She's back and she's better than ever

Today I got the following text from One-And-Only-Daniela.

"Hey Lisel, cud u vote for me plz? There's a link on my facebook. Cud u post the link in a blog as well plz lol and cud u ask all ur friends n der friends to vote as well plz x x"

Before you say it, I know. Alas One-And-Only-Daniela has a lot of good qualities but her grammatically correct texts are not one of them.

It used to make me cry a little on each read but after 3 years of deciphering the language, I'm used to it by now. In fact she's the only person I know who texts like that so actually it's just another quality that makes her One-And-Only-Daniela.

If we look past the ghetto 'txt spk' however and look at the content, you will see another quality of hers that I absolutely adore.

One-And-Only-Daniela on occasion (usually when she's excited about something) will start a conversation with you right in the middle of where her thought pattern was at the time and then assume you have the ability to read her mind and know precisely what she was talking about.

Quite often she does this without providing any clue of how to get to it's source, using statements like "So I went to that place last week and it happened again." She has actually said something to that effect to me after a couple of months of no contact with each other at all and has expected me to know what it is that she was talking about. I think she just assumes that I have her life on CCTV and watch it 24/7.

Ladies and gents, you can be assured that when reading this text, the mysterious vote to which she is referring to was as much a mystery to me upon reading as I'm sure it is to you.

For all I knew I could have been voting for her to go on holiday, cook the best tasting pie, or win Britain's Got Talent, who knows.

Luckily (and rather uncharacteristically for her) she did leave me bread crumbs this time through referring me back to her facebook page and finding the link to mysterious vote she was talking about.

I can reveal that after extensive detective work she was referring to a modelling competition she has entered.

So people, I implore you. Because she is awesome (if you need more proof, click here) and because there really is no one like her, make her day and click on the link below. It takes about 30 seconds to do and there are no repercussions on your part.

Pretty good deal if you ask me.


Vote for Daniela

(There One-And-Only-Daniela, are you happy?)

So I have a new face... and the procedure didn't even hurt at all.

Hey everyone, my site has had major plastic surgery and now it stands here all shiny and new for all to see!! You know what, I don't really understand all this hype about plastic surgery being wrong. Screw the inner beauty rubbish, my site looks a lot hotter than what it was born with and so I am happier because of it!!

It's pretty ain't it? It's like all pink with my title in cool scrap paper font with pictures and a design that is completely unique to me.

I've given Younger-Brother-Daniel a lot of stick throughout the course of our lives growing up together but right now, in this moment, I can honestly say, having a brother who is also awesome at drawing has really paid off. Daniel... you are a handy person to have around. (Also nice and a wicked brother and a good guy etc blah blah etc.)

Now that I have a new face I feel like my blogs should take on a new air of professionalism. Like my writing should become award winning with every post and the content within it should be so gripping that each word changes a million lives just through the mere act of reading it.

I can feel my inner writer growing and maturing and blossoming into a full blown genius. I just know it... today marks the change in my blog. Today my world becomes awesome. Oooh, and tomorrow I have a particularly titillating story about how I discovered that if I don't physically wash my kitchen floor once in a while, my feet will actually start to stick to it as I walk. Keep tuned in... it's gonna be a corker!!

It's my friends I feel sorry for now though alas. You see for the past week I have been carrying my bound version of my book everywhere I go and showing it to every friend I have with the same excitement as a five year girl showing off her new doll. Now however, they will have to deal with me not only thrusting my book in their face but also my iphone as I hastily show my new blog design. Rachael-The-Bully had to cope with it last night... as did the new friends we made a couple of weeks ago... and the random woman I met five minutes prior... actually it's not just friends who should be worried, more like everyone who comes into contact with me... I guess I'm just very excited at the moment.

Also in other news... I'm not leaving the house today at all as far as I know so I'm celebrating by putting on my 'Gold Digger' T shirt. I like to treat myself every so often!



Ta muchly Younger-Brother-Daniel. Everyone should go check out his work via the link. He's pretty darn good.

I'm getting a new face!

Hey everyone, my blog will be down over the weekend. No new posts for about two days.

This isn't because I can't be bothered, nor is it because I won't be doing anything worth blogging about... I'm not saying that that won't be the case but I'm saying that it won't be the reason I'll be using to blame the inactivity.

Instead I have an awesome excuse. My awesome personal designer (who also happens to be my very talented younger brother (check out his blog for all of his amazing talents)) has very graciously offered to redesign my blog this weekend so that it looks awesome and cool and more professional like. This will take all weekend to do and get right so I ask for your patience regarding this.

So in a couple of days (probably Monday) I shall post something awesome with a brand new face attached. Speak to you soon and see you after my make over!

Much love. Peace out my lovelies.

This is just getting ridiculous now

There really isn't much to post about when I've been stuck inside feeling crappy once again.

I mean, having a cold for one day was enough of a pain. My leg didn't fall off the next day so I even went into work yesterday but I lasted one morning before I was carting myself back home again.

There were a lot of things that told me I should probably be in bed instead of at work. The almost nodding off at my desk. The inability to stay standing up for longer than five seconds without needing something to lean on. But I think the biggest thing that told me I probably wasn't fit for work was when I went to do something and realised that I had already done it five minutes earlier. This is something that usually happens to me when I'm at the peak of my health, however it was the fact that I could not for the life of me muster up any memory of doing it that made me think I probably should be heading off home.

So I went home and I slept for four hours and then crawled to my living room and watched me some Will and Grace (that show never gets old). I also made the decision that the stupid bug overruled any guilt driven desire to be loved and decided to stay home again today.

This was the plan so that I felt better for tomorrow. Only it's coming to the end of the day and I still don't feel any better!! I mean come on! Is the bug not bored with my body and ready to move on to the next one? What's wrong with the stupid 'Day and Night Nurse' drugs I've been pumping for three days solid now? I am really tired of feeling ill and, believe it or not, I just want to go back to work!

I'm bored of being ill. It was annoying at first and then a reason for me to be very tired which meant sleep... which I can't complain about. But now? Now it's just boring. It makes for a boring life and it makes for a boring post. Sorry guys, I've got nothing better to talk about other than the stupid bug that's feeding on my insides.

If everyone could close their eyes and wish really hard that it leaves my body then I would be MEGA happy!

Peace out my lovelies, sorry I'm not more fun. Stupid bug has ruined Christmas.

An epic tale of the Boiler of Doom.

In my earlier posts I hinted about the A&E visit that occurred in the second week of living in my new flat. I said one day I would tell this story. I've decided today is the day. So sit comfortably, grab a snack and marvel in my ridiculousness as I tell you the completely true story of the Boiler of Doom.



"I have just one question for you, do you watch Misfits?"

I sat opposite The-Awesome-Alice (nicknamed for reasons you will soon understand), my eyes hopeful as inwardly I prayed for the answer that would make me so happy.

"Yes." She said.

The inward celebration was immense. Hazzah! The penultimate episode of my favourite drama was on tonight and I could watch it whilst also being a good and sociable friend as well.

"Thank goodness!" I said. "So do I."

The-Awesome-Alice breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad, I thought I was going to have to miss it."

I poured us both a glass of wine to celebrate our mutual love of the same TV shows and we relaxed into the unending girl talk that we had always been so awesome at.

We had two hours to kill until the awesome show began and two years of our lives to catch up on, so we had plenty of material to cover!

I was that little bit extra excited this night because I had been in my new little flat for just over a whole week now and The-Awesome-Alice was my first real life guest.

The chat was awesome and the episode... I simply have no words, if you haven't already then you simply must find time in your lives to watch it and see for yourselves.

Once it was over we got onto the topic of TV shows we loved and, due to us both being women in our 20's, we shared our love for Vampire Diaries (I won't apologise for it, I love that show).

It turned out that The-Awesome-Alice hadn't seen an episode I had, so being a geeky friend, I immediately grabbed my lap top, opened iTunes and thrust the screen in front of her face.

While she watched the beautiful people swoon over each other, I disappeared to have a shower (I don't have the stamina to get out of bed in time for one in the morning and I had work the next day).

There is a boiler in my bathroom. It's the one in the picture above. It's an evil boiler. I knew it from the moment I set eyes on it. When I was first shown around the house, I had pointed at it's protruding metal frame and thought 'One day, I'm going to hit that.'

I just hadn't thought that day would come so soon.

My having a shower had been normal enough. Shampoo was mixed in and rinsed out, conditioner was spread through my hair and left to settle whilst I grabbed the shower gel.

It was at the point everything went so completely wrong. I would like to apologise now for the vague and fuzzy memories that are about to follow. I really was not in the frame of mind to be holding a lot of memories. The following injury mingled in with our glasses of wine and the night becomes a little confusing.

I had bent down to grab the shower gel and on my way up, my head met this...



My sight blurred and my brain confused, I stumbled back but slipped on some stray conditioner and somehow fell forward so that the exact spot on my head that had met the boiler, also met this.



Yes that's a wall and no I didn't decorate it, it was like that when I moved in

I don't really know what happened next but I remember waking up lying on my bathroom floor. I couldn't have been out for long as I could still hear The-Awesome-Alice watching Vampire Diaries. I scrambled to my feet, put on a dressing gown and tried to look at my reflection in the mirror. Unfortunately everything I was looking at seemed to be shifting in and out of focus and the mirror was so steamed up I wouldn't have been able to see anything anyway.

Convinced I was fine, although still vaguely aware that my head felt like it was on fire, I stumbled into the living room to find The-Awesome-Alice glued to my lap top. She looked up as I entered and stared at me, puzzled.

"Lisa, have you been trying to dye your hair red?"

This alone should have sounded warning bells but I was too dazed to fully understand the question. Instead I answered:

"No, but I think I've hit my head."

I'm not kidding, the look of pure horror that then filled The-Awesome-Alice's eyes will haunt me for the rest of my life.

"Um Lisa, I think we need to call an ambulance."

Confused, I turned to the full length mirror and watched my expression match The-Awesome-Alice's.

No word of a lie, I looked as if I had just landed the lead in a horror movie and I was out to hunt down my next prey. My face was coated from forehead to chin in thick blood.

From this point on, the world becomes very fuzzy. I have a vague recollection of tissues cleaning my face, getting changed, more tissues, being sat down on my sofa and looking at the most amazing looking paramedic I have ever seen. Then there was throwing up in a bowl the paramedic was holding. Being aware of a bandage being put on my head. Throwing up again. Passing out and hearing the paramedic shout my name at me several times. Wondering to myself how this beautiful man knew my name. Opening my eyes. Being struck again by how stunning he was. Hearing The-Awesome-Alice's flirting techniques and knowing that she too had noticed the extreme loveliness of this man. Throwing up again. Then I was in an ambulance. Then hospital A&E. Then I fell asleep.

I woke up sprawled all over The-Awesome-Alice. I found out we had been there for about 4 hours. The-Awesome-Alice hadn't slept at all.

Words can't express how grateful I was for The-Awesome-Alice being there at that time. She was truly amazing and had gone above and beyond lovely (The-Awesome-Alice, if you are reading this, you are simply awesome, love you muchly).

I made a mental note to do something amazing for her in the future. Although I feared there wasn't anything that really matched short of hitting her over the head sometime in the future and taking her to A&E. Alas, I realised, my action of being the hitter would probably cancel out any niceness involved in sitting on a metal chair with her for a couple of hours.

I decided that that kind of thinking was probably best saved for a time when I wasn't suffering from a head injury. Instead I thanked her verbally and then went to the toilet to throw up again.

A nurse eventually glued my head back together and The-Awesome-Alice and I finally left the hospital at 5 in the morning.

Needless to say, I didn't go to work that day. Instead I got to go home to a bathroom that literally looked like someone had been viciously murdered in. I wish I had taken a picture guys, there was blood ABSOLUTELY EVERYWHERE! I cleaned this the best I could then collapsed into bed just as my alarm went off telling me to get up.

Wanna see what the boiler did to my head??



As you can imagine, I fell out royally with the boiler after that. It was intense for quite a while. I'm beginning to forgive it but there is a lot of residual anger there still bubbling under the surface. It's going to take me a while to be okay with it again.

As for The-Awesome-Alice? Well I've yet to save her from any future head injury's but, you know, it's only been 6 months. I'll just have to ensure that if she goes anywhere hazardous I can be there with tissues in case she starts to bleed.

Thaaanks The-Awesome-Alice. Peace out everyone else, and congrats if you got this far!!

Tonight Matthew I'm going to be wracked with guilt.

So that whole swollen tonsils thing yesterday? Yeah, that developed into a whole big heavy cold thing this morning. Hasn't been pleasant.



I got up, convinced that I was well enough to face work, dressed and even started on the make up. It was around the second eye however when I realised my throat was pretty tight and not letting much air in, plus I was swaying on the spot with light headedness. I made a decision that perhaps if I spent the day in bed and drugged myself up like a goodun (love a good prescription drug) then I should be back and swinging by tomorrow.

So I made the decision to stay at home today. And back to bed I went. However sleep didn't sit well with me and I spent the whole morning waking up in a cold sweat. This wasn't because of the icky bug I was harbouring... no, this was due to the wonderful thing that tends to govern my life from time to time. This thing is called guilt.

Guilt is a bitch of a thing in my life. It used to be worse... Much worse... like 'causing me to self destruct my life' worse... but I got sense and bullied it out of me. However every so often the residual desire to blame myself for causing the world to potentially be wiped out due to my actions does sneak itself in occasionally.

When I think about it, it is actually a pretty arrogant reaction to the world but it is one that has been there for a very long time. An example of this would be (at the time of my life when it was at it's height) I could not physically say no to any favour asked of me. Not a single one, you could have asked me to train for and run a marathon in a week and I would have probably said yes (if you know me and my fondness for fitness you would know how ridiculous a feat that would be).

It was even easier for me to say yes if I felt in any way that this meant a lot to you. Automatically I would feel that if it meant that much to you and I didn't do it then my negative reaction would cause you to fall into a pit of depression or make you so put out that you may never recover from it.

Yes I know this sounds ridiculous. Yes I know it sounds over the top and completely unrealistic and I wish more than anything that I can tell you this is one of those posts where I may have embellished things a bit but unfortunately this was a very true fact.

Now, I have learnt the joy of saying no. Now I have learnt how to be lazy and overly selfish (in a good way I hope!) and it's been quite nice. However there are residual feelings there and calling in sick to work, no matter how justified it may be, is definitely one of them.

I just automatically think that by me not being there it means the whole place will fall apart. I know, it sounds arrogant. Not to mention I've only been there for 6 months and I hear they did just fine there before I arrived.

All day though I've been running through my brain all the things that I should have been doing at work today and whether my choice to stay at home has now caused people to spontaneously combust in their seats or whatnot.

Ridunkulous no? I know. And due to this fact I just know that unless one of my legs falls off or something tomorrow morning, I will be dragging my drugged up arse into work and immediately regretting it the moment I'm there... On a side note: How weird would it be if one of my legs did fall off tomorrow? In amongst the pain and A&E visits I have to assume at some point I will think to myself "That's just plain spooky."

On the plus side, I have now seen the latest Doctor Who series all the way through for the 15th time and I think I have a lot more things on the series sussed out in my brain. I've watched the latest episode (aired last Sat) four times now and as it was the first part in a double bill I think I have now worked out all the questions that need to be answered in the second half... I also may have written them down in list form with a view to tick them off as I watch this Sat... I've just realised two reasons why I shall be dragging my arse back to work tomorrow.

Much love.

There's no escape. I was foolish to think otherwise. My body's just too strong.

Two and a half years ago


The ENT Specialist looked at me skeptically from across the room.

"I have to say we really prefer not to do that procedure anymore."

"I know." I said. "I've been told, but the whole thing is getting ridiculous now. I've been plagued by this for years."

"It's just not deemed as an important enough operation on the NHS. Not unless the condition is chronic, and I mean really bad."

"It's happening every other week at the moment. I get a sniffle and boom! My tonsils have taken over my throat."

The Doctor said nothing but continued to look on skeptically.

"Just have a look and decide for yourself. They're not even inflamed at the moment and I can still feel them."

"Okay," the Doctor said cautiously, reaching for his otoscope and moving to where I sat. I dutifully opened by mouth for him.

"I am warning you though, I really don't see how-" He stopped mid sentence as his light shone in my mouth. "-Woah! Those need to come out!"

"I told you."

"We can do it but there will be a waiting list of about 2 months, are you okay with that?"

I opened by mouth to respond but suddenly found myself gripped with fear. For so long I had been subject to my tonsils' bullying and blatant vandalism of my mouth. They had put up such a good fight, could I really get away with destroying them altogether without any kind of retaliation?

Fear gripped me for a moment but then the joy of a tonsil free life entered my mind and my body was filled with a deep determination.

I set my eyes directly on the Doctor's, sat up straight and in a quiet but confident voice I answered his question with two words.

"Do it."

Since then my life has been a tonsil free breeze. When I catch a cold, all that's involved are sniffles, sensitive skin and chronic fatigue.

Even a year later when I came down with the dreaded Swine Flu and mere moving made me throw up, I remember thinking 'at least my tonsils are out, this could have been so much worse.'

My life began to get back to normal again and like all those heroines in between the horror movie sequels, I believed the terrifying ordeal was behind me.

This morning however, I woke up to an old but yet so familiar sensation in my throat. Right there, just beneath my left jaw line, I felt the feeling I had become so used to recognising as the swelling of my tonsils.

All day it has been there, a small and slightly painful swell where my tonsil should be. It's impossible. I thought I had got away with it, I thought I was safe, but now I'm not too sure.

If you still don't believe my body's out to get me then you amaze me.

You gain some bullies... you lose some

It's a rare occasion when I can write a post about Claire-The-Bully and Rachael-The-Bully and actually have a nice experience to tell.

Last night I met up with Claire-The-Bully and Rachael-The-Bully at our local pub (also dubbed 'the second front room'). It was pretty exciting because in addition to our little threesome a good friend of ours who we don't see nearly enough was there too, his name is Jamie and he's pretty awesome.



Rachael-The-Bully got a little nostalgic when we all sat down and remarked how it was like having the family back together again. You see, Rachael-The-Bully has a really nice house and each one of us out that night has rented the same room from her at some point. I had it first, then Jamie took over and now Claire-The-Bully lives there.

I feel I should go back a little as before I sat down Rachael-The-Bully and Jamie hinted to me the type of evening I should be expecting by mocking me and the fact that my long top had got itself humourously caught and they thought it only fair to remark about this rather loudly in the garden for all to hear.

Due to this, Jamie has joined the bullying clan and will from this point always be referred to as Jamie-The-Bully as well (he did have another name he wanted me to use but I decided that I was going to keep the blog clean).

An hour in our new friend Stefan joined us and I felt I had an ally now. Although all three of them really were on top form that night, after every sarcastic remark they would then look at each other, point and say "I bet that ends up on her blog." It was at this point that I realised I may have created a monster in giving them the nicknames I have... Ah well, at least it gives me something to write about.

Now I know so far it doesn't seem that there has been any good experience to share here but Claire-The-Bully did something later that would redeem her from all the jibes from the night. (Rachael-The-Bully and Jamie-The-Bully are not redeemed and should start thinking about buying me stuff to say sorry.)

After my blog on my book Claire-The-Bully wanted to know why she had never been given the book to read. I told her it was because she had previously stated that she doesn't read books that often and if I were to send it to her she probably wouldn't read it. She then told me that I was a liar and she would never have said that to which I replied I had enough written evidence to prove that that definitely would be something she could have said.

Anywho, she asked to read it and so I hastily whored my book off to another reader and emailed it to her. The next day she informed me that she had not only printed the book out but that she had bound it as well.

I nearly cried with happiness as I excitedly told her that she had just gotten my book the closest it's ever been to published. Knowing that I was going back to hers on Saturday I made sure that I had brought my camera so that I could forever remember what it looked like.

When last night came though and we travelled back to The-Bullies house, even I wasn't quite prepared for just how emotional seeing my book in that form made me.

I mean it's my book guys, my baby. For so long it has been sitting on my hard drive and staring out at me from my screen but now there it was... in page form... bound together... with a little blue front cover and everything.

Claire-The-Bully could see how attracted I had become to the book (there may have been elongated hugging and unwillingness to let go of the book involved). In a moment of pure loveliness she said I could have it. She'd just print off another one.

Guys, I know this may not seem like anything amazing, and I'm sure a lot of you are wondering why I didn't just bind the book myself. Unfortunately I don't own a printer in my house, let alone a little binding machine that turns my book into a sexy little minx.

So Claire-The-Bully, due to your wonderfulness and lovely act of generosity, I have decided to reciprocate by granting you one moment of non bullydom and say, this one time:

Thank you Claire. You are awesome.

Check it out! It's my book!!

I wonder what I can expect from being indebted to a cloud? What could they possibly want to collect?

Claire-The-Bully has been shortened to CTB

I knock on Claire-The-Bully's door, she opens it

Me: I'm ready to run.
CTB: (Looks me up and down) They're not running shoes mate.
Me: Listen, I'm just surprised I own trainers at all.
CTB: You're going to need running shoes if we're going to do this regularly.
Me:(Lifts up foot to show CTB the underneath of my trainers) But look! They've got loads of grip. I've only worn them once.
CTB: It's got nothing to do with the grip, it's about having the right bounce in the right places.
Me: I'm sure I'll be fine.

Five minutes later I press play on my cool new iphone app. The lady tells us to brisk walk... we do. CTB gives me another look over

CTB: Are you even wearing a sports bra?
Me: (I pause and look at her sheepishly) No.
CTB: Mate! Not only is that going to hurt but you'll end up with saggy boobs!
Me: It's fine. I'm making up for it by wearing a bra and a top that also supports.
CTB: You need to think about buying these things if we're going to take this seriously.
Me: I'm sure I'll be fine. Besides, remember when I moved out on my own and got all that freedom?
CTB: Yeah?
Me: Well it turns out I had to trade every penny I will ever earn for the privilege. As a result I have become queen of economising.
CTB: Oh for crying out loud, I'll lend you some trainers.
Me: Thanks Claire! I'll blog about it so you don't forget.

I did it.

I ran for a minute, then walked for a minute and a half, and I did that 8 times. I have to do the same thing 3 more times then I get to progress to the next level. How exciting!

I'm amazingly pumped about the whole thing. My legs don't even hurt that much this morning. The bottoms of my feet and my upper back ache a little but hey, no one said economising didn't come with a few sacrifices.

I think Claire-The-Bully was slightly amused by my 'noob' choice of clothing. After the bra comment I made a conscious decision not to tell her that my whole clothes choice that day was picked out not due to suitability but rather due to what I thought made me look most like a runner.

...

Yes, it's alright, you can say it. I am definitely not what you might call an 'outside person.'

The rain stopped just in time for us to run. The clouds didn't disappear altogether but they crossed their fluffy legs and waited until we were done. Thank you clouds, I am now in your debt.

Claire-The-Bully wants to go out again tonight and although I had initially agreed to this, I'm feeling a little reluctant now. The 'Get Running' app has instructed that we mustn't run until Friday and if anyone knows what they're talking about, it would be the app. I'm entrusting my future fitness to it... plus you know, I'm knackered and I don't want to.

I was really proud of myself though. I even celebrated by cooking a large pizza in the oven and eating it after nine so that my body couldn't process it properly before I went to bed.

I've booked in my next run for Saturday afternoon (yes, I have already decided not to go out tonight). I'm really looking forward to it!... wonder how long that will last.

PS: I'm going to see Attack the Block tonight with Film-Buddy-Kezia. Check out the review on filmsworthseeing
sometime tonight or tomorrow!

Peace out my lovelies.

It looks like it's going to rain and I just ran for the train... Is that enough of an excuse?

It's really dark out. There's no sky at all, just grey clouds. That suggests to me that it's not only going to rain but it's going to be the kind of rain that gets even your underwear wet.

Surely that's enough of an excuse to forfeit running right? I do really want to do it and there is a very dominant part of my brain that's insisting running is a good thing. 

Only problem is there's also a niggling whining part that's picturing my sofa and my 'Hanjie' puzzle book with a large amount of longing. 

This side of my brain is always there but usually I can apply logic against it and force myself to ignore it, as the thing I'm meant to be doing is far too important not to do. 

One problem with that method this time is that logic appears to be siding with the whining part of my brain. Do I catch the inevitable pneumonia waiting for me if I run in the rain?

The problem is if I ignore my challenge at the first hurdle then I'll never start it because my brain will deem it as a failure and something that just wasn't meant to be. 

...

Urgh!! Now Claire-The-Bully has just text me making the same 'dark cloud' observation! What if this is the universe telling me not to... No! Bad Lisa. Do not use your weird strenuous links of deduction for evil. They are meant to be for quirky and whimsical purposes only. 

At the end of the day your heart and brain may stop working altogether if you do not start exercising. Remember this photo?



Remember how much you drool over having that body again? Remember how you tried to put on those shorts again the other day? DO YOU REMEMBER THAT HORRIBLE MOMENT?? If that isn't the universe telling you to start exercising, I don't know what is. 

So that being said...

Dear clouds, 

Please could you make a quick visit to Scotland for the next couple of hours? They won't mind, they're used to you. Hell, they'll probably welcome you with open arms. 

You can come back around 9pm tonight. I've got to be indoors to collect my Tesco's shopping by that point anyway. 

I know you've actually started raining now, and I hate to interrupt you mid flow but if you could please stop I'll owe you one!

Thaaanks. 

Love Lisa. 

I am totally focused on this very important thing, nothing will distract... ooh look!! Sparkly!

I've brought a new challenge to my life. It's exciting and thrilling and completely new for me... which (if my past experiences are to judge) will probably mean that I won't see it through.

Occasionally I look at my life and think "I'm going to be productive today. I'm going to become awesome in an area of my life that I have previously been rubbish at."

I usually think this with such a conviction that I feel compelled to start my new thing straight away and for 2 weeks I am a gourmet chef or a glorious athlete. Out of all of these, tidying my house is usually one impulse I get manic about the most often.

To say I like my clutter would be a safe assumption. To say I lived in a disgusting mess of crap would earn you a high-five from Rachael-The-Bully. But I wouldn't say it's dirty per se, it's just... clutter.

However, every so often I will get fed up with the clutter and decide to clean my house meticulously in a Stepford Wife type manner.

My one problem is I don't do things by halves and if I'm going to tidy, it has to be done properly and intensely. Only there's so much stuff and so many new LOCD's forming in my brain to compete with. If I wanted to make the impact my new gusto demanded, I would need to be at it for a while.

Here comes the rub... my gusto does not last nearly as long as I need to get the job done. At some point half way in I will inevitably run out of steam and my normal "look at these things that distract me" brain kicks in.

What I'm left with is a room with half opened boxes and bags from the loft piled up in my living room and a bunch of excuses to go with them along the lines of "I'm too much of a feeble woman to carry these boxes back to the loft so I can't sort them out just yet."

Ahem.







My mother (who knows me far too well) will ring me on occasion and inquire how the box removal process is going (a month after I had filled my house with them). I will then tell her that my life is incredibly busy and when I get a day to myself I will focus all my attention on getting the job done. She did at one time remind me of two Saturdays prior to that conversation when I had boasted about how I had watched my entire Sky+ box memory.

This I feel is a silly argument (and I told her so). Watching the Sky+ box was an entirely important task. If I hadn't, it's memory would have run out and I would have started to lose programmes.

I spouted something about priorities and how that day had been good task managing in terms of looming deadlines. She then gave a similar speech although somehow her one ended in reinforcing her point instead of mine.

We ended it by agreeing that the next priority was definitely sorting through boxes... the moment an available Saturday presented itself.

That mini novel was actually meant to just be an example of my main point... digression is definitely my friend. To compensate I will sum up my new challenge in as few sentences as possible.

I'm going to start running.
I'm convinced I'm going to be a genius at it.
I've roped Claire-The-Bully into it as well so I don't chicken out.
We start tomorrow.
It's a 9 week regime.
I'm not even sure I own trainers.

Wish me luck!!

There's no one quite like the One-And-Only-Daniela

I'm feeling very cultural at the moment because this weekend I visited my second museum in three weeks.

I can assure you all that this occurred entirely because I am a fan of history and the culture behind what makes our world what it is. It was certainly not because museums are free to visit and I have no money.

This weekend I went to the British Museum which ironically has artifacts from every country in the world apart from Britain itself.

This is my favourite museum of all London museums (and you can trust me, I've been to two now). I have a morbid fascination with being able to look in a glass case and stare at thousand year old mummified dead bodies. There's just something so perversely cultural about it.

As awesome as all the displays are in this place, what made my day the awesome day that it was, was one of my lovely bezzie mates, One-And-Only-Daniela.

My reason for calling her this will become crystal clear by the end of this post.

Unfortunately I don't live as close to One-And-Only-Daniela anymore so I don't get to see her as much as I would like. When I do however, I always end up shaking my head and marvelling at the uniqueness of her brain.

Without further ado I give you One-And-Only-Daniela through Exhibit A and B.

Exhibit A
One-And-Only-Daniela is shortened to OAOD

On the train home from the museum.

OAOD: Did I ever show you the pictures of when I went to the Louvre in Paris?
Me: No
OAOD: (Gets out camera) I took loads when I got in there. All I did was take pictures of pictures. (Pauses and thinks for a moment) Actually, I think they were probably paintings.
Me: (Stops looking at the camera and throws her a panicked look) Daniela, please don't tell me that right up to this point you thought those paintings were photographs.
OAOD: But they looked so realistic!
Me: In order for that to be true, you would have to believe that there was not only camera's in the 15th Century but that they were also able to photograph half naked cherubs flying in the air.
OAOD: (Leans back in chair) Oh yeah, I'd never thought about it like that.

Exhibit B



This, One-And-Only-Daniela, is why I love you. Don't ever change.

I lost my best friend the other day... it felt weird.

On Thursday Blogspot.com went down and suddenly I was unable to post anything.

On Friday I realised something. I do not function well without that thing. I think I may be in love with it.

I also realised that I have no social life to speak of when Blogspot.com isn't around. Nothing to type, nowhere to go. Nothing to do that involved anything that remotely interested me because I knew I wouldn't be able to go home and blog about it.

I wondered for a brief moment over these two days on whether this meant that I was in fact losing it, but then I thought... probably best not to dwell on that too much. Besides, when I do eventually lose my mind altogether and end up being committed, at least my Doctor's will have a day by day account of exactly how I got to that point. So really, I'm just being thoughtful and thinking of the future. To the future Doctors reading this right now... you're welcome.

I also have been inadvertently educating myself through writing in this thing on a day to day basis. Just yesterday, in a vain attempt of finding something else to do I started to re-read my book for the 132nd time (probably not much of an exaggeration there btw). Suddenly I became aware of all of these grammatically incorrect sentences and poorly worded phrases that I hadn't seen before. I can only attribute this to the daily typing I have started up and the constant obsessive re-reading of all my work to make sure that I am sounding highly intelligent in the way I phrase a sentence even if the content isn't exactly selling the case.

Anyway, somewhere around Friday morning I suddenly noticed that not only had my access to Blogspot disappeared but so had my last post. I began to wonder if maybe I had upset the site and it was punishing me for something.

I wracked my brain but couldn't think of a thing. Actually, if anything, I've been really attentive to it over the past couple of months. Then I thought that maybe that was the reason... maybe I was smothering it.

But then when I got home it let me back on and allowed me to post a post with pictures and everything, I realised all was forgiven and decided not to dwell on it too much. Plus, even I recognised that perhaps I was going a little too far by giving my URL a personality with feelings and stuff.

If anything, it was probably just wanting to give me time to work on making my book amazing, which I have been doing, so thank you Blogspot.

...

And for future Doctors. If you're wondering when the time was that I probably stepped over the line from 'quirky and fun' to 'mentally unhinged,' this probably was it... I might try and be a little more 'out of the clouds' for the next post... Maybe.

There's a huge reason why I haven't become a prostitute - I can't sell myself at all... that and the self dignity thing I guess

For those of you who don't know I have written a book! Yes, that's right, it's a whole book with pages that have words on and everything.



I started writing this book 3 years ago and finished it last summer. It's pretty much my life and has everything I love and everything that makes me, me in it.

It's basically me in a book without it actually having to do with A. Me, B. Anything I've ever encountered or C. Ever will do.

Intrigued? Ha ha! Well then maybe you should buy it! It's called Serenity and my name isn't Joss Whedon, so don't get confused...

...

What's that I hear? You can't find it?

Yeah, that would be because it isn't published yet. Alas, it just sits on my hard drive and iphone and looks up at me with expectant eyes as if to say "Right, you've created me, now what are you going to do with me?"

I want to say "I'll give you a front cover and put you in the windows of bookshops worldwide" but here's a little fun fact: The book industry, it turns out, is a tough little cookie to crack.

All the writer's handbooks, magazines and websites will tell you there is a certain process you have to go through in order to input your 'manuscript' (which is a fancy word for book).

You need to hand in two things usually with your book.

1. A synopsis
Basically your whole book's plot all jammed into one A4 page (I suck at this by the way).

2. A cover letter
An A4 page declaring all your amazing achievements as a writer and how you came to write your amazing manuscript (I'm not too bad at this, I just don't have that many achievements to speak of).

One thing 'The Writer's Handbook' is particularly good at, is telling you exactly how to present both these things (I have multiple highlighted areas and several notes in the margins, thank you 'Writer's Handbook').

It also tells you how not to do it. Warning you against seeming unprofessional and definitely tells you to steer clear of begging.

I fully trust 'The Writer's Handbook' and I would never say a word against it but on the off chance that there are publishers or agents reading this, if in the future you ever receive a letter from me, behind the carefully placed, grammatically correct words, this is what I would prefer to be saying.



Dear Publishers and Agents of the book variety,

I've written a book! I printed the whole thing out the other day and it's well thick!

So here's what happened. Three years ago I moved to a little place in Essex, became a hermit and did nothing but research and write about a kick ass topic that I fell in love with.

Unfortunately, due to the black market 'story-plot' burglars that roam the dark alleys of the internet, I can't disclose what my little vulnerable book is about but I can tell you this! There is an absolute certainty that this might possibly be the best thing you've ever read... maybe.

And if I haven't sold it to you, then do it for Sam. Sam is this skinny layabout, 20 year kid with blond scruffy hair and an affection for long naps. He's also the main character in my book.

Sam, you see, kind of likes that there is a book about him (though he would never admit it). Unfortunately at the moment he only exists in my head and the heads of about 18 others. I think he's getting lonely.

Not to mention he's getting on my nerves a bit because he doesn't do any housework and just leaves my brain in a complete tip. Yesterday a found a month old half eaten sandwich up there. It was disgusting.

Now that I've lowered your expectations of what my imagination is like, I can assure you the book is a lot better than that.

Here are some peoples testimonials after they finished it.

"It was good." Daniel Harries

"That bit where he touched her back was hot." Daniela Graham

"I hope you have started the next one." Jo Tucker

"Hey! It's Kelly, I'm hooked on your book." Kelly Holdstock

"I've finished it. It was alright." Rachael-The-Bully

(You may not be acquainted with Rachael-The-Bully but that's high praise indeed.)

(Also there were better comments than the above ones but my crippling awkwardness when people compliment me prevented me from putting them up)

If that hasn't made you want to throw all your money at me, then I don't know what will.

...

Also there might be a chance I need help in marketing.

Email me a check if you fancy it!

Thaaaanks!!

Lisa

It was just one of those days...

Sorry for no post yesterday. I started to write it. It was going to be another 'Rachael-And-Claire-The-Bully' saga, only this time with a twist. (For about three glorious hours Claire-The-Bully decided to side with me against Rachael-The-Bully and became a new person... Claire-The-Ally.)



Unfortunately, when writing this on the train home I got knocked in the chest with an overwhelming sad feeling and my brain, as a result, shut down.

Emotions have been a little high this week and so I should have seen this mini attack coming but I had had a very busy day and so hadn't had time to really register it creeping up behind me.

I'm blessed nowadays because due to a fine tuned, kick ass coping system I can keep what I call 'Sad Attacks' down to lasting only one day... two max.

For those who are a little confuddled by the term 'Sad Attack,' let me clarify.

This is not 'sad' in the term that I've just done a really geeky thing I deem as uber cool but others would deem as me having too much time on my hands (I tend to just phrase that as 'have you seen my new blog?').

'Sad Attack' is where for no particular reason and at any given moment, you become very aware of the sob in your throat and all you want to do is eat ice cream, watch Andrew Garfield on the telly and cry yourself to sleep.

Sometimes this can be triggered by something genuinely sad but the more interesting ones are the Attacks that get you for no apparent reason and suddenly your schedule that night is wide open and crying is all there is that is booked in.

For this demonstration I turn to the Marmite of comics... you either love him or you hate him (either way, this clip is funny to all) Dane Cook.



I deal with this in my own little dramatic ways. Drawing all curtains, locking phones in other rooms (I can't turn it off, I always worry someone maybe being kidnapped at that exact moment) curling up on the sofa with food and forcing a lot of pressure on the TV to make me laugh. (It does try bless it, but then it knows what will happen if it doesn't...)

The next day, when I've won the 'Sad Attack' fight, I get to roll my eyes at the whole experience and give the 'Sad Attack' all the attitude and insults I wasn't able to the night before... as mentioned before, I am highly competitive.

So today I'm writing again (take that 'Sad Attack!') and I have just one more thing to say to you guys.

Today is Claire-The-Bully's birthday!!



As this is the case I hereby decree that everyone is to leave their house immediately and have a drink to celebrate. I'm sure she wouldn't oppose to having it as a national holiday! I'd start a petition if it wasn't for the following reasons:

1. I don't know how to start a petition.

2. I'm pretty sure the official response to the petition would be 'Who's Claire?'

3. Why should she get one if I have to work on mine? I can't believe anyone could have even suggested such a thing!

365 days have passed since I last saw you.

And I’ve been thinking a lot about you recently. If I hear a dirty joke, smell a fart, have something I want to say but am too embarrassed to say it. All these things draw my mind to you. It used to hurt but I don’t mind it happening so much anymore, it’s not as painful to remember you as it once was, now it just makes me smile, it’s a sad smile but a smile nonetheless.

I’ve wanted to write something for you for a long time. Something to celebrate who you were and what you were like but it never gets past the first paragraph, I guess there really are no words to do you justice but I’ll try.

I miss you girlie, I miss your smile and your dirty laugh. Sometimes, when I close my eyes I can hear it’s loud cackle reverberate around my head. To be honest, I make a point of going through that exercise at least a couple of times a week so that I don’t ever forget it. It was impossible not to hear it, no matter where a person was in the building, if you found something funny, we would all know about it. And then like a moth to a flame I would find my feet taking me to where you were so I could find out what it was this time that was making you laugh. Usually there was mischief involved, shooting foam balls out of guns at unsuspecting colleagues or sending emails from other peoples computers to heads of the departments declaring their undying love. No matter what it was though I could be guaranteed to leave the room again a good while later shaking my head in disbelief and thinking, ‘Only you would do that.'

Only you would openly talk about your lady problems and parts in excrutiating detail in front of first time suppliers, leaving them with images they will never be able to shake. Only you would break your toe slipping on dog poo and spend three weeks wobbling about on crutches. Only you would look in the mirror the day your hair fell out and scream "I'm the bride of chucky!"

Only you would sit all the rest of us girlies down and explain absolutely everything we can expect from our bodies inside and out when we have a baby, without us ever remembering asking you to.

Only you were as fearless as you were. There was literally nothing you wouldn't do if asked. There was nothing that fazed you. Ever. Those last 6 months proved that more than anything.

I remember how strong you were. I remember admiring that so much. Not just in fighting the cancer but in being so open to help and love from those around you. You brought the whole work place together because we were all united in one goal, supporting you.

You opened your arms to us and was never afraid to show your emotions. What's more, you never apologised for them. You had something to fight and you were hell bent on fighting it. Tams, you really did fight. You gave it everything you had and yes, the stupid thing won in the end but it can't be said that you didn't go down fighting.

Life is quiet without you girlie, I won't lie. And losing you hurt like a bitch. I just hope you realised how many people adored you before you went. How many people's lives are so much better because you had been in it.

You were loud. You were completely inappropriate in almost everything you did. But we loved you every day because of it. You were our sister, our daughter, our best friend and every day you can be assured that there will be someone somewhere thinking of you and smiling because, well, how could we not?

Love you Tam Tamsarina. Always.

I have no title for this post, so I thought I'd just tell you my ipod shuffle is playing a series of really bad songs, I hate it when it does that.

Do you ever get reflective? I do. All the time.

Well not all the time. If I reflected all the time then I would only ever reflect on how I once reflected, which would have been a reflection of a previous reflection and so on and so forth.

...

I've now got to a point where I've used variations of the word 'reflect' so much that I'm beginning to doubt whether that's even the right word.

I know it means the image of something replicated through a mirror and what not, but does it also work here? I was certain it did when I started this but now I'm completely racked in self doubt. What if I'm wrong? What if I've used that word in an important situation in front of important people and it didn't mean what I thought it meant and secretly people were laughing at me?

I should probably go back and use a safer word, just in case... ah sod it, I can't be bothered. If reflect is wrong then I don't want to be right. I refuse to have my character defined by the English language. I'm a butterfly who chooses to fly outside of the box.



*Re-reads what is written so far*

Wow, that has to be one of my biggest digresses so far. I shall give myself a gold star... or as I don't own gold stars, I shall pour myself a celebratory glass of wine.




Well done.

Thank you.

...

There was a point to this blog at one point... reflection! I'm back.

I did that in depth thing on Facebook yesterday where I clicked on several people's profiles, then their photos of me, and then on the original album they were from (usually uploaded around 2008).

Next thing I know, I can hear birds chirping outside, welcoming the new day, and I'm pretty sure I've kissed goodbye my early night.

Looking at these old photos, a few main thoughts came to mind.

1. I have eaten far too much in 3 years to warrant this amount of weight gain.

2. I really hate that there are so many amazing people from my past that I just don't see or speak to anymore.

3. I had almost forgotten the glory days of a spotless face... stupid adult acne (the afore mentioned hopeful drug solution is not helping at all).

4. My hair, when it was dark, was pretty cool and so much cheaper to manage. Should I go back to Chocolate Brown?

Check out these two pictures and let me know what you think.

(Remember, we're talking hair only, the body shape and complexion are obvious ones that I'll deal with one day... I think.)





Let me know.

Peace out my lovelies.

My home seems to have become an insect burial ground... I don't know how I feel about that.

A couple of weeks ago a moth flew through my kitchen window and proceeded to smack itself into every single object it could find.

I remember this because this wasn't just any old moth, this was a beast with colour-coordinated wings. Upon every point of impact with my kitchen appliances, a loud smack could be heard reverberating off the walls. If I'm quite honest, the thing terrified me.

Not wanting to let on that I was scared of such a harmless thing (in order that I could still convince myself that I'm an awesomely independent lady who laughs in the face of every little bug that comes my way), I reminded myself of that really important thing I had to do in the room with no lights and took a brisk walk out of the kitchen.

Two days passed and I began to believe that the traumatic ordeal was over. It was only as I was making a sandwich one evening that I noticed this.



I initially attempted to stare it out, convinced that it was merely being tactical about it's future attack and was just waiting for me to turn my back. It wasn't until ten minutes had passed that I began to suspect the moth may not be faking it.

Of course I had to be sure. I found the largest spatula I had, took a step back, crossed myself, and poked it.

It moved... to this.



This saddened me as I realised my little beast was dead. I told myself that I would give it a proper burial at some point. Each day I told myself that. For two weeks. Some days I would even stare at the bug and mentally psych myself up to deal with it's little dead body. It was around that time that I named it. I called her Milly (she looked like a girl beast to me).

Still, when it came to picking her up, for some reason something more important would always enter my head and I'd go and do that instead.

Last night though, the most sadly beautiful thing happened.

Whilst I was in my kitchen again, another mini beast flew through the window. It did so with such a familiar ear splitting gusto that I had to check my little dead friend hadn't come back to life. She hadn't.

This new beast instead smacked itself into the cookbook that was Milly's place of rest and went bezerk.

Instantly I knew what had happened.

This new beast (who I have now called Hugo) was obviously Milly's soulmate.

When she didn't come home two weeks ago, he went out searching for her only to find her here. Dead.

In order to give him some time with his loved one, I left him alone in the kitchen to grieve. (That was, of course, my only reason. It certainly wasn't because Hugo was going crazy and had just smacked himself against my head. I ran out of the kitchen, patting down my hair as a sign of respect.)

Half an hour later, I heard the familiar smacking sound of moth against light and realised I was no longer alone in the lounge.

I didn't need to make my highly cool exit this time however. Hugo smacked himself against the light three more times, flew manically around the room once and then spotted one of my shawls lying on the sofa. It was the same colour as him. It was the same colour as his Milly. He flew over to the shawl, nestled himself into the folds and didn't move again. Hugo had died of a broken heart.



...



Of course that now means two bugs I have to touch now. Ugh, sad and gross.

Let me take you on a journey to London, England, 1912.

There is a certain area in history that I have done a lot of research on, so today will be a history lesson as I share my findings with you.

In 1912 there was a brilliant Scientist residing in London called Sir Albert William Sodd.



Sir Albert studied a great many things in his life but one thing that fascinated him the most was human instinct and the series of outside sources that trigger the reactions humans give.

An example of this is the way, when cold, a person will instinctively wrap their coat tighter around them or hug themselves so as to preserve body heat.

Sir Albert devoted most of his work towards studying how these instincts are brought about. However in 1912, he made a discovery that would be the basis of all his future work.

One sunny morning, Sir Albert went for a walk in the park and came across Dorothy and Leonard Holdstock. They were a young couple strolling down the path towards him.

Without any reason to suggest she needed it, Dorothy suddenly opened her umbrella and handed it to Leonard to hold over them both.

Within moments, the clear blue sky was filled with clouds and rain started to pour down.

Amazed by this, Sir Albert asked Dorothy how she had known to put up her umbrella. Dorothy had shrugged at this and said it was something she had always been able to detect.

Sir Albert convinced Dorothy to take part in a new study. During this study, Sir Albert discovered that as incredible as Dorothy's little talent was, her mother had actually been able to heighten her instincts even more. An example Dorothy had given was that when she was travelling anywhere, she was able to know which route would be the quickest and safest journey by following her instincts alone. Every time she had been correct.

Taking all of his findings from the study, with this main discovery as the base, Sir Albert concluded the following:

Dorothy Holdstock had heightened instincts that appeared to be carried somewhere in her genes, active only in the females of the family. However, with each new generation these heightened instincts seemed to be diluted slightly.

Measuring the extent of the dilution with each new generation, he predicted that this handy quirk would be completely neutralised in just two generations time, rendering her granddaughters with the same instincts as everyone else.

However, it was this next prediction that created a rule we know very well today.

The dilution of these instincts, he concluded, could not be thought to end at the point of neutralisation. Therefore it can be assumed that the next generation (her great-granddaughter) would have instincts that fall below average, causing situations to occur that seem unlucky and annoying and throwing that woman's life into a never ending stream of ironic events that cause her to constantly wonder "why me?"

Using the umbrella scenario, an example of this would be her carrying an umbrella in her bag for three months without there being a drop of rain and then the day she decides to leave it at home, it pours down.

Sir Albert William Sodd saw this revelation for the ground breaking discovery that it was and wrote a paper on it. From that day forward, that level of irony would be commonly known as 'Sodd's Law.'

My name's Lisa Harries. Dorothy and Leonard Holdstock were my great grandparents. Two weeks ago I finally got my iphone back from the insurance company after three months of not being able to use it. Since I have had it I have treated the phone like it was the most expensive artefact in all the world. Two days ago, in a moment of rushing out of the house, I treated it like a normal phone for the first time since I had it back and I did this.



Just another ironic scenario to add to the pile.

A museum and a mysterious Doctor all in one post? You can't ask for more than that.

SPOILER ALERT!!

CONTAINS INFORMATION ON THE LATEST EPISODE OF DOCTOR WHO. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

(Younger-Brother-Daniel has been shortened to YBD)

ME: But if the little girl is Amy Pond's daughter then how is she also a Timelord?
YBD: Well obviously she has to be the Doctor's as well.
ME: No, I don't believe it.
YBD: Why not?
ME: Because I refuse to live in a world where Amy cheats on Rory with the Doctor.
YBD: I know what you mean. I don't think it will be as simple as that. I'm sure they'll do it in a way where neither of them have to cheat.
ME: Yeah, I have a theory on that (Gets distracted by calendar and notices the date) Ooh! It's a new month! I get to change the page on my Doctor Who Calendar!
YBD: (Pause) I fear we've gone to a weird place.
ME: What do you mean?
YBD: How long have we been talking about this?
ME: Today? 40 minutes.
YBD: I need to go and do something else for a while.

He didn't. We talked for another 20 minutes on the many theories we had on what we had learnt from the first 2 episodes of Doctor Who Season 6.

I have many a theory that totally explains the questions I shared in the above conversation but I fear putting them onto this blog for 2 reasons.

1. If I'm right (which I'm certain I am), I don't want to have ruined the future of the series enjoyment for anyone else.

2. For some unfathomable reason, I'm pretty sure the majority of my readers don't actually care. (It makes no sense to me.)

What I am going to do instead, (because I am uber cool) is to write a list of my predictions down, take a picture of them with the day's paper and then when the series is finished, I will upload my genius and accurate list for all to see.

...

Okay so Younger-Brother-Daniel may have a point with what he said. I mean recently, the only conversation any of us Harries kids are capable of having with people who have also seen Doctor Who, is about that show.

In just two short weeks, I have already had several hours worth of conversations talking about the theory and rules of the TARDIS in Time and Space and what that means to the current story line.

And in those moments where I cannot find someone to talk about Doctor Who with, I find myself listening to the music score of Season 5 and writing the rest of the series in my head so that it ties in with the many questions these two episodes have asked.

I know a lot of people would find that weird, or 'not right,' or something someone without a real life might do, but you know what? I'm pretty sure I'm okay with that.

I could make idle promises that I won't get as excited at the next episode on Saturday but we all know this to be a feeble lie and I refuse to insult your intelligence by uttering it.

FACT: Doctor Who rocks every single one of my socks and Steven Moffatt is a complete genius.

Oh and if you're wondering what the museum part of my title was about, check out my day yesterday in the video below.