STEADY ON

WOAHHHHHHHHHHHH THERE!

Hi again the few blog readers I have and adore (sucking up to your virtual faces can only help) as you will have noticed I have taken a leave of absence over the summer break, I just needed some space....well in truth I couldn’t really be bothered after working, all day, every day, every hour. Not bitter. And for what? Not frivolous spending that is for sure, my charming landlord has made darn sure of that. That however is beside the point, I don't need my finances to calm down, I don't need my social life to calm down either (not that it's ever that 'crazy').

No, I need university to slow the hell down. Now. Please just stop moving.

I am now in my fourth year, my ‘Masters’ year as I love telling people, officially it's not a proper Master's (10% SHORT OF IT, THAT’S ALL) but what the hell it's still a 'M' on my graduation certificate. I have had now 3 lessons so far and my head is ready to explode. No amount of tea guzzling or biscuit scoffing can save me. I am officially, definitely, one hundred percent crapping my pants.

When the hell did all this work decide to creep up on me and why did it choose to do that so quickly! I haven’t had time to watch all the episodes I’ve missed of ‘The Great British Bake Off’, I haven’t flirted with nearly enough fresher’s: “22 isn’t that much older than you, I promise”. And I haven’t been able to get cracking on my ‘Pasta 2 Go’ bags, which surely imply I’m well into student living which normally happens around week 5. *sigh*.

No. Lesson 4, here we go and hold onto your hats.

Hope everyone else is grasping on a little better than I am, if not I’m on the third floor of the library, weeping, come find me and we'll grieve together.  

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Your Royal Highness.

Your Royal Highness. You are a babe, no you are the babe. Fact.

Like many of you I am sure, I spent the weekend declaring my love for the Queen and all things British. For this weekend, and potentially in some cases this week only, I loved the rain (classic British), I loved tennis (Wimbledon's coming so why not). I also loved polo, red buses, ketchup, beef, Pimm's, Twiggy, The Archers, Eastenders, the colours red, white and blue, foxes, Primark (I have just been told they are in fact Irish, but they can stay as I'm a regular face in our local in Luton so it stays), tea and most of all, I adored The Royal Family. ANYTHING British!

(Short list above so any suggestions, please comment with them and I shall include, unless they are rubbish or I disagree, like Brussels sprouts; they are going no where near the list).

Street Party to welcome Queen Elizabeth in 1952.

Ah yes, the family that we all want to be a part of, every girl out there I am positive wants to be Kate and every boy out there equally wants a bit of ol' Kate.

Mighty fine bit of crumpet. 

Although I fully and whole heatedly admit she is delightful, the woman I want to be is Elizabeth, our Queen and the most wanted Granny 2012 I'd imagine. She is utterly incredible! The effort it must take for her to keep pursing that smile and making small talk is incredible, also to have to put up with Camilla's trout like sneer takes some doing. But she is essentially just a little old lady and look at what she's doing, when I get to that age, all I wish is that I'll have the dentures that let me suck on Caramel Digestives still. That's my aim. Puts her incredible life into perspective.

Doesn't she age well?!

Also, and this act is the most commendable from the whole bank holiday weekend, she had to commission and allow Cheryl to step up on stage and pierce her nations ears, she got out of watching the whole ordeal but knowing what she was doing to her great country must have been a heavy burden on top of everything else she is currently dealing with.

It was just wrong. 

Seriously though, this weekend made me more proud to be British than I have been in such a long time and I felt humbled to be represented by such an incredible woman.

I also ate cupcakes in her tribute. So thank you for that. (Yay, more food!)

Street part from Saturday 2nd 2012. 

Beyond tasty. 

Hope you all had an equally brilliant weekend.
God Save The Queen and all.

A
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I need a clear out.

Oh hello again you lovely blog you.
The place I can rant, rave and repeatedly whine over and over. Hello once more. The avid readers out there (the ones I pay in cake to be avid that is) will notice I have been absent. Yes, I've been doing my good deeds and all that jazz by working at a secondary school on a three week placement (supposed to have another week off but I cannot resist you, you saucy peice of 'literature').

This had got me thinking, life is moving on as I've said before there are a huge number of graduates out there and it's time to grow up. A very adult and proper thing to do. As I grow up I have therefore decide that I too need a clear out, most importantly of the vulgar collection of Primark shoes and handbags I've collected/borrowed and never returned/ ignored because they are that hideous. To clear out is to grow up then? If that's the case what will we all be shifting?

This is not an example of a clear out. Ad it's food. Jolly good.

Po has inner peace. He has cleared out. 

So lets all please aim to have a good sort out and get rid of whatever is the bit of wasted space in our lives. Best of luck!

A 

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"Hi real world"

My university notoriously goes back late so we start again this Monday coming and I am in the gorgeous position of not revising, not guessing what grades I'm going to get, not waiting on a sealed envelope with my future in it because I do drama. Us kids, we're judged on performances, essays and creativity, the rest of you are idiots. Because you have exams. Now I am aware that a lot of people excel in exams and bash out some brilliant stuff, I also know people who cry, take in good luck teddies and end up burning them.  I myself went through this, GCSE's and A-Level's, tough years, so I have done my fair share of sweating and breaking pens in gym halls thank you very much. I also had an invigilator come and stand next to me for a while during a history GCSE. So as well as being stressed I'm also thought of as the ugly kid. A real confidence booster that exam.

It's  not nice.

As hard and tough as this is going to be for an awful lot of people, it's getting tougher.
"Hi real world" - hi job, hi wage packet, hi taxes, hi living back at home, hi stunted social life, hi bloody hi to you.
Eurgh. But first everyone does have the glorious safety of getting themselves a summer job which I think looks slightly less daunting (let's say 'hi' again, I think that worked). Hi summer job, hi flirting with colleagues you won't see again come September, hi easy hours, hi cheap uniform, hi hungover shifts, hi potential cash pay. Looks a lot nicer put like that. By getting a summer job it stops people nagging at you that you're a bum, you aren't so down that you left uni and your independence behind because you'll be busy and you can then blow it all on new clothes for a festival. Bang. It's the baby step in growing up that a lot of people need. And why not, summer jobs equal fun. They also equal a job you probably won't care about and a lot of gritted teeth. But fun, think of the fun.

Classic summer job. 

This works too. Less respectable but less hours you'd imagine. 

YAY for summer jobs then.

Also, I went for dinner with a dear, dear friend a couple of days ago and she however, is well on track. Bitch. In fact I had trouble eating my hawaiian pizza (best flavor, pepperoni is for freaks) she's so on track. She has a job, a car, a charming relationship and a glorious looking future whilst browsing for bits and bobs for a house in the future. WOW.

So there is hope for us, but first there is summer jobs.
A
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I've Found My Calling.

Today it hit me. What I have been waiting for. People say that when you know, you just know and now, I know. I am destined to be a T.V cook/chef.

This should be me. 

I feel stupid for not thinking about it before, it's so obvious. So obvious in fact that I have justified this new career move in 5 steps:

1. I love to cook.
Now I think this is a pretty important step in becoming a T.V chef, hence I have put it at the number 1 spot. Smart thinking I know. In the last 3 years I have developed a new passion for food. By new passion I simply mean that I now care what I put in my stomach. When I first started at university I lived off pasta and ketchup for lunch and dinner for three solid months (worth mentioning that it's not bad as a diet, not healthy and you seem to loss a lot of your taste-buds but you do fit into more size 8's). Next term I stepped it up to chicken kievs and rice (this isn't great for dieting). And finally I changed to just eating sweet potatoes (this isn't great for your bowels). Now I have stepped it up two years later to homemade fish pies, cottage pies, stir fry's, lasagnas, casseroles, curry's, cakes, cupcakes, honeycomb, lemon meringue pies, the divine and I stress 'homemade' list goes on.


2. I do drama.
My degree surely means that I am the perfect candidate. "Sorry, Alice you just smile a bit more when you scoop out the pie mixture". I would nail that smile. In fact forget smiling, I would be able to do any emotion at the drop of a hat. If they needed me to look distressed over a dessert, I'd nail it, if they needed me to then look overwhelmed with an omelet, I'd nail that too. Any look or emotion I could crack out the experience I have from my degree, the ol' LAMDA exams I did (yes I still have the medals) or my experience at NYT (National Youth Theatre. It's a big deal).

I'd 'act' her off the screen.

3. It is my destiny.
I have mentioned before that I am a proud bakers daughter, this surely makes me the perfect candidate. I have the experience, I have the 'know-how' and I have the passion (it's in my blood and all that).

4. I'm fine with OK! magazine tottering round my house.
Privacy is over rated and all that. So, I would let all the magazine's in my house, I'd keep sprucing up the living room so they can feature me again. I'd probably get married a few times so they could keep coming round. Setting my sights high and all.

5. I can wear padded bras.
Nigella is an obvious threat that I'd have, and I would need to match up.. So, I am completely fine at wearing a padded bra, low cut tops and creeping around late at night to have a cheeky lick of yummy food in my underwear/provocative nighties. I will mold myself into her easy peasy, all I need is the money to kit myself out John Lewis and I'll repeat the line "Welcome to Alice's Kitchen' in my lowest. huskiest voice in front of the mirror. Easy.

What a fox.

It is a perfect idea. Plus it's given me a chance to talk about food. Again.
Enjoy your Sunday Lunches!
A

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Holiday..Please.

Today it has stopped raining, albeit for going on fifteen or so minutes but still I am justifying this break in the appalling weather to stop writing my dissertation and drone on about holidays because of the small glimmer of sun up there. I am listening to Jason Mraz so I can't help but think of sun loungers and those drinks with lumps of exotic fruit floating in them, so exotic (I actually tried a pineapple concoction myself once a DIY summer sort of affair and it was truly dreadful, not as easy as those cheese and pineapple sticks..get off food now Alice).

Complete nom. 

Also today I tried to buy a mocha colour jumper. I didn't manage to find a mocha colour, in fact I didn't actually find any jumpers in the shops so this has also confirmed that it must surely be summer, I am sure this is a sign for the summer to come. Not shops just prying on our pathetic need to buy new clothes...the £32 was worth it...

Plus I have just received email confirmation that my 'burnt orange pleated maxi dress' has just been shipped from loveable eBay. It's a summer dress so summer must be coming.

AND THEN I was lucky enough to go browsing through jacuzzi's with my parents. jacuzzi's = summer. 100%.

They are loving it.

So, all of this means that I am now writing the odd 50 words of the ol' essays and then hoping on expedia to check out all the deals and bargains, whilst listening to Carly Rae Jepsen 'Call Me Maybe?'. Tune. Now I have the difficult decisions of where to pick, where to pick that comes below £150 mind, I am a big spender. It sucks that Glastonbury isn't this year as that almost counts as a holiday (I sound like a brat. It's still sunny and I want a holiday so unfortunately I don't really apologize). I am quite tempted with Morocco but my budget is more Manchester at the minute.

Admittedly, this is a pretty bratish blog, but as I know the boyfriend reads it maybe he'll get the hint. If not, I WANT TO GO ON HOLIDAY, THANK YOU.

Please?

Hope you are all well and everyone is looking forward to finishing exams and cracking on with their brilliant summers. Sorry for another summer/weather related post.

Just to add...
Today it is raining again. And it's cold. Looks grey and is  making me feel crap. So, when I got a tweet from my dear friend who lives in Spain moaning about him not being included (which admittedly was a bit silly of me) I thought I could give him and his friend who is also 'loving life out there' a little 'shout out' so to speak:

YOU ARE IN SPAIN. I'M BITTER. FE, FE, FE, FE, GRACIAS. 

I cannot wait for them both to return to Kent and suffer. It's not fair your'e probably both lounging in shorts and I'm wearing thermals. Love you both but today I just resent you. 

A
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Mumps Happened.

Deadlines. My last post was all about them: me tearing my hair out, eating 24-7, consumed with nerves.. yeah I think you all probably got the picture or at least could relate to the horrible image anyway. So, I cam home over a week ago, did my day of shopping, went for a great night out and had my mong sesh with the friends, I was all ready to settle down, crack my knuckles and write something revolutionary. That was the plan (it was, by the way, a stonking plan).

MUMPS HAPPENED.

Mumps? Who the hell gets mumps, toddlers, babies, chubby children who just look in someway a bit cuter with another layer of fat around their face. Not 22 year old's. Not people who have more things to do. And certainly not people who love their food, it just isn't fair!

I do not look as cute as her. 

This past week I have not once looked adorable, or a little bit weak or slightly distressed. I look like a constant fat booth victim, plodding around weighted by my giant face. I am not even wasting the make-up on it to try and look even a little bit better: it'll take to long and use up way to much make up. Chewing has been out of the question, I wailed after I bravely attempted a Pringle, it wasn't a wise move. Also, my Easter Eggs. They are sitting prettily on my windowsill just looking at me, taunting me with there layers of white and milk chocolate and sprinkles (M&S if you were curious).

But, I do now know that I never want to be unemployed: what do people do?! On Jeremy Kyle they seem fine and content with daytime TV..HOW?! What the hell do you all watch?! I can't find anything, I have been scouring Sky Anytime for the past 4 days and apart from Tangled (which is amazing), there is nout.

No. 

Yes, Yes, Yes!

Can't moan too much I guess, I have been spoiled with some beautiful cashmere from Edinburgh, it's a large scarf  by the way, to hide my new cheeks, and my new chin, and even my new swollen ears. Sexy.

Wish me luck getting well, more importantly wish me luck with the packet of Maltesers  I am spying. (Food again, thought I'd stick with tradition).

Sandra Dee. "Please Don't Come Too Close - I've Got The Mumps"
http://www.bobbydarin.com/mumps.html - This by the way, is a play for two people about a girlfriend, boyfriend and mumps. Touching. Really touching...

A
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