Then again...

I don't think I should stop rambling. There's a severe amount of chat going on behind me. I do wish I could engage in casualt conversation. Much of life would be made much easier.
Perhaps I should talk a little about vegetarianism. Unfortunately, I don't seem to have any concrete views on the subject, except that having separate kitchenware is hugely excessive.
I shall talk no more about this, lest either of the two veggies in the room should get offended.
And now, for the second time this morning, away.

Haggling for compliments

-"you're nice"
-"no, I'm gorgeous"

We're now playing hangman. God, we're cool.

We biked all the way across Farnworth to find Beth. I fell of my bike when we arrived by running into the kerb and falling onto the nearest car. Fortunately, nobody saw it and the alarm did not go off. Andi and I biked back while Chris and Beth walked. Hence, they are not back yet. I hope Chris has my phone, because I don't.

There is little else to say without making a fool of myself, so I'll stop now. Am I ahead? I doubt it.

----------------
Now playing: Hellogoodbye - Two Weeks In Hawaii
via FoxyTunes

Solid death

We attempted to make treacle toffee at explorers. It boiled for too long, and burned. We left it to cool, tasted it, and nearly died. It really was death in a tin. We made some spongy stuff, which was nice, and was great fun to make. I spent a lot of time correcting Chris's culinary cock-ups. There were also chocolate and toffee apples going on, but they were taken care of.

I don't think I can be bothered saying any more. Je dois me coucher, avant j'ai dix-sept ans.
There are other matters, but perhaps not intended for this medium.

In the morn I shall rise and hence, to buy foodstuffs and mask materials. Eeeeee.

Buonanotte.

Tidying must be done

There's a forty-eight-hour party occurring in this edifice, starting Friday lunchtime. It is nearly Thursday. I have not started to tidy the great pile of mess which is my house. And I still have a mound of work to do before Monday. This is a problem.

Another problem seems to be the prospect of telling the parents that I'm gay. It still seems quite a surreal concept. Saying those there words still doesn't quite seem right. Humm.

I went to see the grandparents today. It felt like a proper holiday day, without any times to stick to. We went to some random garden centre in the middle of nowhere for lunch. Fun times. As well as the actual birthday presents, I left with two scarves, a belt and a black leather wallet. Although allwere convinced that the umbrella I got from M&S was theirs.

Aaron wants to take me to see The Venetian Twins at The Octagon. I want to go. However, there is no space in my diary, with rehearsals, performances, driving lessons. I am excited by that prospect. I am also excited by this party which may or may not be immensely enjoyable. It's a pity I'm so indecisive.

We live for days like these

Another day in Manchester. One thinks to oneself that they are getting rather repetitive. But then you watch as the number 8 bus closes its doors in Jonny and Adam's faces and drives off. Adam shouts "Noooo!" and Jonny runs after it. You are now bent double in hysterics at the bus stop, realising why life is so much fun.

As we trot along to Victoria, Caffe Nero's finest hot chocolates in hand, Maura tells me of an incident, steeped in geekish humour. "I said something about the epitome [ep-i-to-me] of something and Jade said "Do you mean epitome [epi-tome]?" ". Giggling in self-confident glee, I realise how much of a nerd I really am. This notion is compounded by my extreme affinity for this calendar about common misuse of the English language.

I am very nearly seventeen years old. In fiftenn minutes I can alter my msn name to say ZWEI instead of DREI (tagen). Oh, the excitement.

(um)

I decided that today, the last day of this half-term, I would go home via Bolton instead of on the nice warm coach. This was despite the torrential rain and stupenously high winds - Thorrun's brolly was a source of much asmusement, until she diappeared into the David Lloyd.

Eventually it was just me and Becca, then she diverged to find a halloween costume. I was to catch the next train from Bolton Station. Unfortunately, because my bag was so heavy, containing everything I might need over the break, I was substantially slowed. Hence I just missed my train. Becca was about to head off home, so I retired to Caffe Nero for a Grande Hot Chocolate Milano, complete with whipped cream and tiny Belgian chocolates. It was divine, abnd provided an anchor to the real world as I contemplated the meaning of life and the possibiltites of what it could be.

Now, a fair few minutes into the first day of half-term, I shall go and get some well-earned rest.

Paper planes and camel cords

There really is too much I want to write about. Long posts do not a good blog make.

I want to lie on a green in front of a big old building with the sun shining on me as I read some classic novel about romance and old times and the rest. Alas, I know it is not to be. I am a scientist at heart and there's nothing stylish or flouncy about that.


Unfortunately, I have now lost all impetus for blog writing. Hopefully this won't last, but we should always be prepared for the worst. That is, more nonsense you feel obliged to waste your time reading. I'll stop here before I work myself into a pit.

I'm drowning in a sea of despair

I fear that I am bound to live a life of interminable squalor. This dawned on me as I chundered past the nice houses in Lostock, which are infinitely nicer than this, then noticed that the chavs' house next door is nicer. I have planned many a time to rectify this, or at least try, but to no avail.

On trying to relay this to someone, anyone, via msn, a recurring notion recurred: I was drowning in a sea of despair. In cases like this there is noone of sufficient intellect in the immediate vicinity for me to offload my worries onto, or there is nobody to help drag me out of logical plight (such as arises in every physics lesson with the great Asad).

By dint of this, and as an optimistic relief measure, I have picked up the old blog (sorry, no good idiom comes to mind).

Speaking of relief, I made one. Out of clay. At Explorers. Michael made a nice cup, then, having failed at making any kind of plate, attempted a teapot. It's artistic, I'll give it that. Much to my surprise, Mr Conroy made an appearance. Not that that is of extreme noteworthiness, but it was unexpected.

It is obvious that this will be less of a log of my life and more of a diary (theoretically) read by many.
That's quite enough for first post back.
Alistairxx.