Woah, back to the Island...

I dont know how well this works, blogging without Ray, but there we are. You're reading it, so it cant be that bad. I just thought you might like to know a little bit about my singing weekend? First of all, it was called Everyone Can Sing, so we were expecting to learn to sing. You know, breathing exercises and such like things. In fact, it was more of a spiritual relaxing retreat thing, which there had been no mention of on the website AT ALL - you know this, you saw the website! I'm going to start at the beginning.

Since I was about 7 (OK so not quite the beginning) I have had an irrational fear of the illiteration name game. I dont really know how it started, but it terrifies me. You've definitely all played the illiteration name game, you have to say your name with an adjective that describes you, that starts with the same letter - Ravishing Rachel, Marvelous Melanie, that sort of thing. Rachel's and Melanie's have no problem with the game! But Jamie's probably do, because there are no flattering adjectives that start with J. None.

So it's our first night, we arrived just as dinner was being served (salad with stilton sauce, dont ask) and after dinner, Sarah, who is the course leader and has had 3 number 1 dance hits in the UK, invited us all into the singing room for a quick introductory session. She made us stand in a circle, and say our names to the group which was easy - I know my own name! But then she asked us to play the illiteraton name game. I couldnt think of anything, except for Jumping, and i wasnt going to say Jumping. But as I was about half way round the circle I had time to think, and I decided I'd say Jealous. I'm not jealous, at all actually, but it's pretty much my only option. Then the lady next to me said Jealous Jeanette. I, er, well, you see, this is what happened. God it's so embarrassing, but I need you to know what I was up against all weekend, because you are my ever supportive friends and you understand and adore me. No citation needed.

I looked at my cousin Megan, and I looked at the group, and the group looked at me in an expectant kind of way, and I looked at the group, and I looked at Sarah, and I looked at Megan, and I said 'er, ja, ja, ja...ma...can?' Jamaican. That is what I came up with. The only adjective starting with J that I could think of on the spot was Jamaican. Jamaican Jess. The group laughed, which was lucky because they could have not laughed, which would have been much worse, and I was Jamaican Jess for the rest of the weekend. A few people down the line, a lady called Jo said Joyful. I thought that I would hate Jo, but actually I liked her very much and now we are friends.

I'll just quickly introduce you to a few others.

Joyful Jo was there as a birthday present from her friend Kinky Katie.

Sparkling Sophie was totally mad, but I totally loved her. She asked if she could marry me, to which I said I supposed she could, and then she said 'great! We'll take the muppets on tour!' and I said 'Yes! Wait, what?' and she laughed.

Plausible Pat was not an interesting woman, but she did wear the Ann Summers nursing uniform as a dress on the second day. Plausible Pat was, I would guess, late 50's.

Spontaneous Steve. God I hated Steve. We were asked why we were there, and I'd said 'well, because my mum brought me' which everyone laughed at again - I'm so pleased to be such a source of amusement to strangers. Steve said 'I had a dream...' I thought 'oh no Steve, there's no coming back from this' '... I dreamed I was singing, on an Island, with lots of people.' You see that I was right about Steve. Fucking knob.

Ambidextrous Andrew was a suprising sort of man. He reminded me of a teddybear, which I've never found endearing in people, I actually find it a bit creepy, but he was perfectly nice, except that he wanted to be everyone's friend, which is annoying. If I was looking for friends, Ambi, I probably wouldnt pick you.

The morning session on Saturday was quite nice really. We sang a few songs in a round, with two or three groups of us singing, and then we sang some other songs, and then we did a bit of improvised dance which was silly, but quite fun. The thing is though that none of the songs we sung had words, they were all very nice sounding African chanty affairs, which means I cant really remember them at all. I'll have a go later, because it is important for you to get the feel of the whole experience, which includes the African chanty affairs.

The afternoon session, on the other hand, was absolute steaming hell. We had to take blankets down with us, which is never a good thing. She made us lie down on the floor under our blankets, all nice and cosy warm, and then I think the idea was meditation but instead, because meditation makes me cry, I had a nice little nap. The problem with napping in public is the snore/dribble risk. I avoided the second, so that's the silver lining. After about an hour, she 'brought us back to the room' by singing a few of her own songs from her new album, which is great and blatant advertising, but I'm not joking, some of the sexiest songs I've ever heard. It almost gave me the horn a little bit. That was all fine, but then she gave us each a pen and some paper and asked us to write a poem, or just some words about how we felt, and then we had to talk about how we'd felt when we were 'under', first in small groups and then as a whole group. My small group discussion was great, it was me, Megan, Jo and Katie, so it was fine. I told them I'd slightly got the horn, they laughed (I'm totally used to it by this point so it's stopped bothering me and I actually quite like it now), and we read our words out. Megan had written that she might buy the CD because she thinks it would make good birthing music (Megan is a student midwife), Jo had written actually quite a good poem about relaxation and soothing-ness, and Katie had written a limerick affair about 'I dont know where my head just went, but I know it was time well spent' or something. I'd written this.

Lovely lovely little nap, in a room full of strangers.

Never done that before.

It's normally only acceptable in airports.

Good fucking God my back hurts though.

Is it time for a cup of tea yet?

They laughed. Which is fine, it wasnt supposed to be serious. I have real trouble taking these things seriously. None of us said anything in the big group discussion, but Jealous Jeanette said 'life is not a question' and Ridiculous Ravi (his words, not mine) said 'the gong speaks without words'. Then we sang a bit more. At one point we had to hold hands and do a big into the middle sort of hokey cokey thing, which I hated and Megan had to go to the toilet and wash her hands straight after. She doesnt like to be touched.

That was pretty much it, to be honest. That evening Megan and I went to the pub with Sophie, Jo and Katie, and had quite a good moment when we persuaded the in house band to sing Sweet Caroline and then the whole pub joined in and we were dancing around and it was great. We watched a bit of Lock Stock when we got back to our hotel room, and now I can say with absolute certainty that it is not a good film. I always knew it wouldnt be!

Or final singing session, on sunday morning, was excruciating. You have to warm up your voice before singing, which is all well and good, but I dont know why we cant just sing scales or something normal. We had to play something called the Gobbledegook Game, which Sarah said was 'such fun, you're all going to love it!' by which I imagine she meant 'this game is utter hell, but I'm going to make you do it anyway because I am in charge here and I am sadistic.' The Gobbledegook Game goes like this. You have a partner (Megan, obviously. Not a chance I'd be doing this with anyone else Sarah, I thought. Norfolk Inchance, if anything.) and you and your partner close your eyes and have a conversation in gobbledegook. Like, I say 'hsjdfsadsgfttyhhj' and Megan replies 'asddjknefcnewiodqhsad gdhjdwd dwu?' and I say some other nonsense, for about a hundred years. Awful. We had to do it like that, then we had to do it pretending we were 90 years old and from a different culture (we were old Chinese men) and then finally as though you were a child from the 'planet of happiness and laughter clouds'. That one was by far the worst, although Sophie loved it. I couldnt, in fact, bring myself to act like a child from the planet of happiness and laughter clouds. Maybe you could, but I couldnt. It's probably because I am closed up emotionally, or something. Not so funny now!

After the hell of the Gobbledegook Game, now that our voices were nice and warmed up, we did a bit of singing which was nice because the songs had words! Huzzah! I was on the 'I wanna die easy' team, because it seemed the most appropriate for my feelings at that point. Not that I was especially bothered about the easy bit. There was a chance to sing solos at the end, but obviously I didnt do one. Steve did, fucking Steve, and it was terrible so I laughed, but only inside my head. Jeanette sang 'Over the Rainbow' actually quite well, but in a slightly annoying way because she had her eyes closed the whole way through, and then when she finished she cried. Jane (I cant remember her adjective, but it was totally appropriate and not mad, despite starting with J) sang a godawful song from one of Elvis' films, and then another one that I hated just as much. The whole thing was nauseating. Sophie sang Summertime, which wasnt so bad.

Eventually, after a quick round of 'what have you got out of this weekend, and what are you going to take away with you' - 'I've really enjoyed it actually, although it was pretty different from what I was expecting. I've definitely gained confidence in my voice and I'd like to find somewhere that I can sing regularly, not just in my car, because it's really fun!' - nobody laughed, which I found ironic because I was clearly joking - it was time to go home.

I love home.

I Wanna Die Easy

I wanna die easy when I die

I wanna die easy when I die

I wanna die easy when I die, shout salvation as I fly

I wanna die easy wen I die.

Wade in the Water

Wade in the water

Wade in the water children

Wade in the water

God's gonna trouble the water

Motherless Child

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child

A long was from home

(Steve thought it was 'marvelous child'. God I hate Steve).

Those three had words. These ones didnt so much, so maybe I'll sing them to you one day.

Tu eh tu eh, barima tu eh eu eh

Tu eh tu eh, barima tu eh tu eh

Ambassado ama do do

Tu eh tu eh, barima tu eh tu eh, barima tu eh tu eh

You see what I was up against? There was also

Sin jin jin jin

Nyemi tan dan zo

Sin jin jin jin

Nyemi tan dan zo

Nyemi tan dan zooooo

Nyemi tan dan zo

Nyemi tan dan zooooo

Nyemi tan dan zo

That's the one we did the improvised dance to.

There were a few others, but I cant remember them. Keep checking back for updates!

Love yous.

A little later on...

I have googled. There actually arent that many!

http://uk.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20070529064157AADM3Rw

A Quick Peep...

Hey Team! Guess what!? I'm back, baby! Actually I'm not, this is a one off catch up episode, rather like the Sex and the City movie but less flashy, less romantic, and much less likely to make me a millionaire. Also probably shorter. It's been, what, 7 months? Jesus, I'm really sorry! Right, 7 months, lets go.

OK I cant do a 7 month catch up in fewer words than the SATC movie, and anyway I have a ferry to catch. Inexplicably, I'm going to the Isle of Wight this afternoon for the weekend. I'm going to learn to sing. It was my mother's idea, and lets be honest, it's probably one of her crazier moments. My aunt and cousin are coming too, so it might actually be quite fun, but definitely mad. We've looked on the website, and now I suppose you can too if you like, hang on...

http://www.thegrangebythesea.com/course_detail.php?id=120&active_page=

Good God it's going to be mad. Still, I do enjoy to dance and create, so huzzah!

Wanna know something really exciting? I am officially a qualified wig maker! How mental is that! Everyone thought I was joking, but in fact, um, I was not. I've actually got to go back to Eastbourne for like, maybe 3 more days to finish my wig off and set it and put it on Nikki. Nikki is the lady who my wig fits on, she is nice. Babs is actually mad, so that's good news, I was right about that. I'll be spending my summer doing work experience at Chichester Festival Theatre on this year's musical, 42nd Street. I'm dead excited about it, and you should all come and watch it because the more popular it is then the better it will be and also the more likely they are to take the company on tour and therefore the more likely I am to get a job! So yeah, go see it.

And, even more exciting than THAT (I know, right!?) Ray is at pilot school! I miss her. But she is happy, and learning to be a pilot. Her uniform is too long, so that's mad, and she has some crazy compass/computer thing to measure all the different types of speed, I think. I could be wrong, but I think that somehow there are 5 types of speed. I can only think of one, which is regular speed, but I dont know. Also, what else has happened to Ray? Ahahahaha, she dropped all her books down the stairs. I dont know if I'm supposed to tell you that, it might be a secret so if it turns out that I'm not supposed to mention, I'll erase this sentence and replace it with this one: Also, what else has happened to Ray? Hmmm, I cant think of anything. I'll call her later and ask for an amusing anecdote to share with the world.

In other news, and very quickly, here's a mega speed hyper intensive crash course in catch up...

I went to the North, I saw Philip Scolfield in London, I got shaken by a German Boy. I put a sandwich in my handbag, found an exercise bike, got 6 points in 6 days. My flip flops broke, I made friends with a street dancer, I sent a postcard to a woman in Russia, who I've never met. Ray passed an exam, and a medical exam, and moved in with an Australian. Mel went to Antigua, and Kirsty went to New York, and in June, Kay, Mel, Cara and I are going to Spain. That really is going to be mad. I voted yesterday, it was exciting as I've never voted before. It made no difference, not that I thought it would. I went to a restaurant called Phish, I didnt give up smoking, I didnt even really try. I have a new friend, her name is Emma.

It's an Oasis song, by the way.

It's been one week since you looked at me...

Well folks, it turns out I'm well on the way to becoming an internet phenomenon and as I'm not one to disappoint, here we go again. This time round though, I'd imagine it's all going to become a lot less interesting, as in fact the Interesting Things are over.

I moved into Maxine's house on monday night, after the fete, as you know. My bedroom is lovely, although for some reason most uncharacteristic of myself, I find it impossible to keep tidy. If anything my unpacking style is less unpacking, more just emptying the suitcase on to the floor. Still, it works. I've had to empty my wash bag in order to keep my kit in it, so there's bottles of shampoo and eye makeup remover strewn about. My kit consists of 4 combs - a man one, a woman one, a 'pin tailed' one and an afro comb calling itself Gripper 360, which I find a bit arrogant, some sectioning clips, and a pair of scissors called Starter 5. I dont know who comes up with these names but they do a great job of making everything sound far more exciting than it really is.

Hair-cutting wise, my first week has gone well. I am now fairly accomplished at one length haircuts, layers and feathering, classic bobs, graduated bobs, and fringes which I feel isnt at all bad in 4 days. I have a plastic head practise model to practise on, who's name changes with surprising regularity. I feel a bit sorry for Eliza, because in order to get her head at the correct angles for various cutting things, I push her around by the nose, and pull her around by the hair. We can only hope that my technique becomes rather more refined when working with real people. Fingers crossed.

My social life isnt what it used to be, which is really saying something because as you all know, my social life has never been what we'd call 'flourishing'. There are 6 other people on the course - 5 girls and a boy - but they're all doing some sort of 9 month affair, and I'm the only 3 weeker. They dont seem to talk to each other very much. 2 of the girls are friends, and another 2 live together so I guess they're pretty close, but there's very little interaction for a group of people who've shared a classroom every day for nearly an entire human gestation period. It's all just a bit odd. They're nice enough, but not especially chatty. To be fair I barely say anything, so I'm just as much to blame for my lack of friends.

All this means that my evenings are a bit long. I finish college at 4, which is amazing, but then I go back to Maxine's and read Jane Eyre all evening. I'm really enjoying Jane, by the way, although it is really quite exhausting. I only took Jane and Pride and Prej, because I knew if I took any 'light reading', I'd never get on to the classics that I've vowed to complete, and I would fail. So I read Jane for a while, spend a couple of hours on the phone to Ray, or Mel or Kay, drink some tea, have some cigarettes, maybe leave a few comedy messages on people's answerphones, see if anything's on telly (Jamie's American Roadtrip - yes mate), and then pop off to bed. It doesnt sound so bad, but it's the same thing every evening and it's not showing any signs of improving. Still, as people keep telling me, and I keep telling myself, it is only for 3 weeks. And there's a 2 week break between weeks 2 and 3, so really, I cant complain. That means that when I go back up tomorrow night, I can be home again in 5 sleeps. Which really isnt bad at all, considering what some people are going through to gain an education.

Megan is going to university tomorrow (Angela Ruskin in Essex, to study Midwifery) which is scary for her I think, but also will be amazing. I have made her a present in the form of a WWLD (what would Lorelai do?) bracelet, which she wears with aplomb and flair. It's very good, actually even if I do say so myself. And Ray is (at this point we must all cross our fingers and say 'I believe in Rayray' in order to make it happen) going to Oxford Aviation Academy, to become a pilot. This is excellent news, although they spend 20 weeks in Arizona so I will miss her a lot. Maybe I'll go to Arizona also, it might be fun. She first has to pass some entrance exams, which I feel she will compete with aplomb and flair, if anything.

Today, in true tradition and spirit of adventure, I dyed Ray's hair, and then I straightened it. The reasons for this are twofold: firstly I need to practise my sectioning skills (because if the sections arent straight, the hair probably wont be) and secondly she needed her hair dying. It's all pretty standard really. She's going out tonight for Matt's birthday celebrations, which will be fun, if a touch on the mad side. Still, Jamie will be there (we all know how I feel about Jamie, yes?) and Fit Nick will be there (we can probably guess how I feel about Fit Nick) and even if all goes wrong, she will have nice straight hair. It went well, the dying, although doing it in sections really did take a long time, and I had to straddle her at some point to aid the washing out process. We pretended she was Renee Zellweger, in order to tame my technique. We suspect that if she was, I may have been fired. I maintain that it's the end result that counts, not the method, but Renee may think she deserves a little less manhandling. We'll see.

I'm not going to Matt's birthday, because in a slightly surprising turn of events, I have to go to a wedding. Not work it you understand, actually go to it. I'm quite sure it will be mad, but Seth and Cheesy are coming, and my dad and stuff so maybe it will all be fine. Sadly I have to work at a wedding tomorrow, and as such have to be up very early in the morning. Although after the last family event, maybe it's best I stay off the Merrydown's for a little while.

Next week we are doing mainly male haircuts, such as the 60's 'mop top' and others. So next weekend, please expect more of the same. Hopefully by next weekend I'll have a friend or two, but no matter. Also, hopefully this week I wont get attacked by a crazed make up artist, intent on giving me high fashion 1930's eyebrows, but you never know.

Celebrities spotted at the UK's premier film studio : none. But Russel Crowe and Cate Blanchett are both around somewhere.

So I say thank you for the music...

Jess and Ray would like to thank:

(in order of appearance, NOT importance)

S Club 7

Homer Simpson

Roehampton University

Charlie Carter

Hannah Montana

Anne Hathaway

Michelle Trachenburg

Kate Winslet

Robin Williams

Adam Sandler

Joan Cusack

Penny Smith

Hilary Duff

Chad Michael Murray

Gracie

Heath Ledger

Adam Rickett

Glebe Surgery

Craig Johnston

carbootjunction.com

Gina DiMarino

Barbie Burrows

Lauren Graham

Alexis Bledel

Mel Liley

Soulja Boy

Steps

Kevin Bacon

Sarah Jessica Parker

Marwell Zoo

Charlie Bishop

Joe Bishop

Matt Jeffrey

Eminem

Buns to Banquets

Zac Efron

Bill Murray

Simmone Howell

Matt Colby

Cara Hildebrand

Joanna Lumley

Jon Howick

Annie Brotherston

Ross Hammond

Graham Turner

Audrey Hepburn

Jake Spicer

Wakehurst Place

Pookie

Chichester Cinema

Tom Carrott

Lesley Weston

Jodie Nicholson

Thomas Harriot

Walter Raleigh

Sussex Downs Planetarium

Megan Jeffrey

Shelley (who got married recently)

The Old House staff

Bill and Bernardine Bishop

Foff Bishop

Hayley Mills

Walt Disney

Prince Charles

Woodland Wilf

Angela Gates

Maxine and Abi Potts

Kay West

Clio Boy

Bad Bad Leroy Brown (bad means good)

William Shakespeare

Jamie Boon

Benji

Will Rydon

Guy Spur

Kirsty Slimming

Jamie Slimming

Charlotte Bronte

And the unsung heros:

Twinings English Breakfast

Flogging Molly

Charlie Harman

Pete Harman

Scar GdC

Thea Voila Dallyn

Matt Pickard

Amy Wooloof

Stevie McGee

The Bluetones

Jack Dawson

ABBA

This is just the beginning.

The Final Countdown

For most of the children of the Parham Parish, West Sussex, the bank holiday Monday at the end of August brings with it a conflict of emotions. On the one hand, the Rackham Fete – an event looked forward to almost as much as Christmas - takes place on this day, bringing with it permission to spend all day in the (hopefully) sun with your mates, playing games and dressing up and eating as many lollies as your amateur gambler’s funding permits you to win (I won one yesterday). On the other hand, one knows, as soon as the scaffolding from which the swings are hung is erected, that summer is over, and the dreaded return to school is just around the corner. Thus the Fete provides a huge conflict of emotions that I’ve felt every year for the last 17. It doesn’t get any less conflicting as you grow up, it just gets more and more pathetic.

It’s been the same way since my grandparents were little. The Rackham Fete is a village tradition nearing it’s 60^th anniversary, and I suspect that very little has changed in that time. For example, the big winners on the competition side of things are, and always will be either Blundens or Rydons, and the people who get the ‘it’s not the winning, it’s the taking part’ certificates are usually Edens and Hardies. There isn’t an actual certificate, but you know what I mean. Incidentally I won the children’s fancy dress twice during the course of my childhood – once I was a fortune teller, and once I was a bride. Sadly, the birth of Jamie Slimming in 1990 took all the fun out of the fancy dress, as it enabled Kirsty’s already superb costumes to be accessorised with a sort of small, matching addition marching along behind her. These cute little double acts blasted away the competition for most of the 90’s but now Kirsty is at uni, so someone else has a chance. I put my money on Lola Hardie, usually.

Upon turning 14, one becomes too old to enter the children’s categories and is forced out into dog-eat-dog world that is adult competition. Gone are the days of edible necklaces, gardens in saucers and animals made out of vegetables (the latter has recently been converted to things made out of vegetables, probably because of the number of children making whales from courgettes, and mice from carrots). Kirsty always won all of these too, incidentally. What can I say, she’s creative!

Yes, the adult categories are quite a culture shock to the 14 year old, riddled as they are with politics and harsh judging. Gone are the days where one could stick some pasta to the outside of an old yoghurt pot, fill it with beans and pass it off as a musical instrument. Now that you’re in with the big boys, the only category really worth entering, and the one that carries the biggest accolade, is the cheese straws. Some people enter their remarkably straight runner beans, or big apples, or strange knobbly cucumbers grown in drain pipes especially for the occasion, and some enter photographs of sunsets, or their dog, but everyone knows that the only category worth entering is the cheese straws. To win brings previously unknown glory, and £1 (the prizes are never very good, it’s all about the glory). My dad enters every year, as does my brother, and my dad’s friends Will and Guy. Will’s last name is Rydon, so I’m afraid the result is always a foregone conclusion, much to the despair of my poor Vati. Yesterday, he entered 4 plates of cheese straws, all under different names. Will and Guy came 1^st and 2^nd respectively, and none of the Swan entries even got highly commended. One of these entries was under the name of Ray Ray McGee.

Ray stayed at my house from Wednesday, until last night when I took her home on the way to London. I am writing this in Maxine’s house, by the way but that’s another story. Since Wednesday, we have watched too many films to remember, drank innumerable cups of tea, been to the beach to throw stones at other stones (try this, it makes sparks in such an exciting way) and attended a party.

Not unlike the Rackham Fete, Benji’s party is tradition. Benji is a cousin of mine who lives close by; a man almost as difficult to explain as Bill. Every Tuesday for 5 months, Cheesy and myself delivered a packet of microwave popcorn to Benji’s house. Under cover of darkness, we would drive up, put the packet under one of the windscreen wipers on his old Postal Service van, and drive away, giggling. Benji loves popcorn, it wasn’t a malicious act, it was, if anything, an act of love. In memory of this, and thinking it was quite time he knew it was us who made these surprising deliveries (I heard many conspiracies batted about by curious family members, which really only made it funnier) I bought a packet of popcorn, and gave it to him, in person, at his party. Turns out Benji doesn’t have a microwave.

The party was excellent. I haven’t been able to attend for the last few years, as it’s always on a day when I have a wedding to do, and I rarely enjoyed it when I could go, to be honest. But this year, accompanied by Ray, and Cheesy, and a positive multitude of cousins, I had an excellent night. The only fly in the ointment is that the next-door neighbour is a terrible, terrible man. For one thing he was disgusting, and for another, he was disgusting. He was wearing a terrible hat, and he stuck his tongue out at us and then apologised. Either stick your tongue out, or don’t, but don’t apologise when you could have simply not done it. Also, he brought Sophie, who called Ray ‘Rhea’ and asked at one point who Malcom X was.

We mustn’t tell my Vati, but I wasn’t entirely hangover free on the morning after this event. In fact memories of singing Snoop Dog songs (do you sing Snoop Dog songs, or do you rap them?) floated back to me throughout the course of Saturday, each one making me cringe a little bit more. I haven’t drunk since.

To be fair, I haven’t really had the chance. On Monday, after the Rackham Fete, I left for London, and my hairdressing course, and I suppose, my next chapter. God I sound like a knob using such an expression, but whatever. I dropped Ray home, after 6 laughter filled days in each other’s company, and set off down the M25, which was, remarkably traffic free considering it was 19:30 on a bank holiday evening.

So that’s it. Jess and Ray’s Interesting Ways to Spend the Lazy Summer Days has officially come to an end. Ironically, now that I spend my days in one of the UK’s most famous film studios, I have much less chance of being offered a movie deal, which is a shame in a way because when I started writing, that’s what I wanted. Now all I really want is to keep writing. I’ve had an incredible summer, and a pretty incredible 18 month gap year period (see, told ya!) and nobody is more surprised than me that it’s all over. It’s weird, life. Yesterday I hurt my foot going down a giant slide, and today I gave a haircut to a terrifying plastic lady, using something called a pin tailed comb and a pair of scissors that cost more than a week’s rent. Yesterday I was surrounded by friends and family, and today I am sitting, totally alone, in the spare bedroom of a woman I hardly know, having spoken very few words all day. Yesterday I had a plan, today, I’m putting that plan into action. The details aren’t all totally worked out in my head yet, and I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as we’d hoped, but it’s happening, and for once, I’m not going to just give up.

Carpe Diem, right?

I finally started reading Jayne Eyre, by the way.

And all the lights that lead us there are blinding...

Nine days ago, I wrote about a series of interesting events. Nine days ago, in the evening, Ray and I sat outside in my garden and watched the Perseids whizz past above us at speeds I cant even begin to imagine. You all know about the Perseids by now, Google even changed their logo for them! I love a logo change. It was amazing. NASA claimed we'd see 60-80 meteors an hour, which isnt exactly what happened, but we did see quite a lot, more than I'd ever seen before anyway. We bought some cider, and sat on the hill, all wrapped up warm with cushions and blankets and hoodies and looked Northwest. I've never seen anything like it. Then Ray was violently sick and we went to bed. I've never seen anything like that either.

That weekend, two exciting things happened. The first was that I got a saturday off work, and the second was the reason for the day off, Ray's 21st birthday. Now she'll tell you that I didnt get her a present, which I suppose is true but it's more that I havent got her a present yet. You see, I'm making it. And when it's finished it is sure to be excellent, it's just I havent exactly started it yet. She has reason to doubt me to be fair - both Ray and Mel are still waiting for their Christmas presents. I said I'd take them to Wicked (the untold story of the witches of Oz) when I could afford to buy the tickets, which I now can BUT we still havent organised it. Mel has a job, Ray broke her ankle, the website is incredibly complicated, you know how it is. It will happen. And the birthday present will be made, and we shall all rejoice. Obviously I'm now on a serious time limit because next Monday, my new life begins. Terrifying, actually.

Ray's birthday party was excellent. I wore stupid stupid shoes which I vowed never to wear again, and then wore two days later. We danced and we played saucy charades, which is an excellent game, made much better by the fact that our team won. We are Ray, Jess and the Charlie's, and we conquer all! A strange boy turned up and then fell asleep in the middle of the room, Pookie gave some champagne to a goat, Cheesy told everyone in sight what legends they were, it was all just excellent. Most people went home, or to bed but the Hardkore Four (Ray, Cheesy, Me and Jamie) stayed up til probably about 4am, and then got no sleep at all because the sun came up at 6am and woke us all up. Ray says I giggle in my sleep, which I think is surely very cute indeed, but Ray says is creepy. I see what she's saying, because if you wake up in the night and there's complete silence all around and then the silence is broken by manic laughter, it would be quite scary. Jamie sleeps on his front. He shouldnt do that. Hopefully he is happy now, I suspect that all he wants in life is a named mention on my blog, so that surely counts! I could tell you something interesting about Jamie, but I wont because to be honest I dont see his name in the title and I feel that I've talked about him quite enough. He went on holiday, and when he came home he checked his Facebook, then his emails, then my blog. He is very sweet.

Now to more recent matters. On Monday, I loaded up my little Micra, picked up Cara, picked up Ray, and set of on a Journey. Oh yes. This journey took us through many counties, over many miles and it was many hours before we reached our destination. We saw a man with a mattress on the roof of his car, and an old woman and a dog in the back, we noted (with interest) that although the Warwickshire county sign says 'Warwickshire - Shakespeare's County', the symbol is a picture of a large bear. Cara saw a dead badger and a dead fox, taking her to 14 points and securing her win of the dead animal game. By the time we got home, Cara had accumulated 20 points - a champion's score. I had a fairly respectable 15, and poor Ray was trailing with 10. After 5 hours, we reached our destination - Old Broadway, Didsbury. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Manchester.

Our friend Kay lives in Manchester. She is at uni there but she has a job up there and things so she tends to stay during the holidays. Kay completes the Five. The most important thing to mention about the drive up, is that we didnt go wrong once. We cruised straight from Sussex to Manchester, no problem at all. We had to stop many many times for Cara to pee, and once or twice for petrol, but we didnt take any accidental detours. Ray and I once drove to Keele University, to visit Mel, and all was going fine until we spotted a large sign bearing the legend 'Welcome to Wales'. We did a swift u-turn, but it added 4 extra hours to the trip.

Manchester is excellent. Have you been there? You must! It's lovely, and big and modern and clean, and Oasis come from there. Kay's flat is excellent too. Have you been there? You must! It's lovely, and tiny and classic Kay. Covered in photos, and pink fluffy things, and trinkets. And a lot of mirrors. We squeezed into it, turned the whole place upside down, covered every spare inch of space in clothes, and makeup, and all the sort of things you would expect a group of girls to have. The food in Manchester is excellent. On our first night, we had probably the best burger I've ever eaten, and for lunch on the second day we went to the Hard Rock Cafe, which I loved because a) our waiter was such a hero (Leroy, we salute you) and b) there was Oasis memorabilia everywhere. I liked that.

Cara works for the Hilton in Brighton, which means that she gets 50% off at Hiltons around the world. The Hilton in Manchester is the tallest building in the city, and the Cloud 23 bar is located on the 23rd floor. We went there and had cocktails. Ray, Kay and Cara all had cosmopolitans, Ryan (Kay's GBF) had a daiquiri, and I had a margarita. I love margarita. It's all I ever want to drink, ever, for the rest of my life. All salty and delicious (ooh err) and truly excellent. Sadly, they dont do them in my local. Or yours, probably. We didnt see any footballers in the Hilton, which is fine I suppose, but it would have been nice. Not that any of us would have recognized any of them actually, so there might have been some there!

We came home on Wednesday, so we only had 2 nights and just one full day in the North, but they were a great 2 nights and one full day. We shopped, we dressed up, we went out, we had wine, we got free busses, we laughed and danced and ate too much, we sat and we saw and we played the wink and kiss game. Cara loves the wink and kiss game, more than sunshine, chili chocolate and shoes.

Sadly, I hate that I have to tell you this but I do, we didnt get home with quite as much ease as we got there. It's my fault, I was dreaming about a sandwich and not paying attention to the M40, which is how we ended up on the M5. We werent off course for very long at all, maybe 40 minutes so that's alright and in that time we drove through, actually through, Stratford Upon Avon - home of the Bard himself. To dilute the mythos of this, we also drove through about 17 speed cameras. It was on this detour that I spotted my lucky badger (or not so lucky, actually) which boosted my score. Most importantly, if we hadnt taken this little deviation from the route, we would never have met Clio Boy.

Clio Boy was excellent. He drove a blue Clio, and for about 100 miles of M40, once we found it again, we played the overtaking game. I play the overtaking game a lot, I find it entertains me on long journeys, but Ray and Cara had never played it before. What makes Clio Boy so special, is he knew I was playing it. He didnt just overtake me every now and then, he understood the game. In fact, he understood the game so well that he'd overtake us on the downhill, so that my turn came on the up. My car doesnt enjoy the up, but what goes up must come down eventually, and soon we'd be ahead again. It's a great game. Sadly, Clio Boy had an exit to take, so we waved goodbye and continued on our way. I wonder if Clio Boy will read this, put two and two together and drop me a line. Now that's a love story for the modern age.

Right, some of us have jobs to get to (I mean you, not me). Laters.

The Dead Animal Game - point structure.

Birds - 1 pt (this is all birds, I dont care if it's an eagle or a sparrow)

Small wild - 2 pts (rabbits, squizzers, etc)

Reptiles - 3pts (a crocodile is a reptile. Sorry)

Domestic - 5pts (this includes dogs, cats, also farm animals such as cows and horses)

Medium wild - 7 pts (badgers and foxes)

Large wild - 10 pts (this usually only counts for deer, but if you play the game in the New Forest you could claim a horse on a technicality. Also camels, if you play in the desert)

Human - 25 pts (automatic win, but it's up to you if you want to claim them or not)

You can not claim the points if you kill the animal yourself.

A Series of Interesting Events

Recently I have been a hellishly shit blogger. I'm sorry about that. The reason for this is that we havent been on any outings or visits or adventures, really since the Pinewood escapade. We have to return to Pinewood in a couple of weeks, to look at a room in the house of a very nice sounding woman called Maxine. Maxine feels I need to look at the room before I agree to rent it, I feel that as she's charging £300 for it, I'd rent a bloody cupboard. Also she's the only woman I've called, and now I like her so much that I'd feel like I was betraying her to call someone else. I must learn not to form such attachments so quickly. As far as staying with Bendy goes, I havent asked her yet, or even really mentioned it. This makes the following text, received just moments ago, slightly bizarre - 'of course u can stay with us whenever/if ever yr Course brings u here x'. Great news, but how does she know!? The possibilities I can think of are as follows - either one of my parents has asked her for me, or she has read the previous blog entry. If the latter, how does she know of the blog in the first place, and what does she think about the description of Bill? It's sweet that she's written 'u' though isnt it. I'll text her back in a minute.

Forgive me, I digress. Since the Pinewood expedition, Ray and I havent done any big trips. We've seen each other most days, so we've done things, just not Big Things. On Friday she came over and we had a barbeque (I refuse to write bbq, I simply refuse) with Dad'n'Ange which was excellent. It started with a sausage and onion course, then a beef kebab course, then a corn on the cob course, and finally a burger course. The benefit of doing barbeques in courses, is that the chef gets to relax and eat with the group. It eliminates the pressure element of outside cooking. I was going to write 'it eliminates the pressure element of outside catering' which I feel is quite a good pun, but I also feel that it's a bit loose as a joke, and it's confusing for the reader, who after that would be likely to get my parents mixed up and nobody wants that. Outside cooking.

Before the barbeque, Ray and I attempted the great outdoors activity of Frisbee. We found a frisbee underneath my car and threw it around a little. It wasnt a very good frisbee, it was cracked for one thing. Probably a result having been ran over a few times I shouldnt wonder. Ray turned out to be an excellent frisbee player, completely un-phased by the rapidly growing hole and the dogs running around barking at it. I wasnt so good. I didnt catch it once, and every time it came in my direction I would find myself running like the wind, only to find that the wind was moving in the opposite direction to me and taking the frisbee with it. I had the sun in my eyes for a while, but I dont count that as an excuse. Eventually Oscar caught the frisbee and sat down with it, happily chewing it into innumerable pieces that will one day put my dear father in a rage by breaking his lawn mover.

Saturday and Sunday I had to work, which is fine, if dull. Sunday weddings always confuse me, because I dont expect them. Thus come Monday morning, I think it's Sunday . This often continues all week. For example I am currently convinced that it's Monday, when in fact I have many items of evidence to suggest that it's Tuesday. Fact of the matter is, yesterday was Monday, and when Ray came round we found ourselves a new dance to learn. This dance, in fact (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QqZORAOGl0s). It is exhausting. I think we did one run through and collapsed. Then we rang Dominoes and ordered pizza. This was bad, but so, so good. I have beef with Dominoes, dear reader. You may remember some time ago, Dominoes ran a TV advert which showed an alien on the moon ordering pizza, and the delivery boy cycling up to the moon in the manner of ET, and delivering the pizza to the hungry alien. The tagline read 'piping hot, delivered anywhere', yet when I rang them to request delivery I was told they dont deliver to my house. 'But, but, you deliver to the moon!' I cried, clearly quite upset by the whole thing. The advert got taken of air soon after that I think, although I doubt it was my influence. So yesterday I rang them, and we had to go and pick it up from Chichester. I tried to play the game on the phone where you fit as many Steps songs into the conversation as possible. My target was 12. I achieved 0. A very poor effort, but she asked such direct questions!

Something odd happened yesterday. I was getting dressed and there was a knock on the door. I answered it, and found a delivery man standing on the step. 'Sign here' he barked at me. I signed, he handed me a box and promptly drove away. The box had my name on it, and my address. Intrigued, I opened the box. Inside was a garden gnome. This is odd for many reasons, most notably that I didnt order a garden gnome. Someone has sent me a garden gnome. He's perfectly sweet, I just dont understand him. He looks like this (http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/images/B00163SGLK/ref=dp_image_0?ie=UTF8&n=11052671&s=outdoors) and if ordered from Amazon, cost £6.84.

When Ray was a child, she and her brother used to watch some mad films. Fern Gully is one, and the Legend of Lochnagar is another. I've never heard of either, although the Legend was written by Prince Charles apparently. Ray has purchased both of these, and soon we shall watch them. Last night however, we watched a film from my childhood - In Search of the Castaways. Basic gist? Hayley Mills and a mad French man trawl the earth looking for her father who's message in a bottle has been found in the stomach of a shark caught by the French Man. They encounter an earthquake, and a serious flood, Hayley's little brother is caught by a Condor. They have to live in a tree, with a leopard, which then gets struck by lightning. Their ship is hijacked by criminals, and they get put into a Maori jail, where they meet Bill Gaye - a complete mentalist who uses a rope made of hair and old pants to help them all escape. Hayley and her brother are reunited with their father and all is well.

Tonight, we plan to sit in my garden and look North East. There hopefully will be a meteor shower to end all meteor showers, and we shall witness it. I dont know about you but I have never seen a meteor shower before, so I am excited.