Crazy times

Today, I saw my cousins (9 and 5) and my aunt. As anticipated, we had a great time. Utterly crazy, but really fun. Okay. So I'm easy to keep happy. Playing make-believe with kids could keep me amused for hours. And yes, I will grow up...promise!

So, we played make believe. We pretended that I was a horse, and my cousins rode me...well, they put a scarf around my middle and held on to both ends and yelled 'go' or 'stop', while I pranced around. It comes to the same thing. Getting down on all fours and letting them on my back is a big no-no.

It is fun...well, it's fun for a time. And it's good exercise too.

As well as this, we also pretended we were old men sitting on our porch and talking about the weather. The topic of conversation didn't stay there for long, though. Pretty soon, we were waving our hands at everyone else, and saying that we 'didn't understand those young ones.' I believe we called them incomprehensible and intolerable. We sat there twittering on about how they'd be much more tolerable when they reached their 1000's and became more mature.

We also talked about how awful the Roman invasion of Britain was, and how we'd been there. As well as saying that our father and grandfathers had painted their chests and faces to scare other people away. We agreed that lipstick and stuff was wasted on the youth of today, that they shouldn't be allowed it. Indeed, why paint yourself if it's not to make yourself scary was our logic.

And don't get me started on the hats and the pretend walking sticks. But *puts on best old man voice* if you laugh at me or call me crazy, I'll bash you with my walking stick. *waves imaginary stick in the air*

I sound crazy now. I am normal, I really am. Believe me. As well as these little games of make believe, I also behaved like a normal grown up when we went on a walk. And I answered the phone when I was in the house alone with my two little cousins. I don't normally answer the phone, but I had to because my cousins were there. I can't have them think that I'm scared to answer the phone!

It was Grandma. This was a bit of a pain, as although it was very nice to talk to Grandma it's not exactly the right time to do it when I've got two younger cousins upstairs playing with the rats. I had hoped it was a salesman. Then I could have got rid of them quickly. As it was, I stayed talking to Grandma until her doorbell rang. Well, she was beginning to say goodbye before that because a loud voice said "Come on, hurry up," but that would have been a long winded goodbye. When her doorbell rang it was a really quick bye and phone down!

Fun times, yes...we also sang What shall we do with the drunken sailor? several times. Let this be a lesson not to start things with a bunch of cousins around. My aunt started by singing my two year old sister some nursery rhymes. Nice. But pretty soon, we were just singing the one song. Over and over.

One thing worries me, though. My nine year old cousin said (quite truthfully) that most teenagers are fashion freaks. Worryingly, though, she also said that I wasn't a fashion freak. Either I have good taste or else I'm a fashion disaster. I hope it's not the latter.

Back to the normal grown up theme. I have nothing more to say. And so, I will say nothing more.

Not so notable drivel

It's amazing the sort of things you can find in notebooks when you look back through them. Here are some extracts from the drivel I saw fit to write in my notebooks. It may interest you to know that none of the notebooks are completely full. I don't quite know why this is.

WARNING: THIS BLOG POST SAYS NOTHING INTERESTING OR USEFUL. IT MAY MAKE YOU LAUGH, CRY, OR KILL YOUR MOUSE. DO NOT READ THIS BLOG POST.

By now, you are probably wondering what this blog post says. You are also probably wondering what the point of writing a blog post with a warning at the top telling people not to read it is.

There is no point in writing a blog post with a warning at the top telling people not to read it—unless of course, you really do not want people to read it. In that case, why write the blog in the first place?

Okay, okay. If you read this far, you must be an idiot. Or bored. Or else, you might be interested. For if I had not wanted this blog post to be read, I would not have written it. So, for your perseverance, here is the point of this blog post.

This blog post is pointless!

*insert evil laugh*

Don't say you weren't warned.

Another notable extract, just after the first one:

I completely and utterly agree that you never did anything to deserve this blog post.

And another:

I think I'm going mad. I think I'm going mad. I think I'm going mad.

Believe it or not, but that was the sole content of one page!

I even found some bad poems I'd forgotten I ever wrote, example below:

I look and see
A frown where the smile had been
A face growing old.
But I am not yet sixteen.

I look ahead and see
An empty life of no fulfillment
One who forgot
Life was only lent.

I look back and see
Failures, woes, and sorrows.
I wish all my days
Could be simple tomorrows.

And chillingly, some attempts at epitaphs:

Here lies ————
Still useful in society
Singing Worthy the Lamb
In heaven with all propriety.

Don't ask why I thought people would like to know that the dead person was still useful. I can only say that there's no rest for the wicked.

And I shall leave you with this:

I am a banana hater. And, incidentally, a custard hater.

So this wasn't a proper blog. Don't worry. Tomorrow we see one of my aunts, and her children. There will be something interesting to say about that!

It is uncomfortable to wash hair in the bathroom sink.

This is most probably because the sink was not designed for washing hair.

Next time I think something might be in my hair, and that it therefore needs washing immediately, I will remember this fact.

Also, I must look around a bit and see if the shampoo and conditioner I like to use is on special offer anywhere. Mine is about 3/5 gone, and although that isn't too drastic, I refuse to buy it full price as I consider it overpriced.

If I can't find any of it on special offer, I will try some other shampoo! *starts thinking of the shampoos she could try*

And while I'm getting shampoo, I need some of those thin bands used for tying hair back...don't ask me why, but they get lost an awful lot...and after a while, they become too stretched for easy use or break!

Talking of hair, one of these days I shall put some blonde streaks in mine...or maybe not...it's just one of those things I'd like to do once, but I'm not too bothered about it. So it's something that will probably never happen.

Of course, dying it blonde isn't the only colour...I really should see if I can get it turned red...I like red hair. Or I could just make it a darker/lighter brown...

One day, I will investigate these possibilities, if I'm not too busy investigating other possibilities! And investigating possibilities is only the first step towards doing something. So it will probably never leave the "possibility to have the possibilities investigated" stage. If you know what I mean by that.

Paranonia

Definition: what you have when you start to wonder if the stuff you read over a year ago about humans fiddling with the weather is correct.

Yes, I am now so fed up with the unusual weather that I'm beginning to wonder if people are indeed fiddling with it. If you are fiddling with the weather, and you happen to be reading my blog, it would be nice if you could stop. It's not funny at all.

You do realize that I can picture them sitting there in Russia or America, rubbing their hands together and laughing because they have sent us the weather we now have. No offense to any Americans or Russians, by the way!

Or it could be Gordon Brown (it's strange how Down with Brown sounds so pleasing to the ear, but that has no bearing on the subject whatsoever) who's orchestrating the weather. Again, I would have you know that it isn't funny at all. Admittedly, some things in life are funny, like my 13 year old sister, but fiddling with the weather hardly comes under the definition of 'funny'. Okay, so maybe it is 'funny'; but that's funny as in weird, not funny as in humorous! (My sister is actually both, but don't tell her I said that!)

Why would Gordon Brown want to control the weather? Good question. I would suggest that maybe he thinks controlling the weather makes him god. Maybe he wants to scare us all, and then he can bring in Communism. Okay, okay. Before I get jumped on, please note that I am not the first to semi-seriously suggest that Gordon Brown is a Communist. Sorry, comrades.

Anyway, one advantage to all this rain is that in about 80 years time, I will be able to have a conversation a bit like this with my great grandchildren.

*fast forwards 80 years*

Me: "Well, you think this is bad. You don't know what bad is, believe me. Now in 2007, then we had a rainy summer. *shakes head* Kids of today. They don't know how well they get it.

Great Grandchild: "But, it's supposedly summer and we've had two consecutive days of rain!"

Me (smugly): "In 2007, we had three consecutive months of rain; May, June, and July."

Great Grandchild (worried): "What then?"

Me: Then came the communists.

Great Grandchild: "The communists?"

Me: "Yes. The Communists. *sniffs* They shot your Great Grandfather."

Great Grandchild: "But Great Grandfather died twenty years ago, after a ruthless attack by a bunch of youths."

Me: "Child, that was my second husband."

Great Grandchild: "Oh."

Me: "Yes, I buried two husbands and six children, as well as four siblings and eight cousins. You should listen to me. I know an awful lot."

Great Grandchild (unsure): "Are you feeling quite well?"

Me: "I've never been better. You don't know what illness and stress is. Illness and stress is when you have your great-great grandma, and four children to look after all by yourself, when the government is communist."

Great Grandchild: "Things are better now."

Me: "Ah, the sweet naivety of youth."

*goes back to reality*

Looking at what I've just written, I have painted a rather dismal view of the future. This is not my fault. I blame my fingers, as they are in charge of the typing.

After consulting my fingers, they say that they are not going to take any responsibility or blame in the event that the ever mysterious they do not control the weather, or Gordon Brown is not a communist. Now I just sound as if I have a mental problem. This is not so. I am actually a normal, well-adjusted girl.

In fact, if you read my blog you will know without doubt that I am a normal, well-adjusted girl. I am confident of this.

'Mon, read this!

I shall write about the dream I had last night. It is worth noting.

I dreamt that I was sitting on the beach, with my mum and my sister. My sister was unconscious, leaning against a rock in the middle of the beach. My mum said that when the tide came in, I was to help her carry my sister off the beach. We were sitting there, and watching the tide come in.

Suddenly, the tide came up to us. Disregarding my sister, my mum jumped up and fled off the beach. I got up, and looked around for my socks. It would seem they were not on my feet, although I don't remember taking them off. Anyway, my socks were swept into the sea. I fearlessly plunged in after them, determined to reach them...they came back, within my grasp. But by this point, I was aware of the fact that there were more important things to do than collect my socks, like remove my sister from the beach. This thought distracted me, and I missed my socks...they went back out towards the sea.

And then, I woke up.

I don't know if any of you know, but dreams are practically the only things I'm superstitious about, the only things I will read things into. And it seems to me as if that dream gives a nice picture of myself as a whole. It is true that I chase inconsequential things, and ignore more important things. And no, it's not something that I'm proud of doing.

I would also suggest that the reason there was someone unconscious in my dream—and I can't remember ever having anyone unconscious in any of my dreams before—is because my dad fainted on Sunday. Yes, he has fully recovered from his cold now. Don't worry.

Also, you may or may not be interested to hear that my little, two year old sister is saying more words now. She can say wet, and does so when it is raining heavily outside. She has this sweet habit of only saying the second half of long words, though. She doesn't say tomorrow, she says morrow. She doesn't say today, she says day. She doesn't say come on, she says mon. I'm not sure where she gets this from. It is not a habit in our family to only say the second half of words!

Hopefully that also explains the first 'word' in the title!

Just to prove a point

and also, because I am arguably going mad...

This is purple. This is red.

And I hereby declare this computer for now and forever after as absolutely evil. Evil.

*waits*

See, the computer doesn't even deny it!

Immaturity . . .

...can be incredibly funny sometimes.

And incredibly wearing at other times.

Anyway. Have any of you seen the list of things to do in a lift? Google it. Here are some highlights from it:

Stare at another passenger for a while. Then announce in horror: "You're one of THEM" - and back away slowly.

Say "I wonder what all these do?" And push all the red buttons.

Try to make personal calls on the emergency phone.

Draw a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers: "This is my personal space."

When there's only one other person in the elevator, tap them on the shoulder, then pretend it wasn't you.

Hold the doors open and say you're waiting for your friend. After a while, let the doors close and say "Hi Greg, How's your day been?"

Swat at flies that don't exist.

Oh, and I am not advising anyone to try any of these, so please don't make out that I am! And some of you might...

The really amazing thing is the immaturity of some celebrities...let me here and now proclaim that while insignificant people like me can laugh at lists of how to be annoying on a lift, there is absolutely no excuse whatsoever for anyone calling their child Princess Tiaamii.

Well, each to their own, of course...but poor, poor child.

However, I am actually more shocked to read that Tinkerbell is what lots of celebrities call their dogs...once I, and some other people, were being immature and nicknaming each other stupid things...and someone suggested I should be called Tinkerbell...hmm...

*goes away fuming* Nah, it's funny really...just none of you try it...

Drama Queen Me

I am such a drama queen! :o

I don't know why I'm like this. Someone faints, and for a brief period I think it's the end of the world. And I am the one who recommends calling 999...

Anyway, here are the facts of the matter...there was a dull thud, my mum gives a low scream, and I turn around to see an unconscious body on the floor. Bother. That sounds far far too like someone died. They didn't. All that happened was that my dad fainted.

It did shake me up a little, though...I really shouldn't strongly contradict people who say it's a wonderful day!

Under no circumstances are you to think he's dying. He doesn't sound as if he's dying...I quote: "You better not tell the world that you think I'm dying." Nice. Very nice indeed. If he says things like that, he's not dying. And it raises another matter...maybe, just maybe, I should password my blog.

That'll teach my family for reading it...it's not meant for them to read. But I am still very much in the just threatening stage about passwording this blog! Don't worry.

That's the second worrying thing that's happened in two days, though. Did I mention that my sister fell off Othello during out riding lesson yesterday? I don't think I did!

It's okay, it wasn't a bad fall. But it was a classic example of what happens if you and the horse haven't agreed where you are going. She was cantering fast towards the low jump, and Othello decided that he was going to go around it at the last minute, cantering sideways and then whipping round. My sister came off. Othello happily trotted into a corner. He couldn't have cared less about it!

She was fine. She got back on, and popped over a couple of low jumps. Anyway, I'm aware that not many people know what it looks like when someone falls off—the word ragdoll comes to mind—so, if any of you would like to see, a youtube video is here. Some people didn't fall off, just almost fell off. And as far as I know, no one was seriously hurt. (And no, I can't jump as high as those people in the video. One and a half feet is my maximum.)

I did find another clip with a nasty rotational fall in it. I decided that I wouldn't post the link to that one. Rotational falls normally happen during cross county riding. What happens is that the horse is either going too fast and doesn't have enough time to pick his legs up for the jump, or too slow and doesn't have enough power to get over it. And so, hits the fence with his leg above the knee.

The horse flips over in a somersault, because cross country fences don't normally fall down when you hit them. (The jumps that fall down when you hit them are called show jumps.) This is a bad thing, because the horse normally goes right over the jump and lands, upside down, on the other side of the fence.

Sometimes there are problems with this. Sometimes the rider is underneath the horse when it lands. That's normally tragic. Sorry.

Now, anyone who skipped the bit about horses will be in big trouble. I know no one ever reads anything I write about horses...well, this time you better read it. I shall test you at a future, as yet undecided, date. If you don't know, there will be trouble.

It strikes me that you'd probably all be pleased if I passworded my blog and didn't let you in because then you wouldn't have to hear anything about horses, ever again. You could live on in ignorance about rotational falls (you didn't really want to hear about them anyway, right?) and I wouldn't come along and shatter your ignorance.

Anyway, bye for now! I have other, more pressing, demands on my time. Oh, and I'd just like to clarify that my dad is fine; he has a habit of fainting when he's ill. So he's done it before. Admittedly, last time he was driving, so he slumped rather than fell, but it comes to the same thing!

Wet. Wet. Wet. Wet.

This describes my horse riding lesson today. It rained. For the whole hour. And some of this rain was very heavy. I got soaked. Of course, as soon as the lesson ended the rain stopped. No doubt this just confirms that I'm mad, because I ride horses in the rain. I would point out that I do not control the weather, and the horses need exercising anyway...if we hadn't had a riding lesson, someone would have had to exercise them later. And it wouldn't have been me.

I'm not sure who or what to blame for this current wet weather. I would blame Gordon Brown, as he seems to have banned the sun. Or I could blame the Russians, sending us bad weather because we chucked some of their diplomats or whatever out.

But that can't be the answer, as the sun has been gone since May. Hmm. This suggests that the Winter has come early. Don't worry...it's only here for another 9 months, folk! We can cope with winter for another nine months. Then it will be spring again, and hopefully next year we will get a Summer and an Autumn, not a month of Spring and then Winter.

It's only raining because the clouds are being mean, anyway. The best way to get those mean clouds back is to ignore them. And so, that's enough talk about the weather. The weather isn't really deserving of discussion, anyway.

More deserving of discussion, or at least mention, is the fact that we have our nice horse riding instructor (S) back again. She went to Australia, for what I thought was going to be a year, but it turns out to have just been six months! So she was back today!

The person we had in her absence (C) was nice enough, but she was different. And I prefer S, because she isn't as worried about what will happen. S gives us group canters, and instead of saying, as C would, "That's good, keep it steady," says "That's great, keep it going!"

They have different attitudes. C is more reserved, S is more bouncy...but not so bouncy that it's annoying! And with C, teaching us seemed more of a job. S seems to enjoy it! C wrapped us in cotton wool as much as possible. S is more 'you can do it'. Both are nice, but I prefer S. Her confidence is catching; it's not all that good for your confidence if your instructor is worried about you falling off! C (and I kid you not!) used to pick up all the horse droppings before we jumped 'in case we fell off into them.'

In fact, they illustrate the difference between pessimism and optimism perfectly. C is a pessimist. S is an optimist. I am a ??? It really depends what mood I'm in. Sometimes I can be surprisingly pessimistic, other times I can be fairly optimistic.

Optimists make the best teachers. Pessimists should sell insurance instead.

I also tend to find that both optimism and pessimism are catching...

A report from the doghouse

Music is very relaxing. I can't be the only person who uses it as a means of relaxation. There is nothing better than listening to some nice music while surfing the internet.

I tend to tune out to things too much though. I have this amazing ability to relax, and the more pressure there is to get something done, the more I relax. And that's bad. Putting your fingers in your ears does not make nosies stop, so there is no reason why relaxing should make pressure go away!

I don't know why I relax more under pressure. Actually, I don't relax: but the wrong sort of pressure just makes me dig my feet in and refuse to do anything. This has a nasty knack of making more pressure build up, which has a knock on effect of making me dig my feet in and refuse to budge even more. Things go round and round. Nasty!

The only way to break this cycle is to apply the right kind of pressure. It's just a pity I don't know what the right kind of pressure is...

Anyway, enough about pressure and relaxation. My little sister is really sweet. We're trying to teach her what a nose is, and what a mouth is, and what fingers are...things like that. We're having some success! It is really rewarding when she points to her doll (actually, it used to be mine, but just forget I said that!) and proudly shows you where the nose is. And goes on to show you the eyes. She did this of her own accord.

Time to teach her about ears, I think. She seems unaware that they exist most of the time. And we're also trying to teach her to count by holding up various numbers of fingers, but that doesn't seem to be working yet...it'll come, though, as she's only two.

Yes, I know I seem a bit old to have a two year old sister. I am. What really annoys me is when people ask if she's mine. She certainly isn't. She's all mum's...and mum can keep her, as she can be incredibly naughty. I think our family boasts the naughtiest two-year-old ever. Seriously.

And the naughtiest ten year old boy, too...I could write a book on my brother. But I won't. It probably isn't wise...

Actually, it could be argued that I'm always saying things which are not wise, and so a few more things would make no difference. Okay. Okay. I'm with you on that one...

That's why I'm reporting from the doghouse. The weather is reasonable, at the moment, although there was heavy rain earlier. I am pleased to announce, however, that winter will be over in another nine months. That's not long to wait, folks.

Thanks for asking about me. Yes, it is cramped in the doghouse. Sadly, kennels aren't designed for people my size... No, it doesn't leak. Not unless there's heavy rain...

Don't worry. I am not really in a kennel! We don't even have a dog, let alone a doghouse...

They will never unite as one

***Warning! This post is full of irrational junk/discusses a controversial subject!***

I don't believe that all the divisions within the church can unite as one, like some people want it to. Nor do I believe that it would be a good thing if this happened. Of course, this isn't saying that the church won't eventually unite as a global church. I just think it would be bad if this happened.

This is the reason why the church probably can't unite: some church goers are very, very liberal. When you consider that other church goers are very bigoted, the possibility of them uniting together is very slim indeed. This is basically the core problem. The liberals won't have anything less than a liberal church. Meanwhile, the 'bigots' won't have a liberal church at all.

This liberal/illiberal divide is very great. It includes everything from key doctrines to which Bible version and type music is used in the service. There are lots of things churchgoers disagree on!

First, you have the great Protestant/Catholic divide. Catholics pray to Mary, believe that the Pope is infallible when talking ex cathedra, believe that the clergy should be unmarried and celibate, and believe in this place called purgatory. I'm sure there are other major differences too, they are just the first that come to mind.

Now, I'm going to stop discussing differences for two minutes in favor of explaining just why I have an issue with the Catholics. Seriously, I doubt many of them have ever read their Bibles, and those that do must be blind. Actually, didn't the Catholics like suppressing and keeping the Word of God from the general population, too? Bad, very bad.

Praying to Mary is just wrong. Full stop. Mary was human, and therefore cannot do anything. She even admitted in Luke 2:47 that God was her Saviour. If she needed a Saviour, it proves she was human. If she was not human, she would not have needed a Saviour. That's that. No praying to Mary. I take praying as talking to God, and therefore it is my full belief that as Mary is human, praying to her violates the first and second commandment. (Exodus 20:1-6)

The Pope is human, too. And I'm pretty certain that the Pope would agree. He only claims to be head of the Church on Earth. This is wrong, wrong, wrong! Christ is the head of the Church! (Ephesians 5:23) And as for him being infallible when speaking from his official chair, that is rubbish. And a laughable concept. Especially as they don't make any claims about his infallibility when he isn't in this chair. Come on. Chairs do not make one infallible! Either he is God, or not. There is no middle ground. If he is not God, he is not infallible. It doesn't matter where he speaks from!

An unmarried and celibate clergy?! Have they never read 1 Timothy 3:2? A bishop must then be ... the husband of one wife... There is nothing against unmarried, celibate clergymen, but married clergymen certainly aren't forbidden!

And what is purgatory? I'm confused. I've never come across any references to it in the Bible. In fact, from what I read in the Bible I shouldn't be surprised if it doesn't exist...

All this makes me incredibly suspicious of the Catholics. I'm sure they add works to faith in some way, too...works are not necessary for Salvation. (Romans 3:28)

Then, within the Protestants, you have the liberals and fundamentalists. I'm not sure if they are the technical words, but never mind. To give some examples, the liberals disbelieve in a virgin birth, the resurrection, the Bible being God's infallible word, unsaved sinners going to hell, and various other 'little' things like that. I wonder that liberal people go to church at all...what with stripping Christianity of its most vital concepts, it's a wonder they see any reason to go!

Okay. So now comes your little aside on why I am not liberal. The virgin birth is a tricky concept, but pretty core to the belief that Jesus Christ is God's Son. Quite simply, if Mary was not a virgin, Jesus was not God's son. Seriously. Jesus would have been Joseph's son, and therefore not God's. Also, if Mary was not a virgin, Jesus was not the Messiah. Isaiah 7:14: Therefore, the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.

Now, for the resurrection. Disbelief in this again destroys the whole Christian faith, because if Christ did not rise one cannot logically expect Him to be God. In fact, as Christ Himself said He would rise (Mark 9:31), if He did not there is no reason to believe anything else He said.

Fortunately, the proof that He did rise is great. Jesus is mentioned in other historical books written at the time, and if He hadn't risen the Jews would have produced the body. They did not like the Christians, and so if they had had the chance, they would have produced the body. Also, the complete change in the disciple's behaviour clearly shows that something happened: there would have been no such change in their attitudes had they only stolen the body and then hidden it.

The Bible is God's infallible word. (Isaiah 40:8) Sorry, that's just like saying the Bible is infallible because it says so...not a particularly good defense, but this isn't meant to be a theological post, just a quick run through of why the church can't all merge. I could find out more reasons for everyone, but it would take too long. I haven't got much blogging time left!

Unsaved sinners do go to Hell. Sorry. It's a fact of life. (Revelation 20:15) God is a just God. What more can I say?

Yes, it is amazing these people go to church at all. Basically, they go to church because they like the Golden Rule. Church to them is all about improving the world. They like the thoughts put forth in the Bible. I would suggest that they are soft in the head...

Then, there are the fundamentalists. They can best be described as believing in what the liberals disbelieve. But life is never as simple as it seems. They are split into different groups, too. They argue over things like Creation/Evolution, music, and other comparatively little things. Although, mind you, they argue over these things like it were life or death itself...

I'm not going to expound on the fundamentalists. This post was meant to be short. For a short post, it is a failure. I fail at everything: I can't even write short blogs when I want to! And other days, I want to blog but can't find much to say.

Anyway, for this lot to swallow their differences just isn't going to happen. If there was a world church, the liberals would mostly drop out, the Catholics would mostly be happy, and the fundamentalists would either be happy or refuse to have anything to do with it depending on how fundamental they are.

Some would say that all Christians are one church in Christ. Indeed, I don't deny it. But for them all to be one on earth, that is impossible.

I'm sure someone will think that I've over simplified this subject. I probably have. But I do not know all that much about these things, although it could probably be argued that I know more on this subject than most other subjects. Tough. I would like to draw to your attention that I am not writing a book.

That's all for today! Breathe your sighs of relief now, people!

So, if your child goes to school is it really acceptable to complain about its classmates? Apparently, one of my cousins has a class mate who is very clingy. My aunt says that this child is being offloaded onto my cousin, and isn't too happy about it.

Apparently, this child follows my cousin everywhere. Well, so what? I'm afraid I agree with Grandpa on this one: it will sort itself out. It is bound to.

I am, however, a little worried that something could be wrong with me if I agree with Grandpa. Grandpa is a workaholic. He is seventy, almost seventy-one, with diabetes, heart problems, and a replacement hip (or something similar, some hip problem!). He should not be working long hours in London selling insurance. He is. It's ridiculous.

Actually, I don't know much about what he does or how he runs his business. Suffice to say, I think he's an insurance broker. Dad refers to him as a second-hand insurance salesman, and I have to say that that is indeed what an insurance broker seems to do. However, people have spent long hours informing me just why an insurance broker isn't a second hand insurance salesman. I have forgotten why. It wasn't that convincing.

I do know, however, that I have heard him on the phone explaining just how you get the customer to sign this bit of paper, and no, this paper isn't for the benefit of the customer, it's for the benefit of his company...which doesn't particularly impress me.

Also, Grandpa thinks he can't get rid of a coloured secretary who can't do her job because then he will be accused of racism. Well, hello? If she doesn't do the job properly, surely they would be well within their rights to dismiss her? It's probably best, though, if they send her off to get some training and make her sign a contract to stay with them for x number of years in exchange. But maybe you're not allowed to do that.

Anyway, back to my cousin. I don't think she's particularly bothered by this child; I've heard nothing to suggest that she is, anyway. It is just my aunt.

Mum thinks the child has a mental problem. I doubt it. Time will sort it; she's probably just insecure. What her mother needs to do is widen her circle of friends, and then she won't be so clingy. It shouldn't be difficult to widen this child's circle of friends, unless of course this child is essentially horrible. Which I doubt.

Then again, the fact that some people are essentially horrid seems to be one I have difficulty in grasping. This is probably because I'm either too soft, or else because all the people I've come into contact with are basically nice. Before you start worrying, yes, I can be very wary when I want to be. Very wary indeed.

A few things

1. If you want to make me annoyed, say I talk complete and utter bullshit. I don't care and don't want to know! If people don't like what I say, they can get off my blog! (And no, I am not referring to any of my regular readers! None of them have accused me of taking bullshit.)
2. Bigot is a fascinating word. It means "a person who is utterly intolerant of any differing creed, belief, or opinion." Does this mean that if someone is called a bigot, the person who calls them a bigot is actually the real bigot? I shall never answer this question out to my satisfaction. Surely calling someone a bigot means that you disagree and hate their narrow view? And doesn't that make you a bigot yourself? (Again, I am not referring to anybody. No one who reads this has called me a bigot, either.)
3. Why is it that my mum says that she's going to do something and then says "we need to do such-and-such"?
4. Why is it that people insist on looking over my shoulder when I use the computer? It's not as if I do anything interesting...
5. Should you type an ellipsis like this . . . or like this ... ? The first way seems to draw attention to it, and the second way annoys me. Is there a correct way to type an ellipsis?
6. I ask to many questions. This was meant to be a list of things, not questions!
7. Why is it that I cannot blog if I have thought too much about the subject beforehand? Is this a sign of laziness? Or does mean that I use my blog as a way of thinking out loud? Personally, I prefer the latter view.
8. I am tired. I woke up at about 7:15 this morning. Therefore, I should not be tired, as normally I am awake earlier than that.
9. The rats need cleaning out. Hmm...it's my turn to do them!
10. We have a nut bird feeder hanging off one of our trees. We have seen mice on this bird feeder. :o We therefore need a cat.
11. I do not like cats. I prefer dogs. However, if there is a cat around, I will stroke it and rediscover the fact that I actually do like cats!
12. I need to go now! So, I will go.

Yesterday was a nice day. We went to a fun sports day held by some of our friends. When they first asked us, we thought at first we wouldn't be able to go because dad was meant to be playing the organ at someone's wedding. However, these people had to re-diarize there wedding, so we got to go! And my sister and I won our three-legged race.

We had to miss horse riding to go to the sports day. Happily, there were two dogs there, so it wasn't as bad as it sounds. I managed to get a good dose of dogs! I think dogs are nicer than humans in some ways. I haven't pinpointed any yet, but there must be some reasons.

While there, I met this incredibly noisy girl. She was one of the noisiest people I've ever met! When she discovered that she'd won a race she screamed. That's a little bit of an over-reaction! Also, because we were messing about a bit with stealing other people's seats when they were away, she told me not to sit in her seat.

So, I sat in her seat. When she looked back, I quickly swapped back. And sat in it again, when her back was turned, swapping back when she looked round. It was fun! And I'm pretty sure that she thought so too.

Anyway, when she came back she said she was going to get me back for it. I quote: I don't know how, and I don't know when, but when you're least expecting it then you better be prepared for it! Lol. Sounds like an empty threat or joke to me! I'm not worried by it at all. Of course, I have no reason for disregarding it. But I will. Just like I'll disregard the fact that someone voted "I hate you, and so will not vote" in my poll. (While we're talking about polls, most people like the changes to this blog.)

Her mother seemed to get on very well with my mother, though. Even worse, her mother looked uncannily like a smaller version of my mother. I never, ever knew anyone else looked like my mother, and it always shocks me when I see someone else who looks like her.

Apparently, they used to live in London. But they moved here because they didn't like the fact that yellow police signs inquiring for murder witnesses were a common sight. Around here, the only police signs you see are asking about road accidents.

If I saw a sign inquiring for murder witnesses, I would be absolutely freaked out by it. Especially if it was near my home! However, the most logical explanation for the murders that happen in London was probably drugs. From what I understand, drug dealers (especially if they are black or especially if they are white) are the sort of people who would think nothing of a murder here and a murder there. Obviously drugs mess people's brains up.

Actually, one of mum's friend's sons takes drugs! And this friend is actually a Christian woman, so that just makes her son's behavior even worse. I don't know what he takes (cannabis, perhaps? That's what mum thought he might be taking, but for all I know he sniffs cleaning fluids), but I don't want to know. I'm just pleased that I've never seen this particular son of hers.

Of course, I've seen another one of her sons. I was not impressed. I feel sorry for mum's friend, because she has four children and they're all bad. It wasn't helped by the fact that her husband is nothing special, either, and behaves like a frightened rabbit all the time.

Yes, people who take drugs or deal in drugs are messed up in the head. And taking drugs only serves to mess them up even more...hmm, I wonder if there are any statistics about gay people and drugs? That would be fascinating. Gay people are arguably the kind of people who would take drugs. (And so are straight people!)

Wow, I've just found some statistics! Gay people are twice as likely to take drugs than other people. That's interesting...but maybe not true.

Oh, and before I get any smart remarks, let me state that I have never had, are not currently having, and never intend to have anything to do with drugs, murders, or anything else in that line.

I don't intend to have anything to do with cigarettes, either. One of our neighbors smokes and it is so annoying! I hate the smell of cigarettes. I think I'll have to hatch a plan with my sister to talk about some imaginary person who smoked and had his partner die of lung cancer as a direct result...

Or is that mean? It probably is, but the idea is very appealing.

Oh, and these are the neighbors who are always complaining that our trees block their light. We cut the trees to a pre-agreed height this year. They chopped all the branches off their side, so the trees are at their thinnest and shortest for about four years. However, this year there is no sun. That's quite funny, really.

Paraskavedekatriaphobia

No, I haven't made up a word and used it instead of a proper title! But I can understand why you might think I have.

Today is Friday the 13th, and superstition has it that bad things happen on this day. According to Wikipedia, parakavedekatriaphobia is the name given to a phobia of Friday the 13th.

Why someone would be scared of Friday the 13th, I've no idea. I am not particularly scared of it, but because of the stigma attached to it I wouldn't want anything important to happen on it.

Stupid, I know!

Some phobias are strange. Arachibutyrophobia is the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of one's mouth. That's just weird. Who would have a phobia of peanut butter sticking to the roof of one's mouth?

I have looked quickly for a fear of traveling in glass sided lifts, but I can't find one. That would be a sensible fear. By the time you get to the top of a building in a glass sided lift with views outside, it's a long way down.

I'll clarify that "top" is about the sixth story. This may seem low to some people, but actually it is quite high enough. Five stories is far too high for a building. Three stories is plenty, four at a push. But six is too many!

No, I do not have a phobia of heights; I just dislike them. I dislike lots of things, so that shouldn't come as a surprise to people!

I half-dislike large groups of people. They have their advantages and disadvantages. Large groups of family members are exempted, as they are incredibly nice. A large group is nice if you know everyone. If, however, you don't know anyone, large groups are a bit daunting.

Tomorrow, I am going to a sort of fun day organized by someone from our church for her relatives and friends. The only people I will know are other people from church.

I have practice at standing up corners inconspicuously in large groups. I learnt the art of it when I played tennis on Saturdays. I don't play tennis anymore, as it clashed with horse riding. Horse riding is more of a priority than playing tennis, so the tennis went.

Anyway, they used to have a break. And I used to stand there on the fringes, listening. Listening is fun! It kept me amused for hours, as I used to go home and then go over the conversations in my head. That was fun, too.

Okay, okay. So I suppose you could say that I eavesdropped. However, in my defense, they all knew I was there—except sometimes it seemed like they forgot I had ears—and I didn't go home and repeat everything to my whole family.

Yes, sometimes it seemed like they forgot I had ears. Never mind, it was interesting...it was very interesting the time they forgot I had ears. Oh yeah. Very interesting indeed.

Ban the frying pan!

The frying pan should be banned. No, it should! It only has one good use, and that is for making pancakes. Okay, well maybe I'll allow it two. It might be good for growing cress in. Yes, that sounds about right! People should grow cress in it all year, and only fry with it on Pancake day.

Why this hatred against the frying pan? I agree, it doesn't deserve hating. Sitting in the cupboard, it is inoffensive. Frying pancakes, it is inoffensive.

However, frying bacon and eggs is another matter. When it is being used to fry bacon and eggs, the frying pan is a tool of torture. A means to an end. A horrible, environment polluter.

Well, you ask, why fry bacon and eggs in it? Good question. I don't. My brother does. Every single flippin' morning, he fries bacon and eggs. Yuck. They smell dreadful. And the smoke fills the house.

Well, okay. It doesn't fill the house in a dramatic way, it just wafts everywhere. Yes, it wafts everywhere! If you're in the house, it gets you eventually.

I have tried getting my brother to open the windows and close the kitchen door. Normally, he can't be bothered. When he does bother, it's no good. The smell and smoke waft outside, and then back in through another window. And when you open the kitchen door, the kitchen stinks.

I hate the smell and smoke produced by frying bacon and eggs. When my brother first started doing it, I had a mild asthma attack every time. This didn't stop him. He continued. I have an absolutely charming brother. You haven't heard the last of him.

I don't get asthma attacks when he fries stuff anymore. This proves that his bacon frying has permanently damaged my lungs. Well, maybe not. Maybe I've just developed a tolerance for it. I wish I hadn't developed a tolerance for it.

At least when it gave me asthma attacks, I had a reason for hating things being fried. Now, I just have an intense dislike of it for no specific reason.

But hey! I'm winning! I have succeeded in gaining my sister as a partner in this campaign to ban the frying pan. It's nice to have a fellow campaigner.

Sadly, I campaign in vain.

(Oh, and you may have noticed the slight changes to this blog. I hope they're not too vile! Also, seeing as there's a new poll feature, I thought I'd try it out. Now vote on my poll, or I will think you hate me. In fact, I hope it works. It should.)

Fun on the BBC website

Read this: extracts from other people's private diaries. Some are funny, and others have been written in the tone you'd expect from a novel, not a diary. The first paragraph of the second one is hilarious: 'If she complains one more time about being cold I'll go and set fire to her desk and warm her up a bit.'

Seriously, that person must have disliked their colleague immensely. I just hope when I have a job, whether that be in the near or distant future, I'm not the sort of person that annoys all the others. There probably isn't much chance of me not being that sort of person, though: according to my sister, I am 'grumpy' and 'a pain'. That's sisterly love for you.

Admittedly, the 'grumpy' bit could be correct. After all, I did log on to CCUK last night as 'Grumpy Nossie'. Sadly, however, being grumpy didn't suit me. I found that the label 'grumpy' only served to put a massive smile on my face. I had to log out and log back in again without the 'grumpy'.

And if you're wondering why you didn't get any grumpy blogs, well: I did write them. But they sounded so stupid I didn't post them! Yes, some of the things said in them were true. But other things were not, and—even in my grumpy mood—I recognised this fact.

Anyway, I can see you thinking "How on earth does this relate to the title?" And the answer is that it doesn't. It has wandered completely off course, and shot off in another direction. I seem very good at doing this, and I'm not quite sure why. I start on topic, shoot of in another direction, and finish somewhere else. But as this certainly isn't meant to be an essay or anything, just a piece of fun writing for my amusement, I can't see that it matters. :p

Back to current news. I just can't believe that an Englishwoman is marrying Omar bin Laden. Yes, he might make a nice husband. I don't doubt that. But his father was a terrorist! Or so he claims. Of course, it could be someone else with the surname bin Laden who just wants to make waves....

Anyway, didn't they hang bin Laden senior? I don't think they should have done that. That was nasty of them. No, I don't care what bin Laden did. He's from the other side of the world! Okay, well Asia. It comes to practically the same thing. Too far away for any interest to be taken in what he did or didn't do...unless, of course, he was going to take over the world.

Some would say he was. I don't care what they say. I don't think he was. I think he was a convenient scapegoat, victim of Bush and Blair. Typing Blair just reminded me that he's no longer Prime Minister! I still can't actually believe that Brown's in charge. Gordon Brown, the Prime Minister just sounds so wrong.

Not only does it sound wrong, it is wrong! According to the BBC, he's only got one eye...and even then, he doesn't have much vision in the eye he does have. This is terrible. How's he supposed to do all the reading politicians do? How can he do anything? Or am I the only person to be appalled by the fact that he's only got 30% of vision in one eye, and no vision at all in the other?

I'm also appalled by the fact that neds (yes, new word! well, actually, it's slang, but who cares? If you want to know, it's Scottish slang and it means "Non-educated delinquent") have nothing better to do than hang around the streets. No, don't get me wrong. I don't honestly care if they hang around.

But just why do they hang around the street? Why can't they hang around at home? And as for the nothing to do rubbish, so what? If they haven't got anything to do they should sit around happily, rather than make a nuisance of themselves to all and sundry. I strongly doubt they need more to occupy their time. And as for this "adults chase us away" nonsense, I should hope so too!

Anyway, that's enough! I almost sound like your special news correspondent! I am not! I should leave the news to the BBC, who may or may not be reliable....after all, all the important information (should you want to read it!) is coming from them.

In fact, I don't know why I'm posting this so soon after my last post. That one has interesting comments—finally, I got some interesting comments! Yes, half of them were me, but does that matter? It's my blog after all—and then, all I do is post another blog the next day. That's sheer willfulness.

In fact, if anyone gets to the bottom of this I'll be surprised. I put too many links in to distract people.

In case of intruders

I hate hearing strange noises when I'm home alone. And I heard one just now. I'm pretty certain it was only a neighbor fiddling with their dustbin, but what if it had been an intruder upstairs?

Actually, what if you're upstairs and you hear an intruder downstairs? I'm informed (not by my parents!) that the correct thing to do in those circumstances is to flush the toilet. Personally, if I thought there was an intruder in the house, I wouldn't have the nerve to do anything like that.

Others can do their heroic toilet flushing. I'd grab my three-foot schooling whip (used when horse riding, is basically a long thin flexible stick!) as a suitable weapon, and hide in the bathroom, literally locking myself in. Then, I would listen very carefully. If I heard something, I would stand frozen to the ground in horror. If I didn't hear anything, I would call myself an idiot and go downstairs.

If however, I was down stairs and heard an intruder upstairs, I would have more options. I could sneak out the front or back door and run away fast. I could take a knife from the kitchen cupboard or an umbrella from the hall for protection and then hide in the downstairs toilet. (Sadly, I think the police take a dim view of those who fight intruders off, especially if they fatally injure the intruder. And I wouldn't have the nerve to do that, anyway.)

The most scary thing, though, would be to be at home alone and have a bunch of threatening youths outside the house. Yes, I believe this has happened to some people. I doubt it would happen where I live, but one never knows. Even more scary is the fact that from what I've heard, phoning 999 is no good. The police don't come unless you're actually being attacked.

I have decided that the best thing to do in that situation is to phone the police, and tell them that you have a bunch of unfriendly youths outside your house. Then, when they say they won't do anything, put on a smug voice and say something along the lines of "I knew you wouldn't do anything, so I've shot at them. And I will continue shooting until you do something."

Guns are illegal in Britain. Shooting people is most certainly illegal. But I believe that the police would forget how busy they were if you said that. They would come along quickly.

The sight of a police car would have the desired effect on the idiots outside your house. There would be no more trouble from them. All you have to do is explain to the policemen how they thought you shot someone and yet there are no dead bodies, or even casualties.

I would suggest playing innocent, and apologizing profusely for your mistake of saying shot and shooting instead of shout and shouting. Blame it on excitement and nerves. Say that you're sure they understand. And then commend them for their quick response when you said you had unfriendly youths around your house. Thank them profusely for this, saying it wasn't the response you expected at all.

Yes, they would hate you for it. I know. But that wouldn't matter. I doubt they could do more than glower at you with hatred in their eyes.

If they claim you wasted their time, the chances are that they'd only have been doing paperwork. Besides, I wouldn't call dispersing a hostile gang of youths a waste of police time anyway. I think it's a very worthy occupation for them, and exactly what they should be doing.

Just make sure you lay on the praise if you do that. The object of the game is to make them feel incredibly mean should they say that actually, if you'd said shout instead of shot on the phone, they wouldn't have come.

Don't worry. I would never ever do something like that except in a case of dire emergency. And I would advise others not to as well.

The great mother/daughter in law divide

NB: Daughter-in-law = DL. Mother-in-law = ML.

I don't know why this exists. It shouldn't. DL has taken the naughty boy off ML, and ML has provided the husband for DL. Both should be pleased, but no!

Obviously they see things this way: DL has taken the wonderful kid off ML, and ML has provided the awful husband for DL. That's the only way to explain it and have it make sense.

Anyway, I would like to shoot the person who first suggested that ML and DL could not get on. They shouldn't have done. Women are foolish creatures, and quick to seize on an opportunity to be peeved with each other. (And no, I don't want this quoted at me in any circumstance. That's mean.)

It must have been a man that first thought of it. Well, he should be shot. It doesn't really matter if it was a woman's idea. That's beside the point. If it was a woman's idea, her husband should be shot. It would serve him right for being either so perfect or so horrid that his mother and wife felt the need to argue over him.

But this divide is weird. Honestly. At this very minute, mum is saying that Granny hates her guts and has always hated her guts. What a load of rubbish. Mum hasn't known Granny forever. So how can Granny always have hated mum's guts?

I'm sure Granny doesn't hate mum. Maybe she finds mum slightly annoying, but all-out hatred is a bit far. Granny's always reasonably nice to mum. Mum must just be over-sensitive.

According to mum, Granny said to two-year-old sister, "Are you going to take your mummy into the other room now?" And apparently that means that Granny doesn't want to see mum...

This is so annoying. *bangs head on wall* Why won't mum listen to reason on this subject? And why is it that talking about seeing Granny always puts mum into a bad mood? And why, why, why is it that mum's only words of wisdom on this subject is the slightly dismissive "You'll understand when you're older"?

I never want to understand. Never do I want to be so unreasonable. Sadly, however, I do not have history on my side. History has shown that I, too, can be unreasonable.

In fact, just take note of that for future reference: history has shown that I can be unreasonable. Noted? Good. Now, when I am unreasonable, you can't say you weren't warned. :p

*jaw drops and hits the keyboard with a thud*

Someone has linked to my blog. On a forum. And if you don't believe me, go here and scroll down.

And the really annoying thing was it wasn't because of anything I said. It was because some stupid, lying third party posted a comment on my blog.

Good grief, it was a defamatory comment! One I thought about deleting, and didn't.

Next thing that happens, I'll be being sued...

However. I don't suppose that matters because I don't have any money—and if I thought I was going to be sued, I'd spend all that I have and declare myself bankrupt.

But I don't want to have to do that. Going bankrupt isn't nice!

Fortunately the chances of me being sued are slim. But it certainly is too late to pull that comment.

Shush!

Shush! Everyone be quiet, and listen to me! Or, if you won't listen to me then go away and leave me alone.

Shush seems to be one of my favorite words. I'm not sure if that's good or not. In fact, it's almost certainly bad. However, sometimes I use it to mean 'go away and stop talking to me, leave me alone!', and other times I use it as a sort of 'everyone be quiet and listen to me'.

Okay, before I start my blogging proper, there's this little matter of swapping siblings. I am prepared to swap one 2 year old sister and one 10 year old brother who looks over your shoulder when you're using the computer in a special two-for-one offer for a family member of anyone else. Any takers? :p

Sometimes I get the impression that God likes indulging his children up to a certain point. Yes, I feel very indulged. And who wouldn't after having a completely inconsequential prayer answered in the positive. No, this was no life or death matter. This was not important. If it hadn't happened, I'd have just felt slightly peeved...and then forgotten about it all forever. So yes, God does indulge people.

Down to the nitty-gritty information. On Fridays, dad and I always go to collect the others from the swimming pool. Yes, they go swimming on Friday. Anyway, dad always goes one way to collect them and another way on the way back. However, this time I prayed on a whim that we would go past a certain landmark on the way back. It was one I don't think we've ever been past on the way back from the swimming pool before.

I said nothing to dad about wanting to go back past that place. It would have been of no use to say such a thing. Dad and whims do not go together. To admit I had a whim to go past this place on the way back would have been a ticket to getting myself laughed at all the way back.

Anyway, the long and short of it was that dad decided to take another route back home to avoid any chance of long queues at traffic lights, something he has never done before. And we went past that particular landmark.

I can't understand why God would answer such a little prayer for an inconsequential thing in the positive. It freaked me out a little, but I have to say that I was kind of expecting it.

So yes. If anyone knows why God indulges people like this, please tell me! I certainly don't deserve to be indulged. And I have to admit that God doesn't always indulge me. Oh well. I suppose it's one of the great mysteries we'll never know.

In fact, the greatest mystery of all-time is this: why does God indulge our little inconsequential whims and then seem to harden his heart and ignore us when we ask for big things that we actually care about a lot? *shakes head* Maybe its just to show us that he will allow us little foibles, but when it comes to the important things, what he says goes.

Yes, I know as well as anyone else that God isn't this big fairy-godmother type person.

Anyway! I'm off to waste time in a less constructive way.

The family

This post is going to be about my family—yes, that's right, the people who live in the same house as me. And so...

Dad (50)
Dad works as a computer programmer or something. I don't really know what he does, as he doesn't talk about his job very much. In fact, he doesn't talk about anything very much. He is quiet and polite, but if you get him talking on a subject he likes it isn't always possible to stop him.

He has one younger sister. Strangely, his sister has opposite views on most things to his. Granny always said her children should decide for themselves what they were going to believe, and as a result of this attitude she now has a fundamentalist Christian son and a New Age daughter.

Dad does have strong views on things, but that's a trait his sister and mother have as well. So maybe that isn't surprising! He's not the sort of person you want to cross, although he is very tolerant up to a certain point.

He also seem to have the ability to laugh at jokes against himself. He spends his spare time walking, programing computers, playing the piano and organ, or ferrying various other members of the family to places. He is also of the opinion that he doesn't do the menial jobs around the house (think washing and cooking) because he goes to work and earns the money.

Of both my parents, most people agree that I'm most like dad. I tend to get on with dad better, although nice long conversations are definitely mum's field. I would stuff you up with some rubbish about being his favorite daughter, but my sister would get upset.

Mum (45)
Mum is very much a stay at home housewife. Her responsibilities are ensuring that her children get educated, cooking, cleaning, washing, and all the normal household tasks. She is very good at beginning to do things and then getting someone else to take over.

She has a problem with the words can and will; it is her belief that can = will. There have been more arguments in this house over that one thing than anything else. (Well, maybe excepting my brother: but what would you expect?)

She is very kind hearted and a bit of a soft touch, not knowing when to say no and put her foot down. Her favorite past time is worrying over what she's said to other people. While it is nice of her to be so considerate to the feelings of others, when she's said things she can't unsay them. So going on at us about them is hardly the most constructive thing to do. She normally follows this up with "Now they won't want to be friends with me any more".

Yes, she is a bit of a pessimist! And yes, I don't get on with her as well as I'd like to. That said, however, I'm always having brilliant conversations with her as she often listens. And as long as she continues having nice conversations with me, I wouldn't change her for someone else's mother.

Me (16)
I think you know more than enough about me if you read my blog! I'm a first child. Basically, the description of first child just means that you have to keep everyone in order...

My younger sister (13)
It is quite common for people to think that my sister and I are twins. She is bigger than me already (well, not in height, but in everything else). Although we look similar, the differences between us are such that those that see us regularly could tell the difference even if we wore exactly the same clothes.

She is an upstart. Yes, I know that's harsh, but it happens to be true. And she is very much the 'good girl' of the pair of us. Anything I do, she can do better. She has all my good points and none of my bad points. Strictly speaking, I should hate her. In reality, though, we are best friends.

So yes, we really are 'sisters by chance: friends by choice'. This doesn't mean that I want her around all the time, though. She seems to be oblivious to the fact that one might not want to have their little sister around all the time, and mum doesn't understand this either.

Honestly, she even comments on my blog under the name 'Jerusha'. Oh well, I'll have to live with it. It can't be helped. That's enough on my shadow.

My brother (10)
This is my favorite brother...nice, I see you think. Sadly, I don't have much choice about my favorite brother. I only have one. And no, no, NO! I don't feel in need of another one! Honest, I don't.

He is a bit of a pain. If he wasn't around life would be so much quieter. Those of you with younger brothers probably understand exactly. The weird thing is that if he wasn't around, he'd be missed. *mutters* Purely because it would be quieter, of course...

Despite him being [insert tactful, polite way of saying 'an absolute pain who should learn how to behave properly and should have been shot many, many winters ago'] , he has a purpose. This purpose is to render people like me utterly immune from attacking annoying people. Indeed, it has had this effect on me. And so, people who others would find extremely annoying I think are normal. Either that, or else I calmly ignore them. There's no point arguing with some people.

My little sister (2)
Last one, folks! She's just sweet. And spoiled. What more am I to say? Indeed, what more can I say? Apart from the obvious, that I'm not swopping her for any family members that you don't want. No. I make no exceptions. And your understanding in this matter is greatly appreciated.

Long blog=lots of comments. Otherwise, I'll rewrite yesterday's blog and repost it. And I'm not joking. For those of you who didn't see yesterday's blog, it was an incredibly long winded way of saying nothing. And I deleted it this morning. However, I'm prepared to bet that I can take more words to say nothing than I did yesterday...

Tell me off . . .

. . . for writing a nice long blog post, publishing it, and then coming back and deleting it after a change of mind. Even worse, I copied that blog post and then pasted it into a new post so I could save it as a draft, and only then deleted the published copy.

Also, tell me off for writing an interesting post yesterday and then just keeping it as a draft, writing a much less interesting post to post on my blog.

And then tell me off for saying that I wrote posts and then just saved them as drafts.

While we're talking about telling people off, someone tell Sainsburys off as well. Their tomato chutney doesn't have a best before date on it. I never knew they were allowed to do that. I suppose it's just as well that it gets eaten very fast in this house...

I forgot to say...also tell me off for not proofreading my posts properly, so I have to come back and edit them later to remove double words.

You speak an infinite deal of nothing!

Yes, this is me. Guilty as charged. Everyday I blog about nothing, and I'm not certain how I manage to keep it up. I suppose I just like talking to people.

Actually, I don't like talking to people. I only talk to people if they know me well and seem prepared to listen to me. Those two conditions are quite rarely met. If people are prepared to talk, I listen. I'm not fussed!

In a large group of people, I stay on the fringes and watch what happens. Getting involved doesn't come naturally to me. Yes, I will talk if people talk to me. But I am quite content to stay on the side, soaking up the atmosphere. I have shocked people in the past by stepping forward and saying things.

Anyway, the piano tuner came today. When the piano tuner comes, everyone has to be very quiet to enable him to do his job. So I read the first three chapters of Villette, by Charlotte Bronte. I intend to finish the book later.

I have read it before, and it was tough reading. So I'm going to read it again now. I find that
reading books twice is the best way to understand some books! I'm not sure if anyone else is the same, but the Bronte sisters write nice books. When I've finished Villette, I think I'd like to read Wuthering Heights.

I know Wuthering Heights is a tough book, and I couldn't understand it two years ago. I hope I'll understand it now! I like the Bronte sister's books better than Jane Austen's books. I'm not sure why this is, but the Brontes seem to write deeper books!

More about nothing tomorrow! Oh, and in case you were wondering about the title, it was one of the insults generated by this Shakespearean insult generator!

Today . . .

A brief list of what happened today:

• I took my little sister on a walk, and she fell over, scraping her knee in the process. This knee was the knee that she'd already had a great large scab. Naturally, the scab opened and blood poured all down her leg. So I had to pick her up and carry her home as soon as possible.
• Because I began taking my sister home by running, and continued by walking very fast, I had an exercise induced asthma attack.
• My asthma inhaler worked very well, probably because I took it as soon as I realized I was having an asthma attack. Yes, believe it or not, I learnt to take my asthma inhaler by experience after having some bad experiences through not taking it. (A bad experience doesn't mean going to hospital, but it does mean panicking because of being unable to breathe properly, hyperventilating, and generally believing myself to be dying.)
• We had a roast lunch. Yum. Roast beef is officially the best type of meat ever.
• In the afternoon, I helped my sister clean out the rat's cage. It didn't rain when we were cleaning it out, and that's a big plus point! (We clean the cage out outside, because Mum wouldn't like it if it was done inside.)
  
• I was gloomy and grumpy in the afternoon. I blame it on my asthma attack. Come on, I need an excuse to be grumpy and the asthma attack is the best thing to blame.
  
• Before the evening communion service, our pastor got everyone who was there to sing a couple of hymns so that those who turned up on time would think they were late. They should have done that on April 1 as a practical joke by getting everyone there half an hour early so that dad thinks he's late. Now that would be really funny! Dad absolutely hates being late.

Well, that was today. Or some of it, anyway.