As the title of this blog might suggest, I feel as though I am being replaced by a caravan. Of course this is a bit of a strange and weird notion to suggest but I have a good reason behind it. My mother and father recently bought a touring caravan. Yep, my mum who used to be a disco diva and my dad who used to be a boy about town in his red Datsun 240Z with an engine as reliable as the Eurostar on a snowy day now own a portable home. They may read this and shout "USED TO! We're still young and happening" but I challenge them to say this while they're towing a white, plastic, miniature home with embroidered cushions to match the neutral interior design down the motorway (in the slow lane). Don't get me wrong I love my mum and dad and as parents go they are pretty cool but it is the caravan I have the issue with, its the newest family member and without sounding like too much of a spoilt brat it is receiving far too much attention for my liking.
My brother and I have been living away from home because of university and he is about to start a new job as he graduated last year so I therefore have a theory as to why my parents bought this attention seeking, little box. It is a replacement child. We are both growing up and moving out of the parental home which means they need something to nurture and care for. I suppose that aspect of it is quite lovely that they want something to look after, but could they not have bought a cute puppy or a kitten instead? The caravan dominates everything and whatever the caravan wants the caravan shall get. There are shopping trips to buy little, pretty things for the caravan, objects around the house deemed unused will find their way into the caravan, there are even miniature ketchups, salad creams and HP sauce bottles specifically bought for the flipping caravan and whenever my grandparents visit the conversation inevitably turns to the caravan because, yes you guessed it, they have a caravan too! There are conversations about the flushing system of their toilets, tales of parking up their caravans on a better spot than the one the park ranger had initially directed them to and a slagging match about the arrogant smart-arse with his flashy, monstrous, american motor home on their latest excursion.
If the caravan were a child it would be the favourite by far. I was visiting home recently and my mum usually gives me a few bits and bobs of food to bring back up to uni with me but this time when I asked if there was any tinned steak (I eat a lot of tinned food) she replied "oh er, well there was but I put it in the caravan before it went to the caravan park". This may not seem like such a big issue or a problem as I could just easily go and buy the tinned steak myself but it is the principle of the fact that the caravan got there first. If it could speak I know for sure it would tease me about all the fun the three of them have had together, all the places they have been and the journeys they have shared.
Maybe its because I'm the youngest in the family, I'm used to being the one that gets away with everything, the one that gets more sympathy and the one that's wrapped up in bubble wrap. Well my bubble wrap has well and truly been popped, squeezed, twisted and burst by the caravan.
I wonder if this is what my big brother went through when I came into existence? He used to sit building towers with his Lego and I would roll into them when I was a baby consequently knocking the multi-coloured towers over. Perhaps if I were to build a similar tower of tinned steak the caravan would unscrew its legs and roll into them knocking them over? Its a radical thought but this is the stage I am getting to; it has a personality and one that I do not like.
This is not a man's world or a woman's world, but a caravan's world so beware if you ever hear your parents say "I think we might buy a caravan."
Tuesday 7 June 2011
Saturday 4 June 2011
First Blog! The day it was sunny in Scotland...
Hello!
I have no idea who will read this, or if anyone actually will, but hello to you anyway.
So its summer, uni is finished for about three months and I'm on the hunt for a job and some voluntary work but creating a blog seemed a much more exciting prospect at 11.30pm on a Saturday night. You might be thinking "why is this student not out drinking cheap wine and £1 jelly shots, dancing like she's the greatest dancer that ever lived, and eating food that should not be consumed by a hungry wolf never mind a hungry human, before discussing her latest philosophy of life with the taxi driver?" Well I have an answer to this; I've had two nights out this week and potential sun stroke. Yes that's right, sun stroke. I should probably mention here that I live in Scotland. Yes that's right, sun stroke in Scotland.
We had one day of glorious sunshine, one short window of opportunity to free our body's of sensible clothing, sit in the park, watch the world go by and feel that summer vibe! We could treat our pasty skin to some much needed vitamin D, we could buy multi-packs of ice lolly's from Iceland, we could smell the BBQ air and we could finally accept that one guy who was wearing flip-flops back in February. After a month of wind and rain summer was finally making an appearance but we were warned it was only to last for a day so it was not to be wasted.
Unfortunately I had been out the night before we were showered in sunshine but I did not let this phase me. Not even being crushed on the subway, surrounded by school kids and feeling nauseous would stop me from finding a spot in the park and making the most of this fabulous day. So the brave soul that I am, I pushed through the sickness, dizzy spells and the shakes and off I went to the park with two of my mates.
I always feel that the sun causes us to become more cultured and we adopt a Mediterranean personality as soon as we put on them sunglasses that have sat collecting dust since the last heatwave. We'll try to look extra glamorous like the Italians, eat fresh salads with feta cheese like the Greeks and there will always be a group of lads smoking, sipping on a Stella Artois and strumming on a guitar just like in a Spanish bistro. There are men that have been pumping iron in the gym just for days like this so they can rip off their shirts like the incredible hulks that they are, and then there are women (like me) who have their sunglasses at the ready so they can look without being too obviously in awe. Isn't it brilliant!
So there we were sitting on the (damp) grass having a sophisticated game of eye spy, eating baguettes and admiring those around us. It was perfect.
After a delightful day at the park we headed home feeling happy, cheerful and sun-kissed. Little did we know we actually resembled three red lobsters that had escaped from the sea-food restaurant down the road. We had not been lightly sun-kissed, we had been harshly sun-groped by the powerful, burning rays. You're maybe thinking "what a bunch of silly girls, of course they were going to end up burnt in 24c heat!" and you'd be right to think that because yes we were stupid not to put sun cream on or cover up but I know that the majority of people have all been in the same situation; as soon as its sunny at home we all think we have some degree of immunity from the power of the sun just because we are not lying around a pool on our package holidays in Spain.
We had arranged to meet up with a friend that night for some drinks but this was obviously before we had turned into what I can only describe as three characters from Where's Wally with our red and white bodies being similar to the T-shirts they wear. Moisturiser, coconut butter and fake tan were all slapped on in an attempt to calm the flaming red into a less aggressive skin tone but they didn't work. It was time to take it to the next level and paint ourselves in foundation. Once again you might be thinking "these girls are downright fools" and looking back I completely agree but at the time it was an ingenious idea, just like going to the park was a brilliant idea and look how that turned out...
Off we went to the club with our shimmery, flawless, slightly caked in make-up arms and faces with a determination to have a good night. We sat quite a distance away from each other to prevent any touching of the arms for two reasons; firstly because our arms were painful to touch and secondly because we didn't want to accidentally brush our foundation-covered arms onto each other's clothes. Not only were we facing this problem but also as a result of the sun we were like three human radiators, any contact between the three of us and we may have completely overheated causing an explosion.
The night went on and it became busier and busier making it hotter and hotter which you can imagine is not great when you could heat up a greenhouse in winter from just one arm. The foundation I had applied so smugly to my scarlet arms melted away by the end of the night and I literally showed my true colours. I was a fake and a phony pretending that I had been sensible in our one day of summer. Embarrassed and ashamed of myself, not that anyone would notice as I was already a rosy red so there was no room for blushing, I made my way home and removed what little make-up was left.
A valuable lesson has been learned here and so with this first post I say to you pasty people like me, DO NOT put foundation on your arms if you end up sunburnt because it will just melt off.
...Oh and wear sun cream.
I have no idea who will read this, or if anyone actually will, but hello to you anyway.
So its summer, uni is finished for about three months and I'm on the hunt for a job and some voluntary work but creating a blog seemed a much more exciting prospect at 11.30pm on a Saturday night. You might be thinking "why is this student not out drinking cheap wine and £1 jelly shots, dancing like she's the greatest dancer that ever lived, and eating food that should not be consumed by a hungry wolf never mind a hungry human, before discussing her latest philosophy of life with the taxi driver?" Well I have an answer to this; I've had two nights out this week and potential sun stroke. Yes that's right, sun stroke. I should probably mention here that I live in Scotland. Yes that's right, sun stroke in Scotland.
We had one day of glorious sunshine, one short window of opportunity to free our body's of sensible clothing, sit in the park, watch the world go by and feel that summer vibe! We could treat our pasty skin to some much needed vitamin D, we could buy multi-packs of ice lolly's from Iceland, we could smell the BBQ air and we could finally accept that one guy who was wearing flip-flops back in February. After a month of wind and rain summer was finally making an appearance but we were warned it was only to last for a day so it was not to be wasted.
Unfortunately I had been out the night before we were showered in sunshine but I did not let this phase me. Not even being crushed on the subway, surrounded by school kids and feeling nauseous would stop me from finding a spot in the park and making the most of this fabulous day. So the brave soul that I am, I pushed through the sickness, dizzy spells and the shakes and off I went to the park with two of my mates.
I always feel that the sun causes us to become more cultured and we adopt a Mediterranean personality as soon as we put on them sunglasses that have sat collecting dust since the last heatwave. We'll try to look extra glamorous like the Italians, eat fresh salads with feta cheese like the Greeks and there will always be a group of lads smoking, sipping on a Stella Artois and strumming on a guitar just like in a Spanish bistro. There are men that have been pumping iron in the gym just for days like this so they can rip off their shirts like the incredible hulks that they are, and then there are women (like me) who have their sunglasses at the ready so they can look without being too obviously in awe. Isn't it brilliant!
So there we were sitting on the (damp) grass having a sophisticated game of eye spy, eating baguettes and admiring those around us. It was perfect.
After a delightful day at the park we headed home feeling happy, cheerful and sun-kissed. Little did we know we actually resembled three red lobsters that had escaped from the sea-food restaurant down the road. We had not been lightly sun-kissed, we had been harshly sun-groped by the powerful, burning rays. You're maybe thinking "what a bunch of silly girls, of course they were going to end up burnt in 24c heat!" and you'd be right to think that because yes we were stupid not to put sun cream on or cover up but I know that the majority of people have all been in the same situation; as soon as its sunny at home we all think we have some degree of immunity from the power of the sun just because we are not lying around a pool on our package holidays in Spain.
We had arranged to meet up with a friend that night for some drinks but this was obviously before we had turned into what I can only describe as three characters from Where's Wally with our red and white bodies being similar to the T-shirts they wear. Moisturiser, coconut butter and fake tan were all slapped on in an attempt to calm the flaming red into a less aggressive skin tone but they didn't work. It was time to take it to the next level and paint ourselves in foundation. Once again you might be thinking "these girls are downright fools" and looking back I completely agree but at the time it was an ingenious idea, just like going to the park was a brilliant idea and look how that turned out...
Off we went to the club with our shimmery, flawless, slightly caked in make-up arms and faces with a determination to have a good night. We sat quite a distance away from each other to prevent any touching of the arms for two reasons; firstly because our arms were painful to touch and secondly because we didn't want to accidentally brush our foundation-covered arms onto each other's clothes. Not only were we facing this problem but also as a result of the sun we were like three human radiators, any contact between the three of us and we may have completely overheated causing an explosion.
The night went on and it became busier and busier making it hotter and hotter which you can imagine is not great when you could heat up a greenhouse in winter from just one arm. The foundation I had applied so smugly to my scarlet arms melted away by the end of the night and I literally showed my true colours. I was a fake and a phony pretending that I had been sensible in our one day of summer. Embarrassed and ashamed of myself, not that anyone would notice as I was already a rosy red so there was no room for blushing, I made my way home and removed what little make-up was left.
A valuable lesson has been learned here and so with this first post I say to you pasty people like me, DO NOT put foundation on your arms if you end up sunburnt because it will just melt off.
...Oh and wear sun cream.
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