Lust, yoga balls and unexpected surprises

Calories: about 500 so far today
Units of alcohol: 3 last night
Cost of a half hour singing lesson: £15!!!
Days left til I have to grow up: 2.5

I am sitting here with a cup of white tea which is supposed to be good for you but it tastes pretty foul.  I've tidied up my various pieces of work and am feeling pretty happy.
Today I had a singing lessons with the somewhat dotty the university has provided me with, and I spent a good while bouncing up and down on one of those yoga balls that looks like a space hopper but without the antennae. It was fun and improved my abdominal muscles even if I was only using it to sing with.  I want one. Maybe they'd help me improve the quality of my sit ups.  I actually did some yesterday and my tummy is aching.  Still, no pain no gain...

Shelley was trying desperately hard not to let out a fanny fart

So by moving on I have to admit I've done something frankly terribly embarrassing even though it started off as a joke.  I signed up to Match.com. And you know what? I feel soooo much better about myself.  Yes, there are loads of disgusting old men perving on me but there are also some genuinely nice guys on there.

1 kitten, 1 brother

Calories: average but I definitely have a bit of tummy chub going on these days :(
Units of alcohol: 5
Scratches/ pin pricks from kitten claws: about 20
Wine glass nearly broken: 1

Last night I thought I was going to be murdered.  By my mother.  The reason was that I turned up on the doorstep with a tabby kitten in my arms.  Her name is Tiger and the reason I took her home is she was about to get run over on a country road like her sisters and mother and auntie.  Now, I couldn't possibly let this little ball of fluff die, could I?  We already have two cats at home called Tilly and Wilfred.  Wilfred is the only gay in the village.  He also thinks he's a dog.  And he dribbles.  But that is beside the point.  Tiger is going to B&B with us until we can persuade my granny to take her on.  And I must say, she has settled in brilliantly.  I don't really want to let her go, it's nice to have a kitten to nap with, but Tilly and Wilfred aren't best pleased and I do feel rather disloyal.
However, my point is that I wasn't murdered.  Obviously.  Because I'm writing this. Mum was strangely fine about it all and has a massive soft spot for Tiger, and I have a new little someone to love rather than the men that wander in and out of my life.

The other thing is my brother.  I. REALLY. DO. NOT. LIKE. HIM.  He's home this week for reading week but finds making my life a misery far more enjoyable.  Lucky Portsmouth and Plymouth are miles and counties apart.  What annoys me most is how everyone who sees him says how much he looks like my dad while my mum goes all watery eyed and says 'I know, I know' whilst looking at him lovingly.  He treats her like shit but I think she can't make herself get properly angry or enforce rules/punishment because she sees dad in him.  GREAT.  I feel like I was swapped at birth/adopted.

Bloody poser. And no, he's not fit. End of. 

 A couple of weeks ago George realised than he could wind me up whilst surreptitiously filming me on his stupid iphone and then posting the result on facebook for the world to see.  I don't see this as very brotherly, especially as one video caught me in one of the biggest rages I have ever been in after he smacked me on my head knocking me to the floor.  Domestic violence EAT YOUR HEART OUT.
This evening he tried to add another video to his collection.   He was being so slyly nasty to me that I told him I don't want him to come home next weekend for my birthday, he told me I couldn't stop him coming it was his home too etc etc etc and then I spotted the little red light flashing.  I asked him to delete the footage, he wouldn't.  Mum wouldn't make him either.  So I did the only thing I could think of: threatened to drop the glass of red wine I was holding all over the new kitchen floor.  And you know, I was so angry that I probably would have.  Luckily Mum realised I was serious and made him delete it. But he's such a sneaky, cunning **** I'll bet you a bottle of JD it'll soon appear on facebook.  Watch this space.

To Plan or not To Plan- that is the question

Cigarettes: 0
Units of alcohol: 7
Back street shinnanigans: 1
Hugs needed: many
Favourite Fire and Stone Pizza: 1/2 Florence 1/2 hoisin duck

I'M BACK.  It's been a while- a couple of months, and I apologise for that but I have been SO BUSY.  Plus my lack of motivation at the moment made me not bother to blog since I'm no longer being marked on it. However, due to high demand particularly from a certain Miss Laney, I shall continue...perhaps it's a form of therapy.

A lot has happened since I last wrote.  Christmas in France which of course involved family feuds, the best new year I've probably had, completing and handing in all my semester 1 work then getting it back, finding a lovely house for 2nd year, starting new units (gotta love fairy tales) setting up an all- female choir The Portsmouth Harbourettes, organising a concert for charity which will take place in April and having a lover I like more than I should.  I have about 10 days left of still being able to kid myself that I'm not a grown up before I turn 21, yet I feel more immature than I ever did at school.

For the first time in my life I have a best friend, someone I can talk to about anything and who is always there for me.  Alice and I do pretty much everything together but our favourite things are singing, cooking and spooning.  But the point of this post is that we are ALWAYS BUSY.  As a result, I'm exhausted and can't remember the last time I sat down to trawl the internet to watch Gossip Girl.  My skin is breaking out through lack of sleep and I can't stay alert or focus on anything.

I've been brought up to plan my day and plan things to look forward to, which makes me feel like I've had a productive day.  I wish I could say I'm doing lots of work, but the fact is, I'm not.  Just the bare essentials.  Don't tell Granny Ann.  I'm just busy doing other things like organising and endless choir rehearsals and... well... just things.  Our guy friends who live below me seem to do absolutely nothing except play on the PS3, watch tv and play the odd game of squash and it annoys them that I plan.  I can't even invite them round for dinner in two days because they can't plan that far ahead.  They take life one hour at a time and are therefore far more relaxed and stress-free than me.  I envy them in some ways.  Perhaps I should take a leaf out of their book.

Aims for next week: sleep, exercise, eat healthily so I can enter proper adult life (cough cough) feeling perky, motivated and ready to enjoy the next stage of life.  That didn't sound gay in the slightest.

Let Downs

Calories: many
Mince pies made: 27
Mince pies eaten: 6
Units of alcohol: 2
Debit cards melted: 1
Number of let downs: 4

Saturday evening did not go to plan.  I went over to my lovely friend Alice's house in the afternoon and we made mince pies from scratch (no ready-made pastry, thank you very much) and got addicted to a particular week's worth of Come Dine With Me. Once of the contestants fell asleep during her dinner party so the other guests had to do the cooking for her.  Not only that but she threw upon eating another contestant's pheasant and cried at the dinner table because the guests liked her starter.  She then promptly went face first into it. This clip is definitely worth watching:

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OH2YrzXiRd4

What a noodle. The contestants all ended up fighting, too. We reckon we could ace that show.

Here's the episode in full in case you have a spare 23.41 minutes.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ldPgLUH6A0

We then spent a good couple of hours watching the X Factor final snuggled on the sofa. What are we going to do for the next few months without it?!
ENTER LET DOWN # 1: We then found out that Alice's date couldn't come to our cosy little evening as he had too much work.  We were not impressed to say the least, especially as he had known about the evening for at least a week.  That's just rude.
ENTER LET DOWN # 2: Caveman turned up, at least, but only for an hour to enjoy Alice's Thai chicken, before buggering off home with a hangover from the previous night.  I haven't heard from him since which is unusual. So I'm giving up. He's not worth wasting time on.  Hope he doesn't read this.  Alice and I ended up snuggling together in bed instead of with our boys but the plus-side to this was that it didn't matter that we woke up looking hideous.
ENTER LET DOWN #3: I woke up with a streaming cold which had been brewing the day before.  Cough-ridden, which is unusual for me, and nose dripping like a burst pipe, I decided the best plan of action would be to go back to halls, shower, gather my work that badly needed doing, and head home.  I felt utterly rotten and realised that I would not be able to do the solo in Portsmouth Cathedral for Once In Royal David's City in Monday's carol service.  I have never done it before, was honoured to have been chosen, and am completely gutted that I'm not going to be able to do it.
ENTER LET DOWN #4: I stepped out of Alice's house and realised one of my car tyres was as flat as a pancake. Panic. I don't know how to change a car tyre, I'm a girl.  Perhaps my mother is right when she says I'm undomesticated.  I should mention I was still wearing my pyjamas.  I could think of no other option than to hail a passing man walking his dog and ask for his help.  He changed my tyre for me, bless him, and refused my offer of home-made mince pies.  Perhaps he thought he'd be poisoned.  But it was so kind of him to help me.  At least there is still some good in this world.

POSH?

Weight: It's been a while since I've been to the gym so no clue
Units of alcohol: 1.5
Subways: 1/2
Awesome flatmates: 2

The main difference between Cardiff and Portsmouth Universities is that here I get called posh and I never was there.  Why is this?  And let's discuss this because it bugs me.  Dictionary.com defines posh as:

1.smart, elegant or fashionable
2.upper-class or genteel


However, people also use this to mean having lots of money and talking in a certain way.  I need to clear a few things up.
Yes, I can dress smartly but so can anyone if they make an effort.
I am anything but fashionable.  I buy clothes from the high-street and have been described as dressing like a granny.
I am so not upper-class.  I am most probably middle-class.  My grandmother could possibly be described as upper-class as she went to finishing school, did a cordon bleu cookery course and was one of the last débutantes to be presented to the Queen.  But that is her, not me.  Yes, she sent me to boarding school but only on a scholarship and I greatly appreciate the opportunities I have had which stem from that.
I don't have lots of money. I'm living a great student life because I get lots of means-tested free money from the government, but that's only because my mum earns peanuts/single parent family.
I don't buy Tesco Value food because most of it is utter shit.  I barely ever buy anything unless it is on offer. I like to buy Lurpak butter but what's wrong with that? I like it.
As for how I speak, I don't talk posh, I speak properly.

*Apparently my brother gets called posh too. His response is 'I'm not posh, I'm privileged.'*
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bn0hFnOGnq4

Whoever said students aren't busy?

Units of alcohol: about 10 spread over 3 days
Calories: lots... GBK you devil
New friends made: 3
Celebrities in the Guard's Chapel: lots
Hairy legs encountered by accident: 2

I have quite a few days to recount as I have become sloppy and I have been pretty busy.

Saturday was a long, cold but memorable day.  After pitching up at my Granny's house to collect my car (and munch on some free crumpets, can't complain...) my lovely friend Alice and I endured a 3 hour rehearsal in sub zero temperatures at St. Mary's Church, Fratton.  The rehearsal was for the University Choir's performance of Mozart's Requiem and Vespers.  Milky Bar Buttons gave us sustenance and the tone-deaf man sitting in front of us gave us giggles.  When the rehearsal was over and we had numb toes and blue fingers, we headed back to Alice's house for freshly baked banana bread and mince pies with a cup of tea.  This is SO not the student life!
The concert itself went pretty well, boosted by a glass of wine in the interval, then we dashed home again to meet Caveman as he was coming over for Lidl's lasagne and spicy wedges. Ah, that seems to be more studenty!  We then snuggled on the sofa watching Basil Fawlty's Best Bits and wetting ourselves with Basil's antics, and of course, the hilarious Emmanuel.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_q4S7lZeik
 Caveman and I then went back to my flat and I realised I hadn't shaved my legs in ages.  Shit.  Why do boys have it so simple?  The most time they have to spend on themselves is shaving their faces, whereas we have to deal with underarms, legs, lady gardens and possibly other areas but I wouldn't know as it doesn't affect me.  Anyway, the legs were swiftly forgotten about. I love it when I guy doesn't give a hoot about these things.

On Sunday I took a rather long drive up to Oxford.  I had lunch with some family friends then we went to the carol service at my old school.  Ah, it evoked such memories and emotions as it was one of my favourite events of the year.  I desperately wanted to join in with the descants in the last verses of the hymns but I restrained myself.  I can't believe it's been nearly 2.5 years since I left.  I really miss it.

Yesterday was a fantastic day, one that I will remember forever. I caught the train up to London as I was singing in the Guard's Chapel in London with the Rodolfus Choir.  This is one of the best youth choirs in the country and I am incredibly proud to be a part of it.  The carol service was in aid of Macmillan Cancer Care and I think tickets were about £75!  There were some readings by rather well-known people such as Geoffrey Palmer and Simon Callow and some songs and carols (YES I COULD DO THE DESCANT THIS TIME!) and then my choir sang Howells' A Spotless Rose and a really fun, jazzy version of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STSq2u6vkqI  I'm afraid I couldn't find a recording of Rudolph which is a shame because it is awesome!
 After the service 4 of us went for a little trek to Covent Garden to GBK- Gourmet Burger Kitchen- for supper. Ah, so delicious and so bad for you! If you haven't ever been I would really recommend it because it's not just bog-standard burgers, they have ones like chicken satay and chicken with camembert and cranberry.  I had the latter and added a bit of bacon to make it that little bit naughtier. The best thing about it is that students get 40% off! What are you waiting for?!
http://www.gbk.co.uk/

Triple Dates

Spots: Loads. Why am I breaking out? I blame exhaustion.
Units of alcohol: 5
Brothers being nasty: 1

It's been a week since I've blogged but I must tell you about the triple date on Thursday.  There were 3 couples including the lovely Caveman and I thought carefully about what I should cook.  I tend to get stressed in the kitchen when there is too much to do at the same time, cooking a roast, for example, so I eventually settled on something I could make in advance: pork and apricot casserole.  I searched for a while to find something to slow-cook it in, and eventually borrowed a Chinese block mate's slow cooked.  What a marvellous invention. All I had to do then was make some couscous and steam some broccoli.  Sorted.  And I must admit, it was PDG (pretty damn good). We had mince pies for pudding and my fridge was also raided for petit filous.
The dates went really well and it looks like we have two more potential couples on the scene.

After supper we went to a flat party for a while then Caveman and I decided to make the most of the snow and go sledging. At 11.30pm.  In negative temperatures.  We must have been mad.  But we took a couple of road signs (no we didn't steal them, they were left over from the snow last year in someone's house) and had a good giggle.  I suck at sledging.  We eventually went home, and, well, that is another story :)  (potential Mr Darcy? Peut-etre!)