topbar

                       
Showing posts with label weird. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weird. Show all posts

Monday, 12 March 2012

This time it'll be different...

With the misguided determination of a relapsed addict, I declare once again that "this time it will be different!" This time, I shall blog faithfully and frequently.
It has been a little less than a year since I blogged using this medium, although I have been almost ceaselessly frequenting tumblr for the past year.
For those among you who do not feel that they have the stamina or interest to trawl through my many inconsequential posts on tumblr, I shall give you a rundown of what's been occurring.
So I saw some chumlets from the interwebs, and we had a jolly time strolling around in Brighton, patronising various tea shops and cafes, and trying on a whole load of vintage clothes. It was glorious fun, although I ought to have been doing my dissertation that day. As it happened, with a lot of help from the wonderful Annis and Mike, I managed to get the bugger in on time, and actually earn the highest mark of my whole university degree for it, so that's bon.

I spent the following month revising, posing with my typewriter, making endless 'flashcards' for myself, crying onto the flashcards, throwing things at walls, singing in the choir, making endless trips down and up 'the hill' for provisions, and feeling the finality of everything in a very profound way.

I went to my first ever proper 'protest'. It was the London Slutwalk (link to the Wikipedia - I would link to the organisation's page but it is down at the moment, and I don't know how temporary that is) with Emma. We had a really nice time, and it was very interesting to see all the people there and what the message of Slutwalk meant to them.

When we had all finished our exams, we spent our time working our way through a 'bucket list' we'd made of all of the things we'd always wanted to do whilst we were at Cambridge but never got the chance to experience. We went to a bunch of museums such as the Whipple Museum and the Fitzwilliam Museum (I'd actually recommend the former rather than the latter for a fun and surreal museum experience!)
Other things on our Cambridge bucket-list were:
*Kebabs from Cambridge's most quintessential kebab emporium, "Gardies" (The Gardenia).
*Erotic Jelly Thumb-wars
*Tea party picnic.
*Punt and barbecue picnic.
*Cheese and Port party...
As you may have guessed, we had all grown rather hungry by the end of the exam period...
Then we all graduated. Here is the first picture of me with both of my parents since I was about... maybe 7 years old. It looks weird to see a picture of me flanked by them, I feel like the middle of a Venn diagram. I guess that must be what it is like for people whose parents are together. That or they just don't think about it. Anyway, graduation was a really surreal experience all 'round really. One of the highlights of the day was wearing a bow tie despite it being against regulation grad-wear for females. Sticking it to the man, yo'!
The first part of the summer was spent finding Dan a job, and finding us somewhere to live in London. This all seemed to come together within days of us leaving for Australia.

Here I am strolling along the beach in Sydney. In the background you can see the city skyline. It seems like a lifetime ago that we were there, and whilst it was a beautiful and magical holiday, I always get ill for at least a week when I am there, and the last two times I've been have also been massively transitional times in my life which has made it difficult. That said, I miss being there so much when I am here. Can you believe that this picture was taken in the middle of winter!?Two days after arriving back in the UK, we had hired a van, loaded it with all of our stuff, and driven to our new flat with it. Neither of us could quite remember how the flat looked and so seeing it again for the first time was really exciting.

I feel like saying, we lived happily ever after, but in truth, living in London has been hard work. Winter has been especially draining, but hopefully things are starting to look up now, with the arrival of the sun. I intend to blog more frequently henceforth... I say this every time. Let's see how it pans out this time!

Thursday, 17 March 2011

Overheard Conversations

I had to renew six books today as well as taking out five more, from two separate libraries in Cambridge today, so I decided to take a big "re-usable" Sainsbury's carrier bag, in which to carry my ridiculous pile of books. Having completed this errand, I was faced with a choice; to take my book-heavy bag back to my college on the bus, or to walk to town. I stared up at the departure board at the bus stop outside of the English faculty, and decided that nine minutes was just too long to wait, and that I'd have to walk to town (the opposite direction to my college/home). There was clearly some kind of masochistic subconscious thoughts going on, as I already had a splitting headache, and had sprained both of my ankles earlier in the week.
I set out in the direction of town, knowing as I went, that I had made the wrong choice, but relishing the schizophrenic rebellion that I was enacting. Walking through King's College, I was in too much pain to appreciate the little ducks pattering around in the bluebell covered banks on either side of the pathway, but I just about managed to smile at the daffodils that have all popped up out of nowhere. Every year I think to myself, "I don't notice the daffodils until they are flowering! Next year, I vow to notice them before they open their bright yellow heads!", but of course, I never do.
I got to town, and thought, "Now what?" as I really hadn't thought past getting there. I felt like window shopping to congratulate myself for having been so productive in renewing all of my library books, but I was in no position to do so. My head pulsated. Defiantly, I walked to the Post Office to buy stamps that I don't need, just because I could. I was on FIRE. There wasn't NOBAWDEH who could tell me what to do. I was my own man. Blowin' in the wind, etc. If anyone wanted to tell me to stop, they could SUCK MY BALLZ. You get the picture. I bought the stamps, twelve of them; an arbitrary number that I decided upon from a shortlist of seven, twelve, and fifteen. With that task completed, I felt empty and directionless, so I let my battered feet do the navigating. I limped to Boots to see if my friend Liv was working that day, and to buy some paracetamol to subdue my pounding brain. Liv wasn't working when I went there, but I managed to buy paracetamol, and summon enough saliva to swallow two of them, "dry". I couldn't really see in a straight line by this point, and all of the ground had turned into a series of rolling hills, undulating before me. I staggered to the bus stop, and sat waiting for the bus. As I waited, consuming a nut and grain bar that I had purchased on the way, I overheard the following half-a-telephone-conversation:

"...So now I'm in a load of shit, and they think I did it. Sarah's on my side, and told the others it weren't me, but I think they still think that it was...........yeah............ But now my mum's in on it too...............mm................ I refused to vote, I wasn't going to get involved with their bitching....... Just left............... Apparently they killed them, and dragged them all around Cambridge............. the gypsies............... Gypsies................ You know, travellers............ So they killed them, and dragged one of them all around Cambridge......"

You'd think that at this point, my ears would prick up further, but the haze of my headache made me zone out for a bit. When I tuned back in to this girl's conversation, I heard:

"...And threw them all on a fire............ At least one of them, anyway............ The gypsies............ And had a massive party.............. And I really, REALLY wanted to watch........... Like, really............ but I went home because I thought it was disrespectful............."

At this point, the conversation changed completely, to the girl talking about how her dad wanted to charge her £75 for driving lessons. I felt like I had experienced some sort of shift to another plane of existence, where people habitually had gypsy burning parties, and then slipped back into this dimension seamlessly, between bites of my cereal bar. It was odd indeed. I made it home, and tried to explain to my flatmates what I had experienced, but they didn't quite seem to understand. Dear reader, do you think that I am going mad?

I am sorry for the text-heavy posts of late. I will post more photos soon, when I have debugged my laptop. :)