Sleepless In St. Albans

I woke up at 3.30am this morning, after having a dream that I was saying goodbye to people at the airport before going to Australia. These people were my Mum (fair enough, she will be there in real life), Laura, Jane and, for some odd reason, Catie's Dad. I assume he must have driven Laura and Jane to Heathrow or something. Anyway, everyone except Catie's Dad was crying in a way I don't actually anticipate will happen in real life, apart from with my mum, who cries if she sees an ambulance, and I awoke with the dawning realisation that in 19 days I am going to Australia for six months.

Whenever I think about it, I struggle to get my head around it. I'm majorly excited to the point where I get a little teary with excitement if I go onto YouTube and watch the 'There's Nothing Like Australia' Australian tourist board advert. And I'm scared to the point where I get nostalgic for stupid things like Morrisons and the coffee machine and the traffic lights by the station. (Seriously, I'm going to be nearly as far away from those traffic lights as it's possible to get without going into Space. Or to New Zealand.)

So I am completely and utterly wide awake. But, importantly, Australia is not that far, because they still speak the same language, have the same book covers, say 'pissed off', and, as I remembered earlier, created the 90's TV show 'Round The Twist.' So, you know, I always have that as a topic of conversation to fall back on. In periods of awkward silence I can just sing the theme tune.

Maybe Tim Minchin will be there and I can pay him to be my lifecoach. Or the other way round, because I have a pretty tight budget.

Lol Skins

Recently, I have been watching Skins. I never watched the first four series when they were on TV, so I thought, given all the hype, I might give it a go.

I have to say, I am relieved that somebody finally thought to make a documentary of my years in Sixth Form. I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression that I spent the past two years of my life attending lessons, going to town with friends, watching TV and reading the odd book. I mean, remember that time when I brought that huge bottle of vodka into school, drank it in a supply cupboard and then threw up on a teacher? And when the same teacher had sex with my friend on the school trip? Not to mention the time when a squatter locked me out of my own house while I was naked and then some drug dealers smashed up my clarinet.

I'm joking about that last one of course. I don't play the clarinet.

Anyway, this particular quote (said in the middle of a lesson in front of everyone) basically sums up my teenage years:

"I got off with Tony on the Russian trip. I only did it because I fell out with Anwar when he said he hated gays, so I got upset, and Tony said he'd give me head, to cheer me up, you know. It didn't mean anything- I lost my head, and then he gave me head, and then we got deported from Russia."

Let's be honest, we've all been there. Every. Bloody. School. Trip.

All sarcasm aside, it's actually a brilliantly entertaining programme. My only small qualm with the plot is what kind of crazy school has a Female Staff Shower Room which teenage boys can easily wander into? They need to get the PTA onto that.

Spiders

I've just spent half an hour looking at deadly Australian spiders on Wikipedia. Because now would be a very good time to stop being the person who does not venture into the garden shed for two years after seeing a massive spider through the window, or gets a neighbour to help set free another huge spider trapped under a bowl. Time to de-sensitize myself.


Sadly, I cannot help it that spiders look like the personification of evil. That's a Black House Spider. Wikipedia casually remarks that they're widely distributed throughout Australia, kind of implying that they're a bit like dishwashers and no home is really complete without one. Fortunately they're not considered dangerous or anything, but their bites are excruciatingly painful. Well, that's alright then. It's Latin name is Badumna Insignis, which sounds a bit like a satanic cult.

Then there's the Redback spider. The image of this would not upload, probably because they are so evil that they don't show up on blogs. Apparently they are one of the few arachnids to engage in sexual cannibalism. They also look a little bit like supervillains. See, I try not to be afraid of spiders, but it's very hard not to be a little bit trembly and scared at the thought of sexual cannibalism.

Then there's the huntsman spider which is, to put it politely, fucking enormous. Wikipedia is full of reassuring information, as huntsman spiders are apparently not deadly, and you'll be ok in about two days, but if you get bitten by a 'Badge Huntsman' you might suffer nausea, headache, vomiting, and heart palpitations.

And of course, these: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australian_venomous_funnel-web_spider

Some of the deadliest spiders in the world, found all around suburban Sydney. Their hobbies include killing children, showing up in your friendly local swimming pool, and killing some more children. First there's pain, then goosebumps, sweating, tingling, twitching, salivation, eye-watering, increased heart rate, nausea, vomiting, shortness of breath, confusion, writhing, muscle spasm, unconsciousness, then death. Sounds like a typical afternoon.

Luckily there's an antivenom, so as long as you seek immediate medical attention you actually just have a couple of days in hospital and don't die. Damn, I am not going to sleep tonight. The most important thing I have to remember is always check your shoes for deadly spiders before putting them on. In the meantime, LOOK A KOALA:

Serious Business

It's the 29th of December. The day after the day after the day after Boxing Day. Frankly, I am surprised, and my surprise is gradually becoming concern. The Doctor Who Christmas Special was the day before the day before...I'm just confusing myself...it was a while ago, anyway. And obviously I am not going to blog about it, for three reasons:

1. I am not what anybody would call an expert on Doctor Who.
2. Other people I know who have blogs are.
3. I thought it was 'very good.' That would be two word-long blog post.

So obviously, as I am not an expert, I am also not weeping into my pillowcase every night because I do not know what Laura and Jane thought of it. It is just that the disturbing lack of undoubtedly excellent analysis combined with attractive pictures of Matt Smith suggests that more sinister forces are at work.

Which leads to the main point of this blog post: Did Laura and Jane...you know....die?

Has there been a horrific accident I don't know about? A Doctor Who related suicide pact? Did they enjoy the Christmas special so much that they chose to commit suicide because nothing else in the mortal realm could ever compare to it? Or did they hate it and die of the disappointment?

Or perhaps this whole 'huge fan' thing was a lie. They're now sitting in their respective houses laughing and saying: "Haha, just a TV show, haha. Who's Amy Pond?" No, that can't be true. God, I hope they're still alive.

So, Laura and Jane, fill out this survey.

"I am...

a) Dead
b) Still too emotional to type
c) Frozen in a box and only able to come out on Christmas Eve (do you see what I did there?)
d) Sorry? What? I didn't watch it, sorry. "

Lazy Christmas

It is gone 7pm, and I have not opened all of my presents yet, or watched the Doctor Who Christmas Special. Crazy, I know, but in my family, we finish stockings at 9.30, then there's a long break until eleven when everyone eats breakfast and gets dressed, and then we open presents until about 12.15 when my parents and granny go to prepare the turkey. We eat Christmas lunch at 2.00, and by the time we have finished and the grandparents have had naps and the washing up is done, it is 5.30 and I realise I have been entertaining Jack for two hours. At this point I yell 'Are we going to open any more presents before Doctor Who?' and then by the time the grandparents have properly awoken it is quarter to six, and I say 'Fine, I'll watch it on iPlayer.'

Then we opened presents for another hour until Jack got fed up because he wanted to eat tea. I didn't mind because I recieved tartan button down pyjamas which I wanted to instantly change into, and wow they are comfy. Maybe before midnight we might actually finish opening presents. Who knows?

We used to make presents last until Boxing Day back in days of old. I literally don't know how every year the entire Christmas lunch process lasts for over five hours. In other amusing-moments-from-my-Christmas, my grandfather (who loves bow ties) said that he hoped the Doctor wearing them would make them more commercially available, and, at eight o'clock this morning, my Dad decided it would be a fun idea to lock me outside in the snow in my pyjamas.

Ooh, we're going to open the last of the presents now apparently. Excellent.

Too Much Fun

In our attic, there is a box that we get out around this time every year. In this magical box are eight electronic, singing Christmas toys which belong to my brother.

There is a snowman that sings 'Frosty the Snowman', a snowman that duets 'Winter Wonderland' with a smaller snowman, a Christmas Tree which sings a song called 'I'm the happiest Christmas tree,' a deformed looking penguin that sings a Christmas song no-one has ever heard of, a penguin on skis that sings 'Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow,' a reindeer that sings 'Jingle Bells,' a Father Christmas that sings 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town' and a teddy bear dressed as the Queen which sings 'One Wishes One a Merry Christmas.'

I spent the best part of my morning setting them all off at the same time and allowing the chaos to ensue. It is madness in this house. Sheer madness.

Fa La La La La La La La La

In the spirit of Laura's Christmassy wintry cheery blogpost, here are some particularly festive moments from my day.

1. Half of the staff at work had to leave at midday due to the snow, leaving those of us who live in St. Albans to attempt to run a cafe, but I didn't mind because the customers were very sympathetic and full of the joy of Christmas (except for one of the virgers, but oh well.)

2. I accidentally squirted milk directly into my eye in front of some customers. A little elderly lady said "Oh dear, you just baptised yourself" which made me laugh.

3. A little toddler named Edwin kept getting in my way. His parents were saying: "No Edwin, out of the way Edwin," but I didn't mind because his name was Edwin.

4. Steve from work and his boyfriend Clive gave everyone a box of licquor chocolates each. This was especially nice as I have never even met Clive, and the chocolates are delicious.

5. The Abbey looked beautiful in the snow as I left at 4.30 (we closed early.)

6. Once I got to my road, I decided to run down it while listening to Fairytale of New York. I would recommend this to everyone.