Ho hum.

Been at home for a few days. Got back here last night. Five days was enough, seeing as Mum and I haven't spoken since Saturday afternoon (sample from altercation - Mother: "You're the saddest, most depressing and miserable person I know". Me: "Oh really? I know someone far worse.")

I'm at work this week. I asked one of the other guys who was doing his block of shifts first if he fancied alternating weeks instead, so I'm at work all week, but off the week after, etc. Will keep the money coming in at a steadier rate anyway.

On Saturday afternoon I found out that the refurbishment of the hall starts today. When I got back last night I had to empty out all my chests of drawers (of which I have 4) and wardrobe and push the furniture into the hallway. Rather than pack the rest of my stuff into bin liners at least, I just dumped it. I am quite literally living on the floor at the moment. This IS a squat. The only piece of furniture left is the desk with the impossible-to-move fish tank on it. I haven't figured out what to do with that yet. They want to replace my carpet so I'll have to think quickly. They want me to move out all together into another hall while they do it but I have said all but "Fuck off!" to that. All crap is going into cupboards in the corridor and I'll move into a completed student room when they want to do my room. I should probably tell them my plans.

I had very little sleep last night. I nodded off about half 1, then woke at 3ish to the sounds of blokes wandering around the grounds again, underneath my window. Only this time, they weren't drunk lads just having a look around on the way home from the pub like normally happens, these were blokes trying the doors and windows. Went on for about half an hour. I felt like opening the window and explaining to them that if they looked properly they'd see that the hall is currently unoccupied and even if they did manage to break in, and then get in a room, they'd find it completely empty. Except, I didn't want them to know I was there. Slight quandry. They wouldn't get in - it takes me long enough even with keys. No point calling the police for such things, they wouldn't get here in time going on past experience. If they turn up again tonight I'll call security out.

Then about half 4 two cats started scrapping which set off the crows which set off the ducks near the dyke. Another twenty minutes.

Woke up at 7am. Bad stomach.

Been up since then. At work at 1pm. My eyes hurt.

No sign of the builders.

Well done Nick, Landers, Sweetymon and Middleagedbloke - number 2 was indeed the fib.

I don't know whether I'm shocked or amused that some people think I would actually kidnap a cat.

Which one of these is a lie?

1) My first proper kiss was with a girl.

2) When my parents went on holiday I 'borrowed' my neighbour's cat and kept it inside for a week, feeding it tuna.

3) I once made a mix tape for a boy I fancied, it consisted only of "Why Do Fools Fall In Love?" by Diana Ross and "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion, on repeat. I delivered it to his house at 1am after sneaking out of the bathroom window, propping it open and leaving a chair outside it so I could climb back in.

Why else would he be there?

is knowing I have to be here for at least another year.

I think I might go slightly mad.

With everything at the moment. Me. Where I am, where I'm not. What I am, what I'm not. I keep doing what I think will make me happy or answer whatever problem I have at the time, but it never does. I don't know what I want but I know it isn't what I have at the moment. Nobody else has the answers either, I know that. I don't want someone to tell me what to do, I want to know myself. Yeah yeah, I know, nobody knows what they want to do, yadda yadda. Bullshit. Plenty of people do.

I'm bored, miserable, lonely. Bored of this place and the people in it (I don't mean blog). It does nothing to make me feel better and there isn't really anyone here who gives a shit about me anymore. Friends are scattered around the country these days and the ones I have the most in common with live the furthest away. I feel like others, near and far, use me as an example to feel better about themselves and their lives.

I deserve more than this.

Subz posted a link to the Not Always Right site earlier, which I haven't checked for ages, so thanks for reminding me

A favourite:

Library - Melbourne, Australia

(I’m sitting at the reference desk when a lady walks in with a beautiful bouquet in one hand, a bag full of freshly-baked loaves of bread in the other, and a ferocious scowl on her face. She comes to the desk and slams down the flowers.)

Lady: *growls* “Flowers for librarians!”

(She slams down the bread, then growls again.)

Lady: “Bread for librarians!”

(She then puts both hands on the desk and leans forward.)

Lady: *snarling* “Now find me a book!”

(If anyone wants to come in and do this to me, feel free.)

Normally I would've started work five minutes ago, but instead I'm in my pyjamas, watching Withnail & I, and eating Nutella with a spoon.

And so begins my month off from work.

I seem to have taken to it quite easily. I don't know what everyone's complaining about.

Lifted from NotBob.

USING ONLY ONE WORD:

Where is your mobile phone?
Desk.

Your significant other?
None.

Your hair?
Curly.

Your mother?
Good.

Your father?
Warm.

Your favourite thing?
Bed.

Your dream last night?
Aquarium.

Your favourite drink?
Fanta.

Your dream/goal?
House.

What room are you in?
Bedroom.

Your hobby?
Fish.

Your fear?
Poverty.

Where do you want to be in 6 years?
Parent.

Where were you last night?
Here.

Something that you aren't?
Thin.

Muffins?
Rarely.

Wish list item?
Wii.

Last thing you did?
Toast.

What are you wearing?
Pyjamas.

TV?
On.

Your pets?
Wet.

Friends?
Distant.

Your life?
Mundane.

Your mood?
Blank.

Missing someone?
Kelly.

Drinking?
Yes.

Smoking?
No.

Your car?
None.

Something you're not wearing?
Bra.

Your favourite store?
HMV.

Your favourite colour?
Green.

When is the last time you cried?
Thursday.

Where do you go to over and over?
Uni.

Five people who email me regularly?
No.

My favourite place to eat?
Mustafa's.

Favourite place I'd like to be at right now?
Home.

Feel paranoid.

Might do some trimming of the list to the right.

Up and down.

Went home on Thursday. Had a nice meal out with parents, sister and grandparents. Got quite tipsy. Went home, got tipsier. Made my sister open her birthday present early because, being tipsy, I decided I would obviously be the best player there had ever been on Guitar Hero. I was amazing, of course. Honest. (In my mind.)

I want a Wii now.

Would've liked to stay a bit longer but had to do a double shift at work today (joy) which were my last for a whole month (joy). Might go and sign on on Monday. Nothing to lose by trying, even if it does take until 2012 to process, presuming they rush it through.

No students at the hall. No people at all, apart from me and one person in the other building. Don't feel safe. A group of lads climbed over the gate on Wednesday night, obviously intent on exploring. It happens all year but there are usually 160 other people here to notice. But at 1am, on your own, you don't want to hear "Shit, there's a security camera" underneath your window, followed by running away.

Double locked all the ground floor doors and my own door. No one could ever get in, it's all electronic locks and stuff, but I'm still spooked.

My bed broke. I dragged it into the hallway. I'm on a mattress on the floor now. I feel like I'm living in a squat.

It's a bit like The Shining at night...

Have a friend staying this weekend who I used to live with a couple of years ago. She's bringing her dog, which is slightly odd I know, but nice. It's only a little dog but I suppose I could drop it out the window on top of any intruders.

Seeing as I have a month off I might go home for a little while. A week or so. Want some Mum time.

Just browsing the BBC News page I noticed this, about a 6 year old boy drowning on a Beavers outing yesterday.

Was I invincible as a child? I never knew of anything of the sort happening at either of my schools on any school trip or the like.

Year 5 (age 9?) we went on a week long trip to Scarborough with the school. We went swimming in the sea, rock pooling, camped in the woods, wading in pretty fast flowing rivers, 'hiking' (probably a half mile walk looking back!), fossil hunting at the base of cliffs... lots of things. Don't remember a heavy teacher presence.

A year later and we went to Sutherland Lodge Activity Camp in Pickering. These are photos from a more recent trip taken by a different school, but I sure as hell don't remember wearing very much safety equipment or being accompanied by more than one staff member and teacher for a very large group as we went climbing, abseiling, Orienteering (10 year olds alone in a very large, dark forest!), built shelters in the forest out of whatever we could find, did army assault courses, walked in quarrys, went bouldering above a river, canoeing (not enough life jackets to go around, but that didn't matter), horse riding (ditto helmets, never mind), attempted archery (not exactly controlled), not to mention being left to our own devices every evening which usually involved games such as leaping from one bunkbed to the other and hanging out a disused fire exit on the first floor. Again, no casualties.

We went to France for a week in year 8 (age 13) and the teachers spent the entire time drunk. I shudder to think at some of the things we did unsupervised. I distinctly remember gunmen being around at some point. The teachers practically shooed us outside the hotel every evening, like putting cats outside. "Plenty to do in Dieppe! *Hic*". Maybe there is, if you're French and over 18. (I remain convinced some members of our group actually invented Parkour that week.)

Outside of school, nothing made us happier than to hang around at the park, snog in the bushes also frequented by drug dealers, hang around ditches and sewer pipes, dig massive (I mean massive) holes in fields over an entire summer and dare people to jump in and try to get out again (in retrospect I'm amazed no tractors ever got into difficulties), DRINK, and gawd knows what else.

But nothing happened to me though, or anyone else. A few bruises and grazed knees. We were just left to get on with it. Maybe that did us some good? Or were we just lucky?

I'm sensing another bout of blogging apathy in this 'ere parish.

I include myself in that, of course. I just comment more than anything else these days. I actually blame Twitter for this. I see no point in blogging one or two lines like "I am eating cake" or "I am going in the bath" or "I am in the bath. I have dropped my cake". I'm happy to bore people on Twitter with such things though.

I'm sure I remember more late night banter than this. And daytime, for that matter.

Are we all growing up?

More to the point, am I? (Nah. One day maybe.)

Oh well.

Today was thrilling. It's only fair you all get to read about it and turn a faint shade of green when comparing it to your own boring lives.

I got up at 11am.
I had a bath.
At 12pm, I exchanged the towel for a dressing gown.
I couldn't be bothered to curl my hair, so I tied it back in a very severe bun.
I got dressed in rather formal clothes because all of my ordinary clothes are in dire need of a wash.
I unpacked my suitcase. It's only been sat on the floor a week, I think that's good for me.
I ate two salt and vinegar snack-a-jacks. They're very strong. My lips withered.
I sat and watched the fish. I have 15 rapidly growing platys now.
I ate a flapjack.
I ate two biscuits.
I decided to the day was getting a bit hectic and slowed things down with a few episodes of JC.
Then, feeling energetic, I lugged an entire bin liner full of dirty socks and knickers to the industrial-sized washing machines used by the kitchens and cleaners (ie. the free ones) and filled two machines with my soiled wares. (I've decided I can't just keep buying new ones instead of washing them.)
I hung all the washing out on my clothes horse in a symmetrical way.
Exhausted by this point, I did nothing for an hour.
Then I made an omelette.
Then toast.
I straightened my hair.
I cleaned the hamsters out.
I sang to Super Hans.
I put my pyjamas on.
I watched South Pacific. The fish thing on BBC 2, not the musical.
I watched Big Brother.
I'm watching Alan Carr.
I'm typing this.
I'm going to bed.

I HAVE AN AWESOME LIFE.

I've decided I don't drink enough so here I am, drinking.

This time last week Rowtheboat and I were staggering out of this restaurant having consumed cocktails, starter(s), 400g (16oz) of the best steaks ever in the world, with lots of side orders, platters of desserts which were - with no exaggeration whatsoever - slightly arousing, vast quantities of wine, dessert wine, and (the horror) a litre of water each! I was in genuine pain. I have no idea how I managed to swallow and digest that quantity of food. But I wanted it all again. Did I mention it was all FREE?

A week later, I have got back from work today with the craving for a kebab. Pretty rare for me. I also wanted to drink. Got off the bus early and went via the takeaway. Have consumed a mixed shish kebab and chips and most of a bottle of rose and I feel marvellously full. Obviously no comparison to a Mustafa's kebab and home brewed beer in Berlin, but can't have it all.

I had a voicemail. I played it. Just as I was about to take a bite of my kebab - the first takeaway I've bought in Hull for six months, I might add - I heard the words "Hello! Blah di blah di blah, I'm a qualified personal trainer now!". Well done B. That's my kebab moment ruined. Briefly. Nom.

Off down to say goodbye to the security guard soon, seeing as he won't be back until the next year of students arrive in September. The last of the current lot move out tomorrow - HURRAH. Actually I will miss some of them, but can't say I'm too upset about having a quiet, duty-less summer.

And Wossy is on, with the gorgeous Jack Black, the even more gorgeous Sue Perkins, and the lovely nice boys of Take That.

This could be a worse Friday night.

Went into work for half an hour today to discuss the rota and working hours for my team over the summer.

From the 22nd June the library will only be open 1pm - 5pm Monday - Friday (well it'll be open weekends but we won't be working them). Therefore, as there are only four of us, our weekly hours would've averaged 4 of 5 a week, depending how we divided them.

This panicked me enough. I can't live on those hours and seeing as the students are all moving out the hall by this Saturday coming, I'll be cooking for myself every evening so will have more shopping to do, etc.

I'd already been looking into topping things up with £JSA but it wouldn't have been very much and by the time it got sorted probably wouldn't be worth it.

I was last to arrive to this little meeting and in that short space of time they had decided the best way to divide the hours up over the summer would be to work in blocks of 3 or 4 weeks each. The other 3 saw this as the best plan. So I had to go along with it.

So from 19th of June I won't be at work again until the 20th of July, working straight through until 7th August. Then that's it until the 21st of September.

What the fuck am I going to do? I'm hoping for the call centre I worked in a few summers ago at uni to be advertised again soon, that usually runs for about 6 weeks from mid August through September. This whole month off June-July though, eugh. Lean lean lean times.

I know it could be worse and I could not have a job at all but fuck that, I have to worry about myself, not everyone else.

Mild positive note to end on: Tonight is my last evening on duty until the next lot of inmates arrive at the end of September. I've seen far too many Freshers weeks than is healthy.

Bacon. Soon.

Bath. Eventually.

Jonathan Creek. Mildly addicted.

Mid-JC snack on Weetos. Strongly addicted. (Suspect this will be the last of them - wibble.)

Get dressed. At some point.

Work. 5.30 - 10.

Stop thinking about the ridiculously real dream I had for most of this morning. About Steph. I'm scared she's going to be at the bus stop!

So, a busy day planned. That bacon isn't going to cook itself. Ta ra.

If anyone wants to lookit a few photos from Berlin and Ireland they're on Flickr here. I think there are about 70 on there. I actually took nearer 400 - although nearly 100 of those were photographs of a single, virtually invisible jellyfish (thank you Bradley) and the rest were of the sunset around the house - what can I say, what I lack in artistic talent I make up for in snap-happy enthusiasm.

Poor girl.

People are so evil.

It's the final tonight. Woohoo!

I know I haven't even mentioned going to Ireland or Berlin yet. I will. Eventually. I've just got rid of having to do essays, so I can't face typing for more than 140 characters at a time lately.

I have about 400 photos to go through as well, which is tiresome as most of them look the same. I'm snap happy.

Maybe if I keep up the snoresome and infrequent blogging I can win Laziest Blogger next year. Always good to have a goal.

I'm on duty all day today and the door knocks are alarmingly frequent, because loads of them are moving out and want to hand in their keys. Swings and roundabouts.

I've just cleaned the fish out and I have a hole in my bucket. Now I have water on the floor.

I'm going to eat some more Weetos and watch Jonathan Creek.

Post holiday blues still present.

Ta ra.

I'm not even sorry that all the dance moves to this come so naturally. Scoobydoofus knows them all too. Lots of in-car wiggling. (Landers hates it )

(Track number 3 on 'Buzz', released in 2000. I have no shame.)