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So tomorrow is the day that everybody (in JOMEC) has been waiting for - yes degree results day.

The kind people of JOMEC Admin are pinning the names of us all on the wall so we can all have a gawp (and possibly) guffaw at other people's grades. How nice. If I ring them up though to ask about my own degree result, I can't know because of confidentiality. Go figure.

I wasn't nervous about the results after having spent a frantic few minutes calculating the exact scores I needed to get particular grades. I thought that shouldn't be too difficult. Then Julia and Miranda asked me if I was nervous and I don't know if this set the ball rolling or I've just been watching too much Lost but last night I had some pretty disturbing visions in my sleep.

I dreamed that I only got 11% on my magazine module which meant that I got a 2:2, but I told everybody I got a first. There was then some sort of weird postgraduate meeting, although all my friends from home were there - they apparently are now wanting to do postgraduate courses at Cardiff perhaps? - and I had to reveal that I hadn't done very well at all and got shockingly low on the magazine module. To top it off, on the statement of results they had rather lovingly written in big letters: THIS IS THE WORST ANYBODY HAS EVER GOT!!!!. Even the people at JOMEC aren't usually that callous.

So here's hoping that doesn't happen.

Jen pointed out however that if this does happen, I have an incredible gift for telling the future, which is worth more than any degree. And Miranda said that it would be a good time to re-evaluate my life choices. Both good points. Damn then. I can't stop thinking about this big black letters. They will haunt me for a while.

So anyway, I'll let all my fans know the outcome tomorrow, I know you'll be dying to know.

I'm off to have more terrifying dreams about letters.....


To make up for the fact that I haven’t blogged in a couple of weeks, today’s blog is extra long for your reading pleasure. And I’ll try to get back to normal as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I take your suggestions for topics to cover. If you want to hear my unique take on anything (and I mean anything) just let me know!

A review of the nice times I’ve had since the last blog post:

Friday 6th June – Saturday 7th June
Possibly one of the longest and best just a little bit longer than 24-hour periods of the year so far. Making the drive from Birmingham and after declaring what only seemed like fifteen minutes in to the journey ‘The Welcome to Wales’ sign is just around the corner, around almost every corner, the jubilance that was felt when the sign really was just around the corner was insurmountable. I’ll try to get it right next time.

Anyway – to get back to the point, me, Emma and Clare packed a lovely picnic and headed off to the equally lovely Roath Park. I did my usual trick of attracting a couple of freaks. We all realised that taking a loaf of bread into the middle of the lake on a pedalo to feed the swans only results in the entire seagull population of Cardiff descending on said vehicle.

Next it was time to test out our newly refurbished garden with a barbeque. We got on the wine pretty early and got my soundtrack CD blasting out. Lovely sausages. Then it was off to Barfly, taking the scenic route (because I forgot my head), where the DJ tormented me by refusing to play Day Tripper until gone 2.30. The cad.
Made it into bed circa 4.15am – and shockingly managed to emerge from the pit before noon, whereupon the remaining sausages had to be finished off. In the midst of all this came the stunning news that even during the ever forceful credit crunch, the food for the entire weekend (including picnic and bbq), pedalo hire, and a night out to Barfly came to the grand total of £14. Get in.

RATING: Splendid.

Monday 9th June

It was time to visit Fun Factory – the Monday night club night at the Union, for my very first (and most probably last) time ever. Apparently it was exceptionally busy and half of JOMEC where there for one last hurrah. It’s nice to know my fans are still following me as I have this effect on lots of places I visit.

RATING: Super.

Friday 13th June

Certainly wasn’t unlucky for me. Another first – The Summer Ball. I found myself prone to several of my moments upon seeing everybody suited and booted. I was overwhelmed by how fantastically organised the event was.... a bar queue rather than the usual scrumhuddle. Well I never. Deluxe Portaloos which included a sink and a framed picture – what that added to the experience I’m not sure. The free dodgems provided a notable incident – tainted by the naughty pushers in (I JUST DON’T GET THE FACE! – P.S. I still don’t). Hannah applauded my driving skills; I have to say I was particularly impressed with the driving while simultaneously bending down to pick up a bracelet manoeuvre. My bag went flying off and I didn’t even notice. What can I say other than I was in the zone...

It was a tad scary in the dancing area, had some scary moments, but Zane Lowe played some classic tunes to make up for it so it was all worth it in the end.
Hannah and Miranda rescued a poor drunkard called Graham outside the Castle Gates. I was proud of my friends.

RATING: Splendiferous.

Saturday 14th June

Feeling like a truly wild child, I took up Hannah’s offer to go to Swansea for a night out. I was tired at first, but ended up having, as Luke might say a ‘quality’ night. More moments ensured, as well as utter disbelief at having a proper sit down curry at 3.30am. I’m still in disbelief over that. There was much dancing to be had, although I won’t pretend to be able to contend with Luke’s Duracell stamina.

RATING: Spectacular.

And lastly...

Yesterday (Tuesday 17th June)

Me and Jen spent the day re-enacting our childhood by crafting and baking fairy cakes. I made an elephant named Amé (naturally) – which didn’t match up to the box but was fun none-the-less. Hours of entertainment provided by the wonders of the £1 bargain from Hypervalue! Here’s a handy tip – Banana Icing isn’t worth the experiment.

Jen gave me her soundtrack CD, which I listened to while writing this blog on my bed, and it is, quite simply, fantastic.

RATING: Spiffing.
The ends of eras are upon us. It’s the end of Uni, the last ever Baitshop on Thursday, and Harold Bishop left neighbours today. Everything’s changing.

Everything changes but you.

Until next time - The End. x.

Going back

I have always been fond of looking at old photos and thinking about the past. I'm not sure why, I think I find it hard to believe that at one point in time I didn't exist. I know that the world was probably a worse off place without me, but judging from old photos, they all look to be having a wail of a time, so maybe I'm wrong on this one.

After looking through all these old photos, I have already earmarked the names Ada, Dinah and Minnie for any future children I may have. I'm not sure what I'll do if I have a boy. It may end up a bit like the Johnny Cash song, with a boy called Minnie. Either way it's gotta be better than naming your kid blanket.

It's fabulous that the fifty+ year old photo albums have been kept so immaculately. I really appreciate the captions. You can almost hear a voice in those words. Then again, the fact that I like words shouldn't really come as a shock to anyone.

Also another revelation from today. I've been telling people I've got Welsh credentials. Turns out I was wrong. I'm more English than anything. Whoops. Don't tell anyone or I might get stoned in the street. Only kidding - I'm hoping after all these years spent there to become naturalised.

I think there's something special about black and white. I might start getting my photos printed in black and white. That, coupled with the pictures of me dressed in Sixties clothing is sure to confuse my kids in 40 years time, and that's all that anyone can hope for.

And lastly a sad note to those people in the photographs who remain unidentified. Who are these people? Why are they unidentified? The older ones are especially intriguing, long forgotten names and faces, left to lie in a box. I should stop all this, depressing thoughts. It's been a happy day.

So here's to Minnie, Ada and Dinah, my ancestors, and my children.

Peace out kids. xxx

The nice part about being a pessimist is that you are constantly being either proven right or pleasantly surprised. - George F. Will

I haven’t got the greatest of hopes for today’s blog, but we’ll see how it goes.

This entry was inspired by iGoogle’s quote of the day (above), and as per usual, a rather a lot (too much) thinking has been involved ever since. To aid my thinking I picked up my philosophical dictionary (it’s a dictionary of philosophical terms, not literally a dictionary which is philosophical – we could get in to a whole heap of mess and metaphors carrying on at this pace...)

Under ‘pessimism’ in the dictionary there were three different entries. Well that’s an optimistic start to help with this blog at least. Under one of the entries for pessimism were several associated words; sorrow, pity, gloom, despondency, hopelessness, absurdity, pain, death; however the most interesting point of this entry was the idea that these things are not just possible, but inescapable. Before I slit my wrists right there at the kitchen table, I looked up the entry for optimism. Much to my chagrin, the opposites of these words could not be found. Which I thought was a great shame.

Flipping back to pessimism, I noticed that there were metaphysical entries. (Once again, not in the literal since, but entries about metaphysics). Schopenhauer says that this world is the worst of all possible worlds, because if it was any worse than it was, it couldn’t exist. This is interesting, but I’m wondering if Schoppy considered that this is the only world? What does that mean then? I bet he did slit his wrists at the kitchen table having thoughts like that all day long. Cheer up love, so long as there are fruity cakes and peach melba in the world, it can’t be all bad can it?

The most famous pessimistical (is that a word? I hope so...) metaphor we’ve all encountered is the glass half full/empty metaphor. I’ve always believed that the state of fullness or emptiness is entirely dependent on the state with which it started. If someone brought me a glass full of water and I drank half of it, I would then say it was half empty. If, on the other hand, they bought me an empty glass and poured some water in, I would then say it was half full.

I’m guessing however, that in the analogy, we don’t know what the glass started off as. This is why I think I will say that the glass is half full because we can presume that at some point it has indeed been empty. Maybe this just proves my optimism. One thing’s for sure, it proves my pedanticism.

So how to conclude today’s blog. I think I’ve decided throughout all this thinking that I am indeed an optimist. But I do worry that I should be a pessimist, because then, much like George F. Will, I’d never be disappointed. So if I’m an optimist who worries, what does that make me? I think I must be a post-modern optimist. ;)

Ciao chums, I’m off to fill glasses half full with water. xxx

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