I
AM
SO
BORED.

Today, and yesterday in fact, I didn't do anything except sit on my fat arse all day and lament my non interesting life. I would have gone swimming, but I'm still peeling in a most disgusting manner from the sunburn I acquired on holiday. And something about peeling skin really creeps me out. I know it doesn't hurt to 'clean it up', as my mother puts it, but I still just don't like the though of it. Which explains why I snapped at her when she started trying to pull away big dead chunks of my flesh, which led to her giving me the condescending my-daughter-is-just-such-a-hormonal-teenager smile and saying, 'You know, you've been a bit grumpy recently.'

Which of course made me angrier, so I had to retire to my room to calm damn before I smacked her right in her silly face.

Grr.

I'm feeling better now at least, having spent the afternoon writing a nonsensical letter to Leila, who is camping in the ridiculous location of the Hebrides. Also, playing pokemon, though I should really keep that quiet.

Hopefully I'll be able to go swimming tomorrow, which will fill up a nice lump of the day. Why is it that I look so forward to the holiday only to wallow in boredom?

Welcome all to another boring day. I may have said that I'm glad to be back from holiday, but I take that back as the Summer tedium begins to set in and I spend days at a time doing nowt but spinning round and round on my wheely chair.

On Saturday was my very first day at work, and a right sorry affair it was too. Actually, it was pretty much what I expected. There were only two other members of staff present besides the manager, Richard, who spent all his time in the office anyway so it's not worth mentioning him: Freda, a kindly old lady who took me under her wing, and Eric, a cantankerous old gentleman who smokes a pipe and calls everyone pet names.

Richard made it clear that he didn't expect any miracles from me, so I spent most of the day cowering behind Freda trying to learn the extensive lore behind male formalwear. I never knew it was so complicated. I also completed a number of menial jobs such as fetching bags from outback and sorting out piles of hangers.

And I also learnt how to use the till, which was good, except for the time I messed it up and almost scewed up the accounts of the shop.

Overall, it was a thoughourly boring experience, which should hopefully become less so when I learn more and have the courage to actually help customers.

There was one good thing, however: in the back room where we take tea breaks, there is a pile of magazines of varying degrees of tackiness, which meant I was able to read a fascinating story of a woman who married a transvestite. It was heartbreaking, it really was, especially when she says she feels 'Betty' is more attractive than her, but she still loves him/ her, and would never leave him/ her, unless he got the operation done.

Behold the power of love.

And yesterday I went into town with my good pal Flora, before going to the cinema avec parents to see Fantastic Four, which was good. If slighty unconvincing. My father, who knows about these things as he used to read the original Marvel comics, (yes, he's that old,) says it was very faithful to the original story. I just find it slightly strange that the fella made out of rocks, who is nice really despite being a hideous monster now, still manages to pull a ridiculously attractive woman.

You may be blind, hun, but you don't need to be that unpicky!

OH MY GOD I just finished Harry Potter. Was that good or what? Seriously, I don't know how it will stand up to repeated reads, but for the moment Half-Blood Prince has overtaken Chamber of Secrets as my favourite.

I won't go on and on about it incase you haven't read it yet (and if not, why not?), but rest assured that I found it exceedingly excellent.

LAUGH! at the (contrived) love lives of our three noble heroes!
GASP! as thrilling secrets are finally revealed!
CRY! as a beloved character is sent to a chilling end!
etc. etc.

Only problem is, now what am I going to do? I now have that hollow feeling one gets having finished a really good book, and knowing that nothing else I do all day will come anywhere close. Oh well. I still have to catch up on the TV I missed while on holiday, which includes The OC season finale. God bless melodrama.

Back from Sri Lanka! And despite the greatness of that holiday, it is still lovely to be home, though new terrorist attacks wasn't exactly the homecoming present I had expected. Jesus, can't they leave us alone? I've got BBC News up, and at the moment they say it's a 'serious incident' yet the casualties are low, so there's a small mercy. The transport system has been ballsed up, obviously, so there's still going to be a load of worried people with friends/relatives stranded in the capital.

Anyway, it'll take more than terrorist attacks to make me shut up about how FANTASTIC the last eleven days were. Starting on 10th July, with our little trek down to Cardiff to see REM.

Actually, that was a quite a while ago now, so I don't really recall it too well as any clear thoughts have been shunted aside by the word AMAZING in large and sparkly letters. I'll put what I remember.

Preconcert happiness- as we pulled into the Park & Ride, (those huge LED signs on the motorway were advertising the park & ride for the stadium as soon as we crossed the border... I would have been so bitter at the constant reminder had I not been attending...) my CD (Elliott Smith, XO) just finished, was was great as I hate interrupting mid song. Upon removing the CD, Radio 2 came on and I instantly recognised the opening strummings of Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah, which both me and my father love. So we stayed in the car a few minutes to wait that one out. Something of a good omen, I feel.

This was followed by being dropped off in Cardiff to try and find the Ticket Office to collect the tickets. This was extremely unpleassnt, as it was a SCORCHING day and I needed to piss most urgently. However, the tickets were found, the facilities in McDonalds were used, and we made our way to the stadium and to our seats, buying a programme full of lovely photos of Stipe and co en route.

Yes, so our seats were crappy, but we had been expecting that. Peering down at the tiny speck of Johnathan Rice on stage took rather more effort than I was willing to expend, so most of his set was spent trying to make the camera work in the dark. (Despite Night-time mode, all pictures taken were shite so I shall not trouble you with them.)

Next came Idlewild, who I am fond of as they are Scottish and I own their third album and think it's rather good. The frontman was sporting a monster of a mullet that frightened me a wee bit, but it didn't lessen my enjoyment of them. At one point Mike Mills came onstage to join then in singing Sweet Home Alabama; they explained why, but with slightly dodgy sound and a thick Scottish accent I didn't hear. No matter, it was good anyhow.

Then were The Zutons, who I was a little apprehensive of as Leila said that they were not exactly sparkly when she saw them supporting Muse. Well, as I have previously suspected, Leila talks crap, as they were great. And my dad enjoyed them too, which is surprising as he doesn't usually put up with this modern rubbish.

Then, after a rather long break, came the legends themselves, and they did not disappoint. They stormed onstage with Bad Day, and to be honest from then on it's a bit of a blur as I was too busy being happy in the moment. The best bits I do remember are Everybody Hurts, which they dedicated to those who had suffered in the London attacks. Surprisingly, I managed not to cry, but I very much resented not having a lighter. I think I shall have to buy one specifically for waving at gigs.

Actually, all manner of wonderful stuff happened, that you can read in much more competent depth and detail, with setlist, here.

Though I don't think this review has gone into enough detail on how wonderfully they racked up the suspense before the encore; when they left the stage, the giant screens either side flashed through the names of every single place they've played in since October, (and blimey, that's a lot,) before slowing down and ending with CARDIFF in shiny colours.

And Stipe is as lovely, charming and engaging a performer as I expected- he should be, he's been doing this for so long. Second best gig I've been to yet. The first being Rufus Wainwright, obviously. I doubt that will ever be topped.

In the coming months, I hope to see Garbage, David Ford and Nada Surf, as they are releasing/ have just released new stuff and are touring the UK/ are promising to tour soon. Huzzah! (Want to come? As long as I know you and you are willing to pay for yourself, you can join me for any of these...)

While we're on the topic, lovely new Nada Surf song can be downloaded here.

And so, the next morning, tired but cheerful, we set out for the airport and Sri Lanka. Unfortunately, not such a good start, we arrived at Heathrow to find that Virgin hadn't notifed Sri Lankan Airlines that we were on the flight, so rather than enjoying the delights of Terminal 4 we had to hang around by the ticket office, on standby, for 3 hours.

Eventually we managed to get on the flight, which as usual reduced me to a green shivery lump by the end of it. I really don't travel well, even if there is Monsters Inc to watch.

The first four days we did a little tour of the country, with our own private driver and guide, Rahni (sp?), who turned out to be the fountain of all knowledge, and really nice as well. Due to political demonstrations we couldn't do the tour of Colombo properly, which actually suited me pretty well as I was exhasted and wanted nothing more but sleep.

We visited the Elephant Orphanage, which was the cutest thing ever, followed by these ancient temples at a place called Dumballa. They were all filled with lifesize statues of Buddha, which was a little creepy but beautiful nonetheless. The next day started early with an elephant ride, one of the most amazing things I've ever done; I was sat on the elephant's neck, feeding her bananas, as she was guided on a leisurely stroll around a lake (and through it at one stage), wildlife spotting and enjoying the gorgeous sunshine.

We climbed to the top of Sigiriya, one of the seven ancient wonders of the world, a mountainous palace thing. It was Hell, especially for my dad who suffers numerous back problems and such, but eventually we made it to the very top of the 1000+ steps, and the view and the feeling of achievement were worth the climb.

We went to some other ancient temples, which I was not terribly impressed by, and several craftshops where we were explained exactly how it was all made. At a jewellery shop we made the purchase of a sapphire ring, which is to be my mum's joint Christmas and Birthday present from my dad, and a teardop-shaped Moonstone pendant which I chose as a Christmas present for myself.

Oh yes, and we saw firewalkers, which were entertaining if a little disturbing. Plus there was a girl sat the seat in front of me whose face looked almost EXACTLY like that of my good pal Kerrie. I spotted her on the flight home as well. The resemblance was eerie.

When the tour was over, we spent 4 nights at a beach hotel, which was alright but not brilliant- the hotels we stayed in on the tour were 4 star and this one was 5 star, but it was the worst of the lot. The room was tiny, especially with my bed shoved in the corner, the food wasn't as nice and the service generally wasn't as good. Still, the pool area was fantastic, which is were I spent most of my time so I wasn't too bothered. It did, however, contribute to me suffering now with sunburnt shoulders.

Most of that time at the hotel was spent swimming, sunbathing and reading by the pool. The beach was just the other side of a fence, but there was an army of touts prowling just the other side, waving cigarettes and other junk if you ventured anywhere near; we decided it wasn't worth the bother. There were activities organised throughout the day, so my mum and I took part in the water aerobics which was surprisingly fun. OK, so maybe the slim, toned instructor had something to do with that.

We also attended a cookery demonstration, sari draping thingy which I was forced into trying on depite being soaking wet from the pool, and yoga, with an impossibly bendy instructor. There was also a wedding of an English couple which was lovely to watch as they had dancers and an elephant. I also made use of the gift voucher we were given to get a free back and spine massage, which was bliss, apart from when she made contact with my sunburn.

The journey back was uneventful, with no more mishaps at the airport. Got back home at about 10pm, to see my brother, who had proposed to his girlfriend while we were away, so I will soon get to be a bridesmaid for the first time!

And jetlag meant I woke up this morning at 5:40am, but I am in a good mood nonetheless.

Christ, I think I've written enough for the time being. If you're wondering how I can stand to write so much, it is because my mother and I are reading the new Harry Potter in shifts and it is currently her turn. I'm almost halfway through it so far, and so far I am enjoying it immensely- far better than Order of the Phoenix.

First day of work on Saturday. Wish me luck. It does mean, however, that I can't attend the GRK gig on the Friday night, but I think they've taken enough of my money already.

Don't you just hate packing? It is, by far, the worst part about going on holiday. Apart maybe from unpacking, which is also crappy, though it has the advantage that you can chuck all your clothes in the laundry bin and thus they become someone else's problem.

Anyway, I thought that writing this would be a considerably more interesting and productive thing to do than to moon about my room, pretending to pack. You are lucky, imaginary audience.

So right now my room looks like it was just attacked by rampaging dogs on the hunt for food, with assorted clothes/ contents of washbag/ other holiday junk strewn across the carpet. This is usually very stressful for me as I am known for being something of a tidy freak when it comes to my room (Scage claims I have OCD when it comes to tidiness of my room; she is, of course, exaggerating.) But after a short sleep that comes from watching Dog Soldiers last night (which was good, if a little too gory), getting up early to help my dad go shopping and going out this afternoon on an emergency knickers buying mission, I am tired and really don't care. Lord knows how tired I'll be on Monday after getting back from Cardiff at 1am and getting the plane at 2pm. I'll have to sleep on the plane, only they have some great movies to watch (Monsters Inc, Freaky Friday, Hitch, the list is endless...) and I am loathe to miss them. We'll see how it goes.

So, you may have remarked that I was at Science Camp from Tuesday to Thursday. Its actual name was 'Science Masterclass', and it was at Pembroke College at Cambridge. Basically, a place for nerdy science kids to meet and blossom without getting beaten up. Well, not really. From what I saw and heard, most people there were as cynical as me towards the whole event, so it wasn't too bad. Actually, the divisions between the kids was much the same as those at school- there was a cliquey bunch of cool kids who wouldn't talk to anyone else, lots of normals and a few enthusiasts who were mostly avoided.

The best thing about it was my room, which I managed to get randomly, which was a whole big suite thing. Minus bathroom, sadly, but there was a wee kitchenette, living room and bedroom, all for little me. It took a great effort to not be unbearably smug about it when talking to less fortunate comrades. Actually, the Aylesbury Crew spent most of their free time in Rachel's room as she had 2 sofas (until they were carted away for being fire hazards) and pear drops. She also found a carton of Orange Juice in her fridge, which I think was new as it tasted fine. No one else would drink any though, funnily enough.

I don't think I learnt anything and it has, in fact, made me much less keen to study Science for a degree. We had some students come talk to us about the whole Cambridge experience- including a beautifully accented Scottish boy- and the ones doing science said that they had to attend about 10 lectures a week. 10 BLOODY LECTURES A WEEK?? I barely managed to sit through one without falling comatose. Not that flourine isn't a very exceiting element, as far as elements go, but I have a short attention span and I find it hard to listen attentively to someone talking solidly for 10 minutes, let alone a whole hour.

So I think the people who organised it failed in convincing me to attend. Not that I'd get the grades anyway. 2 As and a B maybe, but 3 As? Not likely.

I might put up some lovely photos of the formal evening if my good friend Priya provides me with them.

This may be my last entry before departing for Sri Lanka, in which case: so long, and I hope your next few weeks are filled with happiness.

P.S. This time tomorrow I will be 2 1/2 hours away from seeing Stipey and co. Yay!

**UPDATE**

A few of the better photos, as promised

Hello. Back from science camp.

I hope that anyone with friends and famililes in London has heard that they are safe and sound.

I know it's really stupid and selfish to complain about this, but the bombs mean that the REM gig on Saturday has been postponed til next week, so I miss it as I am on holiday.

I was so looking forward to it :( though obviously it's a necessary precaution to take.

I'll write about my adventures at science camp when I'm feeling happier.

Al xx

**UPDATE**

Going to see REM after all!

Albeit, the experience will not be as good and I am missing out on the support from Feeder which I was looking forward to, but I WILL STILL SEE THEM GOD DAMMIT!

My father decided that despite going on holiday the very next day, we should drive to Cardiff and see them at the Millennium Stadium on Sunday. All the standing tickets are gone, so we are left with rather craptacular seats, but it's the only chance we have so we are going for it.

:)

I HAVE THE JOB!

...that is all.

I hope everybody enjoyed Live 8 yesterday, especially if you were watching it from the comfort of your own front room- or the front room of a friend, as the case may be. And hopefully you weren't as bitter as me and my friends were. Seriously, half the time I swear the crowd was barely moving, so we were screaming at the TV, 'Look! You lucky sods are witnessing the biggest live music event EVER- you can bloody well PRETEND to enjoy all of it! Well, maybe except for UB40.' Actually, there were comments made concerning the Scissor Sisters and Gwyneth Paltrow being the victims of some tragic bombing incident, but I'm sure that was just the bitterness talking.

(In no way was I affiliated with this discussion. I love the Scissor Sisters. Gwynnie, on the other hand...)

What was good, however, about watching Live 8 through the TV was the ability to flick over to the tennis when something boring came on. I'm not usually a tennis fan, but really, that final was TENSE. Maybe I'll watch it properly next year. Yay for Venus.

Plus the BBC were a little annoying with their little interviews. I usually like 'star' chats, but when the camera switches from REM to Fearne Cotton talking to Ronan Bloody Keating, I am not best pleased. And what was with the Killers only playing one song? I know they're newcomers and all, but Joss Stone was allowed three- why weren't they? What happened? I may find Brandon Flowers to be a personality-free knobhead in the interviews I've seen, but he's damn attractive- especially with a little eyeliner- and the songs aren't bad either.

Cor Blimey.

And today was my own musical extravaganza- the AMC Summer Event!

...

There's really nothing of interest to say about it.

So now, for lack of anything better to do, I'll waste time until Four Weddings comes on, because everyone loves Richard Curtis really.

Job interview tomorrow. Gulp.

I HAVE AN INTERVIEW!

OK, so it's at the menswear shop which wasn't exactly at the top of my list, and I haven't even filled an application form in or anything, but still, RESULT. The manager sounded nice on the phone as well, which should help put me at ease in the interview so I don't screw it up. Of course, he may just be doing it out of the course of politeness, or give me one look and think yeah, perhaps not. At least something came out of that tedious morning of traipsing around Thame.

Of course, it hasn't escaped my notice that my being not a man may not be very useful for a menswear shop. Also, as presumably lots of men visit it, if I were to be one of few women there there's a possibility of me being perved at. But that's a risk I'm willing to take. If the pay's good. Hell, I'm just stunned that he bothered to contact me in the first place. I don't yet know if 'Fiano' had any such luck.

So, as it's on Monday, I'm going to spend all weekend thinking up possible answers to possible questions and practising being helpful and enthusiastic. I'm a good liar, so I should be alright...

The past few days have been spent at my '6th form induction course' ie 'big waste of time'. Yesterday wasn't too bad, as it was doing teambuilding exercises out on the field and I didn't mind my alloted team. Today, however, was one of the most boring days of my life ever, which is saying something as remember, I used to have to do Physics once a week.

(That's a lie, actually. Physics was usually quite entertaining thanks to the company I kept- though I could have done without Mr Cullen's pet smell. Really, what is it with male science tachers? Every one that I can remember has had either really bad BO or a strange musky scent, like wet badger.)

We had people come talk to us about study skills, motivation, and other such stuff that I knew about already and didn't want to spend two precious hours of my life pretending to care about. Then in the afternoon, we had a bunch of teachers tell us that we had to work really, really hard or else fall flat on our arses, be thrown out of school and enjoy a life of floor sweeping at McDonalds. Well, that's what I read between the lines anyway.

Oh, and I have homework to do. Had I known that taking history AS would involve holiday homework, maybe I wouldn't have chosen it. Still, a 1000 word essay isn't too hard, right?

Maybe I'll be too busy working at the Menswear shop to do the essay. That'll be a good excuse.