Song writing machine

When I started writing songs, I was a machine. I'd get at least one song out every month. The guitar was new to me so when I found something that worked, it sounded good enough to get put into a song. Also, I was in a band, I was young and there was insparation everywhere.

And I didn't ming writing smushy songs.

Now? I'm tired, I have no insparation; mainly because I try not to be too smushy and stereptypical. I'm not in a band anymore so I have nobody to bounce ideas off. And I'm writing on a piano. I've got grade 5 but I'm still not very good.

So in the last 4 years I've written 3.25 songs. Not the best songs ever, but OK (I think). I would love to have enough songs to be able to play gigs or open mike nights or anything again.

That would involve buying a keyboard or something. *god forbid!*

Ah well. Here's to finishing the .75 of a song tonight. Any ideas on words?!

Hwyl a sbrii

On fire alarms

They may save lives but they're noisy, annoying and make me miss my free lesson when they're set off as a prank.

Grumble grumble grumble

Hwyl a sbrii

Sun

If there is one thing to enjoy about travelling to work between 7:15 and 8:30 every morning, it has to be the spectacular views.

Granted they are the same views that you can see any time of the day; the road doesn't move around depending on the time!

Take this morning for an example. The sun was setting the mountains on fire and the mist was he smoke creeping accross the landscape. It was absoulutely glorious and put me in a bit of a thoughtful mood.

Then I arrived at school and thinking began to hurt because it involves maths and on a Friday, to be frank, I can't be arsed with maths, as much as I love it. Tired.

In a month or two however, the sun will be setting as I go home as well, which will be beatiful. Even if it does mean that I don't see proper daylight during the week.

Hwyl a sbrii

Gate

We have a gate on the bottom of our track.

Don't get me wrong; we're not posh or farmers; we just park our cars on common land were sheep graze. To stop these sheep from getting to the village they have fenced off the mountain and put a gate at the bottom of the track.

I often sit at the bottom of our track, outside the gate, hoping that someone will come along and open the gate for me. You see, when i am a passenger, or have one in the car, said passenger merely has to get out of the car once, open the gate while the car passes and then close it before getting back in. When driving alone, it is a case of getting out and opening the gate, getting back in, driving a little, getting out again, closing the gate before finally getting back in the car and starting the journey. It's a bit epic.

especially when it rains.

So in my hours spent waiting for someone to do my work for me and opening the gate, I sit and look at the sheep as they graze and stare back at me.

When people do pass and open the gate, it's safe to say that there are some odd looks.

Hwyl a sbrii

Work

I knew this would happen, I have done all along. But I wouldn't change it for the world because I have had one of the most awsome summers of my life.

Granted, it's been raining for most of the summer, but I don't care! I have a new umbarella (with cherries on it) and a new raincoat (with flowers on it). I have never had my own umbarella before. Ever. I have never had a raincoat that I've liked so much. So "bring on the rain" I said, a fool as always.

The rain, it came.

Even though I've been soggy for most of it, I've been on 3 holidays including 4 countries in 3 days, I've done nothing some days which is awsome, I've been to two weddings which were glorious and I've generally had a lovely time.

During all this fun though, I've not done any work for the new school year (and therefore I haven't procrastinated and blogged). So with less than a week to go I've loads of work to do and I panicking. Slightly. My laptop is overheating I'm typing so much (partly work, mostly twitters), my brain has melted because I'm losing sleep and I've become obsessed with Tim Minchin.*

Ah well, only about 47 weeks until the summer holidays come again!

Hwyl a sbrii

*I have no idea what this obsession has to do with stress but I've listened to nothing else for the last two weeks, so it can't be good! (it's very very funny though!)

Bad day

Hi wierdo, how are you? I think I'm having a bad day but how do I make sure?

Well reader, there are 3 questions you need to ask yourself:
1) Have you driven your car into someone elses?
2) Have you cried like a baby and/or a crazy person for most of the day?
3) Have you fallen over whilst running after your grandmothers dog to try and dry him after you bathed him and in doing so lost a chunk of your big toe. Because of this you have a bandaged toe and it really hurts to walk.

If you can answer "Yes" to all three of theese questions, then yes, it has been a very bad day. Less than three and it's just dandy.

Hwyl a sbrii

ps I'm off on 3 holidays in succesion over the next three weeks (nothing comes along all year and then 3 pop up all together) and although I'll attempt to twitter when there's battery, I'll most likely dissapear until I'm home again. Toodle-pip

Montage

If my life has a montage it would be of me running down a mountain.

Me, 7 years old, discovering the path for the first time whilst walking with my grandmother. Running down the mountain with my grandmothers overweight beagle trying to catch up with me. Just running down the hill full blast. Caring about nothing except reaching the bottom.

Me, 14 years old, a bit slower but only because I'm afraid of losing our new puppy. He can't jump up a step of the stairs yet so I'm being nice with him and letting him catch up. I'm also checking to see if anyones hanging about on the road because I'd just die if anyone saw me in this raincoat and wellies, let alone running in them.

Me, 22 years old, sprinting down today. The dog that's trying to trip me by running just a bit to slow has grown a ridiculous amount in the last eight years. I'm in my raincoat and wellies, I have my hood up and I don't care. Partly because I'm old enough now not to care, but mainly because I don't know anybody around here anymore.

Me, 70 years old, here to show my granchildren where I grew up. Maybe?

Hwyl a sbrii

Flash (a-aah)

Why are you flashing me?

Are my headlights not working? They're not on so you wouldn't know, are they meant to be on? No, it's light out. Is there some kind of rude word written on my bonnette? Nope...Wait there's police up ahead. OK thanks.

Wait where are they? Why would you need police on this corner? Can anyone actually go round there at more than 50 miles an hour?! Waw! I should try sometime!..But not now - police right?

Don't I know you?

I hate flashing drivers - I can never think why they would do such a thing...Hwyl a sbrii

Five years

When I was seventeen, a boy held my hand at a local gig and I was so incredibly happy I got a twitch in my cheek because my face couldn't handle the emotions. We didn't say a thing, we just held hands and continued through the gig being generally akward teenagers.

The following night a group of my friends and I were camping near a lake. The boy arrived late after work and as he sat down next to me, we continued where we left off the night before with the holding of hands. By the end of the night, we had emptied the tent because of our smushieness and kissing.

Whilst walking towards my lift the following morning, I texted him. I have no idea what I said but I know that I assumed that we were now boyfriend and girlfriend because that's how things work.

A few days later I was in his house and we noticed that neither of us had asked the other out. He asked me out. After thinking, I said yes. The smushieness resumed.

Five years later and I'm still sharing a single bed with him. I sleep next to the wall because I'm afraid to fall out otherwise. I sleep as close as possible to the wall so that he has as much room as possible because I love him. He sleeps as close as possible to the edge to give me as much room as possible because he loves me. The duvet enjoyes the middle of the bed with each of us assuming its the other.

After five years of sleeping in a single bed together, I have discovered that the best sleep I get is in the half an hour between he gets up for work and I get the whole bed, and when he kisses me goodbye and I relise that he's actually going.

Hwyl a sbrii

Alice and Kev

I have much things to say, but I'm not going to say them now.

Instead I'm going to direct you to this link: the story of Alice and Kev. It's the story of two homeless characters on the Sims 3 game and it is beautifly told with lovely pictures. I do suggest you read it.

As for the multitudes of other things I have to write about, I've jotted them down on my phone and new iPod Touch (had to get it in somewhere!) and will get to it soon I promise. After all, I have 11 weeks till work starts!!

Hwyl a sbrii

A matter of life and death

We moved to this house when I was seven and my brother was five. That was (*sums*) 15 years ago. Soon after we moved I won a fish at a fair. I still have that fish along with 4 others in a tank in the living room. They've grown and changed they're spots, but they're still there!

In the other living room we have a tropical fish tank. This is quite new, it being only about 3 years old. About two years ago my beloved bought a catfish for the tank. It was about the size of the nail on my thumb, black and white and rather pretty.

Very soon however it started growing becoming much much larger than the rest of the fish in the tank. To my beloved and I it became the leviathan and quite scary to be honest! It was, truth be told, the only thing to give character to the tank.

A few days however, the catfish was found dead. We'd been under the impression it was depressed for a few months but still, it was a suprise. It got buried in the garden, partly out of respect, and partly because we were scared it would block the toilet (!! ;-) !!).

But to cheer us up, the guppies (the male was a less magnificent version of this fish!) had litlle baby guppies! So now, although there is something rather large missing from our tank,. it has been filled to mome degree with at least ten little tiny (and I mean tiny) baby guppies!

Hwyl a sbrii

On not bending my legs

I've developed quite a neat way of going up the stairs without bending my knees. It involves using my hands as balance and support and than penduluming my legs behind me (left to right) so that at the top of their swing they can move on to the next step. Graceful and ladylike it is not. Painless it is.

Why would I need to go up stairs without bending my knees I hear you ask. The answer simply put is alcahol. I went to a gig, drank a bit started walking to crash at someones house and promptly forgot which foot went next so I tried both at once. Resulting in me headbutting someone in their unmentionables and scraping my knees rather badly. But all was weel, I apologized, we laughed, we reached the house, we drank some more, we slept.

The next day? Painville. My knees were fine when bent or straight but the transition between both really hurt. How do kids fall over and not die from pain?! This used to be nothing to me but now I have to create a new way of going up the stairs because it hurts so much? I'm going soft!

And of course, since it was a drunken accident, I get no sympathy watsoever. It was my own fault I know, but it still bloody hurts. Can someone offer me a cup of tea or something?!

It's better by now and I can bend my legs much better. I will not however be wearing a skirt for quite a long time as my legs are all black and blue and scabby. Damn good timing as well - this has been a prime wearing skirt weekend.

I shall however, continue not bending my legs whilst going up stairs. Mainly because it is fun.

Hwyl a sbrii

So this is it?

So i've got one of those things tommorow that you get in the real world - you know - an interview. For a job. One of those scary things that I'll have to go to every day and do stuff and have resposibilities. And get paid (which is vitally important of course).
 
I've had a mock interview, and I've had a run through of the lesson i'm supposed to give and although i obviously need to make minor changes, they went well.
 
And so i'm feeling confident.
 
Not that I'll get the job - oh no! I'm sure someone else will get the job (I know two of the other applicant and frankly, I think they're better than me!). But I'm confident that I'll do the best I can and do myself justice.
 
I've bought an expensive new suit (and I'll flippin well wear it forever the amount i've spent on it) so at leat I'll look fabulous!
 
Wish me luck!

Hwyl a Sbrii

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Running a whole office off one plug

That is what I have been doing since the last post.
 
The work load is, in all honesty, ridiculous. When they say before you begin a teaching course that there is lots of work you shrug it off and go "yeah wo-efy, I can handle work".
 
Which is true. I can handle it; just about. But then I have a boyfriend who would like to see me from time to time, a body that just wants to sleep all the time and 3 more series' of x-files to watch the time just dissapears. Oh, and jobs to apply for.
 
But there we are. I'm not complaining (not reallyanyway); it's just that I need  people to know that's why I'm not around - why I'm not blogging!
 
So there I was last night; running a printer scanner copier, laptop and laminator off one plug. I wanted a lamp on as well really, but there we go. I'm not complaining.
 
Not all the time anyway.

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Unexpected

I have an unexpected free lesson. It's nearly the end of the day at the end of the term and I have nothing to do.
 
That's a lie - I have loads to do but I have over half term to do them and although i'll regret this next weekend I've nothing to do except waiting for the next 40 minutes to pass me by.
 
It's half an hour by now. I've just made a poerpoint slide to show my class exactly the same information that's allready in their books. You know, in case they forget how to turn a page or something.
 
I suppose I shouldn't complain, and I'm not, not really. I'm just anxious for the working day to be over so that i can drive down to Aberystwyth and then on to Cardiff on monday to catch up with friends and get up to good old fashioned drunken shinanegans.
 
speak to you soon
 
hwyl a sbrii

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extremely superior

Last Wednesday I was driving to work with an extremely Superior look on my face. There were two reasons;

1. I had had two days off work because of snow whilst nobody else had - I'd been stuck while the school was open. I had two days of sledging whilst everyone else went to school.

2. I had more snow on my car than the whole area around me had.

So every car I saw I laughed evilly at them. "mwahaha" I'd say "look at my snow! Don't you wish you had snow half as wonderful as mine......" Then I'd stop because the car had past, and start again "Mwahaha...."

Alas, the snow is now gone. No more sledging, no more snowballs, no more snow days.

However the snow on our track is still there - as cold and slippy as ever. Which means of course that we have to park at the bottom of the road and walk up to the house. I am not impressed - my work bags are very heavy.

Damn you snow!

Hwyl a sbrii

On being ill

I'm really really good at being sick when I'm healthy.

I understand this sounds ridiculous but let me explain. I am really good at complaining that I feel ill or complaining that something hurts. If I'm honest, I probably just like the attention and the sympathy.

When I'm actually not well however, I'm quite bad at it.

I reach a stage that can only be classed as denial. Even if I am ill enough to admit some sort of cold or something I will still maintain that I am healthy enough to do stuff.

Like go to lectures and buying new laptops.

But nooo, apparently I'm ill and should stay home. Bah....*sniffcoughshudder*

Hwyl a sbrii

One woman folk band

I think I'm becoming a one woman folk band

When I was about 9 I started getting piano lessons. I wanted to be able to play the piano but I was too lazy to practice. So by the time I was 18 I'd passed my grade 5 (just) but had to stop lessons because I was going to university. Since then of course I've started playing a lot more piano even though I've forgotten how to.

I started playing the guitar in my teens because that's what everyone was doing. I was going to be cool even if it killed me. By now I've reached a level I cannot pass (which isn't very high by the way) and I'm still not cool.

Charangos have been in the house for ever. My dad plays quite well and through him I've learnt. I got my charango on my 18th birthday and even though I don't play often or well enough, I love playing.

This christmas santa gave me a bodhran. Santa doesn't realise that I barely have enough rythm to clap my hands to a song, but that's besides the point. It is beautiful and I'm really looking forward to learning to play!

So here I am sitting in front of my laptop with no inspiration to write let alone learn to play an instrument. The want is there don't get me wrong - I really want to be able to play an instrument well but it's so damn cold and there's a fire here...

someday?

Happy new year everybody. Hwyl a sbrii

Last week of term

The week before holidays were the best ones when I was at school.
 
In primary school you got to bring games with you and play them all day. The headmasrter had a dog and he used to bring it with him on the last two days of school and we used to take turns walking it around the yard. It. was. great!
 
In secondary school we got to play cards. I learnt all the card tricks and games that I know now on the last days of term. Or, we played truth or dare. Inevitably, we chose truth most of the time and questions like "who would you rather kiss?" or "who would you like to be stuck on a dessert island with?" would cause giggles and embarrassment. Sometimes we played a game like a class and although we thought that was a "a bit shit" to begin the lesson, we'd always get into it.
 
Now however I'm on the other side. Pupils ask me straight away if they can watch a dvd in class. "What?!" I say, "there's a whole week left of term" and promptly continue revising for the test I'm setting tommorrow. I have to continue teaching them you see, unless a teacher tells me not to because I'm trying to impress people so that they give me a job once I finish the course next year.
 
But I'm still young enough to remember what it was like - I loved the last week of school. So I'll give them work but dammit if it won't be just a little bit fun!

Hwyl a Sbrii

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e-blog

I e-mail blogs a lot more often now because I can't access blogger at work (this is also why I don't comment as often as I would like - I'm still reading I promise). So I appologise for the advertisments at the bottom of my posts. I will try my best to delete them as often as I can.

Hwyl a Sbrii

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ficto-blog - shining time

He has a clock that shines the time onto his roof.
 
I'm not sure why it does this. Is it because looking at the roof is easier than looking at the digital display of the clock? Or is it so people like me can stare at it and know how long sleep hides from us.
 
As time goes on I see patterns. I remember an ex used to see patterns in times and dates all the time. He would challenge himself to do it everytime he looked at a clock. Be it a pattern in the analog time (eg smiling face), a pattern in the digital display (eg 10:01) or a pattern in the date and time together (eg 4:56 on the12th of March becomes 12/3 4:56); he would try and spot one every time.
 
I never understood it at the time. Guess that's why he's an ex.
 
But now in a semi-crazed state that is sleep deprivation; when you're so tired you're awake and your flesh burns for sleep which evades you, I see it. It keeps me going. And maybe I'll spend a whole minute trying to find a pattern and not see it, but it doesn't matter because there's another minute coming.
 
Maybe that's a philosiphy for life.
 
It doesn't matter that I can't sleep, there will be another bed, on another night, in somebody elses arms to try again. And hopefully succeed.

Hwyl a Sbrii

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On growing up (again)

In answer to my blog a few months ago I'm here to update you on my growing up status. To quote myself:

"The general consensus however was that this was going to stop eventually. We were going to have to grow up and have responsibilities and stuff. Sure, we'd still get drunk (quite often), but it would have to be arranged. Be it around work, children, sleep or other, it would have to be arranged."

Oh, the naiivety. To think that "eventually" then was so far away. It's been three weeks since I saw a pub. Three weeks since I tasted cool cider flowing down my throat and melting my mind. Three weeks too long by far.

And it's true - I have to arrange to go out now. I see my friend when we play hockey on Wednesday nights and we say that we'll definetely do something next week. Here's hoping this time...

I'm stupidly excited to go shopping monday night on my own. How sad is that? Is this what growing up really feels like? Or will I be forever in this stage of thinking that I'm growing up. Age is a state of mind afterall....isn't it?

So the title to this blog shoud read "on growing up (still)"? Or "on growing up (apparently)"? Or "sober and lonely"?

Bah humbug.

Hwyl a sbrii

quotes I like

I read this quote today:
"What makes the level of violence in Armageddon legitimate, I think, is that there really is no other way of dealing with an asteroid approaching Earth except to send Bruce Willis to drill a hole in it and blow it up with a nuke"
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7730142.stm
and it made mae smile.

And I've been listening a lot to this song over the weekend:
"....
And everything depends upon
how near you sleep to me
...
I love to see you naked over there
especially from the back
...
You're faithful to the better man,
I'm afraid that he left.
So let me judge your love affair
in this very room where I have sentenced
mine to death."
[take this longing, Leonard Cohen]

That also made me smile.

So I got to thinking of other quotes that I like. Whether they make me smile or think here are some more quotes I like.

"It's not in colour, but that's all right,
War's better seen in black and white,
White for us and black for them
With no grey shadows inbetween"
[War correspondent, Eric Bogle]

Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read.
[attributed to Groucho Marx]

I can see you standing over a hot stove, but I can't see the stove
[Groucho in Duck Soup]

"And every breath we drew was hallelujah"
[hallelujah, leonard cohen] - this just makes me...thoughtful? I can't think of a specific emotion but it makes me draw a breath from the center of my soul and as I exhale I smile, slightly, eyes closed.

Hwyl a sbri

First sight

I don't remember how I met most people. I've known you all my life right? I mean there is no defining moment when I thought "wow, I'm meeting a new person who will be my friend now forever". Not with most people anyway.

But then there are some whom I do. And these aren't always important people in my life, they're just random individuals who i am glad to call friends. One of these people is living with my brother now.

It was a lovely september afternoon about two years ago. Me and my friend got off a bus in penllyn, and walked up a small hill to the pub. There was a light breeze, the sun was smilling for a change and everything was good for two reasons. Firstly, I was returning to university the next day, and secondly, I'd had a few pints.

It was about 7pm and as we neared the pub I saw a girl in a straw hat sitting outside. A beautiful evening to be doing so I thought to myself. Odd that she doesn't have a pint but there we are.

The pub of course was closed - he'd gone home to get some food (the wonderful world that is Ty newydd Sarn) and so me, my friend and this girl started talking.

And I'm sorry, I truly am, but I don't remember when I met most of you, if indeed I have. And there is nothing special about people I do remember meeting. It may be that I just remember meeting people when slightly intoxicated. It may need to be a sunny day for me to remember seeing you for the first time. Or maybe, and this is the most likely, you need to wear a hat of some sort.

That's that I'm afraid

Hwyl a Sbrii

This is gonna be good...

It's gonna be a weekend. I can feel it in my bones.

All the signs say it's gonna be good. It's Halloween, there's a big weekend of drinking ahead and there's a gig tonight and tomorrow. My dearest friend is coming as well, I'm at Aberystswyth, and I'm getting my first grant today so I'm gonna buy a new digital camera (after being without one for 6 months). Also, tomorrow we'll be wearing t-shirts with each others faces on, as you do.

But I've been looking forward to this weekend for weeks. I've been building it up as the ultimate weekend of seeing old friends, dressing up, listening to good music and getting very very drunk. So there is quite a big chance that I've built it up too much and it's going to crash and burn.

My costume wont be as good as I envisage it, I know that. I'm gonna look like a cross dresser with wings (I'm supposed to be a bat).

It could be one of those weekends that I can't get drunk. So then I'll not only be looking like a bit of a twat, but I'll be a sober twat.

My grant could not have arrived, there mightn't be a camera left in the shop (the one I want anyway) and the t-shirts might look awful.

But who am I to be pessimistic? Who am I to think the worse when my heart tells me this weekend is gonna be great!

Hwyl a sbrii

Twistorilin

If I'm honest, I've stolen this off Huw's blog (a welsh blog) but I love it so much I must spread the word! I must make everyone sit and read the website as I have done! It makes me want to twitter, even though I've tried it before and got bored.

This website makes me happy instantly so go read Twistori. (especially the love ones) Please, and enjoy!

Hwyl a Sbrii

Booboo

I have made a massive booboo. It is a complete and utter disaster. I cannot believe that I have been so utterly foolish!

For his birthday, my mother bought my dad a ticket to see christy moore in liverpool. No problemo there, as my brother did the internet ordering. He is, after all, the one doing a computer degree.

A few weeks ago however, my mother asks me to book a hotel for them. After much searching and swearing at expensive establishments, I managed to find a decent, reasonably priced hotel and promptly booked it. So far so good.

Yesterday, my mother asked me to print off a map of Liverpool and mark the philarmonic hall and their hotel on it. I have no idea which hotel I've booked them into. Absoulutely no memory of how the hotel looked or what the website was, nothing.

Did they send me a comfirmation email? no.
Is it in my browsers history? no
Did I save it as a favourite on the computer? no but I did save another one, which I know is the wrong one. Handy eh?

They're going tommorow and eventually I'm going to have to admit to my humongous mistake and to the fact that they're paying for a hotel I can't direct them to. Or tell them the name of. But will I do it now? Soon? never!

Hwyl a sbrii

P.S. Any suggestions for a cool halloween costume would be greatly appreciated. I do so love halloween (if I live that far...)

Then and Now

So there I was. Carefree, drunk and sleeping at least 10 hours every night I wasn't at the pub. In massive debt but not caring because so was everybody else and dammit if the man was going to stop me having fun. I didn't care 'bout nothing. Untill exam time anyway. And even then; yes, even when my whole "life" depended on that 2 hours coming up tommorow, I still managed to spend most of my evening drinking tea and dreaming it was cider.

Then I grew up. Or was told to do so. Or, even better, was made to do so by lack of money and anything better to do. Or, if I'm totally truthful, I wanted (ever so slightly in my youthful foolishness) to do so.

So here I am. Presentable, sober and tired. I'm at the pub once every two weeks at most. I'm still in debt even though I'm being paid loadsamoney to do what I'm doing; it dissaprears on petrol and on respectable clothes and on petrol. I care about how I look, I care about what my coworkers think of me and I care about how well I'm doing. My whole life depends on every day and I actually care. I drink tea because it makes me happy and I don't think of cider until the weekends. I have been made to be anonomous.

Who am I? I'm not sure, you'll have to tell me. I am, for now at least, an avid blogger with no intention of doing anything important.

Hwyl a sbrii

Today

Today I have been mostly sitting on my arse in front of the television playing kakuro on the internet.

I have not taken a new picture that shows me in my truly sexy glory whilst at the same time hiding my true identity. I need this picture for the blog you see, by Monday.

I have not cleaned the house as I must do by 10pm when my mother arrives home.

I have not cleaned my room or sorted my files out which is what I promised myself to do as I need to do this also by Monday.

I have not had tea yet and it is 7pm.

I have not, despite playing it all day, got any better at kakuro. My best time is still the time I got on my third try.

I have however, blogged twice today and also managed not to cry even though my laptop is broken (again). Successful day me thinks.

Hwyl a sbrii

London Marathon

When I was very young, I said that I was going to run the london marathon when I was 18. When I was about 15 my brother told me he wanted to run it with me. So I changed my plan and decided that I was going to run it when I was 21 (so that my brother would be old enough to run the full marathon with me). So last Aprill, the second the ballot opened for the 2009 London Marathon, my name went in the hat.

And then came the waiting. 6 months of half arsed jogging: not wanting to train fully in case I didn't get in, and not wanting to sit about waiting, doing nothing, in case I got caught out not fit enough when I did get in.

So the first week of October has arrived and here I am waiting for the letter to tell me my fate. On the one hand I want to get in to fufill my dream and to raise some good money for charity. On the other hand however, I seceretly (not so seceretly anymore) want to be rejected. I mean I'm doing my teachers training this year, its a really tough year with lots and lots of work! I don't need the stress of jogging and running and training on top of lesson plans and lesson evaluation and tears!

Yesterday the dreaded letter came. I'm happy with it's content: There'll be other marathons when I don't have so much to do....of course by that time I'll be about 13 stones and have to roll the marathon instead of running it, but that's beside the point.

Hwyl a sbrii