The Indian Summer

School's out for summer!

My second year of university is DONE. Completed. I have one more year until I'm off into the big bad world to begin the 'grown up' stage of my life. Post-student. I'm dreading it.

Thankfully that isn't quite yet. Summer's started. And guess what!

Earlier this year, I signed up to a TEFL programme which offered an opportunity to teach in India. I was over the moon and beyond when - after various different emailing processes, an interview, and other formative routines - I found out I would be teaching in a school in Kerala! It's been a lengthy procedure of gaining my visa and booking flights plus having travel vaccinations, amongst other bits and bobs, but it is now less than a week until my flight from Heathrow.

I AM SO EXCITED.

I hope to write as much as I can about my trip there on this blog, and give everyone updates on my travels/my time at the school!

The countdown to Kerala is on!

Big love, xo

P.S. Every time I say I'm going to India for the summer, the Stereophonics song plays in my head and gets stuck there for days.

Descriptive Title Right Here: Reviews and Plans

This term has probably been one of the strangest out of my lot at university. So now I'm so glad to be home! I've gone through a lot of moments this year where I return to the foetal position, curling up in my bed with my little sheep 'hottie' on my belly. That's one of those heat-in-the-microwave type fluffy animals. Except I use mine as pretty much a teddy bear because I have now turned into Benjamin Button and am ageing backwards. I now appreciate this kind of toy more than I did when I was two years old. And this is apparently how I comfort myself when I am homesick these days.

I learnt this word in one of my lectures the other day. It's a Welsh word; it can't quite be defined in English. That's why I think I like it so much.

There have also been multiple nights out, with multiple consequences. I won't delve too deep; I do that far too often and I feel like I may have embarrassed myself quite enough for now. But I will say there have been some absolutely stunning Facebook photos of me in my lycra all-in-one - it's a bit of rowing kit, for those who are reading this horrified at the thought. It was a themed night, and everyone from my club did dress in theirs, so it was okay... I didn't look like an idiot alone. You can't be too embarrassed when it's a collective decision to go out as if you all got dressed in the dark.

Toilet photos on a whole new level.

I have also become closer with a lot of girls this term that I definitely wouldn't have imagined being good friends with last term. Not that they're weird or anything, just that I wasn't best pals with them in 2012. Actually, the first bit is a big fat lie. They are weird, but I wouldn't have them any other way, because of course that would make things a hell of a lot more boring.

In regards to university, I have been mostly on top of work. Sometimes I wish I literally was. Standing on top of it and stamping around because I don't actually care about the PACL measurement of democracy. Anyway, what was I saying? On top of work. Yeah, so I'm now a pro at constructing my life around the library opening hours - if that's not something I should add to my CV in big bold letters, I don't know what is.

Let's move on to future plans/assignments/visions/that kind of thing. 

It's my brother's birthday on Monday. The big ONE-EIGHT. Old enough to have a legal drink or two. Or five. He's mostly sensible, so I think he'll be okay. He's going to read this and laugh. All I'm saying is, he's got the I-know-better act down to a T even if that's not the case.

What comes with birthdays? CAKE. Yes, that beautiful sugary thing that after one mouthful you want slice after slice after slice after oh wait, I broke the scales. Why are those in the bathroom anyway? I'd rather be a happy fatty with a lot of cake than a skinny minnie with a glass of water in my hand and a rumbling tummy.

I am clearly going to take this as a chance to show off. I've got a lot of plans regarding this cake. I am ridiculously excited; I'm going the whole hog. Forget a simple sponge cake. None of this standard jam and buttercream nonsense (although it does taste amazingly good). I'm going to be going all out. British Bake Off, watch your backs. Cake Queen is once again donning her crown and apron, going in for a bit of kitchen lovin'.

I might pretend I'm good at crafts and make myself a crown because I'm that much of a loser.

Big love, xo

It's been a while...

Flip my laptop open, it flickers into life. A couple of whirring noises, the Windows start-up sound flitters through the air. Type password in, easy, simple, anyone could guess it. Or maybe that’s the point? It’s so simple that no-one would think of it immediately. The screen’s only been on standby; Google Chrome displays a range of different tabs, Facebook, Twitter, 4OD, a couple of online journals (probably JSTOR) and a page that displays Brazil’s election results.

I check Facebook to see if I have any notifications, oh, look, I’m popular! The red box over the notifications button invites me to click it. Disappointing. An invite for a game I really don’t want to join, some event notifications for student nights out I don’t plan on going to, and if I’m lucky, someone has messaged me to say hi. My favourite message at the moment is a group one entitled ‘Jess drank pee.’ Don’t ask.

I then flick to my work pages. I frown at the PDFs I need to download from JSTOR, and my mind draws a blank when I try and decipher the stats on the page for Brazil’s legislative elections. Would someone like to tell me when I signed up for a mathematics degree? Never mind making a table out of my results, I can’t decipher the initial statistics I need to put together.

I press the minimise button, and my university work disappears. I turn the volume up to maximum on my iTunes, and press play. My shuffle chooses Kate Nash. I have admittedly bad music taste in general, but this one is good.

I hate seagulls,

And I hate being sick.

-          Kate Nash, I Hate Seagulls

I am so ready to pack my things up for Easter and clamber aboard the First Great Western to London Paddington. I want my train seat back, my pull-out tray, the window to my side. I want to stare out at the Welsh hills and make up stories in my head that I will one day be a pro-explorer and camp there, buying myself a patterned tent and co-ordinating camping gear, with a compact little camping stove where I can toast pink and white marshmallows until they go all gooey. Sugar rush.

"Toast Meeeee"

I feel so stressed out right now. For once I’m on top of my work. Yes, I know. Miracles do happen. I've rekindled my on-off library romance, and we are now officially back in a relationship, after spending at least three long days in each other’s company. So that’s not a problem. I am mostly on top of my exercise regime, apart from my recent ‘man arms’ pandemic where a dodgy Wednesday night picture showed me looking a little bit too muscly for my liking. So that’s not a problem, either.

I want things to be back to normal, please.

I’ll let you in a little secret. I’m not quite as confident as I sometimes pretend to be.

Big love, xo

Ring-a-ring-o'-roses

"Ring-a-ring-o'-roses

A pocket full of posies

Ah-tissue! Ah-tissue!

We all fall down."

This may be the first Pancake Day where I'm not craving pancakes. Something is definitely wrong. I think that would have been blatantly obvious to anyone who entered my room this morning. I've been struck down by the plague - tissues littered the floor beside my bed, medication was stacked up on my bedside table, and I was sniffling away under the covers, feeling a bit more than sorry for myself.

I made the decision that today would be a bed day from the moment I woke up. After a less-than-inspiring phone call with my father ("Nay, you need to step it up"), I wasn't exactly raring to go. But after managing to drag myself into uni (looking more stunning than usual, red nose from all that sneezing and hair that was crying out for a wash - I showered, don't worry, just didn't go the whole hog in the bathroom this morning); I felt it was a rather pointless trip.

I hate being ill. I also hate ill people. It's a good combo, isn't it? Moaning comes top amongst my favourite hobbies, yet moaning about being ill is definitely one of my pet hates. How ironic. "I'm dying," "I feel like death," "I am a complete and utter minger," being my most used phrases at the moment. I love the word 'minger,' makes me feel like I'm eleven again. It's such a stupid word. If words can be stupid.

So to put it simply. I highly dislike myself right now. I will only be happy once my body has ridden itself of this disease. C'mon viruses, move onto the next victim already, I'm bored of you now.

Then I might feel like eating pancakes.

Big love, xo.