Today is the 4th of July, and we all know what that means.
No, not American Independence day.
It’s the Hamble Leavers Prom.

I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but im getting very pissed off at the mere concept of today actually.
Months of arranging things, splashing out and arguments have all amounted to today. The big finale.

For months ive had to put up with bickering and squabbling about silly table arrangements. To be honest guys I really don’t care anymore!!! First im sitting on table 1, then table 12 then table 13.
When that finally got sorted (because im SUCH in demand ya know), I then had to decide where I was actually sitting on the table.
More arguments and bickering.
‘Insert name here’ can’t sit next to ‘insert name here’. Once again, I don’t really care.
Just take me to the damn thing!!

Next moan on the agenda; the actual price of this whole epidemic.
Not wanting to be left out, I embarked on a task to have all the necessary procedures as everyone else going is having.
Nails, spray tan, fake tan, massage, pedicure, manicure, French nails, tips, facial, extravagant hair style, flirty makeup, waxing....
Yep. Is it just me or is that list rather too long?
Parents said I could have 2 things, so naturally I choose wisely, or at least I think I did...

The dress.
I’ve fallen out of the race on this one im afraid, so don’t expect to see anything extravagant from my end.
Ive been hearing rumours of girls splashing out a good £400, yes £400 on theirs.
No wayyyyyy hozay am i going to spend that much.
I think 80 squid will cut it thanks.
I mean, those bit puffballs can look awful right? And why spend all that money on them?

Moan number 3, the Limo.
Ive had no end to the constant buzz on my phone line from the capacity of my current limo arrangement.
Pick up times, drop off, attire, money, blah blah blah!
I appreciate it needs to be sorted but please give me a break. Major headache and i could swear thats contributed to a minor breakout.
More make up for me!!!

On top of that the oldies are making me tidy the whole house. 15 rooms of utter fun!
Why?
Just incase someone ventures into them.
I dont even see that as a remote possibility, epecially Spencers Room. The ses pit as I call it.
Maybe the downstairs loo though, people need to urinate these days.
Can I ask, Is anyone thats coming in my limo wanting to use my shower? I have to clean that too.
As i write this, im half way through embarking on the perilous, tiresome, dangerous task of cleaning the house.
What a waste of my time. I could be doing something important like watching TV or ordering more clothes of Ebay.

After a whole year of planning, it all boils down to a very expensive 3 hours of ‘fun’.
Much of which, if i may add, will be spent sat down looking at the projector for old and new photos.
I could go on the school mainframe for that.

I dont know about you lot, but im sick of it before its even started.
Roll of the fun!!!

Await another ‘super’ blog about all the action tomorrow evening (I wont be up until at least 3pm im afraid)

Right, before I start typing too furiously I’d just like to let anyone reading this know how frikin awkward it is for me. NEVER EVER EVER EVER get fake nails. It’s so hard to type and I can’t do my flies up.

Today folks, was Tauntons open/taster/introductory/whatever they call it day.
When I looked at my time table that came through the post like 3 weeks ago, I was absolutely delighted to find out the college day was 9.30-3.30. A lay in for me, but more on that later.

Lorna and her mum came at not a second past 8 (like Lorna said they would) to pick me up. Me being me, I was totally unorganized and took roughly another 5 minutes for me to scramble together the contents of my bag, have a pee (which is hard with nails and hurts ALOT), and get a drink. I don’t know why I do that, 'cas I always need the loo afterwards again.
After that ritual I boarded the car, and off we plodded.

A jiffy and a conversation about Itchen, the term 'dos', and cool daddies later; Linda dropped us off at a cool looking school, so we could walk the rest of the way.
One thing I can say, kids these days need plastic lunchboxes. Back in our day we had uber ultra cool ones with retro Barbie designs on them. Today they are PLAIN, with straps? STRAPS? Deal with handles guys.

You know, it only takes half an hour to walk there. Me and Lorna enjoyed a relaxing stroll, (practically a dos really) and arrived at 9. Half an hour early.
We settled to sit in the cafeteria.
Lorna’s top naturally did a Rose. For those of you that don’t know what that is, it’s when her bra shows full force like a baboon mooning a zoo visitor.
I guess it did go in her favor, even if it was unknown to her, as this guy 5 meters away couldn’t stop staring. Get in there Lorna!

Half 9 comes, and a long and painful walk due to ill fitting shoes later we both arrive at our separate tutors. I don’t know how Lorna’s went, but I think mine went rather well actually.
There’s roughly 15 people in mine, 5 girls, 10 boys and 1 village idiot who I shall not mention incase he randomly wanders upon my bebo.
A few ice breaker activates ensured. My tutors a nice bunch really.
There’s someone called Jordan, with blue bits in his hair; and someone called Kieran that fancies Lucy Hurst (well, he denies it but you should have seen him blush). Shame none of em are in any of my lessons. Oh, and we got free water, choccie and BBQ coupons. Get in!!!

Lesson one, IB humanities. Psychology/History, although mainly the first.
Assholes. There were sweets, and as I have no common sense I didn’t win them fairly.
Instead I stole them smarties from Clark, the dude sat next to me.
Oh, and I cheated on the dot to dot; only to be discovered and publicly humiliated. Dang that number 81.
After that came that silly, stupid history board game. Naturally, I cheated. I stole Clarks point cards.
Yes, I did get caught. I really need to stop doing that. Now everyone’s gnna think imp a cheat or something!!!!!!

Lesson 2; IB World Literature. Nothing too funny here I’m afraid. Just studying poems. Ya know. We had to do one about this loony man/women (or could be both) in a hospital. I did make a prat out of myself by putting my hand up when I shouldn’t have. I went bright red.
I don’t think anyone actually cared about the hand thing, but the redness ensured a few giggles from the front of the class.
I got to know this girl called Patricia as well. (Sorry, I really can’t spell it!!!!) She’s from Zambia, how cool!!! And get this; she has an American accent! Don’t ask her to explain it though, shes done it enough today.

Lesson 3; IB science. Well, I just had to check my timetable cas I couldn’t remember.
We made shampoo.
Me being me, I picked up a chemical bottle and squeezed it, thinking it was stiff. Guess what went all over Clark? Oppzy. At least it wasn’t corrosive right?
Me, Rikki, Patritia, Clare and Clark on a table.
Our teacher was a righ

Right, I haven’t written in this thing for a while so I shall give it a shot.

I reluctantly got out of bed at roughly 12pm today, after my alarm persistently kept ringing. It seems nowadays the snooze alarm actually shortens with each time you turn it off. Now there’s a new one. 'Why the early start?' you may ask. Well today I had a job interview.
After many an unsuccessful attempt at applying for jobs, I had almost given up hope. 3 tries in Burger King, 2 in Topshop and 1 in the local fish and chippy, I still hadn’t passed ‘GO’.
That is, until I spotted an advert in the local echo.
'Holiday and temp jobs, any age, anybody'.
Right, this is for me I thought.
Since ive got 2 months to fill after leaving school, a temp job would be spiffing. I plucked up the courage and rung up.
Result.
An interview for Tuesday the 25th, come in at 2-3pm. Prompting that I gathered up all my certificates (I have ALOT) and references and so on and so forth, and eagerly anticipated the day of the interview.

After grudgingly pulling myself out of bed, I was prompted to dress my smartest and actually look reasonably acceptable to the 50+ end of society.
I daresay I looked like an even older version of my mother, despite borrowing the majority of her business clothes. A linen suit jacket complimented a grey pinstripe shirt blouse and brown baggy trousers. That paired with brown shoes was dazzlingly unfashionable, but, as I had been informed was what the employers of the day were looking for.

So I trotted off to catch the 1.20 bus from Lowford village.
As usual, the desolate skanky bus stop was deserted so I got the wooden plank to sit on all to myself. Yay.

The bus was on time, how unusual.
I was somewhat impressed by this driver for actually making the 72 on time, but as I think we all know first impressions are usually misjudged.

'Right that’s 4 pound 30 to get into town' he exclaimed at me menacingly.

FOUR POUND FRIKIN THIRTY???!!!! FOR A SINGLE???!!!
Luckily I didn’t shout this out loud, as the biddie population on the bus may have had something to say about it.
Instead I opted for a sweet and innocent approach to the situation.
"Don’t I qualify for a child’s fair?' I said fluttering my eyelids like a 12 year old would.
"Ya got ID?" he asked me sounding rather tiresome.

Drat. I needed ID to prove I was under16. None of mine would have worked, because believe it or not im actually 16.
See this is why I hate catching the bus. The train drivers are quite happy to let you get away with a childs fair, which is like half the price, but NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO the bus drivers have to stick to frikin company policy.
I guess im stuck in a kinda limbo. Too old to qualify for a childs rate, yet too young to get a student discount.
Gordon Browns Britain. And I don’t even work to earn the money! How ironic. Im actually like trying to get a job.

Well moving on, I reluctantly pay that outrageous fair then scuttle to the back of the bus, a favorite place for teenagers in a stroppy about the ignorant bus drivers.
The bus was already 3/4 full, with me being far the youngest by at least 50 years.

Pound Road, then the Cemetery. Another 2 stops on I find myself completely surrounded by OAP's, with not a seat to spare.
The next stop was Woolston School.
A fairly unordinary stop to say the most, but I guess there was a little excitement at this one.
This 70 year old granny literally sprinted 100m form the funeral directors to catch the bus. Who new she would have had so much in her?
She got there just in time, and flashed her bus pass without even panting. If they did an Olympics for over 70’s, shed have defo won gold.
And off we went towards the next stop.
The lady started to make her way through the aisle, grunting at all the occupied seats and their tenants until she got to the back of the bus. Where I was sat.

“Would you move?” She hissed at me.
See, usually I would haven given up my