2 billion years, it will have gotten so far away that its gravitational magnetic influence on the Earth will be lost, and as a result, we'll spin like a top before falling into the sun, roasting and burning to death.

Silver linings and all.

It's been a long time since I've blogged, and not just me. Everyone seems to be away at the moment, enjoying holidays or breaks. I'm home alone as I write this as Neil and Dad are up in Carlisle and Mum is at work. The boys don't get back until Sunday, so I'll be spending this week sitting by myself in the house, doing odd jobs and trying not to freak out.

The latter, I'm afraid is not going so well. I am panicking, quite a bit, about what I'm supposed to be doing with myself. I'm still searching for work, though it's near impossible as A, I don't have any experience and B, I don't have a C in Maths GCSE. This immediately makes me pretty much un-employable, if that's even a word, and worse than that, what universities will want to take me without it? Exactly.

So I've tried doing to some research into what I can do, and Oaklands College don't do Maths courses, and the re-takes are in November but I don't have any coursework to back up the exam even if I did somehow get myself in for it. Plus I have to pretty much learn the entire course all over again, and no way can I fit two years of learning into a couple of months.

The worst thing is I had my chance before and I just blew it. I could've re-taken in year 12 but I was so bloody stupid and not thinking ahead and this is precisely the reason why I feel like a twat talking about it because it is my fault that I'm in this mess.

I know this is a ranty blog but I need to get this out of my head.

So, my outlook is this - I keep trying to hopelessly find a job, whilst trying to find somewhere that I can do Maths before next year in the hope that I'll have the grades in time to get to University. I also have to cram in open days and application among this, as well as attempting not to feel every single day like I'm slacking off, sponging off my parents by still living in the house without bringing in any income and generally not doing anything with myself that could be considered 'productive'.

What a crappy blog post. Sorry.
Have a better day.

My Secrets


(bloody bloody copyright, bahhh)

Last night, I decided to spend nearly three hours or so (maybe it was that, I wasn't keeping count) sitting in the kitchen by myself, not talking to anyone and with my headphones plugged into my laptop. Why? Because it was the Doctor Who Prom last night!

I'm listening to it again now, and I have to say it really is utterly brilliant. The music composed by Murray Gold was fantastic, as usual, and I honestly don't know how he manages to capture the characters and the excitement of the programme, but he does. And he does it well.

They played The Madman With A Box, An Untimely Arrival, I Am The Doctor, Battle In The Skies, Amy's Theme, Liz, Lizards, Vampires and Vincent, The Pandorica Suite and The Title Credits.

They also included some pieces from S3 and 4 - This Is Gallifrey and Song Of Freedom. The latter was very moving and a great way to end.

My favourite? Without a shadow of a doubt I Am The Doctor. It's exciting, fun, adrenaline pumping, heartbeat-racing brilliance. I'm saying brilliant a lot. But it is. It sums up the Eleventh Doctor so so well and when you hear it you just know something amazing is going to happen. They played the speech from The Pandorica Opens when he's speaking to the ships at Stonehenge over the top and it shouldn't have worked but it just did.

The best piece of Doctor Who music I think Murray Gold has produced thus far.

Find part one HERE and part two in the bar at the bottom. They filmed it for BBC3 to be shown later in the month/next month I think. Go listen now and enjoy it without the visual stuff, personally, I think it's even better this way.

I have not done a blog for ages.

Monday night was Anne's birthday party, and we all went to Nando's and had a good time, eating hummus and chicken and all sorts and giving presents and generally feeling bon about everything. Jess, of course, was absent as she's currently in Brazil so there was an empty chair. She was very polite and didn't take up any room and agreed to hold all the presents until we moved on over to Cross Keys for wine and pitchers. A good evening had by all, I think.

Assuming that Ma and Pa were back from their evening at the Tower of London I put the latch down on the front door, and just as I was drifting into a pleasant night's sleep I remembered that actually they weren't back yet, they were walking up the driveway and ringing on the doorbell asking what pillock locked the front door. Hello.

I had to cancel coffee with Caitlin today, which really annoyed me as I was very much looking forward to it. I woke up and my eyes were being weird and I had a headache and then my arm went dead and all tingly, quickly followed by my tongue. A quick Wiki search later this evening seems to have revealed I had a migraine. So I put my pyjamas back on and slipped back into bed for an hour or so until I felt a bit better. The rest of the day was rather wasted taking painkillers and watching TV, however, I did pop down to Morrisons etc. (on Laura's manic suggestion) to try and find a copy of the latest Doctor Who Magazine which I could not.

Here's to a slightly less painful rest of the week.

Yesterday was a funny old day. Alex rang me on Wednesday night and asked me if I wanted to go with her and Elise to the iTunes festival at the Camden Roundhouse, to which I said 'yeah, should be cool'. So we got into London and had dinner at Alex's, before getting on the tube to our destination.

We were waiting around for a while outside, unsure of where to go. We tried going in through the front doors (as you would) but we were accosted by a film crew from a website who wanted to know how we felt about the gig (which was apparently opera by Rolando Villazon). We stood, said nothing much except 'err...' before Alex confessed we didn't really know what we were doing and the guys looked at us like we were morons before letting us go off and try and work out where to go.

Eventually, we did find where we were supposed to be, and we waited for about an hour until we were given wristbands and led to a bar area on the upper floor of the Roundhouse. Unsure of what was happening, the eighteen of us confused looking people found ourselves facing a TV set, i.e. two sofas, a glass coffee table, all lit and cameras pointing. We were told the presenters would be arriving soon so to relax a bit before going to stand on set behind the sofas.

By this point, words like 'live' and '1 hour' where being thrown about. Then Fearne Cotton and Dave Berry turned up, said hello to us and started rehearsing what would be the opening to the ITV2 show doing the live coverage. Elise, Alex and I were very excited. The show was going out live for an hour and Elise was fluffing her hair up like mad.

Then they said the guests were there, and I looked into the crowd behind the camera and saw Mark Ronson, at which point I got even more excited. His hair is even cooler in real life. Actually, he was just the epitome of cool full stop. And he was sitting barely a metre and a half away. The second guest was Ashley Banjo from Diversity, who was very tall, very nice and very good looking.

You can find the video on ITV Player HERE, we're standing near the back on the left hand side, I'm in blue, Elise in pink and Alex in a grey vest. What a cool night, and good experience for me as Alex so rightly pointed out. Fab fab fab.

Oh, hello world. I'm back from Corfu. In fact, I've been back from Corfu since Monday but I've only just got round to doing an 'I'M BACK FROM CORFU' post. Hello.

First things first, Corfu was excellent. I had a fab time and I'm brown and feeling happy about my friends and the fact that they're all really rather awesome. My highlights included swimming in the sea, drinking Greek coffee and having an in-depth discussion about what on Earth a 'Clunge Bucket' is. To name a few.

Spain won the World Cup. I didn't actually get to see the final but I'm glad of this in retrospect as when I got back, I watched the highlights and literally cried with joy. Fantastic. Viva La Furia Roja.

I have a growing list of things I need to do (some urgent, some not) and the next few weeks seem to be a little busy for me in terms of meals, dentists, haircuts and Dark Star's birthday.

Hello. It's nice to be back.

VIVA LA FURIA ROJA!

Leaver's Ball was actually really, really good. I had a great time. My feet did not. Although initially being hesitant, there was dancing going on (including some Time Lord dancing a la The Big Bang) and lots of shouting over loud music and good drinks and excellent and very pretty people to talk to.

As Anne's dad said, we do scrub up nicely.

HELLO INTERNET!

First off, I'd like to thank Tim Berners-Lee for creating this marvellous, world-changing piece of technology. And also for giving it to humanity, not charging for it. I would also like to kick BT in the nads for being a total cocking waste of space.

Secondly, this is a quick blog, hopefully, as I'm off to town with Anne in a bit.

I don't know where to start. This time next week, I'll be in Corfu. Which is nice, and exciting and a bit worrying but I'm sure we'll all get on fine and be happy and have a great time. In between now and then, we have our Leaver's Ball tomorrow night, and then I have the TYC Thesp's Meal on Friday night. So a fairly busy week.

Doctor Who was fantastic and although I don't have time to re-watch it now, I shall be doing so the minute I get back in. Oh, Matt Smith and Karen Gillan. You make me feel like such a bloody hypocrite. Curse your brilliance.

England are out of the World Cup. There was a large, Rio Ferdinand-shaped hole in our defence and to be honest, I feel that there was really no point of Wayne Rooney even being there, as all he did was moan, have a go at the fans and walk about the pitch like he couldn't care less.

VIVA LA FURIA ROJA!

And, because Caitlin asked, these are the books I plan to read this summer. Some of them, anyway:

Glamorama by Bret Easton Ellis - I'm already a quarter of the way through.
A Short History Of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson - It's big, and looks awesome. Bought it on a whim.
Captain Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernieres - Well, we are going to Greece.
A Serious Man by David Storey - Again, on a whim, from the bookshelf outside my room.

And, the one I'm MOST excited for:

Imperial Bedrooms by Bret Easton Ellis - Which, although it's not out yet, will probably be my literary highlight of the year.

Please keep in mind they are all rather large books. THANKYOU!

It's the LAST Doctor Who of this series tonight!

(My internet has died and I am in the library, throwing glances at a working Laura in a seductive temptress way until she notices.)

SPOILERS HERE FOR DOCTOR WHO 5x12:
THE PANDORICA OPENS

As much as us Who fans all hate to admit it, series finale time is upon us. This ultimately means solo-viewing of the episode as it airs, texting fellow Who friends followed by immediate internetz to check theories, pose and answer questions and try and find out what the hell the Moffat is trying to do to us.

"The Pandorica. That's a fairytale."
"...aren't we all?"

So, The Pandorica Opens, with all the build up throughout the series with the cracks and the warnings and all sorts, was obviously going to be somekind of insane setup to make sure that the last episode will be as explosive and memorable as possible. And indeed it was. I already knew that the Cybermen would be returning, though I was pleasantly surprised to see that Moffat has decided (and listened to the fans) to not just have the Daleks or the Cybermen solely returning, as this tends to result in many a rolling eye.

There was a great mix of cameo, if you can call that, from Vincent, Liz 10, Churchill and Bracewell, the returning River Song (who on the internet generates an equal ratio of love to hate) and some great comedy as well, which was nice to see in such a tense episode.

"Oh, missing something obvious Rory! Something big. Something right slap in front of me, I can feel it."
"Yeah, I think you probably are."

And Rory returned! Well, sort of and not really. I think he's going to be one of those very important plot points, even more so than he already is, perhaps. I have to admit, I did do a little cheer when he appeared. And some sadness when he asked if Amy had missed him. And that cliffhanger. You can't be serious, Moff? You can't be. There is, if you want to find it, an interesting interview with Karen Gillan in the Radio Times which may or may not suggest that she'll definately be coming back. I suppose it depends on what she's been told to say. You know what the DW publicity people are like.

I will say this: I might die too if she doesn't come back. I love me a bit of Amy Pond.

"You know sometimes I have really brilliant ideas?"
"Yes..."
"Sorry. Look at me! I'm a target!"

That final montage (they love a good montage on DW) was horrible to watch. Very sad and very powerful and though TV tends to totally overdo their slow motion button, DW did it perfectly with the Doctor's feet struggling to get a grip on the floor as he's dragged to the Pandorica, Rory holding a dying Amy and River trapped inside an exploding TARDIS - it finished with the entire Who fandom screaming at the TV 'how on Earth are they going to get out of this one?'

It's going to be a long week.

What did you think? Thoughts/theories/ideas?

Sorry for the distinct lack of blogs recently, but our internet has been rubbish since Wednesday. Mummsie rang the BT people this morning and it seems to be all sorted out now. So hello.

My exams are done. They seemed to go okay, I did as much preparation as I could have done so I can't blame myself for not being prepared. I don't want to go into too much detail but I got fairly good questions for all of them so I'm feeling pretty cool about it all. For now, anyway.

Yesterday, I went into London with Mum's friend Robert and we did a lot of shopping and I got my Leaver's Ball dress! Which is very exciting. I just need everything else now - shoes, accessories etc. After a busy day's walking and purchasing he revealed he'd booked seats at Vertigo 42, the top floor champagne bar at what was previously known as the Natwest Tower. And it was amazing. Like, from where we were sat we could see all the way to Hampstead Heath and beyond and the champagne cocktails were fantastic.

I could probably get used to living like this.

People ask me, fairly often, if I miss playing football. And, in the light of the six-a-side last weekend and the forthcoming World Cup, my answer is yes, I miss it. In fact, I miss it a hell of a lot more than a lot of other things I've given up. There was (and is) something about it that's addictive. Perhaps it's the passion, or the skill of the players or that feeling when the score is at 1-1 and your magic winning shot curls its way into the back of the net. I don't know.

I really had some great times when I played. The people I met and the experiences all made up for the losses and in one case, the broken bones. Wearing number ten for St Albans City Youth was a great feeling, as was being the first girl to reach one hundred appearances, and winning Player of the Season.

And so, when England come out onto the pitch on Saturday evening, I shall be watching intently. And when the final is played whilst we're out in Corfu (the night before we come home, would you believe?) I shall hopefully be watching that as well.

Unf, those kits were a sexy shade of yellow. (Megan smashing a girl out of the way just out of shot).

It is currently 8:58 on Sunday morning and seeing as my work for today has been called off I feel as though I should blog as I have nothing better to do. Okay.

1. Doctor Who last night was brilliant beyond words and quite frankly I'm not sure I'm going to be able to cope when the series finale roles around. Vincent and the Doctor was beautiful to watch and very, very sad. Tony Curran was excellent and Bill Nighy was fab especially during the bow tie exchange at the beginning. Bow ties are cool. Matt Smith and Karen Gillan were perfection once again, funny and entertaining and heartbreaking.

Next week looks interesting. I am looking forward to it for a reason that I found out about weeks ago and I haven't told anyone about but it's going to be GREAT. Trust me.

2. Ohh holy crap the Drama exam is on Wednesday blarghfhfhfhhahlkjdfh.

3. I'm having laptop problems again. I need a new battery and I went on the HP website but apparently they don't sell the part I need. As long as my laptop is plugged in, it's fine. I'm hoping we don't have a power cut any time soon or I'm screwed. I think I'll have to go to Mr Computer in town and have a word which is a pain and will most likely cost me a million pounds.

THE WORLD CUP STARTS ON FRIDAY AND I AM SO EXCITED! YESSSSSS!

Well, hey. Seeing as everyone seems to be doing it, this blog is an account of my revision that has been done and the revision that is yet to be done.

So I did Frankenstein first, figuring if I'm going to use it as my Section A English text then I should probably get to grips with the guy. I actually quite enjoyed reading the book. It's very good. Unfortunately, whilst reading it, many many easy comparisons with Paradise Lost and Macbeth began to scream out of the pages at me, like that shouty book in the first Harry Potter film.

Then I moved on to Lysistrata. I did all the questions on the sheet Mrs Horn gave us, plus an extra Section A. I feel okay about it, it's mostly blagging anyway. It doesn't matter what the question says because when it comes down to it, you can apply pretty much any rehearsal technique to your exercises if you can make it seem appropriate to your concept. So I'm fairly okay with that.

And today I finished my Twelfth Night revision, which means doing all the questions Rolo gave us even though half of them made no sense. But yes, I feel fairly confident with those as well and my notes seem pretty reliable so that's confidence boosting.

I'll start doing Media tomorrow because I haven't even started looking at my folder yet. My Section B is okay but needs a good day's worth of work and my Section A needs a serious amount of work as I've only done one mock of it in the lesson and that was about four weeks ago. Revision sessions next week, yay.

And that's that. Mum got me a Dracula York Notes in London today so I can do that after the Drama exam is over and inevitably end up using it as my Section A text as it's fresher in my mind. OH, BUMSY.

You may have noticed a new blog layout. A radical change I think, but I was bored of white and green. Although they might not be as blatant, it may be perhaps the first of a few changes around here.

Last night I sort of picked my Leaver's Ball hair, the front half anyway, but my hairdresser and I agreed that we should have a trial run, so she's coming over in two weeks with armfuls of hair products and objects to experiment with. I should probably also try and work out what I'm doing makeup-wise as well, really, shouldn't I?

Grandma sent me a cheque to spend for hard-work with exams, but I don't really feel as though I've earned it yet so I'm putting it away until exams are over so that I can spend it and feel as though I deserve it. I have a couple of ideas, but nothing solid yet as to what it will be put towards.

The St Albans City 6-a-Side is coming up and I've been asked to work on the climbing wall again. I have no problems at all with this, I always have a good time and the weather is usually very good, plus, I'll be working Saturday and Sunday apparently so it'll give me lots of time to get out of the house and away from revision. Despite the fact it's on the weekend before my drama exam (blarghehsdkjflaskfj).

Doctor Who tonight, wheee!

Revision is really difficult. It's not as easy as they make it out to be, those Rory Gilmores and Hermione Grangers. Damn them. So I've moved on to Lysistrata, and I'll be doing that for the rest of the week, and then in half term I'll somehow fit some Twelfth Night in as well. I still have to read Dracula, don't I? I don't know how much longer I can put that off without a York Notes. I'm pretty confident on Macbeth though, and Paradise Lost was never going to be a piece of pie was it?

Drama drama drama. What a kerfuffle and a half you are. Thank God you're nearly over.

Also today, I went, albeit incredibly reluctantly, to the gym where I had a very strenuous work out and came home to find that all the water had been turned off in the house because we were having plumbing problems. These problems did not get sorted until a plumber arrived in the late afternoon to fix it up. I couldn't shower until it had been mended. Ergh, I know.

Revision is a bore, but what must be done must be done and I think that hopefully we'll all be thankful that we did some once results day rolls around.

In light of Jess' Ashes to Ashes write-up, which you can find here, I feel compelled to write down a few of my own thoughts and opinions regarding the finale of what was undoubtedly one of the best television series' the BBC has produced for a number of years.

I'll admit, I didn't watch the first series when it was broadcast. I'd seen Life on Mars on DVD only after people had kept raving on about how good it was. I watched the first five or so minutes of the first episode of Ashes, and when Layton appeared in the back seat of Alex's car I jumped a foot out of my skin and dismissed it as a little too jumpy for my innocent nerves. What a mistake.

Thanks to Laura, and Jess and Doug, I was warmly invited to several 80s themed get-togethers in which several packets of garibaldis were digested and numerous litres of Tizer were consumed, and Ashes to Ashes was the show to keep us entertained. It really didn't take long for me to get hooked inside the world of 1980s Fenchurch East CID.

For me, the first series was excellent. Unsure of whether they were to have another series comissioned, the creators set about producing eight episodes of television gold and wrapping it all up in an explosive and emotional bundle at the end. Series two, I felt, wasn't as good. It was good, but not good, you know? I didn't like Martin Summers, but you weren't meant to anyway and throughout the series the relationships between Alex and Gene and Chris and Shaz really developed into something worth watching. When the final episode of S2 was screened, and that cliffhanger was broadcast, I was left wondering quite how I was going to manage waiting another year to find out what was really going on, and what the answers were.

And then series three rolled around, to much excitement from the aforementioned Ashes stans, promising to answer all the questions that bugged us and finally telling us who Gene Hunt really was. For the first part of the series, I did begin to tire of the constant appearances of the ghostly copper with no explanation or development as to how or why he's haunting Alex. But the Gene/Alex dynamic was fabulous and Keats gradually began to generate feelings of hate inside me for him. Discipline and complaints? An office "...hotter than a Mallorcan minge" as Ray put it? There was always something dodgy about him.

A two-part finale ended the series. Following the death of Sgt. Viv James, the team were in disarray and it seemed that Keats was winning in his attempts to turn Ray, Chris, Shaz and Alex against Gene. I read a great theory somewhere that the characters were following a 'Wizard of Oz' theme. Chris wanted intelligence, or a brain, Ray wanted a heart and a Shaz wanted courage. Alex wore red shoes, or ruby slippers throughout S3, and Gene was the wizard who could grant them their desires. This made sense.

I don't really have any strong religious beliefs. If there is a place the soul goes after death then I'm happy to believe that, and if that place is a police station governed by a mysoginistic, racist, arrogant yet strangely attractive and dynamic DCI, then that seems good to me. Of course, I'd have to become a police officer first, as it turned out that this police station is in fact a sort of purgatory for police officers who died with issues needing answers.

And Gene Hunt? Well. Watching as Alex dug up with her hands what was revealed as his shallow grave, meaning he was the ghostly copper, and that this purgatory was his domain was not only harrowingly upsetting but allowed a sense of relief to wash over me. Finally, we knew who Gene Hunt was. He'd been dead the whole time, creating this place where he guides police officers to their eventual 'Heaven'.

Remembering that this place isn't real caused Gene to regress into that young man state, where he couldn't even stand after being kicked about by Keats. Alex pleading through whispers for him to 'get up' really marked a change in their status. And Alex choosing to stay with Gene whilst the others followed Keats truly showed what their relationship was about.

I said to Caitlin earlier, the kiss was much anticipated and great to see, but the circumstances in which it took place made it less 'yay!' and more sobbing sadness. Alex volunteering to stay with Gene, so as to stop him being 'alone' was heartbreaking.

All in all, in my opinion, a perfect ending. Gene Hunt, is and always will be, the Guv.

I have had such an awesome two days. Seriously.

Yesterday, I went into London with Dad and we did a tour of the Globe theatre and the exhibition inside. We were late to the tour, and a lady had to take us down the back way (ooerr) and made us join onto the group who had already been told about photos etc. so we missed nothing important. I learnt about prostitutes, a recurring theme when it comes to going out with my father. Inside the exhibition there was some helpful information on Middle Temple Hall and an account of a first viewing of Twelfth Night that will be helpful, as well as your clothes, props and stuff.

We were there to see Macbeth (you see, combining Drama and English revision in one day) and it was really, really good. I really enjoyed it and it was definiatly one of my favourite theatre-going experiences of the last few years. It was bloody and gory and funny and generally awesome.

We then went for dinner in one of my favourite spots to eat in London, the Strada facing St Paul's and the front steps. I like it because of a fandom reason that if I put on here, Mother will mutter 'oh, for God's sake' out loud. Sherlock Holmes 2009 is all I'll say.

Today I went to town with Mother and we went to Carluccio's for coffee and I had the thingy with three mugs, one each of coffee, chocolate and cream and a plate of biscuits between us. I got Neil a birthday card and some black jeans from New Look (the jeans were for me) after spotting Laura in the library. I went to get a Dracula York Notes from Waterstones, and saw Caitlin but you looked busy so I didn't want to disturb you. They didn't have the book, by the way. And then Mother took me to Clarks where she bought me the most gorgeous pair of boots I have ever seen in my entire life, and that I intend to wear even though it's hotter in England at the moment than it is in either LA or Johannesburg.

Ashes to Ashes was incredible on Friday night, and I'm so so so sad it's over. Laura and I (depressingly) ended up sobbing on msn whilst discussing it. Keats was freaky ass and bloody scary and Keeley Hawes killed me with her acting and the Gene Genie was perfection and, well, it's going to take a lot for the BBC to trump that hour of TV, let me tell you.

Tomorrow, I take Mutti to the Earthworks open day and attempt to open my Lysistrata, which has remained on the corner of my desk, ignored, since study leave began. I did finish Frankenstein today though, which is something.

EDIT: Oh, I forgot to say: I'VE DROPPED A JEANS SIZE! THAT'S 2 INCHES!

Oh hey there. I haven't blogged since Saturday but then again I have been a busy little bee so excuse me. That was an unintentional rhyme.

So yeah. On/off since Saturday I've been feeling a little funny. What started on Saturday as a total lack of energy and a stomach ache and headache seemed to get better by the end of the weekend, but on Monday I stopped wearing a belt as I thought it might be a cause for the stomach ache and yesterday I was really tired all day. I went to town and literally could not summon the energy needed to get out of the car until I remembered why I was in town in the first place. I seem fine today though, so maybe it was just a bug or something. I have energy!

I bought Sherlock Holmes on DVD yesterday. It seems as though they're being weird about DVD distribution, as the two-disc version is available to buy in Holland and Poland and presumably northern Europe, but not in the UK. So mine is a one-disc, but I don't mind all that much. I re-watched it last night and it was fab-u-lous. It reminds me of Christmas which is weird, and shopping in Homebase and painting my bedroom and sleeping in the back room and rehearsals and all that stuff. Bizarro.

I've also been doing a close analysis of Frankenstein. I've done five chapters a day, except for today where I did ten as I won't have time tomorrow. I have quotes and all sorts. Unfortunately, the more I do, the more I realise it is a perfect comparitive text for Paradise Lost. I intend to do the same thing for Dracula, so we'll see how it goes. Essentially, I've actually been revising! Which is madness if you know me at all!

Tomorrow I am off to the Globe to see Macbeth and then it's the last ever Ashes to Ashes in the evening. What are we going to do without the Gene Genie?!

I feel like pants this morning, and I have no idea why. The assumption that it was last night's chicken dinner was flattened when Neil said he wasn't feeling at all dodgy. I am feeling crap for no legitimate reason and it's not nice. Anyway, this isn't why I wanted to blog.

I finished school on Thursday. This hasn't quite sunk in yet, probably because I still have Media lessons for two weeks and revision sessions (lolol, my attendance to these is yet to be confirmed) and actual exams and then coming in next year for help with my personal statement and stuff.

But you know, no more actual Beaumont lessons in which I do an excited dance or shout 'DETONATE THE REALITY BOMB' or Laura jumps out of her bag pretending to be Dracula or Michael Ojo hurls himself head first into a stack of chairs. Sad times.

So we went for a Nandos to celebrate and it was good fun and typically yummy.