A perfect Spring day when Winter just seems to melt away...

Mood good.
Wearing pjs. Still, but this post has taken so long that it’s not surprising; I haven’t had chanceto go and get dressed.
Eating/Drinking a chocolate Pop Tart and smooth ornage Tropicana. (No, they don't go together very well.)
Hearing Janis Ian - At Seventeen
Dreamt about something to do with cabbage farming in Guernsey. I can think of better things to do in Guernsey than cabbage farming. Mmmmm… Alex.
Currently reading nowt, atm.
Present MSN name Once in a blue moon I like to pour honey down my pants and fly to Brazil and sit on a log. But only once. In a blue moon
Last text from Meli.
Word of the Day Guernsey.

I suppose for once I do have things in mind in which I’m actually going to write about.

Okay, so it all started on Thursday. It was one of those days when you know that you’re going to die. Thanks to Lawrence Llewelyn-Bowen and co. things weren’t fab. I managed to get through first and second lessons with only a wheatie and a codeine and neither helped. So as I was walking to B block to meet the guys, I came over all faint and popped into the medical room. I asked if I could stay there a bit, and why not? Mrs Dyg seems to like me, and maybe she could appreciate that I was ill, I dunno.

Anyhoo, I sat there and then decided that not only was I feeling faint (and generally in pain) that I also felt sick. Which was pleasant, as you can imagine.

Had to keep going up to the girly loos in C block. Was embarrassing more than anything. There was one door shut when I got there each time (ranging from break to dinner). The second one from the far wall. No one appeared to be in there (no shoes, feet, socks, paws, wheels, prosthetic limbs or other) and that was that.

Things became basically very uncomfortable, and I think if you’re female and above about 12 and below about 51 you’ll understand. It was unbearable, and codeine didn’t work, Mefanamic Acid didn’t work, Paracetamol didn’t work, Ibrupofen didn’t work and the stinkin’ stupid wheatie did nothing (except burn my poor wee tum which its evil hot wheat things) Nothing actually had the chance to work, I guess.

I decided I wanted to go home at about a third of the way through third lesson, my mum was called, except she had to go to an interview for a new job, so I’d just have to wait. That was possibly the worse news I’ve heard since that time when Darla died on that Monday morning and my mum burst into my room and woke me up with, ‘Darla’s dead.’ That was fun, I can tell you.
On an interesting visit to the loos again, I sat on a toilet lid in a cubicle. The door was still shut on the cubicle next to me. A girl walked in (obviously, because it wouldn't be a boy, would it?) and started talking. There must've been a person in the closed cubicle and they started talking about a teacher and then the conversation moved onto who was in the other close cubicle (mine) and they knocked on my door several times, but I didn't answer because it was none of their business and what would they actually learn by them just knowing I was in a toilet cubicle?
They started talking about this 'poor sick girl who kepting coming in every two minutes to be sick and she must've gone home by now. Poor girl.' For some reason I blushed, though there was no reason why as they didn't know it was me and they couldn't even see me. Pah.

I waited, I saw many people come and go. I saw Amy ‘Big Chin’ Grace, bless her, a couple of times before she decided to stay cos Lawrence was being a bit of a bastard to her too.
In fact, many girls had more or less the same kinda thing to greater or lesser degrees and all the wheaties went for a grand day out. For all the good that’d do.

So, while I was dying, and my legs decided to stiffen up, ache and then hurt… a lot, Mrs Dyg had to sort out my English oral group discussion thingy. Obviously I couldn’t do it, and I needed it to be rescheduled. Gingey said it was fine, as long as James and Syd-Seal were okay with it. I didn’t get chance to ask James, but I managed to ask Syd and she more or less said it was fine (although she seemed really pissy with me after that for the next day and whatever… she always seems pissy with me now; I’m not entirely sure what’s up.)

I waited and waited and waited and when I thought I could wait no more, I was told that my mum was gonna come for me, and then I had to wait again for about another half an hour. I spent my time curled up on one of the beds and talking to Amy – she kept me sane…

Then my mum came for me, I hobbled out of school and got driven home where I was promptly ill again and had a bath. Bath didn’t help much. I crawled into bed with all my pills of beauty and read Lord of the Flies which I have come to the conclusion is not a nice book, and listened to Train and Fleetwood Mac and Einaudi.
Then I went to sleep and woke up to hear Julian was downstairs, so I came down to see him and he was a bit insulting about my general appearance (according to my mum, I was a sort of gray-yellow colour) and stuff. Whatever.

I felt more or less okay for a while and I didn’t do much. I watched a DVD that Clemdetta lent me and lolled about in PJs and my dressing gown (as per usual, I s’pose).

I called James at about 4.30pm and asked him about the oral. He said he wasn’t there ‘cos he had an orthodontist appointment and mumbled quite a bit for a minute or two before saying ‘bye’ and hanging up.

And nothing else really happened that day.

Friday was interesting. French was fine, and I had a good time talking to Nay. The sciences were fine, though Chemistry, despite how much I like it, always seems to drag. We made esters. Vekenius and I worked together. Most people’s esters stunk of vinegar. Ours smelt of nothing. Beaky said ours probably was the best smelling one. I think Vekenius was as chuffed as I was (about 20% chuffed).

I had to go and see Gingey in the morning during registration to ask her about what I am to do about my oral, she told me to find someone to do my oral with me, though they would not be marked. I immediately thought of Theo.
I went to formy and asked him. He said he was going to play golf with his buddies straight after school, but he’d get an answer to me by fourth lesson.

It got to fourth lesson and the answer was a yes. It was so sweet of him. I told Gingey in afternoon formy time that Theo would be there after school with me to help out with my oral, she said that was fine.

Fifth lesson was the best. PE. Now, normally I’m not that big on PE, I don’t hate it, but I have found it to be more pointless than anything in the last few months. Though, since now we’re onsite, things have got a lot better: the weather’s good, the sports hall is warm (too hot, in fact, so it’s quite deceiving – you think you’re working out really hard, but in actual fact, the only reason you’re sweating so much and are so hot is because of the heating. Still though, it used to be fer-eeeeeeeeeeeezing, so I can’t moan really. I love the new changing rooms, they’re massive, warm, comfortable. You don’t have to get changed between a chair and someone’s elbow. There are benches. There is no mud. It’s FAB.

Anyhoo, after a brief bitching to (as a class) from Miss Came, eight of us were supposed to go and play rounders, the remaining girls were to play tennis. I voted to play rounders, so orff I went. Though, it turned out we had to play with the boys, and out of all the girls, only Vekenius and myself turned up to the rounders pitch, if you can call it that.

Each of us had to go to a team, so we’d be split. I dived for one time, she dawdled to the other. She was with the Cricket-loving Asian boys, Kahfeel and such. I went for Theo and his mates’ team. We fielded first, I was on third base. I was okay at it, I bet they were grateful for me being as girl several times, because a number of times that ball hit me in an area which would have rendered a guy completely useless… yes... there. Pah. Got hit in the throat too, I think the other team were out to get me.

This one time, when we batted, all of us eventually got bowled out except Theo, who had to keep batting until he was bowled out. He’s a lefty as well as a good batter, so it took some time. Because he’s a lefty, he hits the ball to the right, when all the fielders were on his left. Amusingly, when they finally twigged that they were on the wrong side of the field to retrieve Theo’s batted ball (ooh-er), they all moved to the left side of the field. It was on that time that Theo hit the ball right. I laughed so hard.

All in all, he managed about twelve or so rounders; one after another after another. I was so proud of him. He looked so tired though. I would have hugged him, but he looked like if anyone touched him, he’d collapse and die, and I didn’t want to be responsible for the death of Theodore Tizzard, so I didn’t.

After that, PE ended and we all got changed. I met him up at the English corridor. We got talking and I asked him about the group discussion and what actually happened during them. He reassured me that things would be fine, and briefly explained what I needed to know.

We looked through the folder cabinet and looked at everyone’s marks for their English coursework. Gingey popped in and said that mine was officially the highest in the year, and so needed to be moderated or something and that was partly why this oral exam was so important. She’d need to write lots of notes on it. Then she left and Theo and I carried on looking at marks. He was third in the class. He was really chuffed.
Gingey came back in and told him that sometimes he could be such a sweetheart, but such a pain in the neck at other times. She also told me on numerous occasions that I should be so grateful to Theo. I was. I really was. He looked all embarrassed, bless him.

So we got down to it, Theo started and asked me a very good question about Havisham, I stumbled about my answer and bullshitted most of my later answers. I didn’t think I did that well. Theo kept his game up and asked me good questions, I didn’t know he had it in him.
But needless to say, I got an A* (very surprisingly. No, I’m not being modest. I genuinely thought I did quite badly.) and then Theo and I walked home. We got to Fag Ash Alley, just talking and joking around and then he left. He had told me that he helped me because he knew I’d do the same for him (I would, indeed) and because he WANTED to. I was pleased and surprised.

I went home and raved about him for a while before doing absolutely nothing.

I packed my fencing bag, tested my weapons, looked at the dreadful state of my socks (I need new ones) and I was glad to see that my breeches were spotless again. I went to bed, I slept, later than night. I woke up in the morning, about 8am or so. There was this weird pain across the tops of my legs, like I’d pulled a couple of muscles. I hobbled around and got dressed, dumped my fencing kit in the backseat of the car, and then my dad drove to Warwick.

Now, I was not expecting much of Warwick School, but when I saw it, I was impressed. I’m not sure if that impression was made on me simply because it had a toilet (after needing the loo for about forty mins, a mouldy lamppost may have looked as beautiful), or whether it was genuinely because it was really remarkable.

I signed in with my new BFA card (I lost my old one and had to beg, steal and borrow all I could as well as make bargains with fencing co-ordinators and BFA people, just to get into this competition. Let me tell you, it was SO worth it.)

Got ready, and waited around for aaaaaaaaages before the U17 girls poules sheet was put up. I was on piste 12, in one of the back rooms with one three pistes in. I was glad, cos I hate fighting in the main hall with all the noise and the fencers walking around your piste and stuff. I was with five boys on piste 12. One of them was a really, really blonde guy called Alex Harlow. I mean blonde as in hair, not as in stupid. He didn’t seem stupid at all. He was all curly smiles and blonde hair and well fitting breeches (I wasn’t looking of course!) and he was so sweet and lovely and we talked quite a bit and it was all good. We it came to me fighting him, I’m not entirely sure what happened. I didn’t get a single touché. I was fencing badly anyway in the first poule, but I wasn’t that surprised because I hadn’t fencing in about two months previous to then, so, yeah…
We talked some more, when he tested my epees on the piste, I was on my knees looking up at him (not as dodgy as it sounds) simply because an epee is quite tall when it is facing up and being supported by a knee or leg and one would need to be quite low down just so the other person could reach the top of the blade. We finished up and we didn’t talk again really. He left the room. I wanted to tell him good luck with Hungary (his coach wanted to send him there for training – Alex trains a lot) and try and get his number or his e-mail address. I should have asked before. But he lives in Guernsey, and I was so disappointed it didn’t seem logical to ask while I was talking with him. I regret that now.

Anyhoo, after another really long wait, the U17s girls’ sheet comes back on the wall, and I have a second poule. Just after that, I saw Alice again. She asked me if I was in the U13s poules. I was so insulted. She’s in the U15s, which I didn’t expect, but… U13!? Do I look 11/12?!

I went off to my piste in another back room. Piste 16. It was in this really poncy ‘canteen’ with all these posh painted pictures of every headmaster that had ever lead the school.

Warwick School is a very well funded, slightly pretentious public school. They have about four or five gyms, a swimming pool, school trips to Australia for the rugby team (for example) and many other things. The cricket pitch itself was about as big as about half our school, no kidding. And our school isn’t exactly small.

Most of the kids who came for this competition (which, as I haven’t mentioned at all in this post, was the Warwick Leon Paul Junior Series Epee competition) were also public school kids, most of them bratty annoying kids, even if some of them were my age. Even Alex was a public school kid, although he was really down to earth (let’s face it, I don’t have a bad word to say about him, except why does he have to be 15!? He looks older than that!)

My poule didn’t go awfully bad, and it didn’t go awfully well either. I came across thingy Shaklesbury or whatever her name is and fought her again. I came across her in both my last competitions, though I didn’t fight her in my first one.

I packed up, got changed and I sat out on the wall between the sports hall and the cricket pitch with my shades on, enjoying the sun and the warmth, eating sandwiches and relaxing. I saw Alex briefly.

My dad went inside the hall to go to the loo and then came racing out a few minutes later to tell me that I was in the DEs; the quarter final. I was shocked. I grabbed my bag, raced to she U17 girls’ sheet and saw I was supposed to be on piste 8, in the main hall. I ran up, dumped my bag, apologised profusely for the wait and struggled with all my wires and plastron and jacket, etc. Eventually I was ready, and I was finally attached to the reel, had all my kit on, and was attached to my epee. I saluted to the ref and my opponent and put my mask on. The first few hits were doubles. I got a nice hit from a disengage--circular six parry--beat parry, then a nice fat hit to the upper right hand, I was ahead. Then she just slammed forward and got one smack in the middle of my mask. Mask hits are always bad. You hear lots of ringing and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. One you’re used to fencing and you’re not a beginner anymore, you eventually don’t see the mesh. So when you see the point of an epee coming straight from your eyes, you do flinch and you do expect it to actually hit you and probably kill you. It didn’t kill me, but it was a touché and after she got one to my left thigh, she was in the lead. 5-7. A couple more doubles later, and I was pretty confident. Okay, I wasn’t winning, but I was doing a lot better than I had done in my last DE in the Nottingham Open. I got a single hit to her right shoulder and then she got a couple more hits. Then things started going badly wrong, she faked a septime and I stupidly went into octave. She flicked up to a quarte and then to a tierce where she hit me in the neck. Didn’t hurt too badly, but it gave me a shock. I got my final hit of the bout and she carried on to win. I lost 10-15.
I left. I didn’t see Alex again. I hope I’ll see him again sometime.

My dad drove me home, I listened to Fleetwood Mac on my mp3 player and then about an hour later we pulled up to our drive. The car stopped, my dad got out. I opened my door and turned to get out, except my legs didn’t respond and I was initially worried, before realising that I must have pulled some muscles and plus, I didn’t do some stretches, so I guess it was my own fault.

Initially I enjoyed the strains of muscles, but eventually it meant I couldn’t walk very well and everything hurt. It did so, until I write this. Though I can move better now, so I think things are healing.

Yesterday I went to church. Nothing interesting happened. In the afternoon, I went to a Uganda meeting. I told Gordon about my plan with the toasters. He said it was a good idea. He said that when we go to Kampala we can go and get some toasters and donate them to Lugazi. I was quite pleased and happy for the future of the village of Lugazi. It is indeed a sign of great poverty when one cannot even eat toast.
I also added a bit to one of my poemy-song thingys. One of these days I'll have to show some people my newer stuff so I know the general opinion is on it. Any offers?

And that is about the extent of all the interesting things in my life at the minute. But before I go, I might be going to see Dylan Moran (with C), but I don’t know yet. I’ll keep you guys posted.

I love Dylan Moran. Is it wrong that I’d actually marry him (if he ever asked, which he won’t, because he doesn’t know me, he doesn’t know I exist, he’s about twenty-two years older than me and he only loves his family, Irish hair, fags, booze and French cakes.)

Finally, news on the Green Wing. It’s back, it was crap, but now I like it even better than the first series. Mac and Caroline! I hate Holly with all her little ginger secrets but at the same time she’s fab. If only she weren’t so evil. I preferred her when she was a baby killer. However, she’s not. And I may only love her because she is played by Sally Phillips of the wonderful Smack the Pony. Sigh. I have to get all thee things on DVD. Sigh.