Exam

I had a Latin mock today, it was ridiculous. It wasn't particularly difficult, except for the questions that I had no idea how to even begin to answer.

You get a bit of a story in Latin then questions about it

Questions like -

"Part A: Why was he arrested?
Answer - Because he beat a man to death for trying to steal his cow."
Part B: Why do you think this was wrong?
Answer - erm... BECAUSE HE BEAT A MAN TO DEATH FOR TRYING TO STEAL HIS COW?!"

"Part A: What does the King call his son?
Answer - 'my son'
Part B: Why does the King call him this?"
Answer - because he is his son."

I left the exam feeling confused and misled. Not a feeling I like very much.

Yesterday I was revising History. I drew a mind map.

If this is what the inside of my mind looks like, it's no wonder I spend so much of my life feeling baffled and a bit lost.

I Write Poems For The Sheep, I'm Sure They Enjoy Them.

Happy National Poetry Day!

I wrote a poem today, it's a bit shit:

I Am Very Bothered

I am very bothered when I thinkof the bad things I have done in my life.

Not least that time when i was 6 

we were by the sea, playing in the surf,

laughing with me,

I grasped your hand, swore never to let go

before sinking my teeth deep into your flesh.

O the chilling scream of a wounded boy

your blood slid over your wrist and down my chin.

Sharp little teeth and an evil grin. Scarred.

An everlasting memory.

I’d be lying if i said sorry

as it gave me such delight 

eyes flooded with your plight

and just that once, the only think you could think of...

was me.

You may have noticed that it is based on my favourite poem by Simon Armitage. When I say "based on", i mean copied.

When i was little, this was my favourite poem:

Missing

Has anybody seen my mouse?

I opened his box for half a minute,

Just to make sure he was really in it,

And while I was looking, he jumped outside!

I tried to catch him, I tried, I tried....

I think he's somewhere about the house.

Has anyone seen my mouse?

Uncle John, have you seen my mouse?

Just a small sort of mouse, a dear little brown one,

He came from the country, he wasn't a town one,

So he'll feel all lonely in a London street;

Why, what could he possibly find to eat?

He must be somewhere. I'll ask Aunt Rose:

Have you seen a mouse with a woffelly nose?

He's just got out...

Hasn't anybody seen my mouse? 

Another favourite is this one: 

It pleased my greatly today when i had the opportunity to say to a year 7 "stop doing that or i'll cut your fucking feet off and while you lay there bleeding i'll use your feet... to kick you in the head." I think i might have scared her.

I Have Fingerprints On My Glasses.

I've been too busy to write a proper blog, instead here's something else i wrote:

Desk

It was my idea to paint my desk white. With retrospect, it probably wasn’t a great idea. I love my desk, not only is an object of great beauty and practicality (my father built it for me several years ago to fit in perfectly with my room and my life), it is my space, the central point of my being. If i am at home, i am sitting at my desk, writing, drawing, listening to music or simply thinking. This constant use has, inevitably, caused it to show it’s age. Beneath the general clutter of books, folders, stationery, tea-cups and make up, the white wood is a little grubbier than ever before. scratches, coloured pencil marks, ink spills and cat paw prints tarnish the once beautiful pure white surface.  Each nail varnish splash and mascara mark hold memories of the parties i spent hours getting ready for, each pencil sharpening and eraser rubbing is the memory of a piece of artwork created and every dent a bitter reminder of my temper being lost. It’s shocking really, when i manage to keep every other corner of my life tidy, organised and streamlined that my desk should look as if it’s been raided by several blindfolded toddlers. Sometimes i attempt to tidy my desk, usually if someone is due to enter my room, i sweep the debris away like an unpleasant secret, it doesn’t last for long though, within minutes of it being clean and empty, objects begin piling up again. If something is lost, the first place you should check is my desk, the chances are it will be there, beneath a pile of papers or next to a discarded slice of carrot cake.

Saturday and Sunday

"Who's that bloody idiot dancing in the paella?"

"Jamie Oliver?"

"Tosser."

I don't actually remember what time my family started drinking on Saturday, it was after my parents had arrived, and after my father and i had been sent into town to place everyone's bets for The Grand National. But i seem to remember them all getting rather drunk. Especially my mother.

I got thrown out of the betting shop so had to sit on a bench outside. That was sad, i thought i might possibly look 18. but i don't. also, it was cold.


My view from the bench -

As i already mentioned, my parents came down to "The West" on Saturday. So did other members of my family but they went hunting then stayed elsewhere. I disagree with hunting, i also disagree with buying a shot gun for my 11 year old cousin. But my family are just like that. According to my cousin "There was a rabbit in one of our traps, then Uncle Bob punched it to death." delightful.

Another thing i learnt that week was that my family don't understand vegetarians. I heard my Grandmother tell one of her sisters "Well, Stephanie's a vegetarian, you know." and her sister replied "Oh well, maybe she'll get over it." *sigh*. They also don't understand what it *means* to be vegetarian - "No, i don't want to eat something that's been swimming round in the juice of a dead animal... No, i know it's not ACTUALLY meat but i still don't want to eat it... NO! i don't want a bacon sandwich instead." For Sunday lunch, i ended up eating two mouthfuls of cauliflower cheese then sitting, looking miserable for the rest of the meal.

Sunday was my Grandmother's birthday. She was 73. YAY! Happy Birthday!

As a tribute to her, here are two of my absolute favourite things she says -

1) Somebody else "shall i put the kettle on?"

My grandmother "no, it wouldn't suit you"

2) on seeing a man whose trousers are slightly too short for him either - "ooh, someone's trousers have had and argument with his shoes" OR "well, his trousers have divorced his ankles and married his knees"

Um... that's it.

Unless you want to look at this picture of me?

Musics

Most mornings i am awake and often out of the house before my dad's alarm goes off, however, this week it's half term so i was still asleep when it went off, i was just a *little* alarmed to discover that it was this:



After a few more hours sleep , i started thinking about one of my favourite scenes from a film, which would be this:



i think that's all i have to say. oh, except that i really like this song now:

http://open.spotify.com/track/7nmArpOotJ431XYlJXI1vy

not something i'd usually listen to but today i took my wee cousin to the cinema (well, he was 11 last week), we were sitting in a rather horrible cafe drinking hot chocolate and talking about life and stuff and that song was playing.

La familia de Hedgehog

My old people have been round this weekend. And some other members of my family who aren't that old.

My old people live in THE WEST. This is a slightly terrifying place where i am forced to spend at least 4 weeks a year.

Slightly off the subject, but here is a fact for you about THE WEST, i once phoned into BCR (bridgwater community radio) to answer a question for a competition and the host laughed at me because of my "posh London accent". Grrr.

Anyhoo, i thought i'd share with you some of the best things my family have said this weekend.

My Grandmother:

on Geoff Lloyd talking about sniffing celebrities: "ooh, what an odd man, is he a little backward?... should he be allowed on the radio?"

on an ancient clothes shop in West Wickham called Marianne: "i bought a cardigan in there in 1942. It smelt of pickle."

on driving past a house in West Wickham: "that was where old Pam used to live, her daughter Helen had triplets. 3 little boys, ugly little bastards they were. She wasn't the best person to have triplets, right strange thing, i once saw her in the bakers wearing blue tights and black shoes... still, she must have been quite fertile..."

on a man walking along on the pavement: "that man thinks he's a bicycle". she didn't elaborate.

My uncle Steve, pointing at the plum tart we had for pudding: "i'll have a slice of the aubergine quiche, oh yes i shall." pointing at the custard, "and i'll have some of that cottage cheese with it too, yes i shall. smashing!" (i think he was doing his impression of Prince Philip)

My Aunt, talking about the new person at work "i don't think she likes me much, i didn't mean to give her a dirty look, she just wasn't what i expected, i'd only seen her sitting down before - she was shorter when she was standing up and her face doesn't look anything like the back of her head."

I also learnt that my great uncle Peter (who i don't think has left THE WEST in the last 20 years" honestly believes that "those fucking Polish job-stealers" go to ASDA after 5:30 on a Thursday evening and get EVERYTHING for free. I don't know why he thinks this, but sometimes he sits in ASDA car park of a Thursday evening looking for "foreign looking people" and shouting at them.

Another thing i learnt was that my very very posh great aunt and uncle, have 6 freezers in their garage where they keep the meat they've bought, because they like to go to the farm and buy a whole cow, a whole sheep and 6 chickens every 2 months and freeze them. WEEIIRD.

My Grandad is the best for saying odd things, my favourite thing that he ever said was last Christmas, my grandparents had bought everyone pyjamas for Christmas, except for my aunt (their daughter-in-law) who they bought knickers for. She opened them, looked at them and said "oh thank you, their just the type that i wear." to which my grandad replied "yes, i know, that's why i chose them". My aunt still insists that was one of the most disturbing moments of her life.

Just before i end this, here's Stephanie fact for you:

There are about 4 members of my family who call me Eel Pie. I'll bake some Dalek biscuits for the first person who can work out why :-)

Egg

I have decided that i'm not going to be an engineer.

To be honest, i decided this years and years ago - i didn't really need to spend two days this week at the Bromley Education Development Centre doing engineering workshops and being talked at by engineers to know this. But whatever - i missed two days of school!

So, we go to this place and sit in a room... we sit, and sit, and sit. The person's car who is supposed to be talking to us, has broken down. I might have been the only person who found this funny, because the type that like engineering don't have a sense of humour. at all. ever.

You might be wondering why i was there when only 10 people from my year went, the other nine being freaks who do extra studying at lunchtime, who go to a maths club at the weekend and who ALWAYS seem to have a bad foot when it comes to PE lessons, oh and my friend Erica (but she was just there for moral support and moaned constantly - because that's what she does).

Well, i will tell you - i didn't want to go!!!! really, honestly i didn't, i am pathetic at engineering (or so i thought...) and i have got consistent 'C's and 'D's in my DT projects since year 7. The thing is, our head of year is a very very nice teacher called Miss Benson who, for some very odd reason seems to volunteer me for everything.

Anyway, where was i? oh yes, sitting in this room. Then after about an hour, this lady comes in. She is wearing what can only be described as a small dead dog, draped around her neck and she seemed genuinely cross with us for being there. After shouting at us about fire escapes for a bit, she gave us sheets of paper with tasks on and left us to get on with it.

Now, i'm going to tell the truth here - i had a lot of fun from here onwards. Our first task was to design an airbag for a car using sandwich bags, elastic bands and paper.

It didn't work but it LOOKED like it would work... and that's what people care about... right? i mean, the airbags in your car, do you KNOW that they work? They look like they would work, so you trust them, you'll probably never use them and until you actually have to, you'll go along perfectly happily putting your life into the hands of something that LOOKS like it would work.

I explained my theory to one of the proper engineer people there. He didn't get it. He just kept asking

"But what about after they've crashed and the airbag didn't work - they'll sue you". My answer was simple:

"No they won't - they'll be dead."

He told me that maybe engineering wasn't the right career choice for me. Then walked away.

Our second task was to create a little house for an egg. Not just any house - one that would protect it when it was dropped from 10 feet. To make this we had, elastic bands, those little bits of polystyrene you get in boxes, 1 piece of card, some newspaper and glue.
This is where the humourless geeks proved themselves to be rubbish at being geeks. They sat, staring blankly at eachother, occasionally saying things like "shall we make a box?".

This was when my first stroke of genius came to me.

Triangles.

Right?

So if i made a triangular based pyramid and put the egg in them padded the corners with newspaper, the egg would be held securely. Then, when we dropped it, if we could get it to land on the tip of the pyramid - the force will go through, the point, up the sides and barely touch the egg at all!

After making this, i stared at the left over material and began thinking about those multi-layered composite material thingies - you know, the ones that really fast cars are made out of?

So i stuck all of these leftover bit together to make like a little puffer-coat for the pyramid.

This involved using a hot glue gun. which made me happy.

Do you know how bad burning polystyrene smells?

Anyway, so we dropped it from 4ft, then 6, then 8 then 10 and the egg survived all of them!! This meant that we won!!!

We Won!

WE WON!!!

apparently it wasn't a competition, but still... WE WON!!

So, now you are asking , why doesn't she want to be an engineer, she's obviously BRILLIANT?

Well, did you know that only 5% of all of the engineers in the world are women?

Did you know that only 15% of all the engineering students in the world are female?

AND, if the amount of female engineers keeps increasing at the rate that it is at the moment, it would take 290 years for the amount of female and male engineers to be equal?

That's not why i don't want to be one though...

I just think it would be really really boring.

What Beautiful Eyebrows!

I had my eyebrows waxed today.

I really don't know why. Now i think about it, it seems like a strange thing to do and a bit of a waste of time. My face is a mess, i have teeth that make me look a bit like a rat, an "overly pointy nose" - to quote a boy that i once fancied, eyes that can't decide what colour they want to be, wonky ears, my glasses are permanently filthy and hair that sticks up at unnatural angles, not to mention my skin-tone that makes me look constantly unwell. I don't mind, and I'm definitely not looking for sympathy - i think it suits my personality and even though i hate being called "cute" at least people don't run away screaming:

"MY EYES! MY EYES! WHAT IS THAT MONSTROSITY!?"

But now, to add to my badly thrown together features, i have very neat and pointy eyebrows. Which is odd. I'm sort of hoping that next time i go out, people will look at me and the first thing they will say is:

"Nice eyebrows!"

not because i like getting compliments - i hate compliments but it would make me laugh. a lot.

Someone who falls over as much as i do just sort of gets used to pain, i don't make a fuss unless something really really hurts. Having your eyebrows waxed really really hurts. Just a warning.

You may be asking yourself "why, if she thinks it's a waste of time, did she get her eyebrows waxed". Or you may not be thinking that, i don't know. Mrs Bodenham, one of the wisest people i know once told me never to make assumptions because they will ALWAYS be wrong. always.

Anyhoo, i got side tracked... Here is why: i was bored.

Honestly, i had absolutely nothing better to be doing, i have spent the last week, waking up at 12ish, then listening to music and staring out of the window for a few hours, going to the gym, doing a bit more staring, then going to bed at about 12.

So this morning, my mother came into my room and said, "Shall we go and play some golf today?" and i said,

"No. because golf is for old people in stupid trousers." I think that might have upset her a bit but she then looked at my face for quite a while, then in a very disapproving way said,

"You're nearly 14, you should do something with your eyebrows." Of course, i did think this was an odd thing to say, but as we've already established, in the land of the weird, my mother is the weirdest.

So, because i thought it might be an interesting experience, i said ok.

It wasn't really an interesting experience. Unless you think a woman with badly died hair and too much fake tan, looming over you with a paint brush is interesting. I didn't, i thought it was boring. Then we went to Iceland and i ran around playing "it" with my dad. That was much more interesting. (and i wonder why my mother despairs of me!?)

The picture is of me - i'm sure you guessed that. It shows me at my tidiest (i was about to go to my grandmother's house) it also demonstrates my dreadful mirror picture taking. Oh well, you're not really that interested, i can tell.