Mugalicious

It has been a muggy day, my friends.

Muggy.

I'm not sure how it can be muggy in the middle of winter, but it is.

And also, don't you think that muggy is a funny word?

Don't muse over this too hard though, there's still a recession to think about and all.

Is it still a recession?

Don't you just love my old pal humidity? 

Me and humidity are so close. Like sisters.

I love her to death.

Although I'm kind of sad that she isn't joined by her evil summer twin, heat.

Because really, there is nothing that I love more than when your underwear is sticking in places.

Equally, I love the feeling of having recently been steamed in broccoli water. 

Just joyous.

I ran some muggy errands today, checking important things off my to-do list and solving national crises and buying Christmas presents, contemplating bagels and I just get home and the skies open up and all of the humidity comes dripping out of the clouds and lands in fat, sloppy puddles. 

Ross calls and says "it's chucking it down", well, I prefer the phrase "it's raining like a mad man", but each to their own. 

I reply, "oh really, because we are practically having a heat wave over here, I'm contemplating sunbathing", but he does not appreciate my sarcasm, so I hang up. 

Isn't this a really good blog post? 

I thought so too?

But on reflection, I feel like all of my blog posts are about the weather nowadays.

Am I right, or am I right?

Right.

It is far too hot in this living room, so I'm going to turn off the radiator and remove my fur.

That is not a euphemism, I am genuinely wearing a cardigan with a fur trim.

So, now we've got that all sorted, I'm going to watch my second ever episode of Ace of Cakes and hopefully a little mind blowing will occur.

These are not cakes, they are works of art.

But I never really was any good at art. 

Not even during my wannabe interior designer phase.

So now, I'm going to be a teacher instead.

I thank you and bid you a cheery farewell.

Sleeping

It is a drowsy dreary day out in Leeds today.

Although the day started with hope blowing in the breeze, it has ended badly.

I'm talking about the weather, by the way.

After a practically apocalyptic rain/wind frenzy 

(the trampoline in the back garden was picked up and blown into the fence!!) 

and another colossal library stint this afternoon, 

I am collapse-on-the-bed kind of tired.

It is taking all of my mental effort to write this and I'm asking myself why bother?

I should just go to sleep.

My brain is asleep already. 

The rest of my body is not far behind.

And I have to be at work early tomorrow!

Early!

I start at half 7 anyway and they want me there early?

It's a good job that I got two firsts this week.

Oh what, that statement has nothing to do with what I was talking about?

I know, I just wanted to declare it.

I am all kinds of proud.

You see those socks in the picture?

Ross got them for me for Christmas last year.

They are my favourites.

I know that Ross has some Christmas presents hidden in his drawers.

It is taking all of my will power not to tear through those drawers and give myself an early Christmas.

I am tired.

And I can not be held resonsible for what I blog about when tired.

Which is why I'm about to tell you that whenever I make a bagel and give half to Ross, I always keep the fatter half for myself.

That is probably why I am the fatter half out of the two of us.

I am tired, so will finally bid you a goodnight.

Amsterdam

At uni I'm a primary school teacher with a  French specialism. 

(Note, this does not mean I am fluent...I wish!)

And I'm all about making culture a massive part of language lessons.

A big part of that is dispelling stereotypes.

So when people say that Amsterdam smells like a weed and everyone cycles everywhere, I thought that that was the Dutch equivalent of people saying that English people wear top hats and monocles and only eat roast beef. 

Apparently I was mistaken.

Because Amsterdam literally does smell of weed.

Very strongly.

And there are cyclist everywhere.

Infact, after we got off the coach, we saw a cyclist face plant into the road right in front of us. 

True story.

He wasn't even wearing a helmet.

He was ok though, just really embarrassed I think.

Another true story, we saw a Momma cycling along with a bubba boy in her front basket and a bigger bubba stood balanced on the seat behind her.

It was like a circus act.

I wish that I'd have taken a picture.

Anyways, I absolutely loved Amsterdam.

Such a beautiful city.

The canals and the tall skinny buildings were exactly how I imagined they would be.

Also, don't you think that I would make an excellent cheese lady?! ^^^^

BEST VIDEO EVER!

This is going to be the lamest post ever, 

but I feel that I have no need to apologise.

This video is so amazing that there is absolutely no need for apologies. 

Watch it.

Seriously.

And do it now.

You guys, I cried.

Fully.

When the fountain lights up, my eyes welled up.

When the marching band part and you see him stood there, I literally started crying.

By the time it pans across to her parents, I was sobbing.

Like the hopeless romantic that I am, my body was convulsing with every sob and I was just so happy for her.

Now, please, watch this, and enjoy!

Grey day

I stole a peek out the window at uni late this afternoon at the grim, 

grim sky overhead and it hurt me. 

The sky is hurting my feelings. 

So desperately grey and so...loomy.

So very loomy.

Like the clouds are so thick that you could throw a few small objects up at them and they would bounce right back down.

And probably hit you square in the kisser.

But the grey, loomy clouds didn't matter today, 

because by the time I was really paying attention to them, 

my French presentation was done.

Don-don-donnnne.

That means I can free up the entire section of brain-space that was dedicated to learning my presentation and I can start to fill it up with something else.

Maybe I could fill it with some camera information and finally learn what the heck aperture and an f-stop is?

Or maybe some delicious wintery soup recipes.

Mmm, that's a definite possibility.

Or maybe I could just leave it empty.

Just for a little while anyway.

Looking forward

There a few little things I'm looking forward to this week.

Tomorrow I have to give a presentation in French.

I'm not looking forward to actually doing the presentation, but I am looking forward to it being done.

I can already imagine how relieved I'm going to feel.

Then on Wednesday I hand in another assignment.

I'm not looking forward to writing the damned thing, but I'm looking forward to handing it.

I'm in school on Thursday, which is honestly my favourite part of my degree.

I'm looking forward to being called Mrs Kerr again and coming away with another five drawings of myself with various kiddies for my fridge.

Then on Friday I'll be in Amsterdam.

Just a casual little trip for the day.

How sweet will that be?

This is why I love living in Europe, hop on a ferry for the night and wake up in Amsterdam.

Boom.

I promise to avoid the 'special' brownies, but I can't make any promises about the red light district.

I'm kind of intrigued to see it.

Don't judge me for that.

Life according to my iphone

Quick catch up of my week via instagram & twitter. 

Last weeks catch up here.

"Came home from uni to see this attached to the door. The cheek of that boy!"

"He's forgiven. He'd booked a table at the Olive Tree."

"I'm considering buying a Russian hat..."

"Beyonce has just given me a massive pep talk. Who runs the world?"

"Walking through campus and can hear the dance of the sugarplum fairies playing somewhere. Very strange but kind of magical."

"Craving nandos so much right now. I need some piri piri in my blood."

"Now that I've finished reading the hunger games I have no choice to do my uni work. Starting tomorrow."

"Fireworks going off to the Harry Potter theme! Erm...bonfire night perfection."

"Literally just googled how to write a literature review. Times are hard friends."

Academic ramblings

Dinner tonight consisted of tea with chocolate spread.

I think that that is the only acceptable dinner to have when you get in from the library after eight.

That is something that has never happened before.

Get in from the library after eight I mean.

My mind is a messed up compilation of literature for my dissertation, 

theories of leadership and teams, 

the Key Stage Two Framework for Languages, 

and the first two paragraphs of a French presentation that I've managed to memorise.

I think I even dreamt in French for the first time last night.

I didn't even know that I knew enough French to have an entire dream spoken in it.

The mind truly boddles.

Anyways, things in my head are getting far too academic for one night, so I'm going to go have a long shower and watch TOWIE. (Total guilty pleasure - shuttup!)

Bonfizzle Nizzle

I have always liked to look at fireworks.

But for as long as I have liked them, I have equally hated the loud noise that they make.

I'm a complete whimp when it comes to loud noises - 

even when a car with a stupidly big exhaust drives past and makes a lot of noise I can a little bit scared - 

but that is besides the point.

I remember as a wee girl either staying inside and watching fireworks from the window 

or standing in front of my Dad and making him cover my ears.

But after the fist minute of flinching and wincing at the bangs so loud you can feel them vibrating in your chest on Friday, I was cured.

I think the fact that they timed the fireworks to the theme tunes of Harry Potter (genius idea!), The Pirates of the Caribbean and ET seriously helped, because the melodies distracted me from the actual bangs.

Also, as two side notes, 1. How beautiful is the light from the bonfire?

And 2. After a minor dispute and a quick google search, I can confirm that between Ross & I, I am always right - we have fire on bonfire night because of the gunpowder plot, not because Guy Fawkes was burnt to death as punishment.

If you're bothered he was actually hung, drawn and quarter, which to me actually sounds much worse, 

but please don't sign me up for either.

Opposites attract?

Sometimes I think that Ross & I are strangely similar.

But more often than that I'm astounded at how astronomically different we are.

But different in a good way.

Different in a 'we complete each other' (s'cuse the cheese) kind of way.

Like he's good at talking to people and I'm good at reading people.

I drink a lot with my meal and he hardly drinks anything, so by the time I'm done with my drink, he happily hands over the rest of his.

You know, the little things?

And there are loads of little things like this, 

but there is one difference that drives me crazy.

I (by my own observation) am quite tactful and sensitive.

Ross can be, but mostly he doesn't think before he speaks.

He never upsets people, 

I just mean that he often makes situations really awkward by saying the wrong thing.

And here's the thing that I really hate.

When he's putting his foot right in it, if I can, I'll give his hand a squeeze or his shin a gentle kick.

You know, just your standard "your making this person really embarrassed, please stop speaking NOW" signal.

But Ross, in his marvellously untactful way, 

will very loudly say;

"OW! Becky what are you kicking me for?"

Or "babe, why are you squeezing my hand?"

Which definitely makes everything so.much.more.awkward.

Kind of like when you point out to someone that they're blushing and it does nothing more than make them go more red.

Pointless and embarrassing.

Anyways, I'm not really sure where I'm going with this....

But does anyone else's other half do this?

(Also, I apologise for just saying 'my other half'...

...I'm cringing at myself.)

A week in social media

I'm so busy nowadays that a little structure around these parts won't go amiss - 

One day a week when I don't have to think of what to write, I can just upload pictures and copy in some tweets.

So, a small insight into my week with the help of instagram and twitter, my two favourite apps.

 

29th October: Toffee apples are so much better than normal apples.

27th October: This (^^) is what forced productivity looks like. 

 

28th October: Huzzah! I can almost breathe through my nose again.

26th October: I've now blown my nose so much today that I'm having an actual nosebleed.

 

31st October: I'm not complaining, merely observing, but it's strangely warm today.

1st Novemeber: A long, warm shower and and an early night cosied up in bed reading is just what the doctor ordered.

2nd November: I just finished reading the first book in 'The Hunger Games' series and I'm an absolute wreck.

Dreams?

I've been having the most vivid dreams recently.

Strange and vivid dreams actually.

First there was the dream where my best friend very dramatically grabbed me by the arm and quite passionately told me that under no circumstances was I allowed to get pregnant, 

because she's trying for a baby and if I got pregnant first she would be devastatingly upset 

and never talk to me again.

Then there was the dream that I went to university one day with all of my clothes of backwards.

Then there was the really horrible two-parter dream 

(does anybody else have those?) 

where my friend Tariq was killed right in front of me. 

I held him whilst he died and it was tragic.

I was so happy to wake up and realise that it was only a dream and wasn't real. 

What were real though were the feelings that I had all.morning.long.

I was desperately melancholy and just generally sad.

I had to give myself a bit of a mental shake and tell myself to get a grip! 

I don't even know anybody called Tariq for crying out loud.

So I thought to myself, I know that my dream wasn't real, so why am I having such real feelings?

Weird. 

And then I thought about it a little bit more and mind boddled. 

Seriously.boddled.

Does this happen to anybody else?

What's in a name?

I remember between the ages of 7 and 11, 

being obsessed with finding out the first names of all of the teachers that worked in my primary school.

In the school dining hall 

(trust me, that sounds a lot more fancy than it was) 

there would be a little board with all of the teacher's initials that would be rotated depending of whose turn it was to have lunch first that week.

(As a little side note, I absolutely hated when my class was the last in for lunch, because I was such a slow eater that I would literally end up sat entirely alone whilst I finished up.

Sad, huh?)

I have no idea how I would find them out, but I was so happy when the day came that I could sit in the dining hall, look up at that little board and full name all of the teachers.

Now, I can only remember a few.

June Dunkley.

Malcolm Richardson.

Mark Abbott.

Jennifer Butler.

It blows my mind that in less than a year, my first name will be the subject of so much young fascination and intrigue.

Am I ready for that -

To be on the opposite side of my own childhood memory?

It scares me a bit, but I think that I might be.

A short but awkward conversation with a five year old

I feel that this needs no introduction.

Amy: Becky, why are your boobies bigger than my Mummy's?

Me: Erm..........

I also feel that this needs no conclusion.

But seeing as I think literally posting three lines and calling it a day would be really lame, please enjoy this video.
That, friends, is how you shimmey.

This is my mantra

I wrote this post sometime during the last academic year.

The amount of work that I had and things that I had to make time for when I wrote this was so, so much less than the amount of stuff that I have to do now.

It's kind of funny in the least funny way actually.

Anyway, with a to do list as long as my arm that only keeps on growing, rather than neglect this here blog, I decided to do a little bit of recycling.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you, 'repeat as often as necessary'.

Enjoy.

More and more often I keep having to take a deep breath and tell myself this. Inhale. Keep calm and just graduate. Exhale. Keep calm and just graduate. Inhale. Keep calm and just graduate. Exhale. Sometimes it helps. But most of the time school work gets very overwhelming very fast. Mostly because it's just nonstop. Day after day after day after day after day. Maybe it would be a bit of a help if I used more than just five days of the week to do school work. But having no weekend would make me crabby. Crabby and insane. And I don't think that Ross would like that very much. 

So I just have to take a deep breath, say a quick prayer and get on with it. Turn on my laptop (and exert seriously mental effort not to quickly log onto facebook), get out my lecture notes, get out my books and just get my head down and work. Either that or face hours of procrastination, looking for something, anything to distract me from doing my work. I've got really good at that. I would almost consider it to be a talent. I wonder if there's a career in procrastination? And if not a career, at least a first class degree?

Sometimes I just need to get a bit o' perspective. This time next year I'll be close to finishing my degree. My days as a student are numbered. This time next year. I'll be freaking out about stepping out into the big, wide world and I'll be applying for jobs in my very first teaching post. (In all seriousness, who will take me seriously?! I have nightmares of going to interviews and being laughed out of the school for being too young and having delusions of being an adult.) This time next year I'll be close to having a proper job. Nay a career! (And I'll be rejoicing in the salary!)

But until then, I'll just keep calm and graduate. 

Return of the happys

Here are some of my happys from this week.

1. The sense of achievement and satisfaction I felt when I handed in my dissertation proposal three weeks early! BOOM.

2. The greater sense of achievement and satisfaction I felt from handing in another assignment the day afterwards.

You better believe I've had a very productive week.

I now plan on doing absolutely nothing university related this weekend.

3. Singing old school Kelly Clarkson songs at the top of my voice and thinking that I sound exactly like her.

Yes, I know that I am seriously deluded, in reality I sound nothing (and I mean nothing) like her, but in the moment of getting lost in the power ballads of the early 2000s, I am her voice twin. 

4. Finding a new recipe for butternut squash soup that is SO good I made it twice in one week.

5. My hair finally being long enough to tie in a knot again.

(I am rejoicing so much at this fact! Why did I ever cut my hair short?!)

6. Lipstick. 

Just in general.

7.  Finally mastering Harvard Referencing.
After four years I'm finally getting it.

8. Sleeping in until 10am today.

9. Watching over and over one specific clip of Cam from Modern Family.
He is by far my favourite character.
Surprisingly, he's not gay in real life?!

10. Dinners with friends.
I don't need to justify adding this to my list.
I mean, come on...food and friends?
Win/Win.

Five year old with faith

I've told you before that the little girl that I look after talks about God a lot.

(Remember when she thought God's favourite song was probably Lady Gaga?)

Well, recently she's been bashing out some pretty special pictures.

They're only your standard Mummy, Daddy, Amy & Jake pictures over and over again, but recently there's been a new addition to the family too.

Amy: Becky! Look at all of these pictures that I've drawn.

Me: Yeah, they're great. I can see Mummy, Daddy, you and Jake.

Well done Amy!

*I notice the additional character drawn in orange in the sky.

He's there in every single picture, 

always in orange and always with a big cross over it, 

like she's made a mistake.

Me: Who's this person in the sky? 

Amy: *Looks at me like I'm stupid.*

Errr Becky, it's Jesus.

Don't you know that?

Me: But why have you crossed him out?

Amy: I haven't crossed him out, that's him on the cross.

You know? Where he died.

Me: Oh, ok.

Why is he in the sky?

Amy: Because from up there he can watch over me and family 

and make sure that we're all alright 

and he can keep us safe too.

How lovely is that?

Ohh, melts my heart!

Suivez-moi: No heat curls

As an unrelated slightly related side note, can we just begin by agreeing the curlz is possibly one of the most annoying fonts EVER. 

It's right up there with comic sans.

Oh, how I detest (can anyone tell I had a French class today?) comic sans. 

It's the go-to font of old people that are trying to be down with the kids.

Anyway, now that my little font rant is over, let me share with you the secret of how to curl your hair without using any heat!

I promise, it will change your life.

I only learnt about it on Friday, and I've done it every day since. 

See, life changing.

Observe.

First off, you need hair clean hair that is probably about 85-90% dry.

(Side note, I also tried this with day old dry hair and it worked too, but not as well.)

Picture one is me with 90% dry hair (and no make-up!) in case you hadn't figured that one out.

Next, you need an elastic head band. Preferably a plain one.

Then you put the head band around your head in a 1920s flapper style.

Basically, that means put the thing straight across your forehead.

Then you take about an inch section of hair and wrap it once round your head band.

After you've done it once around, you add in a little extra hair and wrap it around again. 

Then you just keep going until all of your hair is wrapped around the band.

At this point (pictures 2&3) you feel like a mix between a legit 1920s flapper and Princess Leia, 

which is a pretty strange combination. 

You'll feel like wielding a lightsaber (with added sound effects of course) and simultaneously doing the charleston. 

Then you can either sleep on it or leave it for a few hours and give it a blast with a hair dryer.

Last, but obvious thing, you just need to pull the head band out, and voila.

Don't be alarmed if it first you have some serious 1970s flicks going on! 

Just brush through it with your fingers and twirl your hair into more defined curls.

And your done.

Super bass

As far as the seven deadly sins go, gluttony is definitely my favourite.

Actually, I'm not sure if knighting it as my favourite is exactly what I mean.

More like out of the seven deadly sins gluttony is my biggest vice. 

That makes me sound like I'm as wide as I am tall - I'm not.

Why am I even talking about this?

Holy cannoli.

Basically, we went to Red Hot Buffet last weekend for Ross' birthday dinner and it was all kinds of glorious.

Sushi, duck pancakes, chilli tacos, corn on the cob and piri piri chicken all on one plate?

How had I never been to this place sooner?!

And the creme brulee...best I've ever had!

I may have even had two.

And when I say I may have, I mean I definitely did have two.

Seriously, best.place.EVER.

And whilst I'm in the mood for singing the praises of random things that I've loved lately, please watch this video.

It's an absolute crack up.
Also, where can I get me one of those skirts?

In other news, as if you didn't know already, today is Friday.

(REJOICE!)

It mortifies me that when Friday comes around Rebecca Black's song still pops into my head.

And now it's stuck there.

Oh joy.

Anyways, I'm not adverse to finishing this off by quoting a little Rihanna and saying 

"cheers to the freakin' weekend."

Raise your glasses my friends.

PS. I'm sorry that this post is so weird.

I haven't left the house in 24 hours and

I've also just consumed a massive

amount of sugar.

Oh, Ronda

Oh Ronda, 

my dear, dear Ronda.

You were so pleasant. 

Your sky was so blue and your scenery was spectacular 

- I've never seen views like that before.

You kinda took my breath away actually.

You offered us tapas, and we gratefully accepted.

You even offered us donut flavoured ice cream and we even more gratefully accepted that.

You showed us the oldest bull ring in the world 

(I'm sorry that we arrived there after dark though)

and a plethora of other gorgeously architected buildings. 

Thank you Ronda, you really were the best.