The Inner Thoughts & Creative Mind of Brie

Brie's Story of Cosmeston: A Call To Arms.. or at least to your legs.

2012-03-01T23:14:00.008Z

At the beginning of my A Levels (and this blog) I talked of that sense of belonging and what it meant to be English or Welsh. Today, 30 Months later I tell of the place I found my belonging and what it meant to be who I am today.

I was never really the girly-girl type but the thought of me, camping, mud, sleeping rough and a battlefield was never likely to happen.. until I got this volunteer placement. It's funny how a place and the people in a place can change your personality.

Cosmeston Medieval Village is situated just outside Penarth (near Cardiff) in South Wales. It is a reconstructed historic tourist attraction and for the last 18 months has been the place where I belonged.

6.50am on a warm July day I take the first bus of the day with a friend of mine who worked there as a tour guide. 8.30am now in Cardiff, we catch the second bus of the day which snakes round all the houses in Penarth before stopping at Cosmeston on it's way to Barry. 9.30 arrive at the adjacent lakes to collect the keys.
Opening the village gates for the very first time, that first glimpse, that first smell. The warmth of the sun on your face and a sense of 'Coming Home' to no home I'd ever known.

After several weeks of my summer travelling back and forth and meeting the other members of staff, learning from their characters on tours of the village, de-nettling the buildings the time had come for me to don the kit. (kit being a technical term for costume). August Bank Holiday, running stalls raising money for the village. Three weeks later I returned in kit for 'Heritage Weekend'. A weekend where the village 'Came to life' all the members of staff in recreating medieval life live for the general public to see. This is how it should be.
Halloween was where the Brie we all know was born, the fun-loving out-going girl who met a lovely bunch of people who didn't know it at the time but would become my second family and where I belonged.
Seasons changed and the scale of events made the village feel as if it was building up and building up to something big. Easter brought news of change, bad change a change to shake the future of Cosmeston. May battle weekend was the last Medieval event held at the village, scores of re-enactors flooded the site as the rumours grew.

August bank holiday would mark my first season of re-enactment but because there was no event I travelled 250miles away from the county so I could ignore the gap in my diary and the gap in my heart. For the last 4months of the year I volunteered regularly and witnessed the soul of the village slowly ebb away.

Last week I was driven to the village by a friend of mine. As I hobbled around I realised the silence. In moments of madness I caught myself running across the village green with an imaginary bucket of food herding the sheep into their pen; jumping into the pig yard and clapping my hands; when my insanity dawned on me a single tear rolled down my cheek. Cosmeston seems quiet, empty and dead. I sat on the windowsill in the Tythe Barn and closed my eyes, my mind was filled with warm happy memories of the nights spent there. The smell of the fire, the hubbub and frivolity of socialising re-enactors, Janine behind the bar dancing to Muse and the various costume/dress-up themes.

There was definite feeling that we'd all given up, that there was no fight and I was told there was nothing I can do. Until I was sent an article from the South Wales Echo about a member of public who'd taken it upon herself to petition these changes. I then linked this to Facebook and I cannot believe the reaction amongst the re-enactment community. My thanks go to Helen or Angharad as I knew her for pushing and spurring me on with this venture.

Let us do all we can to at least say we fought back, this is our village, our Cosmeston our home.

To add your name to our petition please click here

To join our protest on Wednesday please contact me via Facebook

And maybe one day life can be breathed into the village once more.

A Teenage Bridget Jones

2012-02-20T23:20:00.002Z

If I kept a diary it would be very similar to Bridget Jones' because let's be honest I'm really a single thirtysomething woman trapped in an 18 year old's body. Sounds like a dream? You're thirtysomething and want an 18 year old body? Not when your body feels thirtysomething I can tell you.

Monday 20th of February, 2011 - Review of the last month

Start weight: 10st
Current weight: 9st 6
Fruit Pastilles consumed: 15 tubes (2 tubes a week)
Alcohol fueled nights: 15... I blame Panto.. and the bottle of wine next to the bed.

I wonder if this'll be part of the imaginary sit-com scene cuts from 'nice guy' playing football manager whilst wife number one is sewing to wife number two somewhere else compiling a blog post. Hmm.. Hang on I've segwayed already that's not good.
Yes so in the last month I have become part in an imaginary sit-com created by my mate Dave. For more sillyness please follow @daitomas. Well that's one mention thrown in will stop my followers complaining I never follow friday them!

Anyway!
Have been unemployed for 104 days but work has not come along to end it so the obvious problem for the job centre is finding something for me to do. So, am apparently going to join WorkingLinks - a faceless job agency! That's it, the job centre have clearly given up - I am unemployable!
Am not enjoying panto this year at all; I have come too close to the edge of the cliff on more than one occasion; but jumping this late in the game just is not an option. If I'm asked to do one more thing or asked in a way which belittles me someone is going to get hit by an extremely pissed off Brie. I've had enough, I don't want to be involved anymore.
Really bored, so wandered into town to visit the Joke Shop (What @EmShadows calls the Job Centre)printed off a few vacancies and applied. Oh yay, 2 immediate rejections.. lovely.

See what I mean.. Unemployable!

What's the point anymore?
Just tried on my black trousers ready for panto.. shit. I used to be in these everyday! I needed a belt to keep them on.. now I can't get them done up. It's actually cheaper to buy a tin of slimfast than it is new trousers. Also 10st at my age and height makes me overweight so a diet would do me good.

Oh dear oh dear.. Job interview monday.. I have no trousers and I cannot find my waistcoat.. off to Primark.. Bought size 12s which only just meet in the correct places.

My back is so sore from sitting whilst sewing. I'm getting old, I feel old, Hmm 6pm, is it bed time yet?

Hello panto.. absolutely no enthusiasm for this.. smile and pretend, smile and pretend. Tell the job centre where they can stick their job centre. Ooh it#s the last night of the panto, *swig* this week as gone stupidly well so far.. which I find odd.

There was Jelly on the stage?

That'll be what I slipped on causing someone to fall onto and crush my ankle during a scene then. You know what they say though.. or at least I say 'Finish what you started you lazy cow' I mean 'The show must go on' and on it went, with me in it as the hopping gazelle.

Okay, anyone for A&E again? Must be time for my annual visit!

Hello crutches, and hallucinogenic painkillers, this is going to be fun. Until it snows. And I don't mean white stuff falling from the sky, well I do, but in my mind causing mental shutdown. I hate snow, I hate every kind of snow. Snow means bad things in Brie land. So I've managed to scare the people around me.. twice.. as if me on gas and air wasn't bad enough, I'm currently freezing cold and rocking back and forth because it's snowing.

You know what I hate? Things being kept from me.

Ugh, Valentine's day tomorrow. You know what this means: tears, a movie and the only two men in the world who understand women - Ben and Jerry (my annual threesome/"simultaneous relationship"). 1am, feel like absolute shite.. these tablets have the ability to magnify all the crap aspects of your life and remind you that you are worthless, alone and unloved. Enter recently single best mate from school. (I say enter, popped up online.. he must have been recently single if he was talking to me.. his girlfriend always had a problem with me). I miss him, more than I can possibly explain. This is a lad who's known me the longest and seen every side of me and has the ability to fix me in one sentence (a talent rarely achieved by others I have noticed).

After two weeks on a sofa, my back appears to be in twice as much pain as it was earlier in the month. I'm getting old. I'm now down to 9st 7, and wearing more pairs of 'Scary stomach holding in pants' on a regular basis. I have swapped jeans with a 30something friend as I fit her 12s and she fits my 8&10s.

So I'm getting old, I'm getting fat, I'm not in a relationship or have any prospects of that nature, I get regular back pain, my knees like to pretend they're elbows, I've sprained my ankle, I've taken up Fruit Pastilles because they're cheaper than smoking and the other day I was successful at making a blue string soup... oh hang on!

But... I'm happy feeling thirtysomething because if I'm having my thirties now it'll mean I'll have my 'born again youth phase' when I actually reach thirty and will be a teenager at last. Until then I am Mr Hugh Grant's 'Someday Girl' because Mr Darcy can't make up his mind whether he likes me or not.. I think his Pride and Prejudice against southerners has something to do with it! ;)

Ooh, It's now Tuesday best go to bed methinks.

One Day More - rewrite.

2011-12-15T23:44:00.003Z

I took it upon myself to rewrite 'One Day More' from Les Miserables to cheer up my ex drama teacher on facebook, hence why it's about Christmas breaks and things...

One day more,
another day you've got to teach,
5 more lessons you've got to preach.
This Christmas break ahead of you could not come more quickerly.
One day more.

They did their exam today, why was it oh so close to Christmas?
Tomorrow they'll be world's away and yet tonight you're still marking.

One more day all in that room.
Will you see your children again?
One more day your form aren't caring.
Your kids were born to be with you.
Of your life they're unaware.
And you'll see them tomorrow!

One more day before the snow.
Do you pack the snow shovel?
To get you down to Llantwit.
Will you join the teachers there?
When snow begins to fall.
Do you stay or do you dare?
Will you take your place at school?
The time is now, the day is here.

One day more.
One more day to holiday,
You will be there soon enough,
You are ready for those schoolkids
though half the class will not turn up!

One day more.
Watch the pupils learn,
Catch them when they fail,
Never know your luck when they're self-assessing,
Here's a bit of work, there's a little more,
Add it to your marking but it all gets done!

One day to your time off.
Raise the flag of freedom high.
Every teacher will be glad.
Every teacher will be glad.
There's classes left for teaching.
There's a class out on the run.
Do you hear the teachers sing?

Your place is there you're going home!

One day more.

Tomorrow is the day that you will start your Christmas break.

One more dawn.
One more day.
One day more!

I'm not one to 'rub religion in your face' but I'm proud to be Christian.

2011-12-12T10:19:00.003Z

I'm not one to 'rub religion in your face' but I'm proud to be Christian, My rant on society's attitudes towards religion.

Now not many people are aware of my beliefs, mainly because I believe my beliefs are my own. With this in mind, I inturn respect everyone else's. What annoys me is the seemingly disrespect my friends have for other people's beliefs.

I'm not going to shout it from the rooftops,I'm certainly not going to 'rub it in your face' because I respect that you don't want to hear it. But tell me this then, why the torrent of abuse? "Bloody Christians talking a load of bollocks about Jesus being the son of God." Erm I'm sorry, what? Do you realse you've just offended millions of people accross the globe? Gee thanks.

Another example extends to my Pagan friends who like to regularly say that all Christians are wrong. That we've stolen their Pagan holy days and that we're all "Silly Christians". Although, often done in gest, I am aware of people who were offended by this statement because again there is disrespect for our beliefs.

Now for me this is a special time of year, not a big fan of the way my Christmas days turn out but I am firm believer in the spirit and the message of Christmas and I don't want to offend anyone by posting this but come on have a little respect for others - especially at this time of year.

Thank You,
Season's Greetings.

Life In Slow-Motion

2011-11-27T20:08:00.005Z

I recently took a 4hour train journey from South Wales up to Manchester, Inspiration for this short story came somewhere between Newport and Abergavenny and is entirely fictional, any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental... apparently..

“Yr tren y safle gyda platfform dau yn I’r gwasanaeth un ar saith munud wedi wyth o’r gloch Trenau Arriva Cymru y Manceinion Piccadilly,” boomed across a crowed platform. As the narration continued in Welsh, a spritely young female – often resembling a pixie sprang from the cold blue bench. Slinging the heaviest bag over her back; she nearly knocked out the person sat alongside her on the bench, who seemed startled and was all together taken aback by her enthusiasm to get on the train – clearly she’d been waiting a while for it to arrive.

“…. Crewe, Wilmslow, Stockport and Manchester Piccadilly. That’s the 8.17 Arriva Trains Wales service to Manchester Piccadilly,” As the tannoy finished narrating robotically in English, more and more passengers filled the crowed platform each taking it in turns to look to the right expecting to see the oncoming train. Heavy pounding footsteps echoed across the bridge and as subtly as a rhino, the owner of these footsteps proceeded to charge down the stairs and onto the platform pushing everyone left right and center to allow this raging bull to pass. As part of his rampage this elephant like man thrashed into the pixie girl who was waiting patiently for the train to arrive. She stumbled backwards, tripping over her other bag and felt the weight of her rucksack pulling her to the floor, she closed her eyes anticipating the pain of her head hitting the concrete floor. The split second in which it should have taken her to smack her head seemed to go on forever, like her life was suddenly running in slow motion. Suddenly the familiar whooshing and hissing of a parked train brought her back to reality.
“Hey, are you alright? You’re getting on this train aren’t ya?” on hearing this unfamiliar but alluring and charming voice she realised that there was an arm around her waist. Her eyes opened to make out the face of her rescuer; his golden brown eyes stared back at her blinking in the morning sun which had lit her in a perfect glow. He released his arm as she pulled herself up, the train dispatcher whistled. “Hang on,” he yelled grabbing her bag and heading on the train. “Are you getting on, love?” the dispatcher yelled, table tennis bat poised ready to dispatch the train. “Sorry” she mumbled as she hopped on after him.
Bing. “We are at Bridgend. This train is for Manchester Piccadilly. The next stop is Pencoed.” Bing. Another, different robot announced as the train shunted, pulling away and she stared hopelessly down the carriage; somewhere he had her bag. “Excuse me, pardon me,” she said as she weaved her way through the passengers looking for seat. Giving up, she plonked herself alongside a frail old lady reading The Times. “So, where are you off then?” she looked up to see a pair of golden brown eyes looking at her with a cheeky grin. “Manchester,” she replied, her west country accent pronounced at the end of the word, “You?” well it would be rude not to ask. “Same,” he replied in a not so obvious Cardiffian accent. She blushed at the thought of looking at him for the next 4 hours. “So, er,” she coughed, snapping herself out of a day dream moment, “thank you for catching me just now,” she mumbled. He took his hoodie off to reveal a granddad style shirt which left nothing to the imagination. She whipped out her phone and typed ‘Ooft,’ into her tweetdeck. Deciding to play coy and considering he’d ignored her last sentence, she buried her attention into her phone checking the latest status updates.
Bing. “We are now at Cardiff Central. This train is for Manchester Piccadilly. The next stop is Newport.” Bing. “So, you’re not a northerner, what’s your beef in Manchester?” he asked her, his eyes glinting. “How do you know I’m not a northerner?” she laughed in a put-on northern accent. The sun was now shining to highlight his muscle definition. “Yeah okay, Bristol Girl, whatever you say,” he joked. She gasped, breaking a smile, “How rude,” she quipped, “I’m from Bath!” Her tone was playful and he grinned in response. “Is that Baff with two f’s, Barth with an r, or Baaaaaaaf with several a’s and a single f?” he laughed. “Single f?” she replied “Isn’t that a v?” “Wahey, she knows her welsh humour!” he mused cheerily. ‘I need a dollar, dollar, I need a dollar, dollar,’ blared from within his army pattern camouflage trousers, before he could remove the phone from his pocket, the train whipped into a tunnel and the dollar song ceased.
Pling. She removed her phone from her bodywarmer, ‘4 new tweets’ it read. @Cheryl_Jones: have you sung to him yet? @Myf888 ooft who? Tell me! @KateN6 It’s too early to be on the prowl! @ScammersRUs you’ve won a new iPhone click here. She deleted the iphone one and had a quiet chuckle at KateN6’s tweet. “What’s funny?” he asked looking up from his iPhone. “Oh this mate, well she’s not really my mate, well she is, well we went to school together, well no she was in the year above and we never spoke, but she thinks it’s too early for me to be on the prowl,” she rabbitted. “Oh yeah,” he said, leaning forward, “who you prowling at?” he raised an eyebrow cheekily. “well,” she said coyly, “there was a pretty fit guy on the platform earlier.” She flicked her long blonde hair out of her face and winked at him.
Bing. “We will shortly be arriving at Here-“ ‘I need a dollar, dollar, I need a dollar’ blared over the train robot. He slid a finger across the screen. “Hiya, yeah I’m on the train. No I can’t wait to see you either. Bye, just a mate” he said sheepishly on hanging up. She gazed out the window at the scenery, rolling hills and historic churches – her idea of heaven, absolute bliss living in a rolling village steeped in hundreds of years of history. She sighed. “It’s pretty ain’t it, the countryside,” he piped up noticing where she was looking, “I work on a farm you see,” gesturing to his muddy boots.
The train snaked up through Shropshire and emptied including the little old lady who left her copy of The Times behind; he grabbed it, turning directly to the sport pages. “What’s the rugby score?” she asked. “Funny, I was just looking for it,” he smiled “18-6 to Cardiff.” “Ugh,” she replied, “bloody welsh,” she muttered. “What you got against the Welsh?” he piped up, amused at her disgruntlement. “Oh they just annoy me a little, they blame the ref for everything,” she glossed over. “Yeah, they do do that,” he snorted, “funny thing to be annoyed about, mind.” He chortled.
Bing. “We are now at Craven Arms. This train is for Manchester Piccadilly. The next stop is Church Stretton.” Bing. “’cuse me conductor, but I believe this is an unattended bag,” a voice piped up from the rear of the carriage. Remembering he’d ran off with her bag, she stood up and looked along, sure enough the voice was holding up her bag. “Sorry, it’s mine, my er, friend here,” pointing to him, “put it there for me, I’ll move it now.” “You realise madam what happens to unattended luggage?” the conductor put to her sternly. And, with a look reminiscent of a naughty child saying ‘I won’t do it again’ about her, she claimed her bag. He laughed, “You gotta admit that was funny.” She smiled, she would always love a man who could make her laugh.

Pling. She slid her thumb down her phone to reveal her tweets, only it wasn’t a tweet, it was a text. ‘How far away are you? From: Neil’ it read. Bing. “We are now at Shrewsbury. This train is for Manchester Piccadilly. The next stop is Whitchurch.” Bing. ‘An hour and a half’ she tapped into her phone, ‘I am at Shrewsbury,’ and pressed send. She smiled because she’d forgotten how much an old friend cared. “Good news then?” he asked, noticing her beaming smile. “No, just my friend in Manchester checking up on me,” she replied , fading out her smile as she revelled at the industrial scenery. Now the train had filled with more elderly folk popping up to Crewe for some shopping two passengers were arguing about where they were going first. By now she had already made up her mind that he was her ideal man and was imagining conversations with him where she could ask him out and then, an opportunity arose.

He closed, folded and slung the copy of The Times back on the empty table and turned his attentions back to her. “So you never did say what you were in Manchester for?” he enquired curiously. “Oh working with some friends,” she said as a throw away comment. “You?” she asked, as again it would be rude not to; but again this question was followed by no answer.

Bing. “The next stop is Manchester Piccadilly. This train is for Manchester Piccadilly. The train terminates here…” “So,” she began, cutting over the tannoy robot; she tugged at her luggage and plucked up courage, “Fancy going for lunch, now that we’re here?” He turned around, she was looking at him, gazing into his golden brown eyes. He opened his mouth slightly as if to speak but instead pressed it firmly into hers. Their lips moved in harmony with similar intentions behind it, this split-second moment seemed to last forever, as if their lives were being played in slow motion again. “Everybody off!” the conductor yelled across the carriage, and with that they moved apart. “So was that a yes then?” she turned to pick up her bags. He’d gone.

“The next train to depart from platform 4 is the 12.20 Virgin Trains service to London Euston.” She disembarked the train onto a bustling platform, looking around there was no sign of him. Trying to shake the events from her mind, she meandered her way to the main entrance. “There you are!” A warm, northern voice beamed, throwing arms around her, “I was beginning to think you’d got lost Charl’.” “Oh you know what I’m like negotiating platforms and following signs, hon,” she replied looking off into the distance. There he was across the car park embracing a red-head with a perfect model figure.
A sinking feeling filled her gut and she fought every emotion not to cry. “What’s up? You seem distant, Charl’” the warm northern voice asked, arm still around her shoulders. “It’s nothing, Neil,” she sighed, “I’m just tired from the journey, thank you for coming to get me - let’s go,” she sighed.

I be Lettice I be

2011-11-10T14:07:00.005Z

I be Lettice I be
- an account of life in Cosmeston Village as told by Lettice Kingdon.

I be Lettice I be.
I from Gloucester I be.
I Maid to Lady Maud I be.
She be widow she be.
'er childer I do look after.
Whilst she be flirting thereafter.

I be Lettice I be.
I from Gloucester I be.
Wife to Will I be.
He be shepherd and gardener be he.
He went on Pilgrimage to Rome
After two years I don't expect 'im home.

I be Lettice I be.
I from Gloucester I be.
Friend to Llinos I be.
Daughter of Nun she be.
Sisters of misfortune we be
As unblessed with childer we be.

I be Lettice I be.
I from Gloucester I be.
I dwell in Cosmeston I be.
I clean floors and work the Manor's scullery.
I to the ragged rocks to wash Lord's socks
And catch the bondsman to be put in the stocks.

I be Lettice I be.
I from Gloucester I be.
To my husband I be true to thee
Wherever ye may be
And to the Lord I refuse to bend my knee.

I be Lettice I be.
I from Gloucester I be.
I sent away from the Village be.
I to Castle I be bound
Hence my actions be frowned.

I be Lettice I be.
I from Gloucester I be.
Falsely accused I be
and to my husband I be true to thee.
Yet, Here I hang from this tree.

Today is gonna be a great day - rewrite

2011-11-07T11:33:00.003Z

There's a hundred and four days of our unemployment
And we're hoping work'll come along to end it
So the average problem for our generation
Is finding a good way to fill it

Like Maybe..

Trashing a Bus Stop or Fighting eachother
Or breaking into the nearest John Lewis
Looting the precinct and drinking all hours
And making BBC Headline News

Surfing the Internet, Creating ASBO's
or Losing the will to live
Finding a drug dealer, Washing Powder highs
And driving the country insane.

This could possibly be the worst recession ever
(This could possibly be the worst recession ever)
And the forecast says next year's not getting any better
So make every minute count, stop crying, start trying, and laugh every day,
And lets make sure that in every single possible way,
Today will be better than yesterday.

Manic Monday Re-Write

2011-11-07T11:18:00.003Z

Nine o'clock already?
I was just in the middle of a dream..
I was kissin' George Weasley
outside our Hogwartian dorm

But I can't be late
Cause these are the days you're depended on,
these are the days when you realise
it's too late to say no

It's just another Manic Sunday,
Wish it were Monday cause that's my rest day,
My I-don't-have-to-get-up-day,
it's just another manic Sunday!

Have to drink my coffee fast,
Got to be at the hall by ten,
and if i had an airplane
I still couldn't make it on time!

Cause it takes so long
just to figure out what I'm going to wear,
Blame it on the shoes
but the director's already there..

It's just another Manic Sunday,
wish it was Monday, Cause that's my sleep day,
my I-don't-have-to-get-up-day,
It's just another Manic Sunday!

10 Reasons Why You Should Hire a Teenager

2011-07-26T15:46:00.005+01:00

So, you have a job vacancy to fill? Several applications are put on your desk, many are from young people some who have little or no experience. Here's why you should consider them.

1) Okay, so they have no experience in this field that doesn't mean they aren't willing to learn.
You can't get a job these days without having experience which is completely unfair, we apply for jobs to gain experience. If you're not willing to take on someone because their inexperienced you clearly cannot be bothered to train them.

2) Please don't ask, 'What could you bring to the job?' What the hell am I meant to say?
My tea and coffee making abilities?
I'm polite and courteous to everybody, including people I do not get on with?
My 14 GCSEs? Which are clearly not enough for anyone.
I'm young, You bring me into the job and I'll Show you what I bring to it.
Young people have spirit and drive, isn't that enough?

3) They have more Qualifications.
I have 10 GCSEs and 4 GCSE equivalent grades, 2 A Levels, A Welsh Baccalaureate and I'm studying 2 further A Levels and an AS Level and you're telling me that's not good enough?

4) They're more flexible.
Okay, so school hours may clash with work hours but I expect most of your staff are parents and need time off with their children during school holidays? Young people are most employable in school holiday periods.. because we have nothing to do!!

5)They don't have own transport?
Are you near a bus stop? How far is your nearest train station?
To get to my Volunteer placement, I have to catch 1 bus from my village into Cardiff Then catch another bus which comes out the other side of Cardiff to get there. A journey which would ordinarily take 20 minutes by car which takes 2 and a half by bus. Young people have dedication.

6) Needs to work on their own or as part of a team?
Young people can do both. It's what we're taught at school, yes some do better one way or the other but we're adaptable and not set in our ways.

7) We're cheaper.
Minimum wage is less for those between 16 and 21, I believe.

8)Hard working?
What do you think we've been doing for the last 13-14 odd years? Waiting to be handed our certificates?!

9) Personality Check.
All young people are diverse. Interested in different things, think differently and have friends for different reasons.
Okay, here's things you might not know about me:
Me in 3 words: Short, Blonde & Funny.
I do amateur theatre, I can sing, most of my friends are in their twenties and thirties (and that's nearing their thirties and forties), I have an unhealthy obsession with penguins, one of my hobbies includes Medieval Re Enactment, I find bums attractive, I like red wine and I watch 90's romcoms.
Now I didn't specify funny haha or funny peculiar, but I think you get the picture.

10) We enjoy working.
It might be just me but I enjoy working. Having something to get up for in the morning, somewhere to go and having something to do. I dislike being bored and feeling useless and I'm sure several young people would agree.

Still don't want to hire a teenager?
Hmm.. well clearly it's your loss.

Got a reason I didn't suggest? Let me know!

A song for those on Work Experience

2011-06-20T09:30:00.001+01:00

Tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen
Pour yourself a cup of ambition
Yawn and Stretch and try to come to life

Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumping
Out on the street the traffic starts jumping
With folks like you on the job from 9to5

Work-Experiencing from 9to5
Not a way to make a living
Barely getting by
It's all giving and no taking
They will use your skills
And will never give you credit
It's enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it!

It's Just The Way I Feel

2011-03-29T21:19:00.002+01:00

I don't know why or how this ended up the way it did
But I know this shouldn't change anything unless it's what you want
Because I'm not afraid of rejection - I've been there enough
I can handle that, I can handle that

It's just the way I feel when you hold me tight
It's just the way I feel when you tell me everything's going to be all right
I can't help but say this - It's just the way I feel
I love you and it's just the way I feel

So I told you, but I guess you already knew
And you just smiled as if it was fine
It's too soon, too soon for you too feel the same
Just wouldn't mind if you sent me a sign?

It's just the way I feel when you hold me tight
It's just the way I feel when you tell me everything's going to be all right
I can't help but say this - It's just the way I feel
I love you and it's just the way I feel

The ball's in your court now, I can wait
Nothing's going to change lovely, I ain't going anywhere
Because all I want is to be with you
I love you and it's just the way I feel

Why are you so lovely? I can't help it - It's just the way I feel
Why are you so lovely? I wish you could be mine
Why are you so lovely?
You're nothing but perfection, Your name isn't doormat, didn't she know?

It's just the way I feel when you hold me tight
It's just the way I feel when you tell me everything's going to be all right
I can't help but say this - It's just the way I feel
I love you and it's just the way I feel

You're so lovely and it's just the way I feel

The Mock-Epic

2011-03-12T12:30:00.002Z

Okay, So I was asked to write a mock-epic poem for English this week.. Let me know what you think!

The Great Sea Voyage - One Small Step, One Giant Leap

What great conquests shall I face today?
The sun shines brighter than the merry month of May
New lands I shall seek out with the aide of my kin
Unless foul fortune falls upon my chin

At the turn of the tide I join the troops
Ordered by rank we ascend to the Poop
I tremble fearfully as I stare at the heavens
I turn and I face the in-conquerable seven

Victorious I stand at the top of the stairs
The wind whistles through and messes my hairs
Waft of chicken-dippers mixed with sea airs
Separated from me by the tyrant who cares

The floor how it rumbled, oh heck how it shaked
The battle raged on, oh my ears how they ached!
Battalions of legs and a noisy old horn
I had nowhere to run to, no place to turn

The descent was appalling, we arrived under fog
I should quit my complaining - I'm only a dog!

Poetry

2010-12-14T23:42:00.003Z

Lonely

First there were many
then there were some
some turned to few
and now there's only one

One by one we trickled away
Individual grains in the sands of time
Falling, drifting, merging
ebbing quietly away

As Five became Six
and Six found Seven
and Eight, Nine and Ten
Each one of us doubled - except for poor Eleven

Battered and dusty, sat high on a shelf
Eleven sits quietly observing the dance
The stories expand and run off to the distance
Where Eleven is unable to see or hear

One to Ten, or in twos (as they prefer to be known), One to Five
In turn forget about dear old Eleven, who sits all alone
And sings to herself remembering 'Being Alive'
And heaving a sigh which no one could care
She flung herself into the cold unfeeling air

Eleven was known for being a drama queen
and therefore her friends had nothing to fear
Until they found the pieces which littered the floor
and they mourned her with guilt forever more

Late Night Poetry

2010-10-28T02:45:00.004+01:00

Solitude (Every time I see you)

Aggressive candle smells sweet
Ice like the soles of my feet
Time alone, time apart
Times alone - I want to fall apart
As I go over the events of the past
You wonder why it's taken so long pass
We're taught to forgive and forget
But I forgave before I could forget

And every time I see you
And every time I hide it
But every time I see you
Every thing comes back

And, mark my words, I'm over you
God Dammit, I'm over you!
I'm not lying this time
I'm over you
It took a year but it's true
I'm over you

And here I am, two years since we last spoke
Remembering the emotions you evoke
And the lies you told
And the image you showed
And the insults you made
And the boundaries we laid
And I become the "cold-hearted bitch"
Because I chose not to scratch your itch

And every time I see you
And every time I hide it
But every time I see you
Every thing comes back

I denied it at the time, but looking back upon my strife
I can safely say, "Yes! You have fucked up my life"
So two years on - of course we've moved on, 4 for me, 2 for you
But If I meant nothing why does jealousy consume you?
Don't deny, You know I know you too well
And I with others you should not dwell
For I do not care about you and your flings
Why should you think about these things
If I meant nothing
If I meant nothing

If I were anything to you, I was that of a Pawn
In the game where mind held importance over brawn
And you played us, one by one
against those we loved and those we had hardly known
As we were entrapped by the mystery that was you
You were lead on by something new
When she chose he, you returned to me
But I had the tricks you had taught me

But I did not see your powers which twist
And therefore one trick I did miss
Which tore me completely and caused me to be reckless
I cut off my hair and drank far too much Relentless

And even to this day, mind games we still play
I have now secretly fallen for your new found physicality
And I invoke your jealousy with guy after guy
Because for our sins, we live 'Eye for an eye'
Convinced was I in love
But as you perceive
Obsessed was I and creepy and more you could collate
Truth be told, He the creep who tell of masturbate
And imagine scenes from pornography
Too obscene for our naivety

And yet I was blamed for this. With the polite warning to stay away.
And we shall not speak until the day
We no longer need games to play.
But I forgave far too quickly
And cannot forget as equally

Because every time I see you
And every time I hide it
But every time I see you
Every thing comes back

More Poetry!

2010-06-26T23:34:00.004+01:00

Gazing

Your face lights up the mysterious skies
I sit, I wonder, I gaze
What do you hide
'neath that waning disguise?

Could it be you lack the birds and bees
To show me what you mean
I know what I want to see
but is it only lies?

My orange moon it shines for you
Amongst the midnight sky
I sit, I gaze, I wonder
Why our love feels like a lie.

Here's that insomnia poetry I mentioned

2010-04-05T01:38:00.002+01:00

Here's an insight into what insomnia does to me...

Originally Posted: Sunday, 20 December 2009 04:39

Holding On, Holding Out (In the style of Carol Ann Duffy)

The house is so empty, the bed
is so cold. Why won't you hold
me? Hold me til the break of
dawn.

For if I need you I shall hold on
and never let go. But until then
I just need you, need you to
realise:

That I'm here.

Insomnia: a Haiku.

Insomnia. That
terrible thing which stops you
from sleeping. Help me!

In My Mind (in the syle of Carol Ann Duffy)

In my mind several things fly round
at once.

In my mind I think about
the future.

In my mind I'll sing about
the past.

In my mind I resent
the present.

In my mind I'm somewhere
with you.

In my mind I'll imagine
nice things. (and bad things)

In my mind I should be asleep,
but I am thinking

of you.

Eyes Burned In Snow

2010-03-18T19:45:00.004Z

Here is the opening extract of my as level short story, 'Eyes Burned in Snow.' It has been inspired by Thomas Hardy's Tess of the 'D'Urbervilles' and uses may of his techniques. Enjoy! - BathGirl93

Shards of china dinner plate ricocheted and fell like rain against the pale blue wall. Outside the snow fell gracefully as if sifted through from the clouds. A pair of bright blue eyes turned away from the French windows, as the torrent of china continued within, and trotted up a near invisible path of flour. Halfway along they turned and slowly padded across the dusted lawn. The eyes looked up longingly at the windows once again before lying down in the snow. The eyes closed and the body disappeared. The snow continued to fall as the black nose of an innocent friend drew their last breath.

***

A pair of small triangle ears poked through pale pink tissue paper; quickly followed by piercing bright blue eyes, a black as coal nose and a long pink tongue; each feature contrasted greatly with the lily white fur. Porcelain hands reached forth and held the large puppy dearly.

“Oh Matt, she’s beautiful,” a soft female voice exclaimed, juggling the puppy in one hand and pulling a tall, fairly muscular, handsome young man into her embrace. He beamed. His warm smile spread from ear to ear. She turned away to pay attention to the puppy. He exhaled heavily as if a great weight had been lifted. She coo-cooed the puppy as it proceeded to lick her face. Matt placed his hand just above his waist and massaged away the pain of bruised ribs. His face screwed inwards, his bright blue eyes winced as he inhaled sharply. Her head whipped round faster than an owl’s but just slower than his arm which dropped to his side.

The Ward Diaries..

2010-03-17T21:29:00.003Z

"I know it's been almost two months since I went in and came out of hospital, I found the diary I was keeping while I was there and felt it worth Sharing with you. So Enjoy! :D" -BathGirl93

My Account of Life on Ward 11 (Over the Space of 5 days).

Ward 11 (Gynaecology) lies next door to Maternity (Ward 10). The Wards are so badly labelled that we often see pregnant women looking for beds and our guests get frequently lost in a sea of newborns.

Thursday Night this all started, White Foam and a lower abdominal pain which won't go away.
11pm - To hospital to see on call doctor. 'It might be appendicitus, it might not - I'll send you round to A&E, I want to go home.'

12am - Admitted to A&E.

1.30am - Still in A&E been waiting for 'Surgical Doctor' who says, 'Well it could be appendicitus, it might not be.. we'll admit you and see what happens.'

"Why is it doctors do that 'checking for woodworm in walls' tap on your stomach? What the hell is that going to achive? Yes it hurts when you do that - please don't do it again."

2am - Taken by wheelchair up to the ward, trying to be quiet, don't want to wake anyone, Guy steering wheeled me straight into the table!
Filled in form with most absurd questions, 'Is your bathroom fitted with a walk-in bath?' and 'Do you need a zimmer frame?'

4am - Can't sleep - strange noise look up to see strange figure moving about the room. How old is she?! The woman in the bed next to me is up and wandering around and re-arranging the furniture! (Am going to refer to her as The Wanderer from now on.) So at 4am she has decided to put the rails up on the side of her bed. Then proceeds to get back into bed, and bangs her head on the other side of the bed!

5am - Just Popping to the loo, dragging along my 'Tesco Loose Squeaky Wheel Drip Trolley', get ambushed by nurse. 'Ahh Good, while you're up we'll take your blood pressure and Stats. (Oxygen Peg). Oh the joys.

Friday
7.30am - Just getting off to sleep. 'Morning Ladies!' *Lights on Full Beam* *Buries head under 3 pillows*

8 am - More BP, Stats, Drip Change, Painkillers and 'Ooh what do you want for breakfast?' askes one nurse. 'Hang on, Beth - she's nil by mouth!' says a second as they run from me taking the food with them. :(

10 am - Get talking to other ladies on the ward - Debra, Heather and Mary all nice ladies. I'm the baby of the ward!

10.30 am - Enter the entire cast of Grey's Anatomy / House. My now cubicle agog with twenty anxious interns each with there own pair of beady eyes. 'You don't mind them being here?' says Mr Consultant. As if I have a choice, I muse. The interns look at my stomach as I undergo further checks for 'Wood Worm.' 'Yes, Could be. [Matter of Factly] We'll pop a camera in and probably take out your appendix anyway.'

"Camera? Oh Cripes.."

11am - Antibiotics. Being talking Ga-Ga, 'Oh I know it looks grey and miserable, but it's actually sunny out,' 'I didn't like my consultant - he wears funny trousers.'

12pm - Lunch. 'What flavour soup is it?' Piped up Debra opposite me, 'It always tastes like asbestos - you're not missing anything,' she smiled at me as she recieved a bowl, 'Mushroom - aha.. Asbestos with rubber bits in it!' she laughed.
I call over a nurse, I'm starving. 'Is there anyway you can put some in a drip for me?' I joked, 'I love Mushroom Soup - regardless of the taste,' I sighed.

3pm - A little dose to cover last night's non-existant slumber. Continue natter with Debra and Mary. Heather's father is down on Ward 7, dying. [Moment of Reflection].

5pm - All this time, the Wanderer's been down for her Operation and arrived back. She wakes up and tries to get out of bed. She hasn't got a clue. It takes 4 nurses to pin her down.

6pm - Due to circumstances at home, Debra's allowed home for the weekend, she wishes me luck for my Operation. I never see her again - I hope everything's worked out for her physically and that justice will prevail for her.

6.30pm - Dinner order a salad and a sandwich for when I get back. Fetched for Op in wheelchair.

8.30pm - Come round from anasthetic. Must wait til 9 before wheeled back to ward. Friends from Panto turn up to see me. Visiting hours end at 8.30. I cry out and the nurses restrain me. Friends are sent home.

10 pm - Time for bed. Wanderer screams in her sleep for her mother. (I must point out that she is 93 and therefore this is impossible). I blackout on Tramadol.

Saturday
5am - Debra's bed is now occupied by another 90Something who also cries out for her mother. Get up to walk to toilet, fall over.

"Don't you just hate using a Comode?"

7am - Nurses wheel the Wanderer back onto the ward. Had no idea they had to restrain her and isolate her from everyone else.

9am - Visit from the doctor, 'I'm signing you off to go home.' I got up to use the bathroom and collapsed.

"Don't think I'll be going anywhere now."

11am - Mary walks over from her bed for a chat. She'd been in since Boxing Day. Everyone else is asleep, with the exception of Heather who's down on Ward 7.
Lady on the end, Angela, looks like Julie Walters. I shall refer to her as Julie Walters..

2pm - Visitors due in half an hour. Sad bit now, Wanderer's only family, her nephew turns up - she's still asleep and he leaves, he doesn't return. Enter Mary's Husband, Julie Walter's entire family and Newbie's friend.
Wanderer wakes up and rips off her paper nighty in front of the entire ward and visitors. Screens go up and again it takes 4 nurses to restrain her.
Friends arrive but can't find me, (Screens in the way and not a nurse to be found outside of them) and they end up looking for me in maternity!

5.30pm - Time for tea. Nothing intrests me, decide yoghurt. One spoonful and I feel wretchedly sick. Go back to bed clutching plastic kidney dish for fear of nausea.

10.30pm - Saturday Night in Bridgend and we hear A&E is heaving. (This surprises no-one) I get up to brush my teeth. While I'm away the Wanderer begins screaming. On my return I wobble and things become blurry. I hyperventilate and collapse. I'm the youngest, most able bodied person on the ward, 3 elderly ladies can walk too.

"It's embarrassing when the nurse has to wheel you back in on a Steady Trolley."

11.30pm - Lights finally go out.

1am - Wanderer and Newbie screaming. I wake in hot sweat thinking I'd been asleep for hours. Yeah..2 and a half!

4am - Haven't slept since 1.

5am - Anyone for Blood Pressure and Stats?!

Sunday
7am - Hear the most unnerving thing for first thing in the morning, 'Morning Campers!'

9am - Telephone call from mother, 'Why aren't you coming home today?' errr... that might be because I keep blacking out and collapsing?!

10am - Wanderer wakes up and starts climbing out of bed, 'Time for church,' she protests as the nurses push her back into bed. She has no idea she's in hospital.

11am - Unexpected phonecall from my Godmother in 'Brizzle' (Bath/West Country for Bristol) - become teary eyed.

12pm - Things starting to go my way. Feeling Hungry - Hey Presto! Food Trolley!
Feeling Pain - Hey Presto! Drug Trolley! all without asking. Bit o' Scotch Broth, hard Yorkshire and over done roasties. 'Want chocolate dessert?' asks nurse despensing food.
'I'm up for that!'

12.30pm - Surgeon reappears, 'You know, going home'll make you feel better.' *Prods Stomach* I yell in pain. Just had full dinner.

"Now you've gone and made me feel sick you buffoon."

1pm - Wanderer needs the loo. She had a tablet an hour ago but it takes hours to work. It's all in her head. Nurse, 'You're in Hospital Anne.' She didn't understand yesterday, she won't understand today, I muse.
Unusual screams from bed next door, 'Stop dragging me.' Nurse from other side of the room replies, 'We're not.'
Keep dozing off and having the strangest of dreams. Earlier I dreamt I was eating Macaroni Cheese from the dog's bowl and ended up eating her pig's ear aswell. Could taste what I thought was pig's ear. Feel incredibly sick.

"Old Women don't half make funny noises."

6.30pm - There are now only 3 Nurses on duty, covering our half of the ward, the other half and 3 side rooms.

9 pm - Wanderer and Newbie start asking for the comode / lift on Steady to the toilet. Auxilary rushes in and tells them they have to wait a woman in the next ward is crashing. Wanderer doesn't seem to understand and insists on getting out of bed. We're all yelling at her to stay in bed. We all ring the buzzer but of course, no nurse will listen as the other lady is more important, her life is at stake.
Wanderer's feet touch the floor, Julie Walters springs out of bed and rushes forth to push her back in. Woman next door becomes stable. Wanderer starts crying that she's going to wet the bed.

2am - I wake to find Wanderer's bed missing, I assume she is restrained and isolated in a side room. I enter the corridor to find her bed in the middle of the corridor and the Sister leant over the side of the rails coaxing her to sleep. Testing my speed and distance I make for the furthest toilets away from our half of the ward. In the silence of the night you can hear a baby's cry drift accross the corridors.

Monday - Chucking Out Day for Me, Julie Walters, The Wanderer and the Newbie.
Say my goodbyes to Juile Walters and the nurses but unfourtunately Mary was being seen by a Doctor so I never saw her again either. I remember hearing at the time of leaving Heather's Father was still fighting down on Ward 7.

"I trudge the hallway to the lift, staring in disgust at the same coffee stain embedded in the lino which greeted me Thursday night."

Identity Crisis.

2010-01-20T16:40:00.000Z

As part of the 'Welsh Baccalauriate' we have to look at Wales' place in the Uk, Europe and the world.

So I'm watching Rob Brydon's Identity Crisis and thinking, 'Okay, he's Welsh but he's lived in England for a long time. He's no longer sure if he's Welsh or English.
I'm English, but I've lived in Wales for a long time, What does that make me?'

In the program he talks to welshies to see what makes them welsh and they go through several traits and flaws. And I'm sitting there thinking 'Hang on, I'm like that. Shit. Am I Welsh?'

I just don't know what to think anymore. I know i've lost my Westcountry accent, I can still put it on, but I can't have lost my Englishness entirely.

So my question is:
'What makes the English, English?'