Help! Please save us from the LBE...

I’m not scared of the dark, I’m no woos with the supernatural and I’d happily spend the night in a haunted house. In fact, you can hurl me chained to Jeremy Kyle off a 2000ft cliff into a tank of ravenous sharks but I still wouldn’t quake like I do from the LBE.

 
Darker than your worst nightmare and more chilling than the shower scene in Physco –the LBE makes the most dreaded of horrors seem like Nickelodeon.  

Worst yet; the LBE is coming. 
Heart thumping and insides churning I, like every other 16 year old in the country, await in helpless anxiety for the LBE’s arrival. 



We can’t escape it, we can’t ignore it and on the 25^th August we’ll all be victims of that Little Brown Envelope.

What makes the LBE so menacing?, I hear you say. Well to put it succinctly, the LBE is inescapable. No matter where we are or what we’re doing- it lurks at the back of our minds ready to massacre any slight signs of complete contentment. To put it in a way all teenagers can relate to, it’s like a spot. It throbs and torments us with its relentless pulse and just won’t go away, no matter how much we try to cover it up. However, no amount of Freederm or Clearasil will affect the LBE.

That pure, focused fear of receiving an envelope which holds the accumulation of all you have worked for (or not) is quite simply overwhelming. All those stuffy lessons, mocks, homeworks and timetables. Years of working the 8.30 to 3.30 and it all boils down to the LBE.  Shudders.

As the fear of failure wafts thick and pungently everywhere you turn, post-mortems bubble to the surface and your mind kindly reminds you, with unnerving clarity, of all those mistakes you made. Oh-the-bliss.

Worst yet, the LBE creeps up at the most irritating point possible. If it came at the beginning-at least it’d be out of the way. If it came at the end- We’d be heading back into school mode anyway. But no, oh no, the LBE deviously seeps into our Summer ¾ of the way through, shrouding the first ¾ with thoughts of it’s arrival and ruining the last ¼ with it’s aftermath. Then, before we know it- it’s back to school.

On that ‘Back to School’ note, I’d like to say to all supermarkets and shops with those vulgar ‘Back To School’ signs up, that on behalf of every kid in the country…Shut-up and stop rubbing it in!

So, the LBE will come and go, but in the meantime we must sit and quiver in the darkness of foggy anxiety. We can’t run, we can’t hide, so instead- we must wait...

Pen: An endangered species?

When sifting through the papers this morning, I was deeply saddened.

The gurgle on my insides and tug on my heartstrings was due to an article I saw reporting: 

  "Schools in Indiana are abandoning teaching children how to do joined up handwriting in favour of showing them how to type"

Now, is it just me or does this frighten the hell out of you?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of these technophobe fuddy duddies who spends their time nibbling custard creams,hugging a typewriter while moaning about modernisation , I'm awe inspired by the marvellous capabilities of the Internet...but doesn't the jump to a completely  digital world make your spine tingle?

What cuts me up the most though, is that I know this Indiana study is just the beginning. With the rapid growth of emails and expansion of online potential... the pen is slowly becoming neglected.

My reason for this little post though, was to dive into the sea of bloggers and soak up the general wave of opinions ...

I'm sitting at my work desk now, but I couldn't resist popping this finding online to see what the blogging world believes...so please, do pour out your opinions...

Anyone else, like me, scared to imagine a world consumed by technology and lacking the trusty pen?

Anyone else think they'd miss that feeling of pen-in-hand and  sense of control as your ideas flow through a nib and form on a page in front of you?

Anyone else just feel so much more content with a hard copy piece of writing and feel words on a screen lack dimension and security?

So, yes I'm aware this blog is a little hypocritical ... but I'm so intrigued! In fact  think I'm going to write an article for work on this today.  Are we about to dip into a icy online age? Will future generations and my children turn, perplexed and ask ''Mum, what's a Biro ?"

Shudders.

Car-mirror Cringe

Today I found myself blushing more than I thought it possible.
In fact, if my cheeks went any redder, I think I may have genuinely been mistaken for a tomato.

The situation was simple, harmless and I'm sure it's happened to tons of people. Actually, I'm not sure- but it soothes my pride, so let's roll with it...

You know those times you're walking down a road and you can just sense there's something wrong going on with your face/hair? Maybe there's a tickle or an itch or perhaps it's just a hunch. Now, If you're not someone who tends to carry a mirror around with you, or a reflective surface... what would you, clearly, do to check your face?  What's that I hear you say? 
CHECK IT IN A CAR WING MIRROR? 
Spot on- so that's exactly what I did.

To be honest, I reckon car designers probably created wing mirrors in thought of this handy trick. I mean, why else would cars sit quietly perched on the roadside with those alluring mirrored ears?
The modern rushing man/woman needs public mirrors to aid their frantic darting and wing mirrors provide a helping hand. (Or ear)


So there I was, already in a rush for a work experience interview, squatting down in front of the nearest car and adjusting my hair. While adjusting, I realised I'd forgotten to put my mascara and eyeliner on. I peered along  the street-no one was to be seen- so I  reached for my  makeup bag and began to apply.
While I was there, why not just top up my blusher too? Yes, good idea.
Cue pouty fish face.


While looking at myself in the mirror... I realised; what better way to practice my interview speech? So I did. I also topped it off with practising the likes of 'concerned face' 'intellectual face' 'listening intensely face' ' and 'this opportunity won't be wasted on me face'.
Brilliant, good prep. Good, PRIVATE prep.


Then, woe betide, as I went to stand up...It hit me.
                                   BAM.  Goodbye dignity.

              BAM. Goodbye self respect. .

              BAM.       Hello red cheeks.

There, in the car I knelt beside -laughing hysterically- was a man watching me behind his tinted windows.

Oh no.


So  There I blushed.
      There I cringed.
      There I stared, looking bewildered as a rabbit caught in the headlights, for about 15 seconds straight.

The longer I stared, the redder I became. 
Eventually, with an embarrassed fever and wounded pride, a little miss tomato face walked away from the car -looking alot worse than she had done before.


So my message is simple. By all means make FULL use of the secret splendour of wing-mirrors, soak up their nifty brilliance and take advantage of this underrated, practical prop...But erm, just one teeny tiny tip-


Check there's no one in the car first!

My first steps into womanhood...

It's taken 16 years and at last it's happened. There have been twists and turns and now it's happened. All this waiting to reach the peak that defines my existence and now it's happened.

On this momentous,glorious and invigorating day I can smile like I've never smiled before,laugh like I've never laughed before and hold my head higher than I thought it ever possible.

 For today, I  have become a true woman.

Now, to those perplexed readers... I'm not talking about puberty changes, marriage or any of this predictable nonsense. True woman out there  know exactly what I'm on about.

The purest and most definitive moment that epitomizes becoming a woman, is the day we look down and realize we possess a love greater than can be expressed in words.

 As those two jewels gaze up at us with such effortless beauty and graceful innocence, it hits us that no-one in the world could love them more. We realize ,life wouldn't be worth living without them and wonder how we ever coped without them there before.

A love like nothing ever felt, imagined or dreamt before-it's a love that defines us as women.  So yes, this defining moment ladies and gents, is none other than the moment a woman

falls in love with a pair of shoes.

Before, a pair of shoes could be 'nice', 'handy' or 'do the trick', but now that  I've entered  into the female field of pristine adoration for feetly comforts; my view will never be the same again. I've been awoken to just how divine shoes are.

Shoes aren't just there out of convenience or out of necessity for when our feet need protection ...

oh no . 

 Shoes don't just affect your feet area- they define both who you are and your purpose in life.

 A pair of shoes practically screams out your character to the world.

 Do you like comfort? extravagance? Fine dining? Sport? Adventure? Trying new things? Homely coziness? Formality?  Well, there's no real need to ask; your shoes will tell me.

So this pair of shoes that have so kindly walked me into womanhood are out of this world. Soft, faux fur lining, lace up boots that just... well, they just smile. I try to wear outfits just so they can feature. I find myself watching them as I walk (which has resulted in quite a few stumbles) marvelling at how gorgeous they look as the sunlight trickles off them. I feel like everyone is watching them too...as if they are emanating this infectious, beautiful blaze.

These astounding angels sweep me along in their warm embrace and cuddle my senses, from toes to head. I am well and truly walking on air.

We smile together, explore together and soak up the surroundings together.
We. are. one. 
And do you know what? When I'm away, I  miss them. When I'm not wearing them, I picture them sitting at home, empty, sad and missing my feet to fill their tums.

 I position them just near my bed so that when I wake up... they're the first things i'll see.

The alarm screeches, my head spins and in flood the thoughts of all the daily toil and stress ahead. My head begins to throbs, eyes sore and body heavy as lead.... but then I see them.

My beautiful babies, beaming heartily at me, reminding me that life is good. I haven't even had my coffee and i'm already wide awake and grinning like a Chesire.

 Aaahhh boots boots- what would I do without you?

So you may be thinking it's awfully sad to pin so much joy to a pair of shoes?  Rather pathetic to feel so refreshed by some material for my feet? Well, do you know what?  You're missing out.

I think I speak for all true women when I say...

a sweet tooth for shoes will cure ALL your blues.

THE CHOC HAUL...

The time has come.

I can smell it  in the air,taste it on my palate, hear it in the depths of my soul.
It's time for the...
 END OF LENT CHOC HAUL.


Right, I'll briefly set the scene...

Every year, without fail, my family and I give up chocolate for lent.

 Perhaps that sounds normal/ uninspiring/ simple to you? If so, you need to shut down this page and leave.

Anyone pathetic enough to doubt the overwhelming grasp chocolate has on life , anyone who doesn't appreciate the chocolaty embrace that cuddles and soothes us in today's hectic world, anyone who feels the absence of the compassionate  confectionery wouldn't be detrimental to humanity- needs to go far,far away   and get themselves sorted.

Chocolate is magical.
Chocolate is healing.
Chocolate is a reason to live.

Maybe you've had an awful break up , you're stressed, hurting and shaken-
 Who dotingly heals and soothes the pain?

Perhaps you're at a dull meeting, it's unproductive,awkward and stuffy-
-Who coats biscuits, travels into your body and sparks ideas into life, stirs creativity and induces smiles ?
What about an important race that you don't think you can withstand/stomach-

 -Who boosts your moral,charges you with energy and  spurs you on to surge to that victory?

Yeah that's right- we're all forgetting just how helpful our CHOC chum is. I think we all need to have a little think about  our neglectful behaviour. We need to start showing our appreciation.
So next time you tear open a soft and crumbling choc bar, or pop open a tub of creamy, rich choc ice cream or settle down to a scrumptious hot chocolaty dessert- I urge you say thank you. No don't you snort or laugh at the absurdity- I'm being deadly serious.
I urge you to lean down and whisper tenderly  to your sweet treat ''Thank-you''. And say it with meaning.

The road has been long...

So, to return after my chocolate tangent there- Lent has been tough this year. Yes it's a season of sacrifice, reconciliation and key for spiritual nourishment- but there's no denying life without choc is excruciating. Worst of all, is that you realize just.how.much of it there is cuddling our daily life. It's inescapable...

. You realize just how many people have chocolate for lunch with the constant offering from mates in the canteen/classrooms.

.. Sensuous and mouthwatering telly adverts for ice creams/chocolate bars are nestled between all the shows.

.. Beautiful celebrities take attractive bites of choc treats as they glow and pose before you.

. .Supermarkets boast reductions on sweet treats...sharing excessive close ups on all the shiny,luxurious packaging.

.. Billboards line up along my bus route to and from school, teasing me with the newest dazzling  and delicious treats on the market.

.Even the litter on the road  decides to kick and harass me. Chocolate wrappers smother the pavements to remind me what I'm missing at every step, empty packets dancing deviously in the breeze across my eye line- tempting me, snickering at me.

.Most of the desserts on  restaurant menus have me jaw agape with luxurious ,lavish descriptions of all things chocolaty... then slap me in the face by offering a 'fruit salad platter' right at the end. Mmm, nothing says splendour and indulgence like some cold fruit chunks.

But all is rewarded...

However, despite this incessant abuse and painfully isolated period of time- it all becomes worthwhile.

Because nothing, absolutely nothing, comes close to the REUNION.
Every Easter Saturday  we head out to the supermarket and spend ridiculous amounts on pure, unadulterated chocolate.
The cashiers face is priceless. 

Then we lay all our goodies on the table and  as the clock strikes midnight-

 the feast begins.

 Again we curl up in that chocolaty caress we have missed so very much.

Now as that clock hits 12, something within my soul erupts. My fingers tingle as I unravel the smooth jewel from the first wrapper tenderly. My heart pounds vigorously.My taste buds throb impatiently. Then as I slip it between my straining lips and onto my waiting tongue-IT BEGINS.

 Explosive yet gentle, loud yet serene - my body sparks to life, embracing the friend it has so dearly missed. The flavours familiarize and the swirling blend of creamy joy butters my spirits and passionately kisses my soul.

This moment alone , is a reason for living.

So, my reason for this post?

Well today  will see us embark on the 2011 CHOC HAUL. I don't know how much we'll get, or where we'll get it from but I do know one thing for sure...

It's going to be delicious.

 (Left: CHOC HAUL 2009)

(Below: CHOC HAUL 2010) 

  

Housephone Harressment

I'm a victim of bullying.

Wow, I've admitted it; about time too.

 It's been long overdue.

I'm a trembling, taunted mess who faces aggression on  a daily basis.

Oh but the perpetrator doesn't leave physical evidence... they're much more sly and calculating than that. Prying on me when weak,  a devious  shadow that's always watching me.

Enough is enough... it's time to name and shame...reveal my torturer...

Please, somebody spare me from...

MY HOUSE PHONE.

No no no, don't you laugh or turn away thinking this is some petty rant.

I NEED HELP.

 I can't walk past my house phone without physically wincing.

Being at home is about relaxing. It's about unwinding ...leaving work and distractions outside.

But then this peace is obliterated. 

There I am, having some 'me time' ,settling in to some din dins in front of the telly and then BAM.

 It's all ruined.

 I'm dragged out of my serenity by the high pitched screeeeech of the bully...

TRRRING-TRRRING!  

TRRRING-TRRRING!   

TRRRING-TRRRING!

The screeching goes on and on , screaming into my ears until nothing can be thought about except picking up the phone. So I succumb- and get up to obey  the bully.

Oh, but as I pick it up off the hook...it decides NOW is the time to be silent. It decides it's way more fun to watch me squirm and sigh when I just miss the last ring. Brilliant.

But the bully's just getting started.

It waits silently until I'm all the way back to my seat, comfortable and content.

It waits; like a ravenous lion fixated on it's prey.

It waits until that perfect moment,where I've reached complete and utter relaxation. Then, only then, it POUNCES with it's infuriating shriek...

TRRRRRRRING- TRRRRRRING!!! 

TRRRRRRRING -TRRRRRRING!!!

Again I'm forced out of my comfort zone -  but this time I'm desperate .

 I run to the phone,in an attempt to reach it in time. But no, oh no, that would be too easy.

Again it cuts off as I get there.  It's silently sniggering at me ... taunting me with it's malicious games.

Then there's the fun it has when you're mid conversation. It listens in,cunningly waiting until the most crucial moment in the chatter...and then, well then it just cuts off. Dead. Just like that.

This, is annoying enough, but to push us that little bit further, dig just that little bit deeper, the daemonic device doesn't let us know it's cut off.

Too many times have I waffled on with a story,describing the ins and outs,the intricate details, pouring out an emotional essay -to find that there is no one listening at the other end.

I'm sick to death of this abuse.

I hate feeling threatened in my own home.

I want protection from this electronic evil which terrorizes me with it's tricks.

Please, somebody, help me escape this

house-phone harassment.

The Icy Dash

Ever seen an Olympic runner, performing  in

their element?

The skill, the timing, the intense determination swirling in those hungry eyes?

Couldn't help but gaze, jaw agape, at the sheer talent that unravels effortlessly before you?

Well, that's nothing. 

Move aside Olympic medalists, eat your heart out Usain Bolt- there are far greater challenges to conquer.

 Nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to excruciating feat that is...

                                          The Icy Dash.

I'll set the scene:

You've woken up on a chilly weekday morning to an appetizing full day's work that awaits you. The mundane stench of  just the thought of the day, has you feeling queasy already.   

 You're shattered, grumpy and most probably not quite with it.

 So, half-dead, you stagger into the shower.

Yes, you scald yourself a couple of times with the water.

Yes, the shampoo seeps under your eyelids and takes a few vicious bites

 But overall, it's exactly what you needed. It's what loosens the embrace of sleep  and  what stirs you into the day.

Right ,shower off and time to reach for the towel...

SHOCK.   HORROR.

IT'S NOT THERE.

In your sleepy haze you'd forgotten to place it near the door. You stand there bewildered - shivering, soggy and naked in your  freezing rectangular block.

But you've GOT to get that towel.

It is here mankind must face the ultimate test
It is here  mankind summons a courage that resides deep within

It is here Mankind must make

The Icy Dash.

The aim is simple:
The quicker you run, the sooner you'll be warm.

 You have just one option- to make The Icy Dash to the towel.

It is here the cold lunges barbarically at our bodies, the brisk air pinches at our skin, the bitter air howls in our ears.

Like a lone deer on savanna filled with ravenous lions-  we're nothing more than prey.

We dart, with wet hair,quivering bodies and a fatigued mind through the shadows of a sleeping house in utter silence.

 Some falter, stub toes and howl in agony.

Some have perfected it to something Graceful, skillful and laudable.

 No matter what happens, we can all admit The Icy Dash  truly is the

ultimate challenge.

So forget watching the Marathon, the Olympic games or one of those petty triathlons...

It's time to start appreciating true talent

It's time to start watching the human race in it's finest moments of unadulterated , pristine skill.

LET  The Icy Dash  

 RACES COMMENCE!