Ho hum.

BORED BORED BORED

BORED BORED BORED

BORED BORED BORED

BORED BORED BORED

etc

Zoom back to April 1st and my baby platys looked like this.

Nearly five months later and they look like this (they're eating a cube of dried tubifex worms - lush):

Most of them look like their daddy (the big black one) and there are a few like the mickey mouse female, but I'm rather sad I don't have any red ones like the other female. There are about a dozen of the little beggers, I really need to find a home for them...and the male. Bye bye, manslut.

Also, I was very excited to find out that the platys were not the only fish that had been at it. When I moved home at the start of August I discovered Lucky Spaz.

Lucky Spaz is a baby peppered cory catfish. Lucky Spaz is so named because:

I had no idea my two adult corys were even a breeding pair.
It is rather tricky to get them to successfully breed at all and I certainly wasn't trying.
He has survived being an egg and hatching and growing up in a tank of hungry fish that also gets thoroughly vacuumed once a fortnight - his brothers and sisters obviously have not, whoops.
I had no idea he was there when I packed up the fish tank to come home.
He didn't go in the bucket with the other fish.
He got scooped up with the pebbles into a plastic bag.
He survived at least 90 minutes in this plastic bag of heavy stones, with no water.
He got poured into an empty fish tank and could easily have been crushed.
It was another 20 minutes before I added any water.
When I did add water, he suddenly appeared before my eyes and both he and I PROPER SPAZZED OUT.

Hence he is called Lucky Spaz. No idea how old he is but I reckon about 4 or 5 months - he's only about an inch long.

It's not a good video but shut the hell up I don't care. He is right in the middle, half way up the edge of the log - then darts inside to chill out with mum or dad:

That's all for now.

I think I got to sleep just after 3.30am, and was woken at 7am by Mum shuffling and chuntering around the house.

Then Nanna rang at 8am, after Mum had left for work, to see if she wanted a lift to work, as they were going to the chemist, and didn't mind waiting for her, because it doesn't open until 9. Longest message ever.

Then she rang at 9am.

Then she rang at 9.30am.

(I was ignoring the phone. Perhaps yelling "GO AWAY!" down it would've been more effective.)

I'm also being punished for the garlic chicken pizza and chocolate ice cream I had for tea last night (not together). Cursed gut!

I feel shite.

Thus spake the imaginary church bells in my head.

It's just me and the swooshing of the electric fan as it goes from side to side.

This sucks.

I hereby request everyone I'm friends with on Facebook to start playing FarmVille for the sole purpose of sending me free gifts on it.

That is all.

My annual statement from the Student Loans Company arrived today (over three months late, I might add).

Waste of paper, really:

Balance brought forward: £12521.66

Repayment for tax year 06/04/2008 - 05/04/2009: £247.00

Interest for 01/04/2008 - 31/03/2009: £463.52

Balance carried forward: £12738.18

I'm sure that repayment figure is wrong. It certainly didn't feel like they only took £247 off me.

But I don't suppose it matters, seeing as the interest applied was almost double what was repayed.

I'm not bothered about having a student loan, really. It'll never get paid off at this rate - and they'll wipe it in 40 years anyway...

Meh.

...at Castle Howard.

It was a really good evening, the weather was lovely despite the forecast being rather damp, nice and civilised (*ahem* such an old biddy at heart, me), although after sharing a bottle or two of vin over our picnic we did find ourselves right at the front wolf-whistling at the exceptional arses of the singing blondes below, Mazz Murray from We Will Rock You and Kerry Ellis from Wicked. Mmmm. There were two blokes from WWRY as well, all backed by the English National Orchestra - or Opera, as the pissed bloke introducing everything kept calling them, to their obvious annoyance.

Got some pics, and had a nice view for recording purposes:

I want to do naughty things to these two:

A fun night - you should go if it appears near you. Take deckchairs.

Travelling by rail-replacement bus to Doncaster, then the train to York (with human traffic for the York races and V Festival to contend with).

Being picked up by the Leeds Lesbians, lovely old friends who I haven't seen for a couple of years now.

Going to this - and you can mock if you wish, I'm sort of mocking myself. Never been a huge fan of Queen, even less enthused about tribute stuff, but, I sense this will be a good evening nonetheless. It's an open air thing in the grounds of Castle Howard, we're having a picnic first, which I have been promised will include wine, chocolate and mini sausage rolls. SPLENDID. Rain predicted. Taking sexy cagoul. (Google that word but beginning with K and you will see why I don't want hits for that word bringing people to this site.)

Saturday we will take their psychotic dog, Scruffy, for a long walk in the countryside where they now live. Saturday evening will consist of a Chinese takeaway and (*screams with joy*) The X Factor (CHERYL!). And wine.

Sunday I shall be coming home. Boo.

Oops, should pack a bag and get in the shower. Off I go. Adieu. Etc.

I love it when people jump on them. Hate it, actually, but it makes me laugh and infuriates me in equal measure. Especially about my favourite band ever. Ever.

It means reduced appreciation of the earlier music, and how that earlier music came about, and the influences, and how things have changed and developed into their current style and sound which is so different to said earlier stuff.

You can't just buy a bands entire back catalogue and become an instant fan just because they have a new album due out in a month or so.

If you didn't buy it when it came out, it's largely meaningless. It sounds dated now - it was new at the time. And very unique.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Success!

Pictures to follow, probably tomorrow.

I hae signed-on twice now but have yet to recieve any money, or any letter confirming how much I will get, or any communication whatsoever. I've asked at the jobcentre, I've called the enquiry line, and both have told me it will sort itself out eventually. Reassuring to know.

Yesterday I got a letter telling me that they cannot go any further with my claim until they have more information. The basic jist of the letter was because I work in an 'educational establishement' (their spelling) I need to prove that the reason I'm not working these few months is NOT because there simply aren't any hours for me until the end of September, and that unless I demonstrate otherwise, they have to presume I'm getting paid anyway just because it's the holidays - like if I was a teacher or a lecturer. I'd still be getting paid, just not working, because it's the summer vacation.

My job doesn't work like that, it's a year round one - the library is open during vacations and I only get paid for when I work.

They will go no further until I provide them with my employment contract. That's in storage in Hull, in a box somewhere, in a large cupboard, most likely at the back, at the bottom, underneath all my possessions, including mattresses.

Furthermore, that contract isn't going to tell them anything about the summer break, or whether or not I'm getting paid for it.

I might as well give up now - I'll be back at work before I get it sorted out. For fuck's sake. Nothing is ever simple.

So, I'm stressed out, therefore:

My cake sank. I know how it feels.

...has its benefits, as far as my dad is concerned. I'm sure he'd rather I wasn't living at home again and was earning more than £65 a week ("Sign here, please allow five working days, next please"), but I've found myself with even less to do than normal and I can't stop baking.

Scones...

Chocolate muffins, lemon and coconut muffins, chocolate chip muffins, white chocolate muffins (didn't all fit on the rack), Victoria sponge (sunk a bit), and chocolate crispie cakes for good measure...

...and I didn't take a photo of the sausage rolls, jam tarts or flapjacks.

***

Sorry I haven't been posting much. Has anyone even noticed? I can't be bothered to type, that's all.

Perhaps I'll do a full and frank update in the near future, but definitely not before a scone with jam and a cup of sweet tea.