The Guildford Girls.

Being back home is like being in a new world, but with people you recognise. Your freedom and lifestyle completely changes and you suddenly become the 17 yr old you once were. The only major difference is that all those summer flings us girls were having back then, have now turned into 3/4 year relationships. A night out with all of us is like checking into honeymooners heaven and the conversations flow along the lines of “Bob and me just got back from a fabulous trip around Europe” and “I’m not drinking tonight because Fred drove home last week and its now my turn.” In short we have all aged about 30 years and will be discussing our children’s private education before we know it. But oddly enough give it 3 months, ill be back in Chester and it will be “wow, that guy was amazing last night” or “Yea, id do him too”. We’ll be swapping manly stories, tips and in-depth details of why we never called him back; a far stretch from the current situation of engagement wishes and baby names. (And yes we have all promised not to steal each others names, Joshua Langham is mine and mine only!)Baby names apart it’s been great being back with the home girlies, minus me being the only single one left, not a lot has changed between us.
It was two of the guys joint 20ths on Thursday night, so we all hit town, drank far too many JD and cokes (which btw are disgusting and a sure sign your long gone when you start ordering/ drinking them!) and took way too many photos. Not sure what the worst bit was, getting into bed whilst the room was spinning or waking up the next day with it STILL spinning. Either way great fun and reasonably decent photos too. Last night we attempted a bbq at mine, which was in one word a ‘disaster’. Was all going fine till the guys showed up, think they were expecting a full blown house party and what they got was four girls chilled out on rugs and cushions on the patio. Tonight we are heading down to our local village pub for a chilled out night of live music. Well that’s the intention, don’t think any of us can have/ look at any more alcohol at the moment. But that’s probably a good thing.
We are still trying to arrange a girly holiday; all we have so far it is must be to somewhere hot and preferably not to expensive. So we are basically doomed before we have even stepped out the front door, let alone the country. Still we have been talking about going away for years now and should probably do it before rings start appearing on fingers or sprogs start flying out. Guess that’s one of the beauties of uni, I havn’t got to worry about any of the above just yet. Which I guess is a good thing?

Sun tanning and bad planning.

So today I was quite happily lapping up the rays in the back garden in bikini bottoms and little else. Had been there for about half an hour, minding my own business and occasionally picking up the copy of Nortons Anthology for some “light revision”. Then out of no where a topless guy appeared on our roof; bearing in mind it is not exactly a little roof and its not often there are people just strolling along it! Thankfully this isn’t a tradition in Send (my home town) or else sunbathing or any activity involving minimal clothing would most likely be banned. (Unless your into that kinda thing, in which case go for it.) Still, after a moment of confusion I attempted to run inside, taking as much dignity as I had left and attempting not to trip over any flower pots or other extraneous items scattered across our patio. Sadly forgot to bring the anthology in…the lengths us students go to revise. Anyway after id got over the whole; topless man on the roof thing, my Dad casually explained that there was a guy coming to fix the roof tiles this morning. As you can see our father/ daughter communication is brilliant. Thanks Dad.
But don’t worry, that wasn’t the highlight of the past few days. Not by a long shot. The first of the Uni girls hit 21 a few months back, so on Saturday we headed to Oxford for her party. Now what’s the one thing you don’t do when you at a friends family party, where you know very little people other than the host…yup you’ve guess it; you don’t get plastered! So by the time 10pm rolled around, we were all drinking our own concoctions of a dirty pint, whilst singing (shouting) various renditions of 80s classics and attempting to walk in giant sumo outfits (If you’ve never tried inflatable sumo wresting, you’ve never lived!) We then decided to put a halt on the drinking, for all of 5 minutes when we had to rescue housemate no. 3 who was spooning the upstairs toilet. And who said women can’t hold their drink?! Anyway had an amazing night and how I managed to drive home the next day without getting pulled over will always remain a mystery.
Another highlight was taking my 89yr old Nan shopping for some trainers. Will never quite understand where she got the idea for purchasing the bright white Adidas pair that she finally chose, but bless her. With those shoes and her 32” HD flat-screen she must be one of the coolest Nans around.
So constructive few days (as always). The newest item to the agenda is the planning of my 21st birthday. Now wonder how much male strippers cost…

Uni's out for the summer

It took 2 hours to pack everything up and load the car and then over 9 hours to unpack, throw out, bin and generally sort out. Where’s the maths in that? And if the unpacking wasn’t a nightmare, I now have a washing basket that is gradually taking over my room. I’m half expecting to wake up one morning and find I’m lying in a sea of duvet covers, tops and socks. And if their not taking over then chances are, they will walk out on me because I’m currently on washing strike. Will probably regret that decision when I wake up and discover there are no clean clothes to wear, and guarantee it will happen on a day when I have an extremely hot date (one can dream!) either way nakedness will not be appreciated.
However in-between all the smelly clothes and endless cupboards of edible food, it’s a great feeling being back on home turf. It’s crazy how quickly you adjust to your old routine. So sleeping, eating, numerous hours on Auto Trader.com and a bit of revision and you have my week so far. Extremely productive. The only thing that is stopping me from blissful freedom is the whopping great blister I have on my thumb. It came as a result of literally SCRUBBING our oven at uni and sadly my thumb took the consequences (our oven did look amazing though!) Eeek sounding like a thoroughbred housewife there, not good. Right, Mr. Keats awaits…

Five days left (and counting)

So with only five days left before I head home, everything is suddenly starting to sink in. Second year is almost over and three months of full time employment is getting closer. The money will be very welcomed though.
Mum came up over the weekend and took most of my stuff home, as there is no chance my little fiesta would have been able to transport a years worth of belongings and myself home in one piece. My room now consists of four (mouldy and crumbly) walls, CD player, empty wardrobe, printer, bed and my amazing plant which has now survived two years of university living. Could barely keep our sea monkeys alive let alone a plant!
Had a good run with the English portfolio today and have almost completed it now. Thursday’s deadline isn’t actually looking too bad…for once. But hey, might not being saying that in three days time.

Student Support and Guidance anyone?

So just when you think your week couldn’t get any worse something always shows up. And believe me today was the icing on the cake. There I was about to head out the door to my seminar and a letter appeared on the mat addressed to me from uni. I have been expecting a letter through with information about my exam in August, so I assumed it was that. How wrong I was. What I read partly stunned me and partly killed me. Needless to say a few seconds later I was uncontrollably shaking, hysterically crying and just wanting to run. The letter was a ‘Referral for a Psychological Diagnostic Assessment’. Heart in mouth.
Ask a stupid question but on what grounds does someone account for a ‘Psychological Diagnostic Assessment’? Am I psychotic?? No, I bloody am not! (Sorry shouldn’t swear, very un-ladylike). What I would love to know is how a conversation with one woman about some pointers in journalism techniques (who didn’t even take or teach journalism) turned into a letter suggesting I am clinically insane? It really baffles me.
However, the letter it self did make me chuckle. First off they spelt my name incorrectly (great start coming from the head of Disability. Clearly Mr. Mark Parry’s spelling is not a problem.) Secondly, they clearly couldn’t type on headed paper and thirdly and my personal favourite it said (in big capital letters across the top of the letter)‘re: referral for AN psychological diagnostic assessment’. I’m sorry but surely that is a fundamental error?! But maybe they thought I would not pick that up being an English student and of course being psychotic.

Cleaning by numbers.

Several hours cleaning and sorting things out, whack in a two hour lecture on Travel Writing and you have my day. Last lecture of the year, luckily it wasn’t too bad. Last seminar tomorrow and then back home next Saturday. Where has this year gone? The scariest thing is this year is worth 35% of my degree and when you think that the highest mark I’ve got this year is 58% you begin to worry. Thankfully there is still one exam to do, so can make some marks there. Shame I have to head back to uni in the summer though, damn you Glandular Fever.
That was the highlight of my Easter…spent most of it working and fitting revision around it (dangerous I know) and then about 2 days before my exam was due doctors told me I had Glandular Fever, needed a 30 day recovery, which meant couldn’t go back to uni, had to defer my exam, no kissing for two months (needless to say that didn’t happen, I know tut tut) and then there was still chance I could get really easily tried for 6 months after that, so had to take it easy. Would have preferred Swine Flu, ok, maybe not actually, but you get the point. Anyway need to get revising again soon, fun fun fun. But that can wait for a bit. Going to see if I can get a few hours sleep in before the Brannigans rabble make their way past our house and back home…wish me luck!

(Brannigans is our local wednesday night spot. Cheap, tacky and brilliant)

The dangers of thinking.

Sometimes the world just seems to close up, sometimes gobbling you along with it and other times leaving you to fend for yourself.
It’s hard to know how personal to write things, I honestly never know. Certain things can be shared but at the same time it’s important not to share everything.
As well as this blog, I also write a diary. It’s a typical 20 year old girls life, full of ‘why does he hate me?’ and ‘she is such a bitch…’ Yet even when I’m writing in that I unconsciously don’t put everything down.
Guess it’s this over load of thoughts that fuel my love for writing, but believe me I can write some serious crap. Like now for instance... exactly which bit refers to ‘the beautiful life of a student’ I don’t know? Maybe it’s all about growing up and discovering the type of person you are? Wow that sounds a bit mature; quick pass me a glass, must get drunk and steal a road sign!

Sun kissed and hungry.

The sun hits Chester and all the clothes come off. There are burnt bodies everywhere around campus at the moment and those that aren’t burnt, are drinking on the field. Chester and its high academic achievers never seize to let us down.
However, all the sun does mean that you feel less inclined to eat, which is good, especially when your cupboards consist of pasta, Shreddies and a jar of marmite. But it’s not all bad.
As we only have 2 weeks left, we have started to drink the house dry, meaning some more quality bonding time with the girls, as well as some helpful throwing out of bottles. (Most of which the contents still remains a mystery.) So at least we are not dehydrated as well as hungry. All of a sudden summer seems to be getting nearer and the scary issue of our final year is slowly getting talked about. Dissertations here we come…