Oh yes, on a nice note...

I spen the day at Sam's house. First we made chocolate cakes with icing and Smarties which first looked lik poo as Sam said but turned out very nice. Hence, we ate 7 each :)

After that we went bike-riding through a local park but the whole venture lasted about 10 minutes as that was all it took to ride through the park and back. After that we watched some really random channels that he gets because of Sky including numerous religious channels, virtual horse riding and Cowboy Dan teaching good manners and persuading children that 'cowboys don't need guns to have fun'. we also watched various JML shopping channels which provided entertainment that no one would have forecast.

All in all, it's been a nice day. Seeing both Hershi and Sam in one week has been great :D

Could things be working out, maybe?

I didn't do much today. First I ate BBQ beans and fried mashed potato and then my mum went to town and I basically just watched TV from then on. First I watched 'You Have Been Watching' which takes a cynical look at some of the TV of the week. That was amusing and made me want to watch the programme in which an elephant, a crocodile, a giraffe and a whale are dissected. Next I watched 'The TNT Show' which is puerile according to my dad, and I kind of agree, however it's still mildly enjoyable though a bit too scripted to allow any of the presenters' potential and latent charisma shine through.

After that was a programme about the world's oldest mothers who were impregnated via IVF. It does seem very wrong for a 70-year-old women to carry a baby and I think the upper age limit for IVF should be about 50 or perhaps 55 at a push. The concept of this does seem a bit strange to me as these women's eggs have been used up so they have to use donor eggs and that, of course, makes them not the biological mother at all. However, I'm not against adoption and it's a similar idea in that respect.

Finally, I watched a programme called 'Boob Job - My Big Decision' which followed two girls, one 17, one 13(!), who wanted breast implants and embarked on a journey which tried to put them off it. In the end it worked and it was very intriguing however some of the links that were made between wanting larger breasts and other factors in their life were a bit sketchy.

I'm supposed to be going bike-riding with Sam this weekend but I don't know what day or anything like that. But it sounds nice. I'm going to London from Monday to Wednesday which will, of course, be good. London's never disappointed me, hence the reason that I'm determined to live there from the age of 18.

In London, I want to go to a proper sushi restaurant. Not just Yo! Sushi. I'd love to go to Nobu, but I doubt they'd have many vegetarian options. Might see some celebrities in there, though.

True story

Considering my house is a mere two minutes walk from my school with only two roads to cross, I never really gave two thoughts to the possible dangers lurking on the journey. That is, until now.

As I ambled along, optimistic at what the day had to offer, I reached the crossing road of my walk. Anxiously I pressed the button at the traffic lights, keeping my eye on the intimidating gang of boys also on their way to school. Before I had time to shift away from them the crossing man flashed a vibrant green that meant it was time to stride across the road and escape from the raucous boys. My foot touched the road and I began my second step, hurrying to my destination.

However, this was clearly not going to be a smooth journey as I felt a mysterious object ploughing forcefully into my left thigh at a ridiculously high speed. Before I could even think or let out a squeak of pain I was splattered on the floor, my limbs a flailing mess and my right school shoe strewn into the middle of the road. That was when I felt the cruel taunts of hilarity from those formerly imposing boys. Now I wasn't frightened, just humiliated.

At that point I gaged that I had to drag myself up and somehow transport my aching body to school as I was already close to being late. Heaving my head up in shame, I caught a glimpse of the culprit of this heinous crime. The boy responsible for the accident wore a silver-black jacket, contrasting with his tanned skin and gently waving hair. He hoisted the hazardous bike up and his face shrouded with what I would have loved to be guilt. My teeth ground in frustration as I realised that this emotion was instead rage. I gave him the type of glance a disappointed teacher might give to a misbehaving student in an effort to prompt him to apologise. But rather than this he simply uttered a profanity and stormed off wheeling the bike away with him.

The pain in my left thigh now returned but on a level that could only be described as agonising. The only option was to gather my belongings including my runaway shoe and hobble along to school, desperately trying to conceal my anger.

I spent the next lessons fretting that a nerve had been damaged or that my leg had been torn open barbarically, but thankfully the only presents I received from that unfortunate accident were a few scratches and a mammoth technicolour bruise varying in shade from the initial navy to the more developed regal purple and terminating with a lovely chartreuse. Fortunately, I could still walk perfectly a few days later so it all turned out well in the end.