Uni Day 1

The milk is fine, in case anyone was wondering. Oh but actually I don't suppose anyone was wondering, because I'm the only one that knows about the milk in the first place. Just to keep you updated, I apparently can't close mini fridge doors, as when I got back to my room last night, the door was in fact open. But the milk is fine. So all is well in the world.

So yes, I do have a mini fridge in my room! How exciting and grown up! Though I do kind of wish it was a self rrefilling one (like hotel fridges) because then I wouldn't have to worry about buying food... it is on my list of things to do! But they keep feeding me here, and I haven't had time yet! Yesterday after registration, I went on the "compulsory" library tour. Uhm... I was the only Psychology student there... so my tour lasted all of three seconds with the librarian going "Psychology books are down that aisle! Thanks for coming!" so off I went, leaving the numerous law students to their own devices.

Later in the evening was a "meet and greet", a torturous affair where they shove all the new and frightened students into one room and tell them to "mingle". As you can imagine I just stood in a darkened corner and hissed at anyone that approached me. I didn't really. But I felt like doing that... No-one chose to tell me that I would be extremely terrified these first few days, that in fact I would feel like a 6 year old starting primary school for the first time (except with better hair). But I persevered regardless, I DID mingle with some other children (this time I'm not joking, they are practically children, being the ripe age of 18). But it was a fine night in the end. Also, note to self, do not swing on frosted over children's swings, as this results in one's bum being very icy cold.

This morning was supposed to involve a tour around the town, but my bed was just too warm and cozy to get up for 9, so I lazed about for probably the last time in a while. I was informed later, however, that I would probably know the (little) town very well withint about a week, so I'm not too concerned on that note. Next was onto Milton Keynes for a day of shopping (uhm I thought this was a Uni... not a holiday camp!). My highlight of the day was the Xscape; a large indoor arena with various shops and restaurants, the main attraction of Xscape is the indoor ski-slope, think ice-skating with a twist. Yup, real (cold) snow, with ski-lift, snow boards and eveything else in between. I definitely want to try that!

After the ski-slope we went to see the Indoor Sky-diving. This of course looks super awesome and amazing. The indoor skydiving is just a massive veritcal wind tunnel that you float about in (it's a lot harder than it looks however). Also on the list of things I want to try! *Note to mom, both of the above are now on your "wild things" list. I'll be kind and accompany you on these hardships* http://www.xscape.co.uk/milton-keynes/

Now for a brief respite before it's onto the next item on the list (a night out in Oxford - please remember to dress warmly). Also, of course, time for a hearty meal of cereal for dinner (I WILL get round to shopping I promise!)

Madness Hamsters

I'm not exactly sure when we started using the term "Madness Hamsters" to describe our charming pets, but it definitely does suit. Lily and Izzi could not be described as usual or normal pets, in fact I'm not sure they are even a dog and cat (respectively), but rather some weird hybrid of a variety of odd species.

Let's look at Lily first; a cross between a sausage dog and a Jack Russell, our first thought when we chose her was "what a perfect combination of energy and laziness". I think she got the worst traits of both. Lily often has urges to perform mad dashes, whereby she runs around (like a madness hamster) furiously, her tail tucked between her legs, her ears flapping wildly in the wind, her tongue lolling out her mouth like a pink flag and her eyes bulging out her head like some weird doll. It is ridiculously funny to watch, because as soon as you cut off her escape route (best done in the house, because the garden just results in this run going round and round until you - the viewer - are positively dizzy), Lily rolls over onto her back and does the "wiggle".
The "wiggle" is a new addition to her repetoire of madness, she lies on her bag and twists and wiggles like a strange little doggy worm, it is super cute. Lily has obviously realised the power of her wiggle, as she performs this neat little trick everytime she wants some food from the dining room table (no she doesn't get it, but it's fun to see her squirm). Lily, in this wiggle state, is of course irresistible to Izzi, who is quite possibly even more mad that Lily. Izzi sees this as the perfect oppurtunity to mock-attack the dog, and she (as any good cat would) goes straight for the juicy bits; i.e. the throat or the thighs.

I'm not entirely convinced that Izzi is 100% cat however, I strongly suspect that she has a bit of pigeon; she makes the most unusual, albeit toe-curlingly cute "cooing" noise instead of meowing - maybe she is onto a new and innovative method of pigeon baiting - either way it's not the kind of noise you expect to come from a cat. *Izzi, lying infront of the warm laptop, goes "krrr krrr krrr*. I also believe she may have a bit of squirrel-monkey in her, she certainly does a brilliant impression of a lolloping monkey when she runs, and she has the same kind of nervous twitchy tree climbing ability as squirrels.

I think growing up with a dog has influenced Izzi to become the cat/pigeon/squirrel-monkey that she is today. She sometimes adopts Lily's mad running, although her run usually involves wild leaps which startle both the viewer and the cat herself. Izzi's new favourite place in the garden (not counting the entirety of the garden itself where she performs these acrobatic and startling leaps), is the "vegetable garden", or what remains of it. Dad recently dug up the little wooden fence that surrounded the old veggie patch, and now the rectangular pen is just standing abandoned in the garden. Izzi of course loves this, as she now has her own play pen. She can often be found just sitting within the perimeter of the fence, surveying her territory, or watching the unsuspecting Lily, waiting for the oppurtune moment to attack.

These two furry little balls of madness make up for any craziness by just being so lovable and sweet (not all the time, but often enough for it to count), that you can't help but love them. Fuzzy little lap warmers with boundless love for their people, I am definitely going to miss seeing them everyday. I only hope mom and dad will survive the combined force of these two creatures without me to interfere...

For the Love of Mom

It's a commonly held belief that my mom is slightly unusual. Ok actually most of the family consider a bit crazy, but I was trying to be polite. Personally I think mom is rather hysterical, most often I don't even remember why I have been reduced to tears of laughter by mom, all the remains is the memory of sore stomach muscles and an incredibly funny mommy.

Take for instance mom's strange knack for messing up words or sayings, with most people it's faintly amusing, with mom however, it's classic comedy which should actually be written down and shared with the rest of the world. My most recent favourite is mom's new word for pigeon, I realise there's not much one can do to mess this word up, but like I said, mom has a certain knack. Needless to say we have no started referring to pigeons as "pijjsions" (yeah it's not that easy to say either). What's even funnier is that this word came about after mom had a sip of cider, no I'm quite serious, ONE sip of (mulled) cider. She should definitely be kept away from anything with a stronger alcohol volume than a wine gum.

Next is mom's strange and amusing daily acts she performs, no not something that she performs on purpose, but rather things she does accidentally, like, hmmm, I dunno accidentally dipping a chip into her coffee instead of a rusk? Yeah, you couldn't write this kind of stuff. I think mom also attracts this kind of funny behaviour, the phrase "you think you know me, but you don't" (yes she did actually say that to a complete stranger) come to mind. But on a more recent note, when I showed mom a birthday card, she screamed very loudly in a crowded shop, when she opened it (ok it was a singing card), but her reaction was priceless.

Whilst mom is hysterically funny, she is also, of course, a brilliant and lovely mommy (cue brownie points now), and whilst I hope she doesn't consider this little memento to be too "bulge" (see mom for details), I just want to say "love you lots mom".

The Little Mermaid

What sudden burst of inspiration could lead to such impulsive behaviour? Very simply; clothes. Oh I know, I know, so materialistic and fickle and what not, but these clothes were especially beautiful, AND they're were specifically tailored for me! Actually, technically, TECHNICALLY, they weren't tailored for me as a person, but they were definitely tailored for my name! Ok, so not MY actual name, but the name of a well known Disney character, also known as The Little Mermaid. But still, I felt a certain kinship to these beautiful clothes, we do share the same name, this character and I, and it is a very unusual and beautiful name. That's my excuse anyway.

So these clothes perfectly and stylishly emmulate Ariel (The Little Mermaid, not me, I have not taken to talking about myself in the third person...), basically we're talking modern interpretations of a cartoon characters style, specifically a purple cardigan, green pumps and BRIGHT red hair (though the hair wasn't part of the original styling that I saw, I improvised a wee bit). Obviously this could only mean one thing, buy a purple cardigan and green pumps, and dye my hair BRIGHT red! This plan of course is so simple and fool proof. Obviously.

My first step was the purple cardi... erm... ok maybe I could move this step down the line, I wasn't really giving up, but after rather a few hours of searching for this cardi with no luck what-so-ever, I moved green pumps up to the first step. Count down another few hours and dying my hair red had moved to the top of the list. So what followed was an intense google search on how to *home* dye hair BRIGHT red. Onwards and upwards!

Two days later the dye was on my hair (*ahem* only a couple pounds down the line), and all that remained was waiting to wash and style (the hair). Oh, yeah, still no luck on the cardi or the shoes. Uhm, right, so the hair was now washed... well. Needless to say it's not exactly what I was expecting. Bright red was definitely involved in the hair... buuut only on the roots. And the rest was dark brown/red. Ok, so I mildly resembled someone with an all over scalp wound... Not ideal, but fixable. Second step: seek immediate help from a hairdresser (no thoughts at this point were spared on the cardigan or the shoes).

Fast forward 3-4 hours and a few more pounds later, and voila! Tick the box on the bright red hair! It's beautiful and lovely, even if I do say so myself. I won't go into detail but there is a lot of hair flicking and mirror glancing going on now. It is really lovely though! Thanks goodness for hairdressers, and lesson learned on not trying something extreme without the help of a professional.

So right now, I've got the name, I've got the hair, I've got the PURPLE CARDI! I'm well on my way to becoming The Little Mermaid! All I need now is my very own blue and yellow fish. Ok yeah, and the whole being a mermaid thing, but we'll gloss over that at this point.

Winter Wonderland

OMG OMG SNOW!!! These may sound like the words of a small child, or perhaps Lily's silent dog words, but rather this is what I thought, and quite honestly, probably said when I looked out the window this morning. Yes, I know it is the third day of snow, but to me it is still so magically cool and awesome. I don't understand how other people can be "so over" the snow, yeah I'm over it, I'm over it when I do a mad leap across the pristine snow in the garden in a bid to not disturb it (incidentally this did not go as planned as I found myself surrounded by white walls of snow as I lay somewhat startled in the snow - I slipped).

I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen snow... er... twice actually, so it's still pretty amazing to me. I hope I never get to that "I'm so over this" stage, if I do I shall spend lots of time with Lily whose boundless enthusiasm surpasses even my own. She is quite literally insane, I'm not sure what goes on in her little-doggy brain, but whatever it is, it sure is undeniably and rather disgustingly cute. As I write this she is lying against my shoulders, like some kind of cruelly dressed parrot (she is wearing her pink polka dot hoody, which is gorgeously sweet), she is also asleep, but at least she is nice and warm - like a moving back scarf...

Lily can only be compared to a mix between a squirrel, a springbokkie and of course Jack. She LOVES the snow; to her it is white, fluffy edible joy. She can leap in it, she can dig in it, she can eat it, she can frolic to her heart's delight. Earlier we went out into the (dark) snowy garden for some icy play time. This mostly involved Lily doing her springbokkie thing; she has to do mad hop-jumps to keep her head above the snow, otherwise she ends up us just a tail and a bit of back amongst the snow. She also had a pink squeaky to play with, which provided much enjoyment, I think she liked it too. There was this little black hamster thing doing mad leaps for a snow encrusted squeaky – remind you of anyone? *cough* Jackles *cough*

She also decided she rather liked snowballs, or perhaps she decided she rather disliked snowballs. Either way any snowball which comes towards her must be quickly demolished, either by means of eating and flinging wildly, or leaping about in the same spot. Yes, she does rather enjoy eating the snow, maybe what she enjoys more is seeing me suffer as my hands quickly freeze whilst I make these snowballs, but I don’t think she’s that cruel. I think she’s more like “I will come frolic on your NAKED face with my NAKED snow covered self. Take that.

Needless to say, whilst I have been rambling on a bit, I do enjoy Lily’s frolic-iness a LOT. I shall end with Lily’s most famous words: “I’m running, I’m running!” *pause as she shivers with her tongue lolling out* “I’m naked! Woooo-hoooo-hoooo-hoooo!” (Please don’t get confused, once again, these are Lily’s words not mine… I would never do such a thing. I’d keep my tongue in my mouth whilst shivering)

Flaming Roosters

I realise this title may be misleading to some. Since I am a pescetarian (one who eats fish), the idea of roosters spontaneously combusting is not exactly something I would relish talking about. Especially in such a light hearted manner. What I mean by the title is more of a curse at roosters, similar to "those bloody roosters". On writing that however, I realise that bloody roosters are just as bad as flaming roosters.

The point of this tale is not to discuss the best curse word to describe the rooster, rather it is about an event; an event which caused much laguhter and possibly a bit of hysteria. When we were in South Africa, Mom, Kyle and I went to tea with Nan and Grandad. We went to a place called Second Cup, which whilst very charming and quaint (etc, etc), was home to a dozen or so roosters. Why they all chose to live together is somewhat of a mystery, as I'm sure they outnumbered the hens at least 3 to 1.

We were shown to a lovely table in the middle of the garden, cool and shaded, and surrounded by towering trees and colourful flowers. Oh, we were also surrounded by roosters, lots of roosters. Despite the fact that it was about 10 in the morning, the roosters still felt it necassary to crow every few minutes. Needless to say this did rather disrupt the quiet calm of the area in which we were seated. Mom thought that shouting at these roosters would help our case, they simply ignored her. Or I imagined they would have ignored her had they the brain capacity to perform the act of ignoring. Rather they just kept on cock-a-doodle-dooing. Very annoying.

Out of sheer desperation mom vehemently told the roosters that if they didn't stop shouting she would make sure they were turned into the day's chicken mayo mix. The roosters were not pleased. With a sudden flurry of wings and claws the roosters descended on our little table. Two of them landed on mom; one on her head, the other on her back, flapping wildy and sending feathers flying. Mom was now screeching (much louder than the roosters ever had) as another one landed on her plate, chicken mayo what? As these three dare devil roosters took off once again they stole Nan's cake decorations and serviette right from under her nose. Grandad seemed unflappable, Kyle found it highly amusing, Mom was in a state of rooster shock, Nan just seemed mildy surprised to find her serviette missing whilst I pretended that I hadn't in fact screeched and dived under the table. I swear, I really didn't.

The manager promptly arrived to apologize, his excuse being that the roosters had seen a rather attractive hen flaunting her feathers. I know the truth however, the roosters were quite obviously angered by mom's statement regarding the chicken mayo. We however had the last laugh. The manager informed us that the roosters would be in today's chicken mayo following this incident. We laughed nervously, not entirely sure if he was just joking. I'd like to think he was, those roosters looked much to tough to make a tasty chicken mayo mix.

*No roosters were harmed in the making of this tale*

The Trains of Life

With the time for me to be going back to the UK getting ever closer, people are continually asking me whether I will be getting dropped off at the airport, or if I will indulge in the Gautrain.  My answer is, and always will be, I use the train enough in England, why would I want to use it here.  Especially when I have a perfectly good car, and for that matter, chauffeur, who will drive me right to the airport doors.  From this answer, I'm sure you can gather, that I am not the fondest of trains, or buses, or in fact taxis (English ones, we all know everyone loathes South African ones).

 The reason you see, is an overindulgence in trains (and buses).  The first time I was on a train it was very exciting, new and somewhat fun.  You stare out the window and watch the scenery whizzing past, it's peaceful and quiet in your safe little earphoned world.  Yes, what a change to back in SA.  Fast forward a year down the line, trains, why they're just not so much fun anymore.

When I lived in Cornwall I endured a lot of 7 hour train journeys.  These journeys were far from the exciting ones I had once experienced.  Firstly, they were a good few hours longer, then there was the cramped noisy undelightfully smelling cabins.  Airplanes I can endure, but trains, not so much.  I recall one occasion when someone nearby was eating something that smelled like a mixture of sweat and something that had died (remember, no open windows!) then, despite my subtle glares at anyone who tried to sit next to me, a rather large man decided to invade my little sanctum regardless.  Not only did I have to squash myself against the window, but his sweaty arm still kept bumping mine.  He smelt funny, like old people and sweat, and he just sat staring at the back of the chair.  Just a bit freaky deaky.

But endured I did, I breathed in fresh clean train fumes when I stumbled out from that trip.  Fortunately I didn't have to take a bus anywhere.  Buses are even more of a "least favourite" for me.  One either has to sit squashed next to blank looking mothers with their screeching children, or stand in the aisle, and endure occasionally bumping into another passenger in a very uncomfortable way.  Not only is the journey car sickening, one still has to wait for wasted minutes hanging around bus stop on the sides of roads.  In the rain, sometimes even the snow.  Oh what fun.

My worst bus journey was a late night trip back from work.  I somehow managed to find myself seated in front of a very inebriated old man.  He was sitting right forward, so that he was almost breathing down the back of my neck, leaving me to crane awkwardly forward without looking too obvious.  Then he kept tapping me on the shoulder, I tried my best to ignore him, but he was relentless.  I turned around slightly with what I hoped was an unimpressed look on my face, he wanted to know what the time was.  First off, my watch was beneath many layers of sleeves and gloves, and second off, his watch was winking at me from his wrist.  I gave him a vague answer and turned away, twisting myself even further away (and no I couldn't have moved, the bus was full... of drunk old men).  It was then that my ipod decided to give up, so now I was stuck with no way to ignore him.  He was still tapping my shoulder.  I stubbornly kept my earphones in, leaned forward, and spent a very uncomfortable, very car sick hour back home.

Another incident occurred on my way to college.  I was sitting near the front, on one of the fold down seats, and sitting across from me was a chavvy man with his child bride and bratty children.  Not to be rude or anything.  As the bus lurched to the side, this man fell forwards, right towards me.  I'm not sure who was more surprised, him or me, when he grabbed my leg in an attempt to stop falling.  I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head, and I watched him apologize silently for a second before I realized I couldn't hear anything with my earphones in.  I simply did a somewhat scared smile and turned away to stare out the window, which incidentally was also very uncomfortable, what with the window being directly behind me.

So, with those journeys being the cherry on top of my dislike for public transport, my reasoning for not wanting to take the Gautrain is, I think, perfectly sound.  On to the airport, on to the plane.  Oh my, don't even get me started on flights.