The 'Two Biscuit' Rule

Don't you read the title and act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

 It's perfectly simple, it's perfectly relevant and we know we should  obey it.

 The rule is everywhere we look, everywhere we breathe and stop for that cuppa. It's unavoidable, sacred and inbuilt into Human nature.

Should I continue to tease you? Or just come out and say it? I think I'll torment you with an ellipse first and then we'll get started ...

Prepare to be hurled  into a scenario:

You're exhausted, you've finished work for the day and it's time to unwind with a hot soothing cup of tea. A careful brew that caresses your throat, cradles your taste buds and cuddles your insides until you're all warm, dissolved and smiling. The steam dances delicately in the air before gently swaying upwards in to your nostrils. The wafting warms your nose skin and the fine lining hairs quiver contentedly. 

aaaaaahhhh.

But hang on- there's something missing.

Like paper without  pen, salt without pepper, Angelina without Brad- the tea ALONE is incomplete. It needs it's other half. It needs it's biscuits.

But with the biscuits- along comes the dilemma.

You may have your irresistibly scrumptious, crumbly gems of happiness dunking daintily into your cup of hot heaven- but when do you STOP yourself? 

We all know we mustn't munch excessively- so where do we draw the line? 

After ONE biscuit- there will ALWAYS be the crave for another. One biscuit will never quite satisfy your needs, never quite delight all the taste buds, never quite hit the spot.

So then we opt for another, to colour in our edible edges and solve the problem.

TWO biscuits is the dignified amount, the respected amount, the well mannered and well contained amount of biscuits to have. And this, my friend, is the 'two biscuit rule'.

But for me, it's not as easy a rule to follow as it sounds.

Once you've eaten those two biscuits-not only are you craving another- you're feeling more guilt at the thought of a 3rd. Because THREE biscuits is excess. The very thought of three, wreaks with the pungent stench of greed. Even the word 'three' itself has an excess of 'e's. Three is naughty waters.

But i like naughty waters.

I want to push the button that i shouldn't, peak around the door that i shouldn't and dip my feet in those cheeky streams. Yes i know it will come with it's guilt,  I know I'll regret having wet feet-but BOY is the dipping worth it.

So you might be shocked at the length of this ramble on the mere concept of 'biscuits and tea' , but I write with a profound message, a stirring truth, a moving moral...

I say we all need to screw the 'two biscuit rule'.

If you want that third biscuit- you EAT that third biscuit. (you eat that NINTH biscuit!)
If you want to wade in those waters- you WADE to your hearts content.
Because societal barriers and peer pressure aside -it is YOUR choice and YOUR choice alone which decides the realms of your BISCUIT BLISS...

'5 minutes left'

We've all heard them say it. We've all been there.
That sudden churn on our insides as the examiner claims we've got  ...

'5 minutes left'.

It is here the brain shudders with the shock,blood curdles, arms tingle and deep within the soul of each student in that dire, uniformed hall- a frightened, desperate gurgle erupts.
It is here we enter into the ...
RED ZONE. 

Over the last two weeks I've made frequent visits to the  RED ZONE. Yes, the last fortnight I have been lucky enough to enjoy the splendor of solid examinations:
 

• .The warmth of those  examiner's faces -as they death stare at you. (If you look straight into their eyes you can see the polluted,dark abyss's of their souls. Don't look for too long though,you may fall in. And drown)

• Those elegant rows of  inviting wooden desks -all thin ,scrawny and (of course) wobbly

•  .That silent blanket of air that cradles the room- brimming with an unbearable tension that seeps into our lungs and begins to suffocates us. Nice and slowly.

But nothing is worse than the RED ZONE.
Perhaps many find that with 5 minutes to go they've completed everything? They're just checking over things?
Well I'm, of course, a rambler-so never find myself in this position. It's always a mad rush to try and complete what I'm writing-somehow put down the swirling ideas in my head on to the paper, but it's never legible.
The RED ZONE with it's flashing lights and wailing sirens- not only whips my mind's swirling confusion into even more of a mess that it's impossible to decipher anything- triggers the hand spasm.
That uncontrollable flinching in your exhausted writing hand as it tries to rebel against anymore writing. You are forcing it to move faster-times ticking-but it refuses to obey,it can't keep up anymore.
You are physically FIGHTING with your OWN hand.
Everything that is written  forms this porridge lumpy line.
In fact, it's more of a wave than a sentence.


You become overwhelmed with this constant fear you're not going to finish and that failure is going to follow you in life. Now you're turning crimson and frustrated. Everything EXCEPT what you need in your head, is in your head.

Worst of all, more treacherous than any of the above in the RED ZONE, is those nearby workers who are all sitting calmly and completely relaxed. It's disgusting.
The smug looks on their faces, with the time to look around,casually sip their water bottles-watch you spluttering and struggling, turning as red as the zone itself. You soon convince yourself you're the ONLY one in the panic which just makes things that whole bucketful more terrifying.



So my advice? 
My handy tip for those who also experience the abysmal, excruciating woes of the RED ZONE? 

You're not alone. Simple as.

Although, pots luck, those nearest to you will be sitting cool and collected-know that there are lots of other RED ZONE sufferers in the room.
They'll be scattered around, equally baffled,equally tomato-faced.
You're all slipping and squirming together.
And don't you forget it.

Who's ready to freefall?

So we've come to the end. This is it. The top of the mountain.

Take in the view then close your eyes and feel the wind on your face, soak up the atmosphere-we only get to be here once a year. Now look down on the path you've climbed up,remember the good bits ,the arduous bits and the memorable bits. Smile at the feat you've conquered.


Then come those nail biting  ten seconds in the countdown . It's time to leave the view, the quiet summit and snap back to reality. It's time to jump.
A sixth of a minute spent free falling through what life threw you in 2010. A sixth of a minute- unbelievable how fast the mind works under pressure...

TEN....Suddenly,your head becomes filled with swirling emotions, a mad blend of confusion. Your minds in a mad panicked rush to consider all you've done in the year, all the people you've met and hold on to it all. ...EIGHT... What's to come in the future? What new faces? places? ... SEVEN... What fights can I resolve, what slates can I wipe clean? A fresh start perhaps now? ....FIVE... this means the end of Christmas doesn't it? The end of holidays and boredom eating..Time for cold weather (without the optimism of Christmas to pull you through), work and in creeps the acrid stench of  starting a year all over again... THREE... Should I be kissing someone on zero? Quick, quick, scan for someone, anyone! ...TWO...time is running out... ONE... Oh lord, here we go, It's coming , It's time...                                                                HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!! 

And then there we are again, back at the bottom of the ladder, at the foot of the hill,at the  base of the mountain.

Well there's no point just standing there looking up! Get your shoelaces tightened, stretch your legs and take a deep breath.  It's time to start the climb again....

Jingle Bells, awkward smiles, fake laughing all the way... (Sing it aloud for optimum giggles)

CHRISTMAS. What's the first thing that comes to mind when you see that word? As the festive syllables bounce off the page and trickle into your mind, what visual imagery is conjured? 

Presents? A tree? A luxurious roasted feast with all things scrumptious?

Well OK, these may be quite relevant- but I know something better. Something that arrives every year without fail. Something that rumbles at the heart of mankind, stirring emotions of hilarity, embarrassment, tension and sadness all wrapped in one. Oh yes, I'm talking about the facial facade of the unwanted present opening.

I'm talking about those indescribable looks on peoples faces as they unwrap an unwanted  present. It really is hard to put into words and this blog can't do it justice. The eyes, the nose the flinching and the voice pitch that arises after opening an undesired gift. It's priceless.

Watching people attempt a joyous expression, force a warm smile and fumble out some drivel about it being what they've really wanted all along. The best is the fake jaw drop, a feeble (but hilarious) attempt at the 'shocked with amazement'  look.

Nothing beats watching the inexperienced. Their pathetic attempts (with obvious disappointment glazed all over their faces) always ends in blushing and incomprehensible sentences about gratitude. Everyone knows they don't like what they've opened. It's hilarious, to watch.

Then there are some who are experts at it. They've had enough experience to have learnt how to handle the situation with care. I am one of these people.So, to spare feelings and diffuse an awkward situation follow my festive facade steps this Christmas...

 Upon opening:

1. Widen your eyes immediately.( This gives a shocked affect, and the strain of widening makes your eyes water, thus they glaze over into a seemingly awestruck and joyous look)

2. Quickly pick out an aspect of the present and say why you like it.  (If you panic and time is racing-go for colour. It's the easiest)

3. Rotate the present and look at it from all angles, while softly commenting on how it will really go with something you already own. ( The rotation distracts them, thus they are not fully focused on the words leaving your mouth.Your soft talking in the background offers reassurance and lulls them into believing your gratitude.)

4. Make sure your talking tone is light and upbeat and talking/comment MUST commence as soon as the  present is opened.   (Any delay hints at disappointment/ bewilderment. And we really don't want that. Or you'll be sussed.)

5. Lastly, the key step. If all else fails or you've messed up the previous steps- go for THE HUG. (This switches the verbal struggle to a physical act of warmth and compassion. They may even take the hug as you not being able to 'put your gratitude into words')

SO, there's my Christmas gift to all you inexperienced out there. Give the steps a pop this year and see how you fare. Just remember...

''Jingle Bells, awkward smiles,

 Fake laughing all the way...

 Oh what fun, it is to watch,

 What present-openers blush and say. Hey!"

Sunday Bliss...

Today I've had an epiphany. I've at last, after 16 years of living, learnt to appreciate the truly ineffable beauty of a Sunday.

Before it would just be 'the day before school'  or 'the day left to do all the work on' , but today I've managed to lift the childish cover of these naive ideas, walk through the fog of misunderstanding and finally see the crystal clear,serene brilliance that is the 7th day of the week.

Anyone not yet at this stage, I urge you to pay attention when you open your eyes next Sunday. It's magical...

...Staying wrapped up and nestled in the comfort of your covers, while the delicate sunlight streams in through the window and dances across your pillow.

The gentle silence of the car-less roads and mellow humming of the Sunday birds.

Then there's that gorgeous smell of Mum's roast, wafting through the house. Hot gravy, crispy potatoes,succulent chicken breast, toasty Yorkshire puddings...their tantalising aroma trickling gently into your sun kissed room. The flavours dance under your nostrils, lulling your senses, caressing your body and soothing your soul.

It's a day to get things done, a helping hand with the workload. It's a day to relax, unwind and regenerate. It's a day that's essential to our society and the very core of our humanity. This day is Sunday, and we must NEVER take it for granted.

Sprinkle snow? Sod off.

I didn't believe the weatherman.

I thought he was lying.

 As I sat there swamped in coursework, tomorrows exams heavy on my mind, textbooks surrounding me on the floor- I was barely listening to him on the TV. He was a dull drone lingering  in the room,talking away to himself. My eyes were bloodshot stinging with sleep cravings, my arms limp and lifeless and my head was stressing and sore. But then I heard it.  Those delightful, heart warming words that caressed my fatigued soul. Like a cosy embrace, a surprise party,  a passionate kiss.

 He shook me into life with his chocolaty words:
 ''Prepare for snow".
I could have kissed the TV.  And I did.

So the revision was aborted, the textbooks slept scattered on the floor and I enjoyed an evening of elation. The weatherman had saved me. I climbed into bed and slept sweetly in the night's soothing, snowy embrace.

Morning came.  I opened my eyes and frowned at the frostiness of  my Wednesday morning room and the exams and deadlines that were to follow me that day.  But then it hit me. The memory flooded in, warmed me up and I began to grin.

There wasn't going to be any deadlines/exams, I knew what lay behind my window blinds this morning. Snow!

Those heavy white showers that would come dancing down, coating our clothes.
 Serene white blankets would be smothering the  roads, hushing them into a silent sleep .

 Cars sleeping under luxurious, white sheets.

 Delicate flakes settling on our eyelashes.

Giggling children prancing in woolly hats,puffy coats and chunky mittens.

Snowball fights and sledding down glistening hills, fresh laughter and pure faces.

 I could just feel it. The crisp air was whispering  it in my ear. Our  'get me out of work free card' had finally arrived! 

But NO. It had not.

I pulled back the blinds and wailed in agony.

-Serene blankets? NO, my hideous grassy lawn was still very much visible, with a sickeningly slight sprinkle of white on top.

-White rooftops and trees? NO, the roofs had a mere pinch of white on them and the tree leaves bragged some sloppy, melting sludge.

-Showers of snow cascading down? NO, but instead a light ,watery drizzle-dampening the ground, and my spirits.

-Sleeping, empty roads? NO, the gritters had been out and cars crawled on down the grey street, their growling engines laughing viciously.

-Giggling children? NO.

-Snowball fights? NO. NO.

-Sledding? NO. NO. NO.

This was the kind of snow that just caused accidents and delays. No fun, no freedom ,no Christmas spirit-just problems. This wasn't real snow.

I felt sick . My insides churned with disappointment, my shivering body over flooded with melancholy, and yes I'll admit it, my eyes began to well up.

 So there I was shaking in the bitter cold, goosebumps and misery gripping my body, tears streaming down my icy, throbbing cheeks,tickling the corners of my mouth.

Suddenly , I felt sharp corners of paper digging into my frosty feet which triggered me to look down. It was my scattered coursework and revision notes. They lay there, unfinished.  Uh oh.

How to spice up a tube journey

Doors opening. Feet shuffling. Seat grabbing. Bags brushing. Headphones in. World out. Newspapers up. Doors closing.

Tube journeys are always going to be a mad uncomfortable rush. Hundreds of stressed commuters overloaded with bags cramming into an ill lit metal cylinder that crawls along a darkened track ,isn't going to be a journey of enjoyment. We bare through it, and if we're lucky, we get to do so, SEATED.

The only problem that I've found with seating, is the overwhelming desire to study the passengers sitting opposite you. It's that  unrelentless urge to examine their clothing, facial features, mannerisms and just soak up the essence of them...but you can't. The risk of them catching you looking is just too high. Thing is, if they do, you have to force a embarrassed smile then naturally, in gushes the strawberry cheeks and the rest of the journey must be spent looking at anything at all but at them. So can you not look at them at all?! No,fear not- there's a solution. Shoes.

Look down and you'll see them, a beautifully long  line of colours, shapes and  sizes all for you to examine. You can imagine up scenarios for each type, conjure up an image of the wearer and his lifestyle-all from just the shoes. It's a beautiful game.



Then again, perhaps you're not lucky enough to get a seat?  You're traveling in the rush hour and have ended up a tinned sardine, captured in hot and agitated huddle with passengers from all walks of life. You're so close you can feel their shuffling feet trampling on your toes , hear their hearts thudding, feel their hot breath settling on your skin. But it's OK. In this uncomfortable, baked beans scenario, a game can be played. Just follow the steps:
1. Source a near passenger with headphones in (it's probably harder to find one without them in to be honest...)
2. Lean in and listen closer to the song they're listening to, but make sure you're discreet.
3. Make sure you know the song, if so BINGO.
4. Now, making sure they can see you, begin mouthing the lyrics of the song they're listening to (if possible in sync)
5. Watch their facial expression


They either assume by some massive coincidence you're listening to the same song at exactly the same time on your respective i-pods or ,if you're without headphones yourself, that you just happened to have that song in your head. Either way, the look on their face is utterly priceless. In fact, that expression change from 'sick to death of this stinking monotonous journey' to 'OH DEAR LORD, WE'RE LISTENING TO THE SAME SONG AT EXACTLY THE SAME DARN TIME'  is reason alone to get  the tube.

 So, there's just a couple of tips to help ease  tube journeys. Maybe you'll find them useless, maybe life altering, who knows? But hey, all I can say is try spicing up your tube journey and give it a go...