Worm holes do exist, there is one in Cripps laundry room

i just wrote a post and deleted it cos it was long and boring. That is sad, i really have nothing much to say.

Well here is the gist of the rant: someone stole all (bar the one i was wearing) of a particular genre of clothing from me. They were in the wash at the college laundry room, and are now gone without a trace. I have scoured high and low. And it is annoying because they are: a) expensive b) hard to find c) useless to at least 80% of the population, if not more.

grr.

Werjil was a very small earwig

Werjil was a very small earwig. He lived in a pokey hole in a tree. Full of dust and dirt and all sorts of nastiness that he liked to eat.

Hanging from the strong branches of the tree was a swing. It was a very big swing, made of heavy wood with metal edges. Ouch! You wouldn’t want that to klunk you on the head when you fell off. This was not a concern for Werjil however.

Werjil was in a pesky mood. “Grrr” grrred Werjil. “I feel like wigging in someone’s ear today.” This was a foolish thing to say, since the old European belief that earwigs would come and wig in your ear has not been believed by anyone for a very long time. Nevertheless, Werjil lived up to his name in as much as he liked to fill people’s minds with prejudice by insinuating things, or occasionally attempting to influence them by persistent confident argument.

“Grrr.” Said Werjil. He scuttled out his pokey hole, and off he went.

It was not long before Werjil came across a very beautiful butterfly, sunning herself on a leaf. She was very beautiful, her delicate wings, deep brilliant blue and iridescent, that shone with such lustre and sparkle she looked like a fallen piece of a dusky sky. But Werjil didn’t care for butterflies too much. They spent far too much time swanning around, and they were very fickle.

“Excuse me” Werjil barked loudly. Well, as loudly as he could for a small earwig. “But I just overheard another moth talking about you…”

“MOTH! You think I’m a moth!” The butterfly was very angry. Furious. She jiggled a bit to express her disconcertment. She continued, “I am a butterfly, can’t you tell from my beautiful colours and patterns that I am no common dowdy moth?”

Werjil grinned inwardly. Ha! What a good day he was having now. “Terribly sorry, maybe you are just looking a bit dirty, you do look awfully like a moth just now.”

“Really” asked the butterfly, “Dirty? Oh. Well I must get clean at once! I must find some water where I can wash, I know the pond at the end of the garden,” the butterfly cried “and you must help me!”

“Yes, yes, it would never do for a creature as fair as you to be mistaken for one as humdrum as a moth.” Werjil replied.

Werjil was a little worried now. He didn’t know much about butterflies, but he was sure that it would do their delicate wings no good to get wet. He had only intended to bring her down a peg or too, make her a bit less proud of how beautiful she was (and she was very, very beautiful). “Well,” thought Werjil, “it’s her own lookout. She shouldn’t be so proud as to make rash decisions.” So he reluctantly followed her down the garden to the pond that glistened at the far end.

The pond glistened in the sun, beckoning the butterfly. She blindly flew towards it desperate to get clean, desperate to be beautiful. Werjil followed slowly behind, silly little earwig with no wings. The pond was deep and dark, but its waters were clean and inviting.

The butterfly launched herself onto the water with a fluttering motion, just as Werjil reached the edge of the pond.

Just that instant a fish leaped out of the water, from the murky depths, and grabbed the beautiful butterfly in its gaping mouth, dragging her down to its murky lair!

“Oh!” exclaimed Werjil. “I hadn’t expected that to happen, I just thought…” But he hadn’t thought, that was the problem. Oh dear. He did feel terribly guilty. “Well it serves her right for being proud and, and…” And nothing. What a terrible trick to play.

Werjil slumped slowly back to his pokey hole in the tree. He didn’t even feel like eating his usual mulch and dirt. “Grrr” grrred Werjil. He did feel very guilty for a very small earwig.

Last train home

Today was just about the best weekend of my entire life.

So on Sunday afternoon i packed a few things and set off for 24hrs at home. I had intended to cycle to the station, and then realised when i meant to leave that i had no idea at all where my bike key was... so i rushed to the bus stop, got there just after 3.05. My train was at 3.32. By 3.15 things were not looking good so i rushed round the corner to get a cab. I asked the woman how much it would cost and she said £6.40 but i only had £6.39. She said she'd take me for £6. We had a nice chat about when she used to live in somewhere rather like paradise that i have forgotten. Where they speak Spanish. An island that is two words where the second one begins with L? hmm. I got my train and all was well.

It turned out my sister had gone wall climbing with Dad that afternoon. Actually i already knew that, and the plan was to meet at Mile End and go straight to the gig. What i didn't know was Anna had forgotten the tickets. O yeah i should have mentioned i was taking Anna to see Lostprophets in concert, it was her Christmas present. I had bought the tickets last November... So that meant i had to go home to get them and Anna would go home too. And rather than getting home just after 5pm as promised she got home at 6.30. So that was a mad rush and we got a train from Wood St station and as it was coming just as we arrived we decided to get a ticket at the other end, as the next train was in 30min. So when i got to Liverpool st and presented myself to buy travel cards i got fined £20 for not buying a ticket before i began my journey. But i should be grateful as they should have fined me £20 each... I could have lied and said the ticket machine was broken, but, not that i'm perfect, far far from it, but i just can't lie. I realise also i could have used my oyster card even though your not meant to use it on overground lines (it's so confusing) but the guy said i couldn't from the station we had travelled from and who even knows. And what is most annoying is this morning on my way back to Cambridge i discovered the ticket machine *was* actually broken at Wood Street!

Anyhow, so we got to the venue - Wembley Arena, at 8pm. The gig had started at 7.30 and we had missed Aiden. Score! i didn't want to see them anyway. Then , next on was Taking Back Sunday. I was just so insanely happy, and up to this point i was more excited about seeing TBS than about Lostprophets. Ahhh. They were soo great. Adam Lazzara had such stage presentce, he joked around with the crowd and did all the crazy stunts with the mike that he is famous for. And me and Annna, being the front line soldiers that we are, were reight near the front. But without the lame excuses or being annoying, we just wove in and out the uninterested crowd who were less moved than us by the awesomeness that is Taking Back Sunday. I was only sorry they didn't play a longer set, i'd love to see them headlining somewhere. And congratulations Adam on your recent engagement. And no, i'm not even the tiniest bit jealous of Chauntelle.

During the interval a lot of people went off to the bar etc, so me and Anna got even nearer the front. I was a little thirsty, but we didn't want to lose our place in the pit.

And then.... LOSTPROPHETS! If you thought i was excited about TBS, i got even even even more excited when Lostprohets came on! Thier first song was performed behind a thin sheet, with a wonderous light show that projected their silhouettets very largely on the sheet. I forget what the first song was, i was too excited to take it in

Rachel: AHHHHHHHHH!
Random guy: Ah my ears
Rachel: Sorry
Rachel (t0 Anna): Ahhh i'm so excited
Random guy: I can tell

They then played "Burn , Burn" and the crowd went mental and several circle pits spontaneously appeared. The whole gig was amazing. They had a brilliant light show, and the backdrop changed four times during the show. Me and Anna got so close i was practically floating with joy. One thing i liked too was the fact that although Lostprophets have a lot of fast and moshable songs, they have a few slower songs where people weren't moshing where you could catch your breath a little, and put back on that shoe you nearly lost. Magical moments were Last Train Home and Fake Sound of Progress. But definitey the best by a hundred million miles was the final song - Shinobi vs. Dragon Nionja, the greatest song that exists. The crowd went so insane. Some other cool things - a huge mexican wave the band got the crowd to do, which looked pretty impresive in a venue that big, and i enjoyed the general chat from the band. I remenber when i went to see Finch (another great gig, but not so great even though i think i like them better) they didn't talk to the audience all night, they just played for over an hour, then left. Seeing Lostprophets was so much the better live experience.

And the thing i liked most, after the last song (which is about two old arcade video games) it went dark and the words flashed as big as the whole back of the stage "GAME OVER".

I have to say though, Wembley Arena is the worst venue i have ever been to in my entire life. They are a huge huge huge place, yet there are no cloakrooms, so i had to keep my bag with me (which Anna had filled with stuff) the whole time, which was annoying when you're trying to mosh. And secondly NO WATER. It's ridicuouls. I was so insanely thirsty by the end. It was just so unsafe. Every other venue i have been to they have people at the front handing back cups of water during the gig to those in the pit. It makes SOOO much difference. It was so bad that during the breaks between songs in the second half the pit just chanted "WATER! WATER! WATER!", and Wembley had none for us. You could tell the band felt sorry for us because the lead singer, Ian Watkins, started throwing us as many bottles of the band's own water as they could spare, which i thought was a really decent thing to have done, considering providing us with water is the venue's responsibility, but was hopelyessly inadequate to quence even 20 peoples' thirst. And even after the gig, there was no water anywhere. There was ONE water cooler, which was drained in minutes. Me and Anna grabbed cups and got water out the toilet sinks in the end, whichis pretty manky, but we were dying and there were no shops anywhere near. It was non-drinking water and it was warm. When buying a t-shirt outside i gave my full cup of water to a girl in line behind me. when i offered it to her she looked like she was about to cry with joy.

so i think that is pretty shabby of Wembley, who are such a huge venue, to provide such an awful, and dangerous service. So many people could have fainted from dehydration. It was unbelieveably hot and sweaty.

Now, home. where is the station? Drama with tube maps and losing Anna's bracelet down the drain (which i eventually wrenched open and she got it out, thankfully) meant our train was due to leave in 7 minutes and we had no idea what direction to go.

After getting lost, a kindly man and girl took us to a station. The wrong one, but it was so late by now any one would do. We got the last train from Wembley central, the last circle line train to Liverpool St, and had less than a minute to sprint across the station to get the 00.30 last train home.

Typing whilst occupied

Todau i ave so0me excitimhg mews. me amd jason just got engaged up chja[tel tower! horay!

Blast

so between google and blogger they have been screwing me over a little lately. half the time my blog disappears or else i can't sign in or post comments on other people's blogs.

so just now "blooggler" made me get a google account. and somehow in so doing using my hotmail account it dug out my secret diary blog (which had only one entry though...) which i totally did not remember i had created using my hotmail address, i think somehow i must have used my hotmail as an alternative email or something. anyhow so it said it found one blog - this one, when i agreed to creating this google acount thingie. but lo and behold on my "dashboard" appeared my secred diary blog so i had to delete it before anyone read it and realised it was me.

blast.

actually i have a lot of secret diaries out there. i created at least 2 on livejournal last term when i was feeling like i needed to vent, and probably at some stupid hour, but then completely forgot what i had even called them or what my username was. so somewhere out there are two lonely journals that never got the chance for me to write something happy before we were cruelly parted.

sorry little journals, don't worry about me, all is well.

Severely failing to buck the trend

I went to a pirates party a couple of weeks ago. It was amazing. A week before i bought a skull and cross-bones scarf for it. I bought it simply for the party, but i started wearing it that week before the party and i got to like it, a lot. In fact i loved my new scarf.

I got home and my youngest sister, who is a bit of a punk/emo hipster, asked me why i had the scarf, and said that i was wearing it wrong. She said ALL the emo kids are wearing these now and they are really in fashion.

Really? I had no idea. Here is me thinking i just had a scarf i liked, and really i'm buying into the latest trend. Blast. It's not that i insist upon being unfashionable (although judging from my clashing colours and dubious taste you could be forgiven for thinking so) but i don't want to look like a clone of everyone else. Worst of all, just now i discovered it was a trend started by Kate Moss - who made fashionable the Alexander McQueen skull scarf (apparently this is their trademark design, well who even knew that). Worst of all Lindsay Lohan wears it. And she is really mean and nasty to everyone.

Blast. Well i suppose i shouldn't worry too much, Anna seems to have stolen it now. She wears it everyday to school so i doubt i'll see it again any time soon.

Emo kitty

This is Snowcone, asleep in my hoodie, she likes it in there so much, once she's in she won't wake up and you can't get her out. Sometimes this kittie seems very sad.

Our evil nameless ankle-savaging cat had four kitties three weeks ago. This one is my favorite! She had some problem with her eye for a while - only one would open, it was rather funny and cute. She's ok now though. We had to give her eye drops and she was very nice about it. Shes more calm and passive than the other kittles, and she once went to sleep on me for over an hour. The others would only wriggle about alot until you had to put them back in the basket. Snowcone reminds me of emo kids, she has the same forlorn look about her that they all like to wear on their faces.

Although lately she (and the others) have gotten a lot more lively, and play fight a lot.

I'm very sad though because i can't keep her, mum has already promised four people the cats. I will miss her a lot - she's the best one!

6

So i remembered a confession i was going to make... and since i am so pleased i have remembered, i thought i'd let you all have an extra one...

6. I was about 13 or so, maybe 15, i had just watched "Karate Kid" on TV and being in the karate mood (i've never done any actual karate i ran down the hallway up stairs and karate kicked the wall. And made a hole. Oooops. The wall was plaster board and it had a big dent/crack in it. I pulled it back into shape but there was still a little hole... Thankfully no-one noticed straight away and a couple of years later my dad filled it in... no-one ever knew it was me.

A short story i will make up now so i can't really give it a title as i don't know what i will write about

The girl ran through the park, her hair blowing in the wind. Blast. She had to run back and get it now. She wears a wig.

Why does she wear a wig?

The boy wondered. But he was scared to ask. He picked up her wig. He handed it to her... how he wished he could ask why she wore a purple wig. The wig was moving. The boy realised it was not a wig at all but one of those hairy hats ladies sometimes wear. The boy was heartbroken.

He handed her the hat. Her straw like hair did not blow in the wind, since it was more like wires than hair. She didn't brush it so much.

The boy realised that hats don't move either. He wondered if the purple hat was actually a black cat. O yes. It's a black cat.

The boy was confused. He looked at the girl. Oh. It was a tree. The cat had jumped out a tree.

The boy was alone in the park. Alone with a tree and a cat. And his soul longed for the girl. What girl? Oh. Just a tree.