Guides Christmas bazaar was today.

 

How twee does that sound?

 

That's because it was.  I was at the lolly stand and with the knitted dolly clothes all afternoon.  And everybody smiled, said they had such a good time, bought peppermint creams made by the Brownies and tombola tickets.

 

Yesterday, I went to the Eastleigh warehouse and packed shoeboxes.  Five hours, take away twenty minutes for lunch.  It was good, theraputic, quiet, something to do that you can concentrate properly on, that nobody can complain about because it's helping other people, it's volunteering, isn't it?  I love packing boxes.  Some people send boxes that are a bit rubbish really - what's an Eastern European child going to do with an eggcup? - but most of them are fantastic, and you can see people have put so much effort in.  I love opening a box to check it and finding a handknitted hat, a notebook that someone's stuck stickers on themselves, or most of all a card saying best wishes, from your friends in England, with a picture of a Christmas tree in felt tip pen and a photo of a smiling child - the artist.  It's such a warm, fuzzy feeling.  I feel so proud to be part of this relationship between two children I have probably never met and probably never will.  But I love them both.

 

Day before yesterday, I went to see everyone.  Not everyone, obviously, but a lot of people who are very important to me.  It was great to see you.  I've missed you so so much.  Made my week.

 

And last night, the joy that was babysitting, until about 1am.  Lot of Ella telling me guess what guess what guess what I've GOT to do my Literacy homework it's due Monday so I HAVE to do it now it's REALLY DIFFICULT Literacy work I hate doing Literacy it's my favourite subject guess what I have SO MUCH TO DO it's almost like an essay it's so much - bless her, it was six words, which she had to copy out six times each in cursive handwriting.

 

Those were the days, they were.

 

Actually, no they weren't, I prefered the days when you did English and Maths, as opposed to Literacy and Numeracy.

 

For one thing, they were easier to spell.

Feeling a little more artistic right now so here goes.  Imagine it's just a normal entry, but written with the gaps where I'm thinking.  Okay?

 

Going to see pool (no water) tonight               at The Point in Eastleigh.

 

I'm not quite sure what to make of it.

 

I've been reading some of the reviews...

and it looks to be psychotic and shallow.

As shallow as the empty pool that the accident happens in.

Have a look at the reviews if you're interested.       The Telegraph is the most... explosive one

(but it's not going in my portfolio as outside research

because Ruth's brother is in it and I don't think she'd like it...).

 

Either it'll really make me think

 

Or it'll make me really angry

 

But I can tell you one thing

It won't disgust me, no matter how scary

                                               or sadistic

                                               or graphic it is

Because I'm in that kind of mood where you don't want to talk to me

Because I'll scare you... with what I'm thinking

You don't want to know         what I'm thinking

 

 

Over the last few days, in other words since Thursday, I have been struck several times by how fanstastic children under the age of eleven are for cheering you up.  They're just so... brilliant.

 

I was babysitting Jasper and Hattie on Friday night.  That always cheers me up.  And then, on Saturday morning, their mother comes around to our house with some stuff for my parents and... a brown paper head band with bear ears on it decorated with little diamonds drawn in blue and yellow pencil, made for me by Hattie that very morning because she'd wanted to make something for me and I'd told her the night before that I like bears.  Hattie is maybe four or five, and an absolute angel.  Blonde, huge grin, absolutely dinky with the cutest glasses you have ever seen.  And she made me bear ears.  I was on a high all day, wore them for hours, they're on my desk at home right now.

 

Nobody else would do something quite that selfless and wonderful, nobody I know of.  I've babysat for her twice in total, read her two bedtime stories, let her win at Junior Cluedo, with the help of her brother showed her how to use my laptop's keyboard properly to type the words "My favourite Christmas memory is helping Father Christmas hand out presents at the Christmas party", and she makes me BEAR EARS.  I love this kid.

 

I also love her brother, who is ten, and an absolute genius.  We pushed the boat out on Friday night, I let him stay up until a quarter past nine to watch his football video (which was actually quite interesting, or maybe that was just in comparison with the Economics I was doing at the time...) and something about penguins on UK History.  No other boy that age, when his younger sister decides that now is the time to play a board game involving princesses and good luck charms, would say, "Well, it's not my favourite game, obviously," and then continue to play with such enthusiasm just so that Hattie could play the game she wanted.

 

So there's been them, brightening my weekend, and there've also been several other children who are fantastic.

 

Ella (who is five and I also babysit for on occasions... including this coming Friday) is also worthy of mention as an absolute STAR for sending in to the Acorn (village newsletter, edited by my parents) a picture entitled "3 Kings Go To Sea The Baby Geesos Biy Ella age 5 1/2".

 

And last but not least, massive hugs and the promise of a medal as soon as I can find enough money to bribe the Labour Party into it to all the wonderful children yesterday in the shoebox chain carrying shoeboxes all the way from the altar of Broughton church down all the pews out the back across the churchyard and into the lorry.  I think we shifted about 1300 boxes that afternoon.  So proud of them all.

 

Thank God for small people.

A non-poem I wrote in Maths this afternoon.

 

 

The whole day, she thinks in poetry.  Unrhymed, of course, rhymed would just be stupid.  Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  Suddenly, a boring, dreary day, became romantic.  Words roll around her mind like brightly coloured ribbons of metaphors.  Time after time, she reaches for paper to prove to her pen the grace of poets long gone.  The images flood her, but the words are silent.  She crosses herself; Keats be with me.  Write it down, she tells herself, write it down.  Stick this, darling, says her brain.  With you, it's prose or nothing.

ARGH.  In the next... well, until Christmas, I know for a fact that in Performance Studies alone I have three courseworks, three performances and four essays.  One of which I'm meant to be getting on with now but to be honest, I really don't care right now.  I'm just going to wallow for a bit.

 

Einstein the musical tonight - should be EXCELLENT, break a leg everyone in it you'll be fantastic and I cannot wait.

 

Until then, however, I have quite enough to be getting on with.  I wrote a poem this morning, you know, one of those poems where you write down anything and everything you're feeling at the time, things that people have said or whatever.  When I have the book with me I'll copy it out for you.   But that's not the point -- the point is that it was first period that I wrote that and since then I am not joking I have been absolutely snowed under.  It's like Murder, She Wrote, only with a more believable plot.  (Did anyone see the one where the bloke faked his own death and rigged up loads of CCTV in his house just to see what his family said when he died, and then some girl was stabbed in the pool room?  I swear I've written one like that, how very worrying...)

 

Nobody talks to me on here any more.  I haven't had a comment for three weeks, and I only started getting comments on here because I complained last time.  People tell me they read this, but they never say what they think or anything.  There's no give and take any more.  This world is going to the dogs.  Not just because I don't get comments here any more, you understand, that'd just be a bit sad, but because there isn't give and take any more.  And the world is a worse off place for it.

 

The world is a worse off place for lack of Auntie Sheila, too, speaking of which.  She died while I was at Shared Planet last week.  Her funeral's tomorrow, and I'm not going, I have to stay and look after Lily and sort out Guides.  Which I don't mind, because to be honest I could do without the whole family reunion scenario, and I love my Guides, but on the other hand I hope wherever she is now, Auntie Sheila knows that I'm sorry to have lost her (even though I barely spoke to her) and wish her all the best, wherever she is now.  She deserves to go to heaven.  I remember months ago describing her in my diary as "dotty, like an exploding packet of Smarties".  That was back when they still had the blue ones with huge amounts of colourings in them, and the plastic lids with the letters on... I collected them (don't laugh, it's true) and I don't have a single E, I think there was a conspiracy... but about six K's.  Hmm.  And - do you remember? - you used to jump on the empty tubes and the lids would shoot out about twenty centimetres and it used to be the funniest thing in the WORLD... I have a theory that every depression course should come with a goodie bag containing a badge with a smiley face on it, a bottle of bubble mixture and a packet of Smarties.  Wouldn't that cheer you up?  Just for a short while, and if you're cheered up for a short while, that's part of the battle won, isn't it?  And if someone GIVES you bubble mixture, well, I'd love to be given bubble mixture, just for no reason.  It's just a way of saying I'm happy when you're happy, and you can't be sad when you're blowing bubbles, so here, spend a hyperactive half-hour blowing bubbles on me.  I care about you.

 

Everyone reading this right now, I am imagining giving you a virtual bottle of bubble mixture.  I hope it makes you smile.

 

Right, now I've gone on for ages, if I can just write the same again for the essay with possibly the LONGEST title you have ever read (no joke), I'll be laughing.

 

The title is "Describe and comment on the similarities and differences you have discovered between the three art forms of Dance, Drama and Music" (21 words, stick it in "Heading 1" and it takes up three lines - 21 words down, 729 to go...) so any help would be appreciated.  Thank you.  Huggles.