I’m 1% time-lord.
A whole month has passed since all of this boring shit happened, but I went to write my blog and I found this UNPOSTED post, and thought, hey let’s sling it out there, and live in the past for a bit.
I’m a bit like a timelord only 100% less exciting and I don’t have a phone box at my beck and call. Anyway, here it be:
I watched some QVC last weekend in Island Magee (This is an
Island OFF the coast of Northern Ireland. There’s not even a pub here. ) Apparently
you can get TWO (that’s right TWO) citrus trees for the bargain price of
£29.99. According to the rather tall woman on the TV, this price is amazing
because (and she checked twice) all garden centres are selling them for around
So there you have it, I visited Father Crothers in N.
Ireland, hence pic numero ONE where you can enjoy a rather frightful trip down memory lane. MY memory lane. If you actually remember any of this pictures being taken you’re either 1. an ex-student of Hellesdon High School, whaddaup yo? or 2. a family member. I think the first option is more likely as my family avoid this blog so they can all live in the blissful ignorance that I don’t waste time by documenting my life publicly.
When I visited my dad, I forgot my curl cream and my
overly bleached hair looks a bit like bad wool. The kind of wool you’d expect
to find on a sheep that wasn’t loved very much by the farmer. Maybe the sheep
was a bit disobedient and the farmer was like, ‘right I’ve had enough of your
shit- sheep you need to go your own way.’ But the sheep couldn’t and it’s wool
got all matted and that’s pretty much my hair.
Another thing that wasn’t as great as expected was my British Airways flight. I got BA to Northern Ireland because I left it to last minute (keep going Jenn this is a truly riveting story) AND on the way there (oh yes) I was given a meal. A hot dinner. A tummy fillah. A moorish treat for my mouth. So obvs I expected the same on the way back. Emiright? No, I was wrong. I was offered a snack. And a tube of milk. Assholes.
This week I have been NOT DRINKING other than a glass of
wine with Emma on Thursday (because she had a job interview with Harrods) and
then lots of booze on Friday because it was Rosie’s birthday (we had dinner at
Blanchette then drinks at The Grump.)
I thought it was a really smart idea to do an all-nighter
and get the night bus to Heathrow. I met this lady on my second bus who had
just been to a blues night and she was buzzing off ‘endorphins’ and I was
buzzing off ‘Martinis’ so we got chatting. She made me cry because she does
loads for the environment and to be honest with you, I do nothing. I recycle
paper at work and that’s about it. We’re all doomed and it’s kind of sad.
Another thing that is sad is that I was flying British Airways on the way over
(I’m quite fancy) and you get a free ‘meal’ and I was so tired I woke up as the
trolley lady just about passed my seat. Fuck you trolley lady.
I can’t talk about certain things that are happening at work
because of NON-DISLOSURE or something LIKE THAT but just so I remember for
future reference NO NO NO well done good work. It will make sense to me in the
future trust me.
Just ate a Starbar. Look at picture no. 3- aren’t I wild? Aren’t I the most bad ass mother lickin’ I HAD NO SOCKS AND MY CONVERSE MAKE MY FEET SWEAT.
I was meant to be having dinner with my mum this evening but
she cancelled on me. What a cow. Nah, I’m kidding she was running late so I
went home and had a reduced microwave meal and a starbar.
I woke up the other night and screamed, ‘I ATE A WHOLE BOX.’
Gina’s super confused and neither of us know what I ate a whole box off.
I haven’t written a poem in a while so here we go:
My favourite chocolate bar
Contains peanuts from afar*
It’s better than a bounty
I’m from Norfolk, which is a county.
*Not factually true.
I’m off TO PARIS on Thursday. I won’t write much about this
adventure because I can’t be bothered and also plus I wanna save all the fun
details for the next blog post.