Remember Sesame Street? Remember the Pinball song? I had been searching for this song for so long, and have now finally found it!! It was by The Pointer Sisters, was incredibly funky and is also pretty rare to find on CD... although you can get it here.
Hello again... let's clear up a few things first: I'm back in Sheffield, the essays are done, and I am now 19. Woo!
Friday night was the time to be celebrating my birthday, for I knew that an early start on Sunday morning may be hampered by any Saturday-night frivolities. In hindsight, that was probably one of the soundest decisions I've ever made. Cheap drinks -- and the fact they were being bought for me -- resulted in a great night and a very painful Saturday morning.
I say morning, I mean afternoon.
I mean day.
Sunday gave me an enormous sense of déjà vu, owing to the fact it was exactly the same as last week. I had to be up in time to catch a 10:15 train to London, an 11:30 coach to Sheffield, and eat the same sub-standard roast dinner on arrival. I did have a slightly longer chat with the coach driver this time, though:
- "Good morning"
- "Morning... thanks"
Bizarrely, there was another non-English speaker (this time from one of the South-Asian countries) talking really loudly on his mobile phone, and who also has no room for any times in his language!! Why do they have no phrase for "twenty-to-four"?!?
Equally bizarrely, there was no Notty House quiz night either. Put down to a severe lackage of potential contestants, the rest of the week was thrown madly out of the usual routine. Open University scientists are still trying to work out the effect this will have on the very fabric of the universe. Thank goodness for the itbox's Pub Quiz, eh?
Apart from handing in my essays on Monday morning, there really has been nothing else to do (as I have no exams). Gloating at the people who do is fun, but it wears off surprisingly quickly. We did sign for a house, however. The result of putting a deposit down on the place has left me in the rather depressing position of paying in all my Christmas and Birthday money, and still having a minus number in the bank account. God bless the student overdraft...
I also attempted to go shopping: my first trip to TK Maxxxxxxxx nearly killed me, as it was only after roughly 4 hours of looking through the "Medium" clothes that I recognised they were all strangely too large for me. When I did finally find something I liked, it had been priced wrong, and was in fact £40 not £11. Bah.
And that's about all I can remember for now. Expect slightly more effort next week.
I've had to take a break from writing The Most Boring Essay Of The Year So Far, so here's some more grammatically-incorrect gubbins to pass the time before tea...
I'm back in Dartford at the moment, having popped up to the City of Seven Hills for the weekend to hand in some essays and drop off half my luggage. This has meant spending the best part of 2 days of the last week travelling, so my knowledge of service stations on the M1 is coming along leaps and bounds.
Last week was Frazer's birthday, so we went "up Lahndahn" for the night. It was nice to get to see (and actually talk to) people from back here again, and getting charged the best part of £4 for a pint brought back memories. Although to be fair, 'The Slug And Lettuce' is a pretty nice establishment. Walkabout isn't too bad either, so I think we should try and get to the Sheffield branch sometime... although Australia Day is probably not the best night to choose...
Sunday was a day of coaches, trains and buses as I left for Ranmoor at - eek - half past nine in the morning. Still, it meant arriving in time for a delightful Sunday roast and, of course, the pub quiz. 19/28 before you ask.
For some reason, the African bloke sitting in front of me on the National Express could only talk to people on his mobile phone through the speaker-phone button. This meant myself and the other passengers were not only treated to him shouting a completely random language, but also his children and wife on the other end of the phone. Understandably, there wasn't a word in their language for "National Express", "Sheffield" or "Travel Interchange", but the fact they have no phrase for "Half-past Three" confused me. Do they not have time in their country?!?
What with me being an international traveller, always on the go, people to see (etc. etc.), I haven't been able to go out looking for accommodation for next year. Luckily, my two favourite future-housemates did a sterling job of going out searching (and keeping me informed by phone) on Tuesday. With any luck, I'm off to see a house on Monday and should be handing the landlord a cheque the very same day. I do have a slight worry that they've deliberately chosen a house with a small bedroom, just to see if I can actually get through the door, though!
Yes, Tuesday was the day of my return journey. I've now recognised that the reason my suitcase was so heavy on Sunday (despite the fact it was only half-full) is that the suitcase itself is so blooming heavy! I thought carrying it home (empty) would be a doddle, but I nearly pulled my arm off... I shall have to re-think my packing strategy in future.
Slightly random sighting of the day:
A one-legged pigeon at Sheffield Interchange
And so to this week, which I've spent slaving away over this poxy essay on a set of books I don't actually like or understand, but that has to be in for Monday and accounts for a third of my grade. Such is life.
I have, of course, made time for the new series of Desperate Housewives, however: despite the whole "will-Zach-shoot-Mike" cliff-hanger being a bit of a damp squib, the last scene was certainly intriguing... the second episode is on tape should I get too excited to wait until Second Chance Sunday or next Wednesday.
Equally addictive, and slightly worrying, is Big Brother. Being a Preston fan (but also a huge fan of Big Brother - the being - itself), last night's punishment was excruciating and delightful at the same time. But I really feel angry that the whole race issue has come up. If I had my way, I'd vote out Traci, Dennis and Pete. The fact that two of those three are black has nothing to do with it per se - it's the fact that they're so anti-social that gets my goat. More to the point, the whites in the house are now going to be scared to vote for them for fear of appearing racist. It's political correctness gone too far the other way. Rant over.
Right, that'll do.
Desperate to put off packing my bags for Sheffield, I've discovered a new way to listen to my music collection: at twice the speed...
Franz Ferdinand - 'Walk Away'
Good (like a "professional" remix)
The Strokes - 'Last Nite'
Poor (doesn't work quite so well)
Coldplay - 'A Rush Of Blood To The Head' & others...
Good (actually sounds upbeat!)
The Dead 60s - 'Riot Radio'
Not bad
The Go! Team - 'Get It Together' & others...
Totally mental (think drum'n'base)
Damien Rice - 'Cannonball'
Bizarre (think singing through a comb to oriental music)
Gorillaz - 'Clint Eastwood'
Rubbish (apart from the beat - it's too fast already)
Blur - 'Parklife'
Good (but it does your brain in)
The Libertines - 'What Katie Did' & others...
Mental (this is what it sounds like in Pete Doherty's head)
There's a challenge for you then: find a song that sounds better at double-speed than at the standard 45rpm...
Hello, just a quick update this week. I've finally got the second of my three essays done, so that's 5,000 words down, 2,000 to go. Sadly, the last 2,000 words are going to be the toughest because I actually have to do some proper research (rather than just sponging off Wikipedia)...
▪ I'm back off up to Sheffield at the weekend, but a fair few people were off last Saturday, so last Thursday was spent saying goodbye to people down the Tollgate. It was a little bit strange, because you realise just how different some people are now and how things have changed so much. I think this is where you can sort the proper friends from the hangers-on
▪ I've been mortally offended to hear my favourite band/role models dismissed as "chavs"
▪ I've gone and eaten hot doughnuts on Southend sea-front, sampled the delights of Grays High Street, and been slightly worried by Emma's desire to sleep in a tramp's bed
▪ Banked all my Christmas money and still managed to end up with just £25 left in the account
▪ Closed an account at NatWest without once being asked my name, my address, for any ID, or for my signature. If you ever want to annoy someone, don't bother with credit card fraud: just close their bank account. It's perfectly legal but will wind them up no-end.
First of all, Happy New Year everyone. I hope you all had a fantastic New Year's Eve party and that you've all recovered by now! The secret must be a hearty lie-in on the morning of January the 1st...
Along with Emma and Elyse, I spent New Year's Eve down in Eynsford at Andrew's house, where we all sat outside around the fire with marshmallows and music to see out 2005. Of course, we couldn't just stop at toasting the marshmallows, and soon the evening turned into an Open-Univeristy-esque "let's see which flavour of Pringle burns the best" experiment. It's BBQ Beef.
Luckily, we were smoked out (following an over-enthusiastic attempt to get the fire stoked up a notch or two) just in time to get inside and countdown the last few minutes of the year with smiley-smiley-Natasha Kaplinkski and a slightly freaky Andrew Marr. Then, it was straight down to business and the first game of Pictionary of the year: I will admit, I may get slightly competitive whilst playing this game, but took losing (by the narrowest of margins, you understand) very well...
But how are you supposed to draw "Lake Front"?!?!
With all the important stuff out the way then, it was time for bed. For most people, anyway. I never actually slept, due to the excitement of the fireworks. Which isn't to say that I didn't find being not only woken up, but also driven home before the clock struck half-past-nine any less annoying. Or confusing.
Needless to say I went straight to bed upon reaching my house, my faith in human nature restored by the fact the rest of the family were still asleep. Unfortunately, I had to be up for the afternoon visit of the relatives, but they were fortunately very understanding of my condition.
I tend to avoid mentioning other people's names on here, usually because I don't know if they want their stories plastered all over the interweb. Also, I can't really write everything I think because everyone from my parents to the people I've met at uni read this. Plus, I do have a right to some privacy, you know.
And so therefore, shamelessly skipping more than a few days, here we are today with all the Christmas decorations now back in the loft for another year. Luckily I've got until Sunday week before I have to trek North again, but there is the small matter of 7,000 essay words to be written in the meantime.
That (and Pictionary) aside, I'd say this last week has been the best start to a year I've ever had. And I haven't even finalised my resolutions yet...