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Yes, We abdicated to Wordpress.


We're oh so dreadfully sorry we didn't tell you sooner, but we lost our password and we're sure you'll forgive us because our new dig looks just so pretty and shiny. . 


New posts every week (I know, amazing right?) can be found at -


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Project 2010

2009, In some ways the best year of my life, in many others the worst.
But a lot of people have iterated to me timeless times already this year, we've closed the door so onward ho. But one thing is for sure. . This year. . I could do so many amazing things, if only I put my mind to it. . And last year. . I feel I lost touch with who I really am. . And rather than attempt Mount Everest this year. . I think I'd like to find out who I really am . . And maybe it won't be who I was before I got lost. . But if we don't try we'll never know. .

Introducing Project 2010

365 days, 365 people, 365 photos.

A couple of months ago I met a girl called Hannah Sketchley, who had this marvellous idea to take a photo of herself everysingle day, for a whole year. . And as things generally go in my head. . I think. . I could do that. . But different. . So here's my project 2010, one photograph every single day, for a whole year, with a different person in every single one. Anyone feel free to jump on the bandwagon. . It's going to be an interesting journey. .

Let's make this an epic one guys. . X x

NDJ Day One - The Art of Excitement. .

Whenever I go on work experience, why is there always a McDonald's in the near vicinity? I did not plan this, account for this or even welcome this, let's just leave it to say there was a bad experience at my last work placement due to a bad encounter with a typical fast food employee and a wanted number. Yet regardless of yesteryears horrors, I set out, with perhaps not the most promising start, to a week of what is most likely to be making tea, with perhaps the occasional variation of coffee. After finally navigating my way around the unhelpful and clueless roads which make up our countrie's industrial estates I finally managed to find the building, I was pleased to note you could most certainly not catch any glimpse of those famous golden arches, and even better not even a trace smell of any deep fried "delights" that may be on offer.

As per usual we'd managed to get first day timing down to a tee - you leave way to early, just in case the world collapses, and end up sitting out side for half an hour, not only looking like a world class idiot, but slowly falling prey to those creeping nerves you never knew existed. When it finally was time to make my grand entrance I was greeted by a friendly woman who gave me the tour of the building, being the local paper offices the big tour didn't last long, but I was quite pleased to find I had been allocated a fully functioning work desk, the height of technology with a phone, swivel chair, PC and even my own rubbish bin.

No sooner had I sat down, just getting comfy it my high back, fully adjustable swivel chair, a young looking woman rushed over saying she was just about to go out to follow up an incident to which the fire brigade had been called to last night - did I want to tag along? Now don't get me wrong. . I wasn't expecting the reporters lounged around all day but I wasn't expecting The Times either. So off we trundle in a small little car which appeared to contain half of Next's shoe department on the floor to some obscure little walkway I've never even heard of. I'm sure you can imagine the fun we had with me trying to read a map ("Is this even the right way up?"). When we finally do arrive at our destination, we're awaited by a house drenched in water from a burst boiler - not quite the high end excitement I was expecting, and the busy family give us the boot in favour of yelling at council.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure the boiler incident was quite nasty but I didn't really think it was that exciting and newsworthy, or worth more than a mention. I guess that's my Journalism instincts shot considering it landed the front page head line on next weeks issue. Back at base I'm given my very own lead, a local boy is going to Uganda so I'm the one who's going to have to write it up and suchlike. Oh I do like it when people take you're name on the phone, thinking you're a real reporter! "Jemma Collins, North Devon Journal" . . I'm beginning to like this more and more. .

Moral Of The Day - Little things are apparently quite exciting in the world of local journalism. . ?

North Devon Journal Work Experience

It's somewhat hard to believe that a person you writes mildly humorous and exceedingly pointless blogs for fun has managed to land herself a place at the highly competitive local paper. I moan stupidly at things, not write sensible news reports! Nonetheless, a career somewhere in the realm of English sounds like a good plan to me and I'm never going to make any money blogging, so what is there to lose?

First things first if anyone's thinking of going into some kind of career, be it English or Neuro-Science (is that a legitimate branch of something?)then in the words of every teacher to ever grace the planet - get some work experience! It sounds like the same old same old really, and to be honest I was the same. I have to give up a week of my free time willingly to do a load of work I won't get paid for. Or just spend the week making tea. However, I can see the logic of it. Even if it does feel like you spent the week with your arm welded to the kettle you'll have been around and in the working environment, so you'll hopefully have more of an idea if this would be the job for you or whether you would rather physically weld yourself to the kettle.

Another thing I wasn't quite prepared for was the amount I'd have to do to get the place at work experience. Last time round, I went to some boring old firm, but I didn't organise a thing. This time it was all on my own back, but still I thought it'd be a case of send off my uber polished and stuffy letter and they'd welcome me in with open arms. It was not the case. After what must have been letter of the century I was asked to submit an essay on why I wanted to go into journalism, an overview of the paper (which I've never read in my life) and my improvements for it and a list as long as your arm of things I wished to gain from the experience. Since when did people take a tea lady so seriously? It's not like you can really compare the North Devon Journal to The Times. Is it? I certainly wasn't expecting such a long list, if any pre-requirements, but it seems places are very high in demand nowadays and a very serious affair. Hence the major essay writing.

However in true cartoon deer style I managed to gain a place, I'm hoping through sheer talent, but maybe sheer luck and hence the diary begins. I'm sure it'll be a valuable experience in some form, whatever ensues this week and I'm sure I'll mess something up so passing it on can invariably do no harm. . That said. If it could I'm sure I'd be the one to discover unwittingly how. .

One Year On. .

A hapless wanderer of the world wide web happens by chance to stumble across a strange and dormant website. . What is this site? Bambi Poppins. . So you may ask yourself, how could a girl who spends half her time writing about the last Eurovision skirt contest possibly get so busy she fails to write to her alternative little blog for over a year? I hope you're prepared for this. . Bambi has a real life just like you! Oh yes boys and girls. . You heard right. . Everyone's favourite cartoon deer got a little tied up in the ways of the world to be posting.

It sounds like the same old usual naff excuse you may come across on and old Joe Bloggs' site but I have actually been really busy with several English pursuits, including spending a week in Oxford University as well as currently being the work assistant girl at a local paper among other things. But all is not lost for the occasional cyber wanderer who may still stumble across me. .

After a year out I've finally come up with some fresh ideas of things to annoy me and I'll also be looking to pass on what I've learnt in my time out on how to get your foot up the ladder in several different forks of life, so overall we'll hopefully end up with a much more varied and interesting blog.

So for now guys

X

Weather Watch

Meeting new people. Whether you love it or loathe it, we’ve all got to master the art of making friends out of complete strangers at some point. Let’s face it; life’d be pretty boring without at least someone to talk to along the way. So when you meet someone new how best to get things going without them running for the hills? Ideally don’t jump up and down failing your arms wildly but if you do get as far a polite conversation then you know the drill. Don’t talk about religion, politics or the weather. The good old British weather. Now we never talk about that do we? Have we all seem to have forgotten the basic fundamentals of talking without boring the brains out of our peers? Not a day has gone past for weeks without me receiving some form of communication telling me how shocking the weather is or about the lack of sunshine we seem to be receiving in this country. Nope, I can honestly say I haven’t noticed the lashing torrents of rain pouring down upon us and the constantly greyscale sky. . . Of course persistently awful weather can get you down, but talking about it none stop will only make you sink lower. I don’t need anymore people to point out the obvious or to be woken by text messages telling me how shocking it is if open my curtains (It’s quite nice to just pretend it might be a pleasant surprise lurking through the window. . . Even though there won’t be.) As bored as I am of this weather, I’m even sicker of it being the only thing anyone ever talks about these days. Can we just learn to accept what we have and make the best of it? Life truly is what you make it and there’s an infinite list things you can do to amuse yourself on a rainy day, you just need to think of them. Have a movie day, cook something, go down to your local sports centre or if all else fails go dancing in the rain. It’s all about the people you’re with, not the weather, and life’s to short to waste a second.

Changing Room Capers

Appealing to all the guys out there, you know what it's like when you add girls to shops. In other words – Kiss goodbye to your Saturday morning and we might as well include the afternoon to boot. We’ll be perfectly happy wandering around a shop that looks as if it should belong in a miniature model village for the best part of three hours. Guys on the other hand, most likely to go with the first item they set eyes on that somewhat resembles what it is they actually need (and why would they want to try it on? I mean that’s why we have clothes sizes right?). The pure luxury of just being able to wander aimlessly around a store and try on a whole pile of clothes which, to be perfectly honest, you have to real intention of buying is all part of the attraction for us shopoholic girlies and in fact an integral part of the experience. Just as is an equally enthusiastic, honest shopping buddie to accompany us on our travels, one who doesn’t happen to be the shop assistant. Now don’t get be wrong store workers are great when you need to pay or to set off on an ever lasting quest to find that must have in your size. But as my new best friend? No thanks.

When I’m in the changing room trying on possible purchases is it really a good idea to harass and hound me as well as plague me with extra unwanted garments? Now I don’t know if I’m just an oddity of the planet but when I’m standing in just my underwear with nothing but a flimsy curtain between me and every Tom, Dick or Harry that’s ever walked the earth, I rather you, yes you miss shop assistant, don’t blunder aimlessly in to ask “how ya doin’ ere then?” Already reasonably perturbed by this brash and uncalled for sales tactic, I’m about to make my excuses on principles alone (regardless of whether this piece of cloth around my neck is my dream dress or a glorified dustbin liner and there’s no point beating about the bush. In this case the latter option.) However simply getting a word in edgeways seems a lost cause as she precedes to guessitmate my size (2 sizes to large, no wishful thinking involved) and presents me with dustbin dredge version 1.2. Maybe my logics’s slightly off but if a customer doesn’t look to keen then maybe leave them be to make way another waitee for whom this maybe “it”? And if what they’re trying on is too big then surely we need to downsize instead of go up? Apparently not. Or maybe lack of common sense is now part if the job criteria. Nonetheless I dutifully try on the aforementioned article of clothing, partly as this could just be first day at work over excitement and partly as I really don’t appear to have a choice in the matter. I’ve barely got the thing over my ears before the dreaded question of how I’m doing looms through the curtain. No, in answer to your question I don’t feel fab. More like an underdressed tart to be perfectly blunt. Oh dear. You look mortally wounded. Quick exit anyone?

But in all seriousness if you want our possible purchases to turn into next weeks wear then recent changes in sales strategies may need to be rethought. So to all eager shop owners out there, maybe you should introduce compulsory cold showers to all workers. Long live browsing. . If I need your help I’ll ask.

Embers

I thought I'd try posting something a little different for a change so here is a poem I wrote a few years ago. No, this is not just a way of still posting without effort. Okay maybe it is. .

The raging fire, blinding and roaring,
Unforgiving merciless, reaching out clawing,
To expand his domain, ungraciously to feed,
His hunger for power, to express the need,
His lust for control, a burning desire,
To consume all before him in his searing attire,
A blackened wasteland left in his wake,
A smouldering desert, from which he did take,
The joy and the soul, the essence of life,
Left behind a land of bitterness, strife,
A desolate expanse, nothing less nothing more,
Than a city of ashes, glowing embers on the floor.

Jemma Collins, 14

What's Dorothy's Name?

It has become a little ritual of ours. The watching of "The Wizard Of Oz" every Christmas. All sounds very nostalgistic and cosy, we'll just forget about the searching through 15 million channels part to try and find the thing on the television on some obscure channel I've never heard of. Only to find it's in Cantonese or Italian. However great something can be (yes, even me) when you watch something so many times you find you know exactly what is to happen next and how the characters will react and so on and so forth. In fact I would go as far to say I thought I knew the whole thing inside out.

Now I also happen to own a pair of bright red dolly shoes. And I'm taking traffic lights here. So therefore, completly by coincidence they have come to be known as my Dorothy shoes. So wearing them as per usual on an unremarkable Friday trip to town the thought just randomly occurred to me. What is Dorothy's last name? I for one hadn't the foggiest. Neither did any of my companions with me at the time and between us we've probably watched "The Wizard Of Oz" enough times to go on a three week skiing holiday. I've grown up with this film every year of my life yet I don't appear to know the simplest thing about it.

The more I think about this the more I translate this into everyday life. I spend the majority of my waking life with my friends but what do I have to show for it? What do I actually know about them? Not an awful lot. Names, ages, birthdays, yes but what do they enjoy? What do they feel about certain things? The longer I spend on the subject the less I find I know. Think about it. What do you know about the people you spend the most time with and trust the most? Maybe it's time we all made an effort to get more acquainted with people.

Talking of which, it's Dorothy Gale.

The Rise Of The Health Junk. . .

Did you know that there's now only 109 calories in a Kit Kat? Did you know nowadays Smarties contain no artificial colourings? A bag of walkers crisps contains 70% less fat than they did in 2005 and a McDonald's happy meal is just as likely to contain a portion of carrot sticks and fruit pieces as opposed to chicken nuggets or a burger.



Excuse me but when exactly did the world go stark raving bonkers? Yes sure, I can't deny the fact we are rapidly becoming one of the most overweight nations in the world but is knocking 5 calories out of a chocolate bar really going really going to solve all our problems? Excuse me for being dumb here but surely the way forward is to try and us to swap our junk eating habits for genuinely healthier options? No matter how many ways you try, a traditional fish and chips will always be worse for you than a jacket potato and salad. Is there really any point of hiding from the truth any longer?



So there you go, problem solved. Get us all to eat healthier foods and then you can stop mucking around with our junk whilst you're at it (see you knew there was an ulterior motive in there somewhere eh?). The scientific fact is everything is okay in moderation. Now obviously living on 23 mars bars a day isn't the best plan if you want to see past your 20s but neither is the odd 1 (or 3) going to kill you or, shock horror girls, cause you to pile on the pounds. So when I do decide I'm in need of some good old fashioned junk food, I actually want it to taste and look as it should not the half hearted washout it's rapidly becoming, or lets be honest what's the point in treating myself? I know full full it contains far more fat sugar and general other heart attack material, but that's what makes it taste nice. When I open a packet of smarties I expect them to look bright bold and colourful. Not as if they've been put through a washing machine first. Or sucked my a five year old and put back in the packet. All because of the absence of artificial colourings and flavours. I couldn't give a monkeys if they contain enough artificial tripe to make me bounce off the walls, maybe that's why I bought them? I don't need the severe lectures I seem to be receiving every blue moon when I feel like a battered mars bar. However even more ridiculous than the last two is the new cadburys chocolate bar with is made with all the same ingredients (thank goodness.. ) but just a smaller size. And it costs more than an average bar.

I can't believe it's not butter? I can.

Moaning Old Grump?

So I've been here just over two months now and have clocked up over 20 posts and hundreds of visitors. Pretty impressive eh? However over a convosation with a friend something dawned on me. As we sat drinking our luxurious hot chocolates with cream, marshmellows, sprinkles, flake and a square of chocolate (pure indulgence. . .with a price tag to match) my friend delightfully asks me when exactly it was I turning into a moaning old hag at 16. After my intinal burst of anguish and a period of sulking into my steaming mug (which only proceeded in steaming up my glasses) I begun to understand where she's coming from. Looking back I seem to have moaned in every single one of them, and I still have a massive store of ideas in my head ready for use, and yes you guessed it, they all involve me whinging about something.

Now I seem to be in my element talking about stupid little things and making them into a massive earth shattering problem which should be given our instant attention. It also I like to think adds a little humour to our everyday lives. If you turn the televison on to any news channnel then prepare yourself to be bombarded with doom and gloom. Now I'm not belittling these depressing tales but everyone needs a little bit of sunshine in their lives. Although I do conceed that ranting about telephones is a bit of an odd way to go about it. But if I am depressing anyone else or making me sound like an obsessive freak then feel free to let me know :)

Etiquette of the Telephone

Phones. Wonderful things, and they've been knocking around a fair old while too. Invented by Alexander Graham Bell all the way back in the distant times of 1876, in the space of just over 100 years they've become an integral part of our society. You'll find a telephone in practically every structure with four walls in the country and one of the mobile variety on every person over the age of 12. So you'd think in all that time and regular use we'd have become pretty well acquainted with the art of the telephone. Apparently not. With the new addition of LCD displays or screens to most phones, can it really be that hard to correctly enter 11 digits? You can now even check your finger tapping is correct before you press that all important dial button, yet still find myself picking up on numerous occasions only to be confronted by an adamant caller insistent that I "am" Jill/Tom/Sandra or Billy. Oh really? Well I wasn't the last time I checked but I guess you strangers who have never set eyes on me know best. And yes, I'm sure they don't live here, unless they're living a nocturnal life under my kitchen sink, but sure if you want me to take a message "just in case" I'll be more than happy to oblige.

So once we've finally got over the hurdle of actually calling someone we'll now have to master the technique of conversation. Now for dumb machines telephones are actually pretty smart. There's no need to holler down the phone at 2000 decibels (consequently deafening the person on the other end of the line as well as those around you) in the hope of actually making your voice cover the literal distance between you and the other end. Believe it or not that is actually the job of the phone. Nor is there any reason to whisper down the phone as if you're scared of it. And you wonder why I ask you to repeat things?

But let us not forget the role of the person being called upon. So it's a common occurrence for more than one person to reside in one house so it's therefore a pretty good bet you'll be dealing with calls or other inhabitants somewhere along the line. Now it's pretty peeving to say the lease to return home only to be told " Oh yea... Someone called...Wanted you to call back..." Oh that'll be a doddle then considering I don't have the foggiest who they are. Would it really kill you to simply get a name, number and reason? Even if you don't think you can stretch to the last two just for goodness sake tell me who called.

So If you've successfully managed to perfect all that now all we have left is how to hang up at the appropriate time...



Bambi Poppins Signing Off...
bambi.poppins.yahoo.com

Doctors & Diets. . . Definitely Disasters

I am one of those irritating people who never get ill. The whole world could be dying a painful death from a mutating virus and I'll be just dandy. Sitting eating a large bar of galaxy no doubt. Normally.


How delightful to spend a whole 12 hours (yes I counted) throwing up the contents of your stomach. However I would like to add that I was very graceful in the act and only threw up in the least obstructive places. Considerate aren't I? I won't continue listing my symptoms and state at the time of the illness as some of you would probably turn away in disgust and run to the hills. But moving swiftly onwards from that delightful note I decided that in a last ditch attempt to stop this horror to call the local doctors surgery. Now I understand they have appointments, emergencies and patients to see but this is ridiculous. There is not one single, even half way qualified person free to speak on the phone for a few seconds. So I'll just go back to throwing up shall I? Finally an hour later (in which time I could have quite possibly in some instances died) a doctor finally rings us back for a telephone conversation. Sorry but a telephone conversation? Hardly an adequate diagnosis really when you also add in the factor that the doctor is extremely chauvinistic and as soon as he realises he talking to a teenage girl he has dismissed all possibility I could actually be ill. So after much instance and unnecessary bother, whilst I must re-stress I'm ill, I am finally allocated an appointment.

So after we've all managed to get over this massive pretence that I simply can't be ill due to the fact I'm a teenage girl and it can't be ignored any longer am I going to get told what's wrong? Am I heck! I'm told it could be one of several things so we'll have to wait for it to happen again before we come to any conclusions. So let me get this straight - I have to go through this again before you can help me? Though I am told that I could stay off dairy, just to be on the safe side. So without any guidance on what I should eat instead, I'm left floundering before I even get to breakfast. Porridge? Cereal? Toast? Yogurt? All contain dairy. By the time it gets to lunch I am majorly sick of this regime. No chocolate, cake, ice cream, milk, butter - in fact just about anything nice. By the evening I've already thrown in the towel and eaten numerous chocolate bars, cake, ice cream and had a glass of milk. And you know what I feel great. Not even the slightest bit icky. A week later on full dairy diet and I feel amazing still. What a great diagnosis then. In fact all I have constructively learnt from the whole experience is a new found respect for people who genuinely need to stay dairy free (or anything else for that matter). How do they do it?

57 Varieties?

Now as some of you may know (and others of you may not) I work in a fish and chip shop. Now everyone who works will probably agree there is often a point at work where one finds themselves very bored. So what can one do when they find themselves bored at work? Chat to other members of staff? Do some unnecessary cleaning? Stare in great detail at minor things. Like the tomato sauce dispenser which proudly proclaims the apparent 57 varieties of Heinz sauces. It's got to be a pretty impressive spread if the number 57 is even in their phone number and P.O Box.. (or very sad.. Either way). So in my extreme boredom I find myself trying to recall all 57 varieties in my head. I get to about 3 (The three which we happen to sell in our shop; tomato sauce, mayonnaise and tartre sauce) and then run out of ideas. Now I must admit this is something which has been bugging me for a long time so I decide to do some research on the good ole' net only to discover the shocking truth... There aren't 57 varieties. There are thousands?!? (Though obviously what they are completly escapes me..) Now excuse my ignorance but is this not a shocking inaccuracy misleading customers? How many innocent bored victims have been mislead just because Heinz had an affection for a random number? Look on the Internet and there are hundreds if not thousands of posts on many separate forums and websites asking what the varieties are and each person probably driven to near insanity never having found an answer... Surely someone should call trading standards?

Take A Hole Punch To Rubber and What Do You Get?

It's a brilliant, glowing Saturday and the sun is beaming down. I should be lying perhaps on an uninhabited desert island somewhere basking in the tropical sunlight contemplating s short dip in dazzling crystal seas. Or at least just down the local beach for ice cream and chips. Either which way goes, especially as I happen to be doing neither; I happen to be hunting down the latest must have wardrobe item with my sister. Is it the latest Louis Vuitton handbag? The new must have from Prada? An article from Gucci's summer collection? Nope.. We're hunting down the latest "wonder shoe". They come in several wonder lurid colours ranging from neon shades of green, yellow and pink to more subdued shades of navy blue and black. Nowadays, so I'm informed, some in even come with a glitter coating. They're apparently made of the latest high tech material which eliminate odour and place comfort as a top priority. And this material is? PCCR, an apparent new wonder material with takes on the best qualities from both rubber and plastic. Sounds amazing huh? And if that's not enough to leave you screaming out for more then maybe you should hear about the high tech breath-ability system. That's right, these incredible shoes come with button sized holes all across them. But don't worry if your feet don't like all that excess air you can now purchase special pins are being sold to fit into the holes available from all "good" shoe retailers. I notice they aren't stocked in Clarks, Animal or D2... So you can have rubber flowers or mickey mouse on your foot too. Great. You may have gathered by now I'm talking about, yes you guessed it, crocs. Otherwise know as someone taking a hole punch to some rubbery plastic clogs. Personally I think an incinerator would be much more effective.. Crocs were developed we the American yachting industry in mind not walking round sampletown highstreet! They feel, smell and most importantly look awful too so why exactly have we all gone gaga for a piece of plastic? All answers on a stamped addressed postcard, and if anyone come up with just one measly genuine reason I think I'll faint..

Money For The Poor

So it's that time of year again. Exam season. Except only this time it's my turn to sit those dreaded and feared GCSE's. Now being the qualifications traditionally crucially important for setting you in good stead for later life one would think that standards of invigilation and surroundings would be high. However as I enter the exam hall a shudder runs over me and not because I'm scared. I must tell you... Our school exam hall is... Freezing. So I sit down at my desk only to discover my chair is half broken and perilously in danger of collapsing halfway through the exam. However the thought of asking the scary Noel Edmunds lookalike who has been hired to officially supervise for the duration of the exam season. I'm sure he's a perfectly amicable person but now is not the time to confirm that. Would it cost the establishment so much more to provide the students of today with table that doesn't rock in a way which appears to replicate the movement of a journey on rowing boat every time one moves their pen? Surely it's classed as a detrimental distraction when the lighting fluctuate from a blazing glare to a murky gloom within the space of five minutes? And how about some quieter heating? Not that it works effectively anyway but it would be nice to to have to listen to a rocket relaunching as I try and calcuate the product of two simultaneous equations.

Okay maybe not the top of the governments agenda but maybe it should be. Of course I'm not just slightly be covering my back incase I fail everything.. I wonder if I could sue for distractions?

One, Two Three, Four

"One, Two, Three, Four.....
Tell me that you love me more..."

Hands up who recognizes the pleasant tones of Fiest in text form? I'm glad. Partially because it will hopefully help you understand what in heaven's name I'm on about in this blog and partially because it means my readers have decent taste in music! So perhaps you'll be able to see where this is headed towards if I tell you this song has recently brought on a whole new meaning to me. Now as you may have noticed this blog is not starting off in my usual vein of thread. This is because I am, for once in my life, not quite sure how to write this down. Largely because I don't wish to offend anyone (through either reading this directly of word of mouth.... gossip and gabble spread a long way y'know!!) So how to phrase this then my dearest online friends?
So how about we let ourselves imagine that the numbers in this song represent people. So that makes roughly four people. Probably more - who knows? Now before you think I've gone stark raving bonkers... Ok maybe I have. In this blog I've been trying in vain to omit any aspect of my personal life for fear of boring you to death. However I have succumbed just this once. I leave you with one question to ponder upon on this fine day...

I know I am not ugly and have a fair few admirers yet how come I can never have any interest from the people I am interested in? There. Said. Done. Finito.

Set In Stone.....

Now most of the people sat here reading this are most likely to have been through their years at secondary school or at some point through the process. Now we all know what happens at the end of your long and treacherous journey through education.. It's those pesky GCSEs. Now as I finally find myself coming to the end of a long and lengthy period of examinations I begin to question the system (well it's a good job I didn't do it earlier than now or I may have just screwed up my life eh?). So much appears to rest on your GCSEs. Your college placements, Jobs, Uni and countless other seemingly uber important things in life. Yet as I confer with fellow pupils both before and after examinations the doubt really has set in. We really aren't giving everyone a fair crack at the game are we? Now I've always prided myself on being in the top sets for well everything and have been aspiring for those top grades for as long as I can remember. I behaved, tried my best and got lucky. There's only a limited number of places in a class and some people are inevitably going to lose out. On average more than half in the people in the second set of a subject would cope perfectly well in the top set. These people are then taking up the places of the people who would cope perfectly well in the second set.. And so the cycle goes on - Catch 22. So you'd you'd think that teachers would adjust what they teach accordingly and effectively teach some sets the same thing. If only it were that simple. You will only get taught what is needed for a specific grade.. Nice huh? So you're in set 4 and they'll only teach you what you need for a D grade when you could probably get an B if you were taught what you needed to know. God help set 6... These people are perfectly capable of achieving top grades but teachers just simply aren't teaching them what they need to know. The current setting system is limiting peoples potential - People are not being taught the skills they need. I have a friend in set 3 who needs to take higher to get to where she wants in life but the school refuse to put her in this tier because she's in set 3 and isn't taught any of the material she needs to know.

Is there anyone else out there who thinks this is amazingly unfair? Surely we should be helping people to get the best grades they possibly can but all we're doing is inhibiting them. This is something which really really angers me. Anyone else up for making a stand?

The Commandments Of Thy Public Bus..

Now anyone who knows me will know I'm a big fan of all things green, including public transport. However of late it has come to my attention that more and more members of the general public just don't know how to compose themselves in the presence of others. So dear people of the UK if you're wondering if your behavior on the buses is acceptable then read on...



1. Thou Shalt Not Play Thy Music Loudly...

Mp3 players and headphones were invented for a reason you know? The general idea comprising of most people have conflicting music tastes and to spare our poor ears from the distressing sounds of these"songs". I mean sure you may absolutely love your latest chav mix album. However to be brutally honest I think it sounds worse than dying mammal pulled along by a four by four over hot coals. I'm sure you think the same about my tastes but I don't force them down your ear drums. So how about we agree to differ, just this once and invest in a costly pair of 49p headphones....



2. Thou Shalt Not Create A Music Battlefield...

Following on from aforementioned point probably not the best idea to rise to the bait if some oblivious, self centered individual does choose the play their music about at loud as a passing jumbo jet. It's really not nice to be sat on a bus whilst three different genres blare out at you from all directions each rising in volume until the roof of the bus finally blows off... I've only got a limited supply of painkillers you know..



3. Thou Shalt Not Take Up A Double Seat During An Influx Of Passengers

Have some people simply not heard of the term "Public Bus"? Sure by all means take a double seat but if the bus suddenly becomes more packed than a Robbie Williams concert on a people to space ratio, then maybe it's time reduce your personal space a tad.. A whole bus journey to whereever and back is not best spent on ones feet. Whilst the bus shakes and lurches in all manner of directions.



4. Thou Shalt Not Sit Next To Randomees In Periods Of Sparse Numbers

Following the same rule of thumb if the bus is as crowded as an ice cream parlour in a thunder storm then as much as I don't begrudge you the other half of my seat on crowded days I don't particularly fancy sitting next to a radommee if I can avoid it. I'm sure you're lovely and all but I don't know you and after a long day and most probably looking like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards now is not the time to get to know you..



5. Thou Shalt Not Litter Thy Public Bus

Sure. You're so lazy you can't wait untill you can find a bin. It's not nice for me having to sit in you mess afterward or the poor driver who has to clean it up - that wasn't in his job description you know?



6.Thou Shalt Not Smoke On Thy Public Bus


Public Buses are for the public and non smoking areas. I do not want to be engulfed in haze of your smoke making me cough and splutter..

Go and get yours now.. while stocks last!

Has anyone else noticed the growing trend of more and more bloggers breaking out from the seemingly perfectly comfortable confides of their web space and spreading their wing's, perhaps most noticeably the new novel published my Tom "Very Nearly Random" Collins?

I have and I must say It's one darn good idea. Get to write exclusive content you won't put on your blog and people will buy it to read it... Ka Ching!! So I thought it's time I stuck my oar in and jumped on the band wagon while it's still rolling.

However I decided that I simple could just not be bothered to spend a whole summer writing stuff which I'd never get to post. However never fear my loyal public.. I have another wonder up my sleeves...

So around two years ago it's the birthday of my little sister and we end up going to some place called a "gnome reserve". Basically the idea revolves around a almost unattended garden with a load of gnomes plonked around willy nilly. But I have to admit it was a laugh at the time. Didn't think much of it when some man comes along snapping away with his camera..

"Everyone look at the sunflowers..."

Then just today I look at the leaflet. We're in it. So everyone go grab yours now!!

The Bambi-Poppins Endorsed Leaflet!!

In two full colour glossy sides of A4 this leaflet will possibly provide you with up to a minute of high octane fun!

Read the text, marvell at attemped humour, play where's bambi (basically where's wally but with me) and stick a picture of me on your wall! Or take a photo.. Like me :D

Available now at all good Tourist Informations..

Wouldn't it be great if we could get this leaflet out of stock? Let's go for it!