Day 1- Big Ben strikes twelve and as we watch on the television from the crowded room in Stroud, London goes crazy. We use up all our party poppers and start the traditional 'gathering it up and placing it on somebody's head to see when they will notice'. I wait for my midnight kiss... It does not come. I wait a while longer....... Oh, there it is. All too brief. *sigh* Oh well, maybe next year!!!
I cover my disappointment by laughing at the people in the room who are trying to write down their wishes for the New Year which are to be attached to the Chinese Lantern. I try to think of some things that I wish for in the New Year but I decide not to be overly ambitious and eventually I decide on "a relationship that doesn't end up as a complete disaster" and "survival". Satisfied, I head downstairs to see the lantern carry off all of the hopes and dreams. Unfortunately, I instead witness the literal crash and burn of all the wishes. Marriages, holidays, and footballing ambitions go up in smoke. The fire is stamped out and we all return inside to the warmth.
Finally, at around 4:00 a.m. we call it a night and I retire to my guest-bunk bed, hot water bottle in tow and onesie enveloping me...
Next thing I know, it's 8:00 a.m. and my alarm is rudely bellowing down my ear hole. I am fairly certain it must have the time wrong. This can't possibly be a civilised hour to be getting up. Then I remember I am at someone else's house and I am a guest and I have to be ready to leave by 9:30 a.m. I've had four hours sleep and am going to try and look at the least presentable. I am going to need all the time I can get!
I fall down the ladders in my hurry to get up, catching my foot on my high heels which have appeared right where I needed to put my feet. I rush through the routine: shower, teeth brushed, face moisturised, dried, hair 'dealt with', foundation, powder, blusher, eye shadow, contour, eyeliner, mascara. Then it's onto tights. My first pair has a huge ladder. Great. But it's ok, I have nude fishnets to go over the top and the ladder won't be noticeable... or it wouldn't be if the fish nets didn't have a gaping hole in them. I decide in exasperation to just wear both pairs of tights- they rule each other out. Two wrongs somehow, here, make a right. Dress fully. There's no big mirror but I'm guessing I look kind of ok. I pack up my things, quickly, aware that it's 9:25 a.m. I load myself up and carry it all downstairs. Then I realise I have no idea where my coat is. I run all over looking for it before deciding it's probably in my bag... which I check... It's not there. I am totally puzzled but it's now 9:40 a.m. and we really need to go. So, we go. I'm still sulking about my coat.
We get to church 15 minutes late and I'm told repeatedly that it's because of my coat. I roll my eyes, still quite concerned about the coat.
Church is a blur. So is dinner afterwards.
We take some time out to 'chill' and I discover that shoulders make fantastic cushions.
We play a game together- "Apples to Apples" which ends up being really fun. Then Harry Potter (the one where Dumbledore dies) is turned on. We separate into the TV watching team and the pictionary playing team. I join the pictionary players and after an embarrassing episode involving my total lack of drawing skills and the word "side-car" I regret this decision. However, the rest of the evening passes uneventfully... until I look through my second bag whilst getting ready to go to sleep and realise that my coat was there, where it was suggested that I look, all along... I feel slightly silly.
Especially when the story is repeated for the third time...
Before I know it, the first day of the New Year is over...
Especially when the story is repeated for the third time...
Before I know it, the first day of the New Year is over...
The following takes place between 12:00 a.m. and 11:59 p.m. on the second day of 2012.
Day 2- I wake up slightly disoriented. Finally I remember why the room around me is unfamiliar. I reach over and look at my phone to check the time. 8:05 a.m. Eugh!!! I am disgusted at myself for being unable to sleep in any later than this so I roll over and force myself to relax for another hour. I get up at 9:00 a.m. and make my way to the shower. The usual routine. When I get back into the room there's a mirror waiting there for me to help me get ready- I smile at the kindness and hospitality. By 10:00 a.m. I'm ready so I sort out my bags and leave them as neatly as I can, ready to stay here again tonight.
I wander downstairs to see if anyone is about.
In a little while, we have breakfast which begins as a toast and jam affair and ends up with yet more toast, bacon and eggs. I feel pleasantly spoilt.
We plan to leave by 11:00 a.m. and suddenly that time is upon us. I sit in the car while the oil is checked (or at least, I believe that's what's happening- I'm not entirely knowledgeable on the subject). We're given the go-ahead and, after wiping the filthy windscreen, we're off! The journey to Ickenham Station seems to take no time at all (though the speed limit was strictly adhered to at all times, particularly due to recent unpleasantries regarding a speeding fine) and we find that parking is only £1 on bank holidays, which seems an absolute bargain to me. We buy tube tickets and I wait by the barriers while a jumper is fetched from the car. I'm a bit nervous about the way the alcohol-scented man is glaring at me so I stare straight ahead, willing the jumper-fetching to be quick.
With the arrival of the jumper, we pass through the barrier and down the stairs and come face to face with a tube map. We realise at this point that we have made no plans and don't know where we're going. I specialise in situations like this and I take over and dictate the movements of the day. After some discussion resulting in slight ammendments (compromisation), the train arrives and we jump on board.
During the chat as we ahead toward central London it is mentioned that I, perhaps, talk more than I should. I decide to meet this accusation by a (very mature) tantrum which results in my silence for the rest of the tube ride. This causes a little panic and much amusement. I get a little lost in my navigation of the underground but thoroughly enjoy miming out the confusion and the relief when we are back on the right 'track'. Shortly before reaching Covent Garden, I decide the silence has gone on long enough (maybe 10 minutes) and I resume my usual level of conversation again. To my surprise, the reaction I get is a happy one. Who knew?!
We wander round Covent Garden for a while enjoying the unicyclists and the limbo-man. We then head to Trafalgar Square which I'm fairly certain I could reach more easily on foot, but which we take the tube to. Now we're back on to one of the things I dictated so I breeze round the National Gallery pointing out my favourites. I spend a lot less time there than I would on a usual day but my thirst for art is satisfied. We head outside and walk down toward Big Ben. We stand on the bridge for a while, avoiding the numerous 'Queen' figures with the creepy masks.
We decide that, as it's nearly 5:00 p.m. we can now head over to Victoria and find somewhere to eat. I notice that we do this with some enthusiasm so apparently the toast, eggs and bacon of this morning have long since vacated our stomachs. The four restaurants we find in the area are essentially the same- all on the italian theme. We settle for Bella Italia and make short work of our meals there. We spend so little time that we manage to get a dessert and still make it to the theatre about an hour before the performance.
By the time we get into the theatre I'm convinced that our tickets will be the worst tickets in the house. When we sit down and are (admittedly) fairly far back but, fortunately, pretty central I am pleasantly surprised. The couple in front of us spend the next 30 minutes before the show taking pictures of themselves and each other. It entertains us to watch them pout like it's some kind of glamour shoot and we take some pictures of our own in mockery.
The music begins, the curtain rises and Galinda comes down in her bubble. Unfortunately about 30 seconds after this someone from backstage walks on and shoos the cast members back into the wings. The bubble is still on the stage. The curtains close again and the audience claps because, let's face it, we're English and we just love it when things go wrong.
Within ten minutes the curtain opens again and we are successfully transport to the Land of Oz.
We emerge nearly 3 hours later and shuffle penguin-like out of the theatre. The jumper that was fetched from the car suddenly comes in handy as we navigate our way back out toward Ickenham. I think at this point we're delirious or hysterical - I certainly am. We laugh and sing our way back to the car.
When we get into the car I promptly fall asleep for ten minutes. I wake up feeling guilty for not ensuring that we get home safely so I stay awake for the rest of the journey which inevitably leads to more singing, acute observations about the ridiculousness of love-songs and some very 'cutesy' moments. I think by the end of the journey it may have been preferred if I had just gone to sleep...
It turns midnight...
The following takes place between 12:00 a.m. and 11:59 p.m. on the third day of 2012.
Day 2- I wake up slightly disoriented. Finally I remember why the room around me is unfamiliar. I reach over and look at my phone to check the time. 8:05 a.m. Eugh!!! I am disgusted at myself for being unable to sleep in any later than this so I roll over and force myself to relax for another hour. I get up at 9:00 a.m. and make my way to the shower. The usual routine. When I get back into the room there's a mirror waiting there for me to help me get ready- I smile at the kindness and hospitality. By 10:00 a.m. I'm ready so I sort out my bags and leave them as neatly as I can, ready to stay here again tonight.
I wander downstairs to see if anyone is about.
In a little while, we have breakfast which begins as a toast and jam affair and ends up with yet more toast, bacon and eggs. I feel pleasantly spoilt.
We plan to leave by 11:00 a.m. and suddenly that time is upon us. I sit in the car while the oil is checked (or at least, I believe that's what's happening- I'm not entirely knowledgeable on the subject). We're given the go-ahead and, after wiping the filthy windscreen, we're off! The journey to Ickenham Station seems to take no time at all (though the speed limit was strictly adhered to at all times, particularly due to recent unpleasantries regarding a speeding fine) and we find that parking is only £1 on bank holidays, which seems an absolute bargain to me. We buy tube tickets and I wait by the barriers while a jumper is fetched from the car. I'm a bit nervous about the way the alcohol-scented man is glaring at me so I stare straight ahead, willing the jumper-fetching to be quick.
With the arrival of the jumper, we pass through the barrier and down the stairs and come face to face with a tube map. We realise at this point that we have made no plans and don't know where we're going. I specialise in situations like this and I take over and dictate the movements of the day. After some discussion resulting in slight ammendments (compromisation), the train arrives and we jump on board.
During the chat as we ahead toward central London it is mentioned that I, perhaps, talk more than I should. I decide to meet this accusation by a (very mature) tantrum which results in my silence for the rest of the tube ride. This causes a little panic and much amusement. I get a little lost in my navigation of the underground but thoroughly enjoy miming out the confusion and the relief when we are back on the right 'track'. Shortly before reaching Covent Garden, I decide the silence has gone on long enough (maybe 10 minutes) and I resume my usual level of conversation again. To my surprise, the reaction I get is a happy one. Who knew?!
We wander round Covent Garden for a while enjoying the unicyclists and the limbo-man. We then head to Trafalgar Square which I'm fairly certain I could reach more easily on foot, but which we take the tube to. Now we're back on to one of the things I dictated so I breeze round the National Gallery pointing out my favourites. I spend a lot less time there than I would on a usual day but my thirst for art is satisfied. We head outside and walk down toward Big Ben. We stand on the bridge for a while, avoiding the numerous 'Queen' figures with the creepy masks.
We decide that, as it's nearly 5:00 p.m. we can now head over to Victoria and find somewhere to eat. I notice that we do this with some enthusiasm so apparently the toast, eggs and bacon of this morning have long since vacated our stomachs. The four restaurants we find in the area are essentially the same- all on the italian theme. We settle for Bella Italia and make short work of our meals there. We spend so little time that we manage to get a dessert and still make it to the theatre about an hour before the performance.
By the time we get into the theatre I'm convinced that our tickets will be the worst tickets in the house. When we sit down and are (admittedly) fairly far back but, fortunately, pretty central I am pleasantly surprised. The couple in front of us spend the next 30 minutes before the show taking pictures of themselves and each other. It entertains us to watch them pout like it's some kind of glamour shoot and we take some pictures of our own in mockery.
The music begins, the curtain rises and Galinda comes down in her bubble. Unfortunately about 30 seconds after this someone from backstage walks on and shoos the cast members back into the wings. The bubble is still on the stage. The curtains close again and the audience claps because, let's face it, we're English and we just love it when things go wrong.
Within ten minutes the curtain opens again and we are successfully transport to the Land of Oz.
We emerge nearly 3 hours later and shuffle penguin-like out of the theatre. The jumper that was fetched from the car suddenly comes in handy as we navigate our way back out toward Ickenham. I think at this point we're delirious or hysterical - I certainly am. We laugh and sing our way back to the car.
When we get into the car I promptly fall asleep for ten minutes. I wake up feeling guilty for not ensuring that we get home safely so I stay awake for the rest of the journey which inevitably leads to more singing, acute observations about the ridiculousness of love-songs and some very 'cutesy' moments. I think by the end of the journey it may have been preferred if I had just gone to sleep...
It turns midnight...
The following takes place between 12:00 a.m. and 11:59 p.m. on the third day of 2012.
We arrive back at around 1:00 a.m. and I'm asleep a few minutes after.
I wake up around 9:00 a.m. Somehow this time I am even more disoriented. I get up and get ready. I pack all of my things and carry them downstairs to the corridor.
We have some toast and then I sit in the living room chatting while my bags are put in the car. We drive over to Stroud and transfer my bags to my car.
We go into the house and spend a while just 'chilling out' and somehow the tub of celebrations is overturned and ends up all over the floor. Sky Sports is turned on and I leave the room in protest. I suddenly hear what sounds like 'Pride and Prejudice' and I head back into the room to investigate. Sure enough, it's been turned on. The moment I sit down it's turned off again and I feel like a moth drawn in by a bright light.
There is more singing and laughter, just to finish off the weekend, and then I decide that I'd better head off home.
I arrive home at about 5:00 p.m. and quickly get showered and changed ready to go out for a surprise birthday meal for my friend. I get to the moroccan restaurant for 7:00 p.m. As I wait, I wonder if I was told the right time and a friend helpfully texts me to say that she was told 7:30 p.m. Great! Fortunately, the second meal-goer arrives a few minutes after 7:30 p.m. and the evening instantly becomes more fun. By the time food is ordered I have well and truly studied the menu. My choice sounds absolutely delicious and proves to be as good as anticipated. The birthday girl is the only one at the meal that I know but the others are friendly, funny and inclusive and that is as good as anticipated, too. I have a thoroughly enjoyable evening but am aware that I haven't seen my mother since before the New Year, so I leave money to cover the meal and leave around 10:00 p.m.
I arrive home around 10:30 p.m. and am greeted with "Hello, stranger!" and "I haven't seen you this year!" I spend some time retelling the events of the last few days and then I get ready to sleep (knowing that I have my first day back in lectures tomorrow).
I'm thankful to be back in my own bed (no matter how nice it is to be away, it's always great to come home) and I try to get to sleep early but it's still past midnight by the time I drift off...
I wake up around 9:00 a.m. Somehow this time I am even more disoriented. I get up and get ready. I pack all of my things and carry them downstairs to the corridor.
We have some toast and then I sit in the living room chatting while my bags are put in the car. We drive over to Stroud and transfer my bags to my car.
We go into the house and spend a while just 'chilling out' and somehow the tub of celebrations is overturned and ends up all over the floor. Sky Sports is turned on and I leave the room in protest. I suddenly hear what sounds like 'Pride and Prejudice' and I head back into the room to investigate. Sure enough, it's been turned on. The moment I sit down it's turned off again and I feel like a moth drawn in by a bright light.
There is more singing and laughter, just to finish off the weekend, and then I decide that I'd better head off home.
I arrive home at about 5:00 p.m. and quickly get showered and changed ready to go out for a surprise birthday meal for my friend. I get to the moroccan restaurant for 7:00 p.m. As I wait, I wonder if I was told the right time and a friend helpfully texts me to say that she was told 7:30 p.m. Great! Fortunately, the second meal-goer arrives a few minutes after 7:30 p.m. and the evening instantly becomes more fun. By the time food is ordered I have well and truly studied the menu. My choice sounds absolutely delicious and proves to be as good as anticipated. The birthday girl is the only one at the meal that I know but the others are friendly, funny and inclusive and that is as good as anticipated, too. I have a thoroughly enjoyable evening but am aware that I haven't seen my mother since before the New Year, so I leave money to cover the meal and leave around 10:00 p.m.
I arrive home around 10:30 p.m. and am greeted with "Hello, stranger!" and "I haven't seen you this year!" I spend some time retelling the events of the last few days and then I get ready to sleep (knowing that I have my first day back in lectures tomorrow).
I'm thankful to be back in my own bed (no matter how nice it is to be away, it's always great to come home) and I try to get to sleep early but it's still past midnight by the time I drift off...
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