To the rubble...

Oh my good God.

A lot has happened since I last wrote. Or typed, depending on how you like to look at it.

I have a job now. I am going to be queen of the checkouts at Tescos (perhaps, though, I will start out as a princess and work my way up to being a queen). It is a job sent straight form the Gods; the hours are perfect, the money is good, and I will be able to buy so many clothes for sixth form - it will be like a dream. For I am very, very poor at the moment. Anyway, I start on Saturday.

And now mentoring is going full speed ahead; I am working on not one but two articles/press releases, and arranging a photoshoot (very time consuming), so, as the headline of the newspaper article regarding the mentoring project (namely Si, Kirstin and I) says, we are "on the road to a profession". I do get the sense that it's going to be a pretty rocky road, but it's better than being stuck in the middle of nowhere, isn't it?

My brother and his band of merry men are striding towards being the most fabulous (though quite ridiculous) young cricket team in the region; beaten only once (and that was only by three runs - though they were distraught nevertheless) and thrashing their closest rivals by 80 runs along the way. My heroes, every last one of 'em. Naturally, the county team is still crap ("Right, I refuse to come and watch unless you start winning), but at least they are consistent in their uselessness, much like our beloved national team (crocks).

And the day after tomorrow it's porm; such a nice way to wind down now our exams are final over and we have been (semi)formally inducted into the sixth form. We're all adults now... that's the scariest thought of all...

So I'll leave you with my quote of the day, from, in this case, the mouth of babes:

-"You utter, utter, complete moron. You fucking stupid gobshite. I fucking hate you!".

-"Oh, shut up, you tosspot. I hope you fall in a ditch."

- OK, so I didn't say the cricket team actually liked each other...