Eluding Essays

Starting a piece of work is horrible. I mean, once you get started it's alright and you get into the flow of things-but starting it all off, it's just excruciating. Ever been swimming and had to take that dreaded first plunge into the icy water, before you become immersed and comfortable? Felt that sudden, nasty sting of the water and chilly grip on your insides, all so shocking and unbearable?  It's just like that. Brr.

So, you have this work to do, you know you have to do it sometime and you know if you don't do it- it'll be playing on your mind anyway-so why not start? Believe me, It's harder than it sounds. You see I've developed a terrible habit. I do absolutely everything i possibly can to avoid starting. I just hurl out these obstacles and back further and further away from just blimming getting on with it!

I'm sitting down at the table, the blank page in front of me, a good working light is on and it's almost silent-the perfect atmosphere to get going. But no, oh no, i can't possibly start NOW! I haven't walked the dog! Right, 45 minutes later, feeling refreshed I'm back in front of the blank page. But wait-I should probably go and charge my phone and of course, i must check my email. 30 minutes later,I'm back staring at the page. It's still blank. Ooo isn't that good TV show on now? Can't possibly miss that. 50 minutes later, right,  now it's time to REALLY start. Ah but I reckon I must have a cup of tea to get me thinking , and while I'm there, why not a sandwich?  20 minutes later, should i start writing in blue? No, i think black, I'll go and get a black pen...

This goes on for hours, no exaggeration. By the time i actually get around to writing something down ,it's all a mad ,deplorable ,last minute rush. And the the thing is, when you get going-it's really not that bad. So my advice for the day ( life, in fact) is that if you have something to start- just dive straight in and get it over and done with. Yes, it may be intimidating,frustrating and tortuous but ,oh boy does it feel good when it's done.

Takeaway Terror

A takeaway is one of life's most treasured gifts. The idea of ordering yummy foods all precooked and ready and having them brought to your door to be eaten however you like, in the comfort of your own home. It all sounds faultless, brilliant, divine-that is, if you get the  food you bloody ordered.

On too many occasions has my takeaway experience been utterly obliterated by not actually getting what I want. I'm all set,drink on the side, plate and cutlery at the ready,Saturday night TV rearing to go and the sofa bum mould is beckoning me to sit down and begin tucking in to the bliss in the brown bag . A perfect scenario, until i realize, what i want isn't there. I check again (several times in fact) but no, it's nowhere to be seen. I panic,I fumble, I frown. It's no use, sound the alarms- a meal is missing.

Now, however small what I am missing is, I feel cheated. It could be a few pathetic poppadoms, but I just can't let it slide. My body won't let me.  My dinner won't quite be the same if i try to ignore the problem- it's like a piece is missing, my taste buds are sickened and appalled with the absence of the dish. The only option is to ring up and complain. This, for me, means further pain. I mean it's bad enough ,coping with the sadness and dissatisfaction that engulfs me without my dish, but now i must be overridden with guilt as i moan to the restaurant workers. 

Thing is, after all the awkwardness on the phone there's also that  excruciating moment where the new , correct food changes hands, both of you wallowing in embarrassment. Having to look them in the eye after all your moaning and them into yours after their failure to do their job properly. Shudders. And while this whole catastrophe has unfolded, your other food has gone cold, the TV show has raced ahead (and you just know you've missed the best bits!) and the bum mould on the sofa that before beckoned, has now risen to a mere,worthless crumple. Brilliant.

Tea Technology

So ,this week along came the long awaited Eastenders episode where the notorious 'Queen Vic' pub burnt down. Now I'm not writing to bore you with an in-depth article on the wonders of Eastender's plots and characters or anything like that- but simply to bore you with the circumstances that surrounded me watching this particular episode.    I bet you're quivering with excitement.

So after a shattering day,  I settled down on the sofa with a gorgeous cup of tea, ready to watch the episode. The cup of tea was sublime,that perfect blend in my favorite mug, warming my insides, trickling gently down my throat and easing my fatigued body. The all butter shortbread biscuits that accompanied it were also brilliant. They soaked up the brilliance of the brew when dipped in (resisting falling in the mug all pathetic and soggy) and then crumbled delicately on my palette ,soothing and satisfying my eager taste buds.

Anyway, so content as I was, I delved into this episode filled with twisting events, distressed faces,crying and lots of screaming from Barbara Windsor. All together, I'd say a pretty gripping 30 minutes. So as the fire broke out in the Pub, the crackling and burning of the flames and intense colours managed to consume pretty much all of my attention and all of a sudden my dog has knocked my arm and my tea has spilt all over my lap. Normally, I'd huff and puff and get up to sort it out, but amidst this enthralling episode, i decided to wait. This, it turned out, was a very good idea. I actually found myself  hurled into the Drama of the episode. The burning in the pub and distress of the people was parallel to the boiling tea that was scalding my legs . It was like i was there. I could feel the heat, the burning, the pain. I was with the characters,amidst the flames and chaos. Never has there been an Eastenders episode quite like it. Superb.

So, if you ever get to a fire scene in any of your favourite drama series/TV shows and fancy making it just that  little bit more intense and realistic-  i suggest you make yourself a dangerously hot Cuppa,fill it  to the brim and then hold it precariously. Talk about getting the full experience!  Forget HD, it's all about HT (Hot Tea).

There's nothing like a trip to the cinema...

There's nothing quite like the cinema. I mean sure,you could watch a movie in the comfort of your own home and cosy up in the familiarity of your sofa, revelling in the knowledge that it's so much cheaper than a trip to the cinema.However,no matter how much we try to convince ourselves, we know deep down that it really doesn't compare to the full on,hardcore, cinematic experience.

I'm not just talking about the impressive size of the screen,but rather the whole experience. I'm talking about the build up of ticket buying, the stalls of mouthwatering refreshments you pass and perhaps pick up(despite their ridiculous pricing),the excited walk down the dark halls to your screen,the seat choosing and settling down. The darkness that fills the room as the curtains expand and the silence of an eager audience,hungry for entertainment. That crunch of the popcorn, the hiss and bubble of the fizzy drinks bottles as they open and that sweet aroma that wafts from the confectionary bags.

You see, those sitting in the seats are not an audience, but rather a team. All of you exploring the realms that lie ahead, together. You journey into the world,release your emotions and soak up the experience, together. The gasping,the crying,the laughing-you are a unit.
So sure, you could stay at home and save a bit of cash -it's the easy thing to do right? Although, perhaps every once in a while we should all treat ourselves and head down to the cinema to where the action is,because (without trying to sound like a Loreal advert) it really is worth it!

September sadness

Is there anything more depressing and soul destroying than the change from August the 31st to September the 1st? Even just the word September makes me shiver. eurgh.
Today it was my last day of freedom before I'm back at school ,caged in coursework,suffocated by schedules and  trapped in some terrible timetable once again. No more not knowing or caring what day it is-but instead having to write the date several times a day in exercise books,engraving it into my mind,no room for forgetting it. Fantastic.

So this afternoon i was dragged to Tesco's for the dreaded school supplies shop. Oh and,as predicted, it was excruciating. It's bad enough having the holidays draw to a close, but being greeted by huge,daunting 'Back to School' signs as you enter is just rubbing salt into the wounds. On my left, a row of pens,pencils,rubbers and rulers began to make me feel nauseous.Memories of  bells,exams,teachers and deadlines were all flooding back to me-seeping into my mind like a viscous poison, scalding my brain. I looked to my right and saw stacks of notebooks,folders and ringbinders teasing me further. I could see the uniform section up ahead, the shirts,skirts and tights taunting me with their dull and dreary colours. My temple began to pulsate and throb and ,unable to withstand it any longer, i fled to the safety of the cereal aisle.

I really wasn't ready to do the school shop,or bring myself to accepting the holidays were over and the truth is it's the same story every August. So shopping in the aisle with folders,sharpeners and coloured note cards? Ha, i think i'll stick to where the Frosties,Shreddies and Crunchy Nut Cornflakes are found!