For the past few weeks I have felt like my life has become increasingly busy. I find myself today however, sitting in my room with nothing to do except revise the joys of shorthand.
I figured what better way to distract myself than to write a little post about what's been happening in my life, not that I'm under any illusion that people care. Except my mum, my loves to hear about life. Even when all I can tell her is that I washed my bedding.
Anyway, about a fortnight ago I suddenly became much more driven than is usual for me. I don't know why, maybe super noodles added an extra bit of energy to their noodles or something...
Whatever it was I feel I used this new found enthusiasm quite well. I joined the gym for one. Something I regret slightly now. Pure gym have this really cool website where you can see how many people are in the gym and how many bits of equipment they have and how many classes you can go to with your membership. Then during the process of joining they tell you how fun it is there and how much healthier you'll feel.
All of it really just a manner in which to entice those willing subjects. I have to admit, the gym is pretty nifty. But not so nifty that I'm overly happy I joined. Then again at £15 a month you can't go wrong.
Should probably move on now before it starts looking like i'm trying to sell Pure Gym. I've only been four times...
Around this time I also realised how desperately I needed/wanted some work experience in the area of journalism (you know, since I'm studying it and all).
I spent about 3-4 hours trying to perfect my CV and an email to send of to the Northern Echo. They emailed me back around an hour later saying I had to fill in this lengthy form if I wanted experience.
Believe me, I was only to happy to comply if it meant a chance of getting the experience I wanted. Which I did, after filling it in for 3 days (I had other work to do around this time too, I'm not just some devastatingly slow typer) I got a 4 day work placement. A buzz of excitement followed which had me ringing my mum, my boyfriend and running into the living room to tell my friends.
Imagine what I'd have done if they'd given me a 10 day placement.
A couple of months ago a friend of mine suggested I apply for Camp America, mostly because she was and I really want to travel. So I did.
Since then they've emailed me quite frequently about events I can go to, to try and get hired by a camp but I've always had prior arrangements.
A few days ago however they emailed me about the final meet up in London on the 21st. They also gave me a queue jump pass because I have horse riding skills.
It would only cost me around £30 to get down to London, that's a bus fare and a night in a hostel (Something my mum is very against). I'm desperate to go and I hope I do I'm just worried I'll get there and no camp will want me. Rejected!
Lastly on my list of things to talk about despite no one caring but my mum (hey mum) is how it took me 3 hours to get home last night. It takes 40 minutes to drive from my mums house to my house in Sunderland.
It took a bus an hour and 10 minutes to drive from Sunderland to Hartlepool. I figured there'd be a bus from Hartlepool to Newton Aycliffe (where my mums house is) but after walking around for half hour, asking several strangers for directions and one bus driver for information, I found out there was no such bus. Not at 7 o'clock at night anyway.
Seeing as I had 3 heavy bags on my arms and I was dumb enough to where heeled boots my night quickly became an increasing struggle to get home.
Just to add to all my hardship I had very little way of contacting anyone. My phone contract had ran out, this was my primary reason for going home. On top of that my iPads battery had ran out, so not only could I not text or phone I now couldn't email or inbox.
My only option was a pay phone, but of course I did not have the correct change. Why would I after all, that would make things far too easy...
Instead I had to ask taxi drivers (2) if they had change for a £5 note. Thankfully the second one did. So I scurried back to the phone booth, popped my phone on top to read my boyfriends number and held my breath in prayer until he answered.
"Hello?"
"Drew it's me I'm stuck in Hartlepool."
"What the hell are you doing in Hartlepool?"
"I don't have time to explain, please come get me, I might die." (Forever the drama queen)
"Right ok I'm coming." (Best boyfriend ever)
"Meet me at the big massive Morrisons, it's called Morrisons superstore, you can't miss it!"
Thank God, right? So I make the 10 minute journey to Morrisons, walk around for a while, buy Drew some Haribo to say thanks (I know, I know, I'm a great girlfriend too...).
Then I go outside and sit on a bench waiting for him. I look in my bag for my phone, unsure why I can't use it for anything. But low and behold, it's not there.
A montage of the last half an hour flickers through my brain and I realise, with much disdain for myself, that I have in fact left it on the phone booth.
Drew pulls up outside the 'big massive Morrisons, it's called Morrisons superstore' Morrisons, he seems quite happy considering. I get in the car and tell him that I've left my phone on a phone booth. Smile shatters.
"What? How? Why wasn't it in your pocket? Do you know where it is? We're going to have to go get it!"
It shouldn't be such a big deal, right? The contract's ran out, I'm getting a new phone...
Well, actually the phone wasn't mine. It was Drew's mums. See I broke my phone 4-5 months ago, dropping it down a toilet, and on the floor and in the bath and eventually the poor thing gave up and died. RIP.
So Drew's kind and generous mum gave me her back up phone to use until my contract ran out. This is why it was a big deal.
So we drove round town, got beeped at a few times cause secretly I had no idea where we were going, and then I saw it. Like a beacon of hope, a ray of sunshine, all the other cliché things to say about it.
And the phone was there. I wouldn't care, it was a crappy phone and when I think about it I doubt Drew's mum would have cared all that much either. But Drew acted like I'd committed an act of treason so seeing the phone there felt Christmas morning.
The Christmas mornings when you were younger anyway. When the living room was filled with presents. Christmas morning now is gut wrenchingly disappointing.
The sack my mum uses is the same size only now instead of being side splittingly full its sort of depressingly empty. Like an old mans family jewels...
I figured what better way to distract myself than to write a little post about what's been happening in my life, not that I'm under any illusion that people care. Except my mum, my loves to hear about life. Even when all I can tell her is that I washed my bedding.
Anyway, about a fortnight ago I suddenly became much more driven than is usual for me. I don't know why, maybe super noodles added an extra bit of energy to their noodles or something...
Whatever it was I feel I used this new found enthusiasm quite well. I joined the gym for one. Something I regret slightly now. Pure gym have this really cool website where you can see how many people are in the gym and how many bits of equipment they have and how many classes you can go to with your membership. Then during the process of joining they tell you how fun it is there and how much healthier you'll feel.
All of it really just a manner in which to entice those willing subjects. I have to admit, the gym is pretty nifty. But not so nifty that I'm overly happy I joined. Then again at £15 a month you can't go wrong.
Should probably move on now before it starts looking like i'm trying to sell Pure Gym. I've only been four times...
Around this time I also realised how desperately I needed/wanted some work experience in the area of journalism (you know, since I'm studying it and all).
I spent about 3-4 hours trying to perfect my CV and an email to send of to the Northern Echo. They emailed me back around an hour later saying I had to fill in this lengthy form if I wanted experience.
Believe me, I was only to happy to comply if it meant a chance of getting the experience I wanted. Which I did, after filling it in for 3 days (I had other work to do around this time too, I'm not just some devastatingly slow typer) I got a 4 day work placement. A buzz of excitement followed which had me ringing my mum, my boyfriend and running into the living room to tell my friends.
Imagine what I'd have done if they'd given me a 10 day placement.
A couple of months ago a friend of mine suggested I apply for Camp America, mostly because she was and I really want to travel. So I did.
Since then they've emailed me quite frequently about events I can go to, to try and get hired by a camp but I've always had prior arrangements.
A few days ago however they emailed me about the final meet up in London on the 21st. They also gave me a queue jump pass because I have horse riding skills.
It would only cost me around £30 to get down to London, that's a bus fare and a night in a hostel (Something my mum is very against). I'm desperate to go and I hope I do I'm just worried I'll get there and no camp will want me. Rejected!
Lastly on my list of things to talk about despite no one caring but my mum (hey mum) is how it took me 3 hours to get home last night. It takes 40 minutes to drive from my mums house to my house in Sunderland.
It took a bus an hour and 10 minutes to drive from Sunderland to Hartlepool. I figured there'd be a bus from Hartlepool to Newton Aycliffe (where my mums house is) but after walking around for half hour, asking several strangers for directions and one bus driver for information, I found out there was no such bus. Not at 7 o'clock at night anyway.
Seeing as I had 3 heavy bags on my arms and I was dumb enough to where heeled boots my night quickly became an increasing struggle to get home.
Just to add to all my hardship I had very little way of contacting anyone. My phone contract had ran out, this was my primary reason for going home. On top of that my iPads battery had ran out, so not only could I not text or phone I now couldn't email or inbox.
My only option was a pay phone, but of course I did not have the correct change. Why would I after all, that would make things far too easy...
Instead I had to ask taxi drivers (2) if they had change for a £5 note. Thankfully the second one did. So I scurried back to the phone booth, popped my phone on top to read my boyfriends number and held my breath in prayer until he answered.
"Hello?"
"Drew it's me I'm stuck in Hartlepool."
"What the hell are you doing in Hartlepool?"
"I don't have time to explain, please come get me, I might die." (Forever the drama queen)
"Right ok I'm coming." (Best boyfriend ever)
"Meet me at the big massive Morrisons, it's called Morrisons superstore, you can't miss it!"
Thank God, right? So I make the 10 minute journey to Morrisons, walk around for a while, buy Drew some Haribo to say thanks (I know, I know, I'm a great girlfriend too...).
Then I go outside and sit on a bench waiting for him. I look in my bag for my phone, unsure why I can't use it for anything. But low and behold, it's not there.
A montage of the last half an hour flickers through my brain and I realise, with much disdain for myself, that I have in fact left it on the phone booth.
Drew pulls up outside the 'big massive Morrisons, it's called Morrisons superstore' Morrisons, he seems quite happy considering. I get in the car and tell him that I've left my phone on a phone booth. Smile shatters.
"What? How? Why wasn't it in your pocket? Do you know where it is? We're going to have to go get it!"
It shouldn't be such a big deal, right? The contract's ran out, I'm getting a new phone...
Well, actually the phone wasn't mine. It was Drew's mums. See I broke my phone 4-5 months ago, dropping it down a toilet, and on the floor and in the bath and eventually the poor thing gave up and died. RIP.
So Drew's kind and generous mum gave me her back up phone to use until my contract ran out. This is why it was a big deal.
So we drove round town, got beeped at a few times cause secretly I had no idea where we were going, and then I saw it. Like a beacon of hope, a ray of sunshine, all the other cliché things to say about it.
And the phone was there. I wouldn't care, it was a crappy phone and when I think about it I doubt Drew's mum would have cared all that much either. But Drew acted like I'd committed an act of treason so seeing the phone there felt Christmas morning.
The Christmas mornings when you were younger anyway. When the living room was filled with presents. Christmas morning now is gut wrenchingly disappointing.
The sack my mum uses is the same size only now instead of being side splittingly full its sort of depressingly empty. Like an old mans family jewels...
