I'll Give You "Lumpy."

Inspired by Sarah and Taz I have decided that I shall resurrect this blog for the purposes of archiving my pointless drivel once again. Hooray! It's been over a month!

I think there's just too much to summarise, to be honest. Bought a bike, shot one an event with over 950 cadets on parade, had a major diplomatic incident, finally got a new phone, had a couple of parties, took my GCSE exams and escaped death no fewer than eight times.

But, summer has begun. And I'm loving it, especially as the others are back at school this week. I'm enjoying lie-ins until 11 ish even more. Then breakfast, a pleasant cycle and the rest of the afternoon to do with what I please. Exxxxcelent, Monty Burns-style.

Wimbledon was good this year, and The World Cup also happened in the time I've been off line. Not much to say, I think! Useless donkeys. In contrast, DI had a successful couple of months, being hard pushed to get a team out a couple of times. And we had our Annual General Meeting, which [rather predictably] quickly became an Annual General Chat. Point is, we're not disbanding. For now.

We've worked so much in the past few weeks that Kenneth has been locked away in his flightcase in the hope that I won't take any more pictures for a little while - let's see how long that lasts! Joseph was so tired at a cricket match we covered, yesterday. Bless him, dead on his feet!

I had a lovely weekend with Dearest Taran. I helped with tech for his annual gymnastics display - which I pointed out was basically glorified dancing and was therefore lured there under false pretences. I spent the rehearsal complaining that I didn't have a desk on which to put our various bits of watered-down sound kit. He was a good girl and found me a desk, and after a quick bit of rewiring we got some Owl City on and had a sandwich.

The show went okay - there was the inevitable cock-up, but that wasn't our fault. If we'd been told the right song, I'd have loaded the right CD. The eyes of every gymnast, every coach and every single member of the audience fell upon me. IT WASN'T MY FAULT OKAY?

Afterwards we de-rigged in record time, bought a new inner-tube for my bike and boarded the lovely 84 back to Broughton. I walked home, fitted the inner-tube, had a swift jam sandwich and headed back to Lutterworth, to Taz's. We'd been invited to the afterparty, and willingly obliged. Change of shirt and we had a lovely evening with Katie and Nick...well I dad, Taz just got abused.

I've pretty much slept since.

Although I did rather enjoy a trip to Leire today, to see Sarah. I murdered the back of my leg on my crank, I may never walk properly again, but it was a very pleasant evening with a well-loved friend who I very nearly lost through my own stupidity. Very nearly spoiled, although I think we're beyond that.

And I've returned to Channel Four showing soft/medium porn in the interest in boosting ratings with the excuse of "Education."

So yeah - I'm back, bitches. Now, to add some more pertinent labels...

"You know you love me"

Bidz x

Not A Busy Week

As I said on Monday night, there was nothing really to make this week particularly stressful. Last week saw the most of it - French exams, Tom's sellout show and the dreaded VT assemblies. I actually got a round of applause from students in Tuesday's assembly, which I thought was uber kind of them...

My Tuesday cycle to Lutterworth plans evaporated in favour of sitting on my arse, although I did have to make a special outing to Leire to comfort one certain young lady who's not having the best of times at the moment. Sadly, Captain decided to call, in search of a phone connection point, and inform me that we're re-designing our command room in the summer. Yet again.

Wednesday I was supposed to go to the dentist, but decided I'd rather do some chemistry as apparently I've got an exam coming up, I don't know if you've heard? Photography course after school was cheered up by Rupert, who thinks that three times of camera supports are a tripod, a monopod...and a rock. Spent an hour or more out with Coddy that evening, who seems to think that cows can talk to each other have accents and maybe cannot understand cows from other parts of the world. Northern idiot.

Thursday I cycled over to South Wigston to meet with the PR people behind the June parade that we're photographing. Katie and Emilia, our guest photographers for the event came with me and we had a short half an hour chatting to a lovely Irish man and a lady who shouted at her phone. Followed by the worst Croft Players singing group meeting in...well, the three weeks of it's existence.

I did stay up till half 2 and watch the general election results. I figured the election is like a cross between Eurovision and Conclave. It's a big song and dance and goes on for so long people lose interest...

Friday panned out like any other Friday, although I don't usually fall asleep at 8pm. It worked out well, though, because the new people that are moving in next door decided to start banging at half nine this morning, annoying gits. Better be decent neighbours, or I'm wacking up the Dolly Parton...

"The day we're born we start to die, don't waste one minute of your life...get to livin'..."