The area where we lived this year is about as civilised as a spam factory, but it does have one amazing quality. This place of wonder, the ultimate Thursday morning cure, the secret to student Ville…the café!
For a beautiful price of £3.50 you can get a full fried breakfast and drink, it may not be heaven, but it certainly isn’t too far off. I would like to think that if the world collapsed (or Chester self- combusted) then the café would be the venue all the survivors end up. A little piece of edible heaven.
Our house has always gone there after a night of, shall we say, vigorous, none eating and welcomed the rewards of comfort food the following day. So this week’s visit was no exception.
However, there was one difference. It was the last time Becky, Claire and I would all go together. As we all sank our teeth into Chester’s best bacon ensemble there was a definite feeling of grief. The baked beans that coated the fried egg just were not as ‘Heinz’ as normal.
And even the white plates that constantly spin on the lino table cloths were not making us as goofy as usual.
What had happened?
There was bound to be café’s all over the globe and they could probably offer everything our little one here did.
It seems this is yet another string-to-the-bow of tissue needing memories that are arising.
What I do know is that it has turned my brain into English breakfast mode; wonder if we have any bacon…
Sunday 30 May 2010
Death by Dyson
Suddenly in a matter of days our house has turned from student heaven (bottles on all surfaces, ants, dust and left over pizza boxes) into a domesticated housewife’s lair.
With only two out of us five girls still living here, it was oddly rewarding to whip out the hover and give the house the clean it needed. But as with most university related things at the moment it made my heart go ‘twang.’
Yesterday Claire left uni and we (Becky and I) watched her drive away, leaving the pair of us sniffling and a little bit teary.
So when I got the hover out this morning for a bit of spring cleaning and the same effect happened, I was more than a bit worried. Crying over a hover is probably a condition for a psychologist. Or some Dyson loving ‘fetisher.’
On the plus side the house once again looks new, but sadly on the downside the end is getting ever closer. I Might just have to stay clear of any hovers or similar cleaning equipment for the time being. Gutted.
With only two out of us five girls still living here, it was oddly rewarding to whip out the hover and give the house the clean it needed. But as with most university related things at the moment it made my heart go ‘twang.’
Yesterday Claire left uni and we (Becky and I) watched her drive away, leaving the pair of us sniffling and a little bit teary.
So when I got the hover out this morning for a bit of spring cleaning and the same effect happened, I was more than a bit worried. Crying over a hover is probably a condition for a psychologist. Or some Dyson loving ‘fetisher.’
On the plus side the house once again looks new, but sadly on the downside the end is getting ever closer. I Might just have to stay clear of any hovers or similar cleaning equipment for the time being. Gutted.
Saturday 29 May 2010
The morning after
I will admit that my life is not amazingly exciting, and half the events in it should be written down and shared and the other half, well, who needs to know the entire list of my food shop.
Anyway, with a grand total of a few weeks to go till I leave Chester for good the day-to-day events just keep getting better.
This is probably one of these things that should remain in my head, or written down and forgotten about…but let’s be honest, where is the fun in that?
Last night my housemates and I embraced our usual SU Friday, complete with cider and black (my increasing levels of testosterone never seize to amaze me), music that would make my Nan cry and text messaging that will undoubtedly leave to a back ache the following morning.
Being single in university is a necessity, relationships are for the faint hearted and easily pleased. Which is why nights out which end in midnight rendezvous are disasters waiting to happen.
After weeks of happily scouting the male talent of Cheshire, constantly shaving my legs and loving being ‘me’ again, I was a little surprised when the last guy I dated popped up in my inbox. (No pun intended.)
Four hours later I woke up in his bed trying to figure out A. why I was there and B. where my clothes were and C. how I was going to explain this to my housemates. Either way stepping inside his front door was probably a rookie mistake.
All it took was one sentence to alter the relatively good opinion I had of him. After waking me up and doing his manly thing he suggested I leave before it got too busy outside. Not only was it raining but he let slip he was too drunk to drive me home, so it would be ‘walk of shame’ time.
Five minutes previous I was sleeping and now I had to try to convince the residents of Chester that looking like a tramp at half 8 in the morning is a fashion statement.
Also after seeing Sex and the City 2 yesterday this experience was a little too much Carrie Bradshaw for my liking and it seemed crazy that after the best break-up in the world it all went ‘poof’ in a matter of verbal diarrhoea.
This may be more evidence that men are well...men and for every good chicken there really is a bad egg. But then again, if you can’t have your eggs sunny side up in the morning when can you?
It is common knowledge that first impressions of a person leave a lasting mark, but last impressions leave a crater in your mind.
So it’s back to bed with a nice cup of tea and start writing a non-man blog. The big wide world awaits and with KG’s on my feet and a smile on my face what is the worst that can happen?
Anyway, with a grand total of a few weeks to go till I leave Chester for good the day-to-day events just keep getting better.
This is probably one of these things that should remain in my head, or written down and forgotten about…but let’s be honest, where is the fun in that?
Last night my housemates and I embraced our usual SU Friday, complete with cider and black (my increasing levels of testosterone never seize to amaze me), music that would make my Nan cry and text messaging that will undoubtedly leave to a back ache the following morning.
Being single in university is a necessity, relationships are for the faint hearted and easily pleased. Which is why nights out which end in midnight rendezvous are disasters waiting to happen.
After weeks of happily scouting the male talent of Cheshire, constantly shaving my legs and loving being ‘me’ again, I was a little surprised when the last guy I dated popped up in my inbox. (No pun intended.)
Four hours later I woke up in his bed trying to figure out A. why I was there and B. where my clothes were and C. how I was going to explain this to my housemates. Either way stepping inside his front door was probably a rookie mistake.
All it took was one sentence to alter the relatively good opinion I had of him. After waking me up and doing his manly thing he suggested I leave before it got too busy outside. Not only was it raining but he let slip he was too drunk to drive me home, so it would be ‘walk of shame’ time.
Five minutes previous I was sleeping and now I had to try to convince the residents of Chester that looking like a tramp at half 8 in the morning is a fashion statement.
Also after seeing Sex and the City 2 yesterday this experience was a little too much Carrie Bradshaw for my liking and it seemed crazy that after the best break-up in the world it all went ‘poof’ in a matter of verbal diarrhoea.
This may be more evidence that men are well...men and for every good chicken there really is a bad egg. But then again, if you can’t have your eggs sunny side up in the morning when can you?
It is common knowledge that first impressions of a person leave a lasting mark, but last impressions leave a crater in your mind.
So it’s back to bed with a nice cup of tea and start writing a non-man blog. The big wide world awaits and with KG’s on my feet and a smile on my face what is the worst that can happen?
Tuesday 25 May 2010
Vampire's and Twitter go neck and neck...
A second time spinner that has stemmed from no longer being a student is Twitter. Not only is this another device to broadcast more drunken opinions, but it is also the home of a twitter page called ‘the single woman’.
This page is terrible, forever telling single women-such as myself- that being single is ok. Constantly bombarding me and followers alike with sweet and meaningful sayings/ lyrics and quotes inspiring to help the single woman get through her lonely day of self loathing, and ensuring her that happiness is only round the corner.
What this is really doing is convincing females (or attempting to), that the reason he cheated was so we would find our true love. Highly unlikely.
However, being the romantic optimist that I am, I love it!
Granted he may not smell as fantastic as a vampire, but he may be the first guy you see tomorrow or the guy across the street.
I guess you do have to learn from your past, it must all happen for a reason right? But when is the right time to shut the door: “If he was dumb enough to walk away, you should be smart enough to move on.” Personally that sounds more like a critical statement than a form of literary encouragement.
So perhaps the end of Chester uni is the time to close the lid on the search for the ‘perfect man’ or should it read the ‘perfect male student?’
As a female I’ve laughed, cried and had my heart broken by men these past three years. Even wanted them dead. But one thing is for sure, every single one of them is different and every single one of them brings out something new in you.
There will always be the one that got away, the ‘what if?’ one. The one who would catch your breath and vanish your inhibitions with a single glance.
If uni has taught me anything it’s that you have to go through the bad ones to get to the good ones. And one day you will take that chance and it will be worth every pervious hesitation you’ve ever had.
This page is terrible, forever telling single women-such as myself- that being single is ok. Constantly bombarding me and followers alike with sweet and meaningful sayings/ lyrics and quotes inspiring to help the single woman get through her lonely day of self loathing, and ensuring her that happiness is only round the corner.
What this is really doing is convincing females (or attempting to), that the reason he cheated was so we would find our true love. Highly unlikely.
However, being the romantic optimist that I am, I love it!
Granted he may not smell as fantastic as a vampire, but he may be the first guy you see tomorrow or the guy across the street.
I guess you do have to learn from your past, it must all happen for a reason right? But when is the right time to shut the door: “If he was dumb enough to walk away, you should be smart enough to move on.” Personally that sounds more like a critical statement than a form of literary encouragement.
So perhaps the end of Chester uni is the time to close the lid on the search for the ‘perfect man’ or should it read the ‘perfect male student?’
As a female I’ve laughed, cried and had my heart broken by men these past three years. Even wanted them dead. But one thing is for sure, every single one of them is different and every single one of them brings out something new in you.
There will always be the one that got away, the ‘what if?’ one. The one who would catch your breath and vanish your inhibitions with a single glance.
If uni has taught me anything it’s that you have to go through the bad ones to get to the good ones. And one day you will take that chance and it will be worth every pervious hesitation you’ve ever had.
The end of man as we know it.
I know I haven’t written a blog here for a while, but there has been a genuine reason. Last week I finished uni, forever!
Getting my head around this has been a huge challenge, one which admittedly has not yet sunk in.
Either way, writing this blog ‘the end of uni’ would be the first hurdle in accepting the truth.
So to put it in pure Coussens style I have decided to divert this topic with a reoccurring theme that has been present throughout my university life…men.
With all this spare time I have managed to finally attack my ever increasing list of books to read before I die. Yes, I am one of those sad people that can occasionally block out the world and read a book cover-to-cover in a matter of days. Not surprising being an ex-English student.
Anyway, first on the list was Twilight. I could write book reviews till the cows come home, but this book drew me in more than any guy I’ve ever known. And it got me thinking; are there men out there who are as irresistible as the allusive Edward Cullen?
I will be the first to admit that over these past three years of university I have dated as many men as I have completed Journalism assignments. In short that equals out as quite a few dates.
A few men never made it past the first date; some only just made it to the destructive forth date of doom and a minor two I actually fell for. I have been cheated on, cheated myself and done things that would make my Grandma turn in her grave (thankfully I no longer have that car.)
So it poses the question, are there men out there who can send you giddy at a single smile? Whose mere presence leaves you unable to keep your hands off them and who will take you home and tell you how edible you smell?
Rippling six packs and physiques aside, do we women have to look to the fictional characters to prove that love exists? Or do these made-up-males just make it harder to see the real men in front of our eyes?
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