So here we go, first blog...
It's Christmas Eve Eve and like the good girl that I am, I'm doing Uni work, but the lure of searching parody videos on YouTube is becoming too much to resist...so I'm giving into temptation as there is so long I can concentrate on Caryl Churchill's love of dinner parties with the fictional dead.
Monday I finally had the Four Flysketeers around ma hood where being the wild teenage things we are...sang along to Disney soundtracks, Laura demolished a bag of bacon bites, had a good catch up of lovely (and not so lovely) flatmates and I showed them why I should kick Kerry Ellis off the Theatre Royal stage and bellow out 'As Long As He Needs Me' every night. Ahem...
I have been housebound for the past few days, due mainly with the South of England resembling Russia which decided to set in Saturday...whislt I was in town. Let me explain...
The munchkins clad in pale pink that see me as a walking climbing frame were to show their parents all they've learnt from me teaching them to build air snowmen and fly around like Rudolph. However, due to the weather, it was abandoned leaving me to trek through Narnia to town to find all taxi ranks displaying a smug sign saying 'Taxi's will start again when the weather improves..', walking to the buses and would you adam and eve it, they weren't fancying it either. Was half expecting Aslan to come rescue me, but alas no lion, but a phone call to Dad was in order to see if he, my godfather and mum were anywhere near town for me to jump in the car.
I trekked around for an hour, dodging hoodrats with snowballs, muttering obscenities at weird men who like geer at me looking for shelter under the RBS building and sliding around like Jayne Torvill...aged four.
As much as a white blanket turns back the clock for me by fourteen years, it has left me to impersonate a squealing pig when I cough and mornings have left me looking as if I'm auditioning for a remake of 'The Exorcist'. How festive...
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