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.

The future's got a million roles for you to choose

I have been debating in my mind whether or not to tell you the following story. I feel I should because a) it is Very Interesting, and thus qualifies as a good blog topic, and b) Ray and I did it together, thus qualifying it as a Jess and Ray's. However, I feel I shouldnt because it's not so much a way to spend a lazy summer day, as it is a important step in my career. I have decided to tell you it mainly because it's all just so exciting and I feel that you, my beloved reader, should get the chance to share in the excitement.

On Wednesday, Ray and I went up to London. Actually, we went up to Staines, which my Vati told us was technically Middlesex, and the local bus stops proclaim to be Surrey. Still, off we went. Our destination? Pinewood Studios, Shepperton. As well as being the studios in which lots of interesting films are filmed (I may have mentioned previously how we love films) it is also home to Brushstrokes school of 'professional make up training in media, fashion and hair'. Brushstrokes is soon to become my home. I am doing their three week intensive hair cutting and styling course, which is a long name for a course, but it leaves no question as to what the course is about. Intensive hair cutting and styling, if anything.

We met a woman called Shelley, who's cousin is a woman called Rebecca, who I work with. It took me a while to warm to Rebecca, in fact on her first day I shouted at her. 'Fucking amateur' I bellowed during main course service. It's an outburst I came to regret almost instantly, as now every time she works, she makes a special effort not to piss me off. My mother once described me as 'emotionally unstable and prone to violence' which I feel is an unfair description, as I am not prone to violence particularly, I just feel that there is no need for gormlessness. My point is, that although it took me a while to warm to Rebecca, I warmed to Shelley instantly. Shelley is a Wonderful Woman. She also has the power to make or break my career, so to not like her would be churlish.

Shelley is one of the lecturers at Brushstrokes, and the reason we met with her was to have a little tour and a chat, and a sort of informal interview. I borrowed another dress from Megan for the occasion - blue, and so nice that I want to buy it. Maybe I will. Shelley, until recently, was the head wig mistress on Phantom of the Opera, making her a very good person to know. Those of you who have read my profile will have learned that I want to be a wig maker. She said that if she was going to employ a wig person, she would always be more likely to hire someone who could cut hair also. Babs doesnt agree, but Babs doesnt work on Phantom of the Opera. Shelley agreed with Gina in that Babs is an excellent wig maker and wig making teacher. I cant wait to meet Babs.

This is my plan. I will do two weeks of the intensive, hopefully staying in Shepperton with a nice family who want to lend me a bedroom. I shall then do two weeks of work experience, fingers crossed for Phantom because good God how cool would that be!? But if not, then something else. With a bit of luck I'll be able to stay with Bendy (my dad's mum) during work experience time, because she lives in Camden which is closer to the West End. The only fly in the ointment of living with Bendy, is that to live with Bendy I must also live with Bill (Bendy's husband). Words cannot describe Bill, and my amateur writer's brain could not begin to do justice to his madness . Bill is an exceptionally nice man, really exceptionally nice, but he is so impossibly intelligent that normal conversation sends him to sleep. After work experience time, hopefully my nice family will lend me their spare room again and I'll do the final week of the intensive.

Here is where the serious work experience comes in. Shelley is going to do her best to hook me up on various shows and films, and I shall experience work until Christmas, when I shall go away on a mad family trip. Megan and I shall sit in matching Stars Hollow jumpers, both with excellent hair (courtesy of my newly learned talent), drinking tea and watching films starring people from Gilmore Girls. Megan is the only person I know, except Ray, who shares my passion for Gilmore Girls. Sadly, however good I become in the world of wigs, I shall never be able to work on a Gilmore Girls movie, because Lauren Graham doesnt want to do it. Hellish Lauren Graham.

In February, I shall go to college with Babs in Eastbourne and learn how to make the wigs, and measure the heads, and all the technical specialist wig information. Shelley thinks I should swing in London at this point (not car keys in a bowl sort of swinging, luckily for us all, but the sort of swinging where you make yourself very available during the evenings, and maybe swing a couple of shows a week) and although I think this is an excellent idea, I feel it shall be very tiring. However, according to Shelley, who might as well be the Oracle I've quoted her so much, once you've been swinging for a year you are likely to get offered a full time position. Which would be excellent.

After our time with Shelley, which we both enjoyed very much, we went for a cup of tea in one of the cafes in the studio. This cafe was great for so many reasons. First of all it was absolutely beautiful, secondly, the biggest cup of tea I've ever been presented with only cost me £1, and to top it all off, the woman serving the tea was the most enthusiastic person I've ever experienced. I think I shall have tea there often.

In other news, at today's wedding the entire wedding party (bride, groom, bridesmaids, ushers) did a dance to Footloose. You can imagine how great that was.

Stars in Their Eyes

I didnt blog yesterday, which was remiss of me because yesterday was good. Yesterday was Very Interesting. We went to a lecture at Sussex Downs Planetarium in Chichester entitled

"Thomas Harriot - Elizabethan Genius Moon Observer."

We sat on the front row in the lecture and I, in the interest of blogging, made notes. This is definitely the geekiest thing I've ever done, but Ray can probably top it. I once got thrown out of a lecture for eating a lime. I am not good in such situations. Today when I signed in to write this blog, I was told that I have a follower. A follower, ladies and gentlemen. I think you can imagine that this is very exciting indeed. It is for the follower, and the readers, and the 5-times-that-I-know-of favouritees, that I made these notes.

Thomas Harriot was a hero.

Thomas Harriot was hot, for one thing. He had a sexy pointy beard and looked a bit like an Elizabethan Bruce Willis. He wasnt as hot as Walter Raleigh, but he didnt get executed either so that evens it out. In 1580, Thomas Harriot graduated Oxford with a first class degree in Mathmatics. This is incredibly impressive, especially to those of us who scraped a C at GCSE. Even more impressive, check this out, he was regarded as the best mathematician in Europe. He became great pals with Walter Raleigh. I imagine that they called each other Tom and Walt, and they lived together at Durham House, on the Strand. Walt, as we know, was an explorer. He was mates with the Queen, and she liked to send him on little missions to the New World to look about. An excellent job, explorer. It is a shame that there arent any left, I would be a good explorer, except that I have really bad hay fever and also I am allergic to peaches.

Anyway, Walt noticed that sadly the British were not very good navigators, so on one of his trips he took his good friend Tom along to help out. By this time, Tom had basically figured out atomic stacking, so he was clearly a force to be reckoned with when it came to science. This trip was a Journey Of Discovery. They left Plymouth on April 9th 1585 in a convoy of ships lead by the HMS Tiger, with Tom at the helm. The Atlantic Ocean proved no problem at all for Tom, and soon enough the whole team arrived in the New World.

They landed on Roanoke Island, in Virginia. While he was there, Tom learned the language of the local Algonquian Tribe, and taught them English. He became great friends with the chief of the tribe, and would often hang around smoking with him. Tom made many notes about Virginia, and drew a very detailed map of the area (the original of which the Americans have just purchased for something like $3,000,000) and when he returned home he wrote the book 'A Brief and True Report of the New Found Land of Virginia'. Many of his notes were thrown overboard on the voyage home, so he wrote the entire thing from memory. Impressive.

Sadly for Tom, Walt got put in the Tower of London soon after that, so he had to leave Durham House and move into Syon House with the 9th Earl of Northumberland. The 9th Earl of Northumberland was known as the Wizard Earl, which I rather enjoy. Tom started to look at the moon, and the sun, and to record the things he saw. A man called Chris Tooke also helped with this, which must have been nice. At this point in my notes, I have written 'scientific orgies'. Heaven help us.

It was a shame for the 9th Earl of Northumberland that his cousin was a man called Tom Percy. Tom Percy was very involved in the Gunpowder Plot, and as a result of the investigation following the Plot, our friend the Wizard got taken to the Tower of London. He left Thomas Harriot in charge of his estate, and continued to fund his research into the moon and things. Tom visited both Walt and the Wizard while they were imprisoned. Incidentally, I think Walt and the Wizard could certainly have a hit single, so if anyone is looking for a band name...

In 1607, Tom saw a comet. This was definitely exciting for him. Two years later, on June 26th 1609, at 21:00 GMT, Tom drew the first ever drawing of the moon through a telescope. This was 4 months earlier than Galileo drew his moon, so in your face Italy.

Although Tom was asked many times to publish his findings, he never did. And so in 1621, when Thomas Harriot died of cancer of the nose, he left all his papers to the Wizard, who was released from the Tower two weeks later and moved to Petworth House, West Sussex.

Mega.

If Troy can tell his secret then I can tell mine.

Yesterday was the first day it's been properly sunny in ages. The Met Office said it'd be beach barbeques all summer, but it turns out the Met Office lied. Hellish Met Office. So yesterday when Ray came round, looking for an Interesting Thing to do, we decided to bake fairy cakes.

Slez is a caterer so we popped to her office kitchen affair and collected the ingredients we needed in little bags, it was like doing FT at school. I was great at FT, but I very much hated it. Once we had to make Cauliflower Cheese and I did what Slez said and left my cauliflower whole, but everybody else cut their's up and Jody Nicholson was really horrible to me about it, she was like 'who's is THAT?' and I was like 'mine' - trying to be defiant, bless. It totally didnt come off - and she was like 'why havent you cut it up like everybody else?' and I didnt really have an answer, because you cant tell Jody Nicholson that you're just doing what your mummy told you. So I didnt say anything. It was just awful. Tasted good though.

Anyway, back to fairy cakes. We went to Tessy also, to buy decorative things such as those orange and lemon slices that I love so much, and Ray bought some plums for Pookie.

As I preheated the oven (to 190°C) and Ray started whipping the butter and sugar together until they formed a smooth paste, I realised that we hadnt bought any cake cases. A rummage through the kitchen draws came up with 9 cake cases, all completely flat and covered in cobwebs. Still, needs must. Tom Carrott arrived soon after that, which was a bit embarrassing for all concerned because he didnt realise we were there when he started barking at the dogs, and we didnt realise he was there as we sang Total Eclipse of the Heart. Tom Carrott suggested chocolate chips in the cake mix - an excellent suggestion.

In all, we made 9 regular sized fairy cakes, and 10 tiny tiny little ones. They were excellent. Just the right colour, and bouncy like sponge is supposed to be, and they came out of the tin thing with such ease. The only fly in the ointment actually, was that I fucked up the icing and it was far too runny, and Ray poured icing sugar all over the floor and her feet and the cat. I love icing sugar, because it makes the air taste nice.

We put the cakes in the fridge for the icing to set, balancing precariously on top of the beer and

crossed our fingers that a) they didnt get eaten before we got back from walking the chines, and b)

nothing fell on them and squashed them to oblivion. Luckily neither of these things occurred and

when we got back from our little walk, we had a cup of tea and a cake. It was very civilized.

Ray won the Interesting Things That You See On A Walk game, with the superb spot of a little wigwam made out of branches. We went in it and sat down, and then Douglas came in and we feared that his tail would knock it down so we went out again. I was annoyed with myself really, because how thick do you have to be not to spot a wigwam!? Especially as it actually turned out to be three wigwams, all in a line, making the answer 'very thick indeed'.

Later I went to the cinema with Mel. We watched the Taking of Pelham 123, which I think is an annoying name for a film, but we very much enjoyed it. Not as many people died as I thought were going to, which was nice because I hate it when people die for no reason.

Later today, we are going to a lecture on Elizabethan Astrology. But first I have to get up.

Oh I believe, in yesterday...

To the bees!

Ray's mum is called Pookie. Pookie is a very talented botanical artist, and do you know what very talented botanical artists have? Year passes to Wakehurst Place, that's what. Wakehurst Place (http://www.kew.org/visitor/visitwp.html) is very pretty. It's part of Kew Gardens, but instead of being in Hellish London (where the vermin of the world live) it is near Haywards Heath (the heart of mid-Sussex). Great news!

It wasnt the nicest of days to walk around a garden, however beautiful and interesting the garden is. Still, we took a brisk walk around, looking for a particular flower that Pookie wanted us to photograph, so that she could paint it. We didnt find the flower, because we forgot what it was and the one we found that could have been it didnt have a handy information sign anywhere near it. Annoying, but fine. We really did look though, poking around under unidentifiable bushes in the pouring drizzle, but we could not see.

Soon after this, I fucked up. There was a big sign when we arrived, informing us that there was a bee keeping show and tell thing going on at 2:30, which is obviously a very interesting and good thing to see, so we decided to. Sadly, I was convinced that the very interesting bee keeping show and tell thing was at 1:30, and we arrived an hour early.

We had a cup of tea. Ray had some cake and I enjoyed a scone. All excellent things, and then we looked around the Millennium Seed Bank for far longer than I think you really need to, and then we sat, and got chased around by an enormous spider. We suspect the spider was brought in with some seeds and is technically an illegal immigrant, but so long as it doesnt bite and kill anyone, all is well.

Eventually the very interesting bee keeping show and tell thing began, and somehow we managed to be late. We were outside, it was inside, there were people milling everywhere, we ended up at the back. Same old story! The long and the short of it is that the very interesting bee keeping show and tell thing turned out to be very uninteresting, and completely devoid of bees. There was an exceptionally dull man who scraped honey off boards (quite interesting for 14 seconds) in complete silence, for 40 minutes. We left.

To the bar!

Our friend Gina used to go out with a boy called Jake, who is now doing very well as an artist. Sadly, Gina broke up with Jake to go out with Colby. Gina and Colby went out for a little while, and then broke up. Last night was Colby's birthday celebrations, and a group of us - not including Gina because she lives in Wales now, but including Ray, myself and our friend Cara (who is mad) - went to Brighton.

Last night was Pride night.

Brighton was packed. We started in Spoons - classic, and moved on to a club called Digital. I'm not actually allowed in Spoons because I once threw up in a pitcher after downing a dirty pint in a toast to Graham Turner, and got barred. Graham Turner has an excellent bottom. I wore a dress that I borrowed from my cousin Megan, and some very silly, yet very beautiful shoes. I also has a bit of an incident with the glitter and ended up looking like a disco ball. It's ok though, because someone told me I was beautiful, so that was nice. Cara and I encountered a mad girl in the toilet. She was dancing up against the sink and as I came out of the cubicle she hugged me. I was surprised, but not displeased I suppose. She told us that her ex boyfriend used to beat her up, and that she used to be a stripper. Cara repeatedly told her to love herself (Cara is a repeater). I interjected with comments like 'yeah girl' and 'shake it sister', I dont know why. Annie went in the toilet 15 minutes later and met the same girl, and had the same conversation. She was certainly mad.

Ray and I debuted the Hoedown Throwdown, which impressed everyone far more than I expected it to. We also did a dance that a wrestler does, but that's fine, wrestlers are dancers too. Cara told me that she fancies Joanna Lumley, which was a surprise to me and will probably come as a surprise to her boyfriend. Apparently Joanna says 'hello' and Cara comes over all tingly. Colby's friend Simon turned out to be quite a good dancer, and quite a lot of people got their faces painted. As far as hook-ups go, I dont think there were any, which isnt very interesting, gossip wise. Fun night though.

The taxi back to Ray's house cost us £22, which was truly excellent as we'd expected to have to pay at least £40. Cara did not stop talking the entire journey home, which was exhausting for me and Ray, but the taxi driver loved it. He used to work in Chichester, but now he doesnt.

In other news, I have been favourited 5 times that I know of, which is incredibly exciting. Also I finished reading After the Break, by GMTV's Penny Smith - it was good but the ending didnt seem complete enough. I have also decided on the names of my future children after reading Everything Beautiful, by Simmone Howell, which I thought was very good indeed.

Today, in true exhausted/hungover style, Ray and I watched:

Chasing Liberty

The Little Mermaid

High School Musical

Groundhog Day

Hairspray.

The Devil wears a Golden Hairband.

It's friday morning. I went to work yesterday and in a little while I have to go to work again. Last night a man danced a bit extravagantly and smashed his face up, and there was blood everywhere. All over the floor, all over the poor lady he danced into, all over the sink. Then a man with the whitest teeth I've ever experienced came in, and cleaned him up. I'm fully expecting to see white-teeth-man at Pride tomorrow night, if you know what I mean. We're going to Pride tomorrow night. It's our friend's birthday, so we have to. It will be mad. Anyway, Pride is another thing. Today I want to tell you about the zoo.

On Wednesday, Ray, Cheesy and I went to Marwell Zoo. Cheesy is my smallest brother, he is great and I love him. Ray stayed over on Tuesday night, and on Wednesday morning at 8am (!) I woke her up with a cup of tea and we sat and watched the final episode of Gilmore Girls together. It was the definition of emotional. I cried like a baby, and I'm still not over it. Then we had breakfast with my Vati, who makes the best eggs ever, and then, eventually, after dropping Seth off at work, we were on our way to Marwell. Straight down the M27, in case you're interested. We had to stop on the way to pump my tires up and buy 'caffeine in many forms'. Then we had to stop again because the car had developed a worrying slant.

It turns out that after the exit off the M27 (is 'exit off' a tautology? Ray will know) there is a much longer drive than you're expecting. It says it's only 8 miles, but it's really far longer than that. You could literally Lose Yourself (that's a joke specifically for Eminem fans) on the way. But we found it, and we parked in a mad car park without an entrance, and we went to the zoo.

The thing about Marwell is, it doesnt have lions or elephants. Thus making it a slightly disappointing zoo. It does however have a fine collection of penguins with a nice underwater viewing bit, and a nice lot of monkeys. Specifically Golden Lion Tamarin Monkeys, which are my absolute fave. When I was little I had a book about a dog who saved some Golden Lion Tamarin Monkeys, and I loved it. We saw some playing with each other in a cute way. Marwell's crowning feature is the fact that it has a Snow Leopard. Snow leopards are incredibly rare, there are only 5,000 left in the world or something ridiculous like that. It makes me sad, because they are very pretty. It was raining, so not unlike their domestic cousins, all the cats were sleeping. As well as the snow leopard, we saw regular leopards, and tigers. Fuck me tigers are huge. One paw is about the size of my face. It'd kill ya without even trying. Amazing. I enjoy cats, they're just so chilled out. Chillaxin' and maxin' and shootin' some B-ball, if anything.

The bat enclosure was terrifying, because it was very dark and very full of bats. All flapping around a bit too close to comfort. There was a bat in my living room once, when Mel and I were watching Britain's Got Talent. We screamed and ran away, and I threw some cats at it. Not very friendly, but they chased it outside. Also Ray and I encountered a maybug in my room on Tuesday and nearly had simultaneous heart attacks.

Cheesy's favourite bit about the zoo was the rhinos. The horn of a rhino is made entirely out of hair, did you know that? The rhinos were very big, which is an understatement of the highest order. Ray enjoyed the giraffes most, although they smelled a bit funky. There was a baby one which was exciting. I think being a giraffe might be rather fun. You could look down on things and say 'ahhaha, in your face small thing, I beat you all in the tallness game' and that would be good because as we all know, the tallness game is a very important one. Ray is the average height of a British man (5"9) and I am the average height of a small bear (5"4). Cheesy is not the average height of anything. He is practically giant man, although he isnt as tall as Seth (my other brother) and Seth isnt as tall as Mattmatt (my tallest cousin) who is 6"7 or something mad. He plays basketball.

The zoo website (http://www.marwell.org.uk/) recommends 4-5 hours for your visit. We did it in 3. It was raining, Ray's ankle was giving her gip and I was wearing flipflops. We bought a present for Mel (I cant tell you what it is, because I havent given it to her yet) and also a post card for Kay. And some truly disgusting tea which isnt even worth mentioning, and then we went home.

I say 'went home', what we actually did is become totally aspated by attempting to cut off the extraordinary amount of driving necessary to get back to the M27, and somehow ended up on the M3. Charging towards the M25, which we arrived on in rush hour. It took us just over an hour to get to the zoo, and it took us nearly 3 hours to get home. The moral of this story, kids, is never try to cheat the system.

Pop it Lock it Polka Dot it

Exercise! A great thing! But, hellish and boring and totally, totally exhausting. The gym poses a problem for the everyday singleton - it's a place to meet attractive men, but also a place to be seen by attractive men looking bright purple and sweating like a pig on heat. This is why I do not attend the gym.

What I do enjoy however, is dancing. I dont mean club-type dancing which I really really hate, but dance routines. And a place I am unlikely to bump into attractive men, is my living room. Actually my brothers do have some quite attractive friends, but my brothers are never in. This is why today, Ray and I did some dancing.

Predictably, it began with a film. Footloose. Kevin Bacon liberates small town America with his big city attitude and funny little car. All pretty basic - town council has banned music and dancing, Kevin rebels against the system and takes the youth of the town with him. Eventually the town council relents and the youth celebrate with a Senior Prom, at which they have a bit of a dance-off and you suspect they've all been secretly practicing for this moment their entire lives. Kevin gets the girl and they boogie the night away. Sarah Jessica Parker is in it also and (one for the game) the man who plays the baddie in Beethoven 2nd.

Anywho, the point is that this film got us dancing. Everyone knows the classics, you know, the Macarena and Saturday Night and 5,6,7,8, and that's fine. But better, is the Hoedown Throwdown from the Hannah Montana Movie. Excellent.

Pop it lock it polka dot it

Countrify and hip hop it

Put your hawk in the sky, move side to side

Jump to the left, stick it, glide.

Zig zag across the floor, shuffle in diagonal

When the drum hits, hands on your hips, one footed 180 twist.

Zig zag, step slide, lean it left, clap (three times)

Shake it out head to toe, throw it all together that's how we roll.

After a lot of practice, using a YouTube video specially designed for the learning of this dance (which was already on my Favourites, I'm sorry to say) we threw it all together. That's how we roll. It's not quite right yet, but we have 3 weeks to perfect it before we plan to reveal it at Ray's 21st birthday party. We also plan to learn the dance from the end of High School Musical, Soulja Boy and maybe a bit of improvised Audrey Hepburn style movement as well. Think Funny Face, but probably much less elegant.

Ray has the dentist tomorrow. As does my dad, because today one of his teeth broke in half while he was eating pate.