My beautiful Nana

Unforgettable
That's what you are,
Unforgettable
Tho' near or far.

Like a song of love that clings to me,
How the thought of you does things to me.
Never before
Has someone been more...

Unforgettable
In every way,
And forever more
That's how you'll stay.

That's why, darling, it's incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am
Unforgettable, too.

I don't want to write about how much I miss her and love her because I wouldn't even know where to start. I've said it countless times before and I'll say it again - she was the most beautiful and wonderful Nana a person could wish for. Hands down.

Motor Neurone Disease is an effing horrible evil disease. I urge everyone to have a look at the MNDA website to find out a bit about it. And, if ever you feel the need to donate to a charity, I would suggest the MNDA. They do so much for sufferers and their families - without their support we would have been lost at sea.

Four bars, no credit

'Fours bars, no credit' is a phrase we have decided to apply to my dearest little brother. It was created when we were sat in Cafe Nero in Chichester; I needed to make a phone call but I had no signal. Mum had no signal. Gary had no signal. Callum whipped out his phone and proudly proclaimed... 'I've got four bars mate!... oh...but no credit.' This is his life. Every opportunity is placed at his feet but he has no drive or ambition to actually give a shit. Unless of course it relates to the X-box in which case his 'drive' and ambition' are through the roof.

Now, this morning, I had an Epiphany of sorts and came to realise that this phrase applies to me too but in an entirely different way.

I downloaded the soundtrack of Wicked because I realised that I didn't actually own my own copy! Apart from the one that plays on continuous loop in my brain of course. I sat listening to the songs for about an hour. Pure Bliss. There isn't much else that makes me feel as happy as Wicked. It reminds of being in year 9 at school and bombing around the classroom with Gisu - giving our best performance of every song. Gisu was Elphie and I was Glinda and the rest of the class would scream at us to shut up until their voices were hoarse but we believed that we were fabulous. When we went to see the show in London, our friends came along to humour us. They sat and 'enjoyed' it. Gisu and I on the other hand lived every minute of it. Laughter, tears, shouts of glee, hands clutched to chest, brows furrowed and limbs tensed. Hell, you could have popped us in the front row of the chorus and we wouldn't have looked out of place. What can I say, I love it I love it I love it. It is inexpressible.

Leaping around the kitchen in my pyjamas this morning, I started to believe (as I always do when listening to Wicked) that some day I could very well be on stage playing Glinda. I have the ambition, the passion, the love, the drive. What else could I possibly need??

Ah yes... The talent.

Four bars. And no credit.

Sigh.

Don't let the bedbugs bite.

So tired, so very very tired. Life has become a flurry of running around in my undies, helping elderly ladies to find garters and girdles and god knows what else, feeling unendingly frustrated with the genreal public and wearing the same clothes for one too many days on the trot. Without a good explanation all of this information would cause me to come across as a rather unseemly lass. But fear not, these woes spring from the following: working at M&S (garters, girdles and frustration; explained), taking part in What The Butler Saw (undies; explained) and living between homes (smelly Sian; explained). As much as I love love love spending so much time with the handsome Mr F (who is currently, and slightly unhandsomely, adorned with a 70's pornstar tashe HA) I do miss my own bed. Although, having said that, midnight cuddles are pretty much an irreplaceable pleasure.

So tonight, I am happy to say, my head will sleep soundly on it's own pillow. And tomorrow morning I will wake up on the day of the start of my chuffing birthday morning. What joy.

Tonsi-shite-is (tonsillitis is shite)

It's just a ruddy good thing that I have this bearded angel who listens to me whine and moan and cuddles me and comforts me and generally makes me feel happy despite the fact that I feel as if my body is declaring a mutiny against my brain. Why body, why? Stupid effing tonsils. For those of you who don't know, I officially have the largest tonsils in all of the South. They are mahusive. So, on a general basis they keep germs at bay and they mean that I rarely get properly ill. Tonsils are like nostril hairs in their function of preventing germ attacks don'tcha know! BUT, when they let their guard slip and the germ invasion manages to cross no man's land, then BOY do I get ill. My tonsils are currently so swollen that I geniunely can't eat anything because when I try to swallow the food bounces back up off of the wall of tonsilly swolleness that has been installed. Gross.

Shindig Ahoy!

Well last night was just lovely wasn't it! I had a bloody good time I must admit. Everyone looked extremely gorgeous. Cor Blimey, what a good-looking bunch. Congratulations to Gina and Andrew who both looked spiffing. Their first dance had us all 'awwwing' with vigour. It was just a brilliant night with brilliant people. So naturally, many fantastically fun things occurred! As usual, I got far too drunk and further tarnished my ongoing efforts to make people believe that I am an intelligent and respectable youth, not at all representative of the typical rowdy teenager of today.

Here is some evidence of 'Too much booze' syndrome:

Mr Woodward and I attempted to stun the crowd with our drunken dancing. It was going well until wobbly heels, flailing limbs and head-butting ensued. Chaos.

I proceeded to tell everyone, and I mean everyone, regardless of their desire to hear it, that "My Nana bought me this dress", "My Nana is so fashionable", "I love my Nana", "My Nana is the best Nana". All true by the way.

I fell down the stairs and landed on the Penroses. Legs akimbo and stick-on boobs threatening to come unstuck at any minute. It was highly embarrassing. I can only offer my deepest apologies and blame it on the heels.

I did my 'leaning-back dance'; a sure sign that the inebriation has gone too far. I get to a point of drunkness where I am certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that my limbo-esque move is possibly the most impressive thing happening in today's society.

During one of my many trips to the loo (I prematurely broke the pee barrier) I took a picture of myself in the mirror and laughed at it for a solid minute. Loser.

My departing comment to the lovely Chapmans as they set off on the walk home was "Don't get raped". The concern was genuine despite the flippant delivery.

And finally, stealing a trolley from Lidl and pushing Alice around the car park in the rain was the most fun ever. Drunken Trolley Dash Extravaganza.

I LOVE PARTIES!

S'later alligators.

This morning I've felt the need to be comforted. I've only gone and got the bladdy misery guts haven't I! Sheesh.

I've had to put on my Cuddly Maroon Cashmere Jumper (£4 in the M&S menswear sale. Size XXL). I've had to have Florence singing to me on repeat through itunes (I must become the lion-hearted girl lalalaaaa). I've had to have an epic bowl of cereal consisting of cheerios, special K AND shreddies (two helpings I might add). And I've had to browse the t'interweb, looking at and lusting for pretty dresses that I cannae afford (damn you ASOS.com)

Most of my friends have gone off to Uni now and are currently drinking copious amounts of alcomahol, making lots of brand spanking new friends and generally moving on into the next chapter of life. Despite it being my own decision to take a gap year, I am feeling a little left behind. Sigh. Yes I am silly and selfish and I want to ring them every day just to remind them not to forget about me. We were a good bunch at school and we got on like a blazin' house so I already miss them rather a lot really. This is the main thing that is giving me the misery guts.

Another thing is that I ain't got no monies. Me and 90% of the population of the world eh? Why can't we all just be nice and rich? Oh yeah.. the economy will crash, blah blah blah. Boring political stuff.

The final bullet point on my 'cruddy things list: Last night I had a dream that my brother died. It was possibly the most realistic dream I've ever had. No surreal flying giraffes or roads made of tin foil or anything; just worryingly realistic situations with realistic dialogue and real people. It was absolutely horrific. In my dream I was crying so hard that I couldn't breathe and I was choking and everything. Suddenly I woke up to find that the crying bit wasn't just a dream - my pillow was wet and I was crying like a toddler. Do you know when toddlers cry so much that their faces are wet and they aren't actually making any noise because they can't catch their breath? And it's heartbreaking to watch? That was me last night. For a second I panicked and wondered if Callum really had died, because why else would I be in such a state in the middle of the night? And all I could think about was how I'd had a go at him earlier that evening for not making me some soup! He's at school now and until I see him in the flesh this avo when he gets home, I don't think I'm going to be able to put it out of my mind. Rubbish. And quite creepy.

However, despite all of this whining and on a much happier note, I just received a speldourful text, which made me feel much happier:
"I will wrap your beautiful heart in my big snuggly fleecy blanket of friendship, whether you like it or not."
Cor, she's lovely. Now I am smiling.

Ta-ta.

Last Thursday, the 20th August 2009, was a rather monumental day for me. Not only because I received my A-level results, not merely because 7 years of hard slog have been rewarded, not simply because doors are being opened for me and friends but because (drum roll please) ...I have never been so drunk in my entire life. I think what happened to me that fateful night at Tiger Tiger was really quite hilarious. It is my duty to retell it, perhaps even pass it down through the generations as a warning; alcohol ain't all that. After some thought, I have come to the conclusion that the best way to regale you with my evening of wonder is through the medium of texts. All of the texts reproduced in this blog are 100% genuine and have not been tampered with at all.

To: Tebb
Time: 20:37
75p vodka red bull. Hurry along :) x X

Tebb asked where we were. Excitement builds for an epic night

To: Tebb
Time: 20:48
A booth in the 70s bit x X

To: Rachel
Time: 22:22
Where are you? We love YOU

She replies something about Hanson and glitter balls

To: Rachel
Time: 22:23
That makes no sense. Where are you?

To: Tebb
Time: 23:36
I'm lost I'm lost. I'm in the loos x Xx

This is where it all goes wrong

To: Finch
Time: 00:00
I can't see i modud youn I'm in ve jon in going to be real. Hols me. I def awful. This sucks. I''m sweating. I feel shit.

To: Finch
Time: 00:11
I'm sacred. I haven't drunk that much. I feel freaked out cos I feel so drunk. H've been sat on the toilert floor for an hour

To: Finch
Time: 00:24
Please help me please. I can't leave the toilets. I feel so ill. I do't know wit t do. XXXX

My friends were in the toilets calling my name. I was too drunk to notice

To: Finch
Time: 00:30
Ther's noone here. I'm so ill. i'm on my own. Weher shall I goo? XXX

My knight in shining armour tells me he's coming to save me

To: Finch
Time: 00:38
I'm inma pass ouut. I feel so bad. Where dy I wait? I feel so bad. Help me x X

To: Finch
Time: 00:47
The main door of Tiger? wHEN are you here? I am not in a good wan. I Boo hardly get out. I have jkangok. Boo. I am stuck x X

I return home to Finch's flat only to discover that all my overnight stuff, my clothes for the next day and my bike are still at Fi's house in Havant. I was meant to have gone back to stay at hers. So, on Friday morning, my lovely lovely man had to drive me to Fi's so that I could collect my stuff, get changed and go to rehearsal. I turned up to the rehearsal 20 minutes late because I'd had to stop several times on the way to jump off of my bike and throw up into the bushes. I arrived with a bucket in tow (the morning's car journey proved too much of a daunting prospect without one) and proceeded to chunder 18 times throughout the day, much to the bemusement of my fellow cast members! The afternoon ended with a cheery suggestion from Vincent and Nathan of 'anyone fancy the pub?'