Perspective

It's strange how I tend to forget what it's like to be ill now, but then when an illness jumps on me I'm dragged down even more into the depths of its misery.

This academic year, I've only been ill three times - one Swine flu-type thing, one bad normal flu which involved my voice disappearing before the Spanish Oral exam, and now this. Mainly a cold, but with the side-effect of constant fatigue. I'd liken it to having miniature weights attached to my eyelids rendering me practically unable to keep my eyes fully open.

However, this is nothing. This is a minor illness that will pass in days and will leave me feeling nothing more than relieved in the end. I'm lucky, I know it. Even in the years when I had a poor immune system, it was minute compared to Lucy's condition. I can't complain about whatever ailment I may be suffering at the moment, for suffering is not the word. Lucy is the one suffering; I'm incredibly fortunate to not be in incessant, unbearable pain.

So, now I put things into perspective. I have no right to complain.

I do Valentine's Day ironically

Perhaps I'll spend it with Sam, my dear friend who just so happens to be a boy, doing fun non-romantic things like watching shopping channels and baking cakes or even playing the Ocarina on his iPhone. I've never had a romantic Valentine's Day and that's absolutely fine. I've actually never had a romantic day in my life, but again that's fine. That part of my life is in quite a happy, latent state.

If we were perpetual...

Then I'd tell you everything, literally everything, that I love about London. Well, we're not so I'll try to shorten that a bit, but anyway:

• As soon as you get off the train, you immediately feel part of something bigger and better than yourself, like your future
• You're never stuck for food - if you want chips and green tea at the same time, you can have it
• Everyone's busy, constantly occupied, and that's how I like it
• It has nearly every kind of establishment and attraction - shop, restaurant, museum, musical, play, art gallery, etc. Oh, and all the non-cultural things too, I suppose
• It's for practically every type of person - it can cater to everyone
• It has the only MAC Pro shop in the country - yeah, that's still important, even to a non-makeup-wearing person like me
• There are probably more coffee shops than toilets, but that could be a problem as coffee is a diaretic... oh well!
• It's the capital of everything (maybe not everything in the world, but a lot revolves around it)
• It can be expensive, but it's completely worth it
• You can just spend all day travelling around the various districts
• Soho - camp (which is a bad thing), very seedy but with many sushi restaurants and an amazing frozen yoghurt place -Snog
• There are loads of Japanese supermarkets and shops - it's hardly a surprise that most of the money that I spend goes on food, is it?
• It has strange but occasionally fascinating things like the fourth plinth exhibition
• You can find every personality, nationality, language, race and culture there
• It's wonderful to be there whether you're with, parents, friends, grandparents etc. Just don't go with school - it kind of ruins the London experience
• It moulded me -oh, where would I be without London? I'd have hated to not have had at least some time somewhere lovely before begrudgingly moving to this place

I could go on, but let's leave it there, shall we?

Affiliation, or rather, fascination

When encapsulated in a world of logic, I occasionally become obsessed with the more whimsical aspects of life, for example, glitter, glow sticks and balloons. I've harboured this fascination for a few months now, but the problem is that there's never an occasion for it.

Multicultural

I sound typically British.

Legally, I'm technically Irish.

Some people think I'm secretly French.

Ploughing trhough with rigor

Well, by next Thursday afternoon exams will be over for now (but only for now). I probably digest more information than I do food on an average day, and that's a substantial amount because I do like to eat.

I've noticed that recently my dreams have been deeper, possibly having new meanings. A particular example of this was Wednesday night's dream - my first dream-falling experience. It could symbolise an overload of pressure or stress, but my life wouldn't be complete without either of those things I suppose.

Anyway, something else kind of coinciding with this is the fact that I don't seem to talk much to people anymore. Not that I don't physically talk much, but that I haven't expressed any particular feelings or emotions for a while. I have a lot to discuss, it's just I'm rarely in the right place to discuss it. Oh, and further identity crises ensue.

A delayed climax

Naturally, the first day back at school has dragged me back into the routine, and as always it was fairly normal. However, I had an unexpected after-school adventure...

The walk home from school takes mere minutes, yet still manages to be unbearably dull. Mid-walk, I suddenly realised that during the Christmas holidays I unwittingly took out my purse, containing keys and a reasonable amount of money to suffice in emergencies, out of my strained bag.

My father's often out at around mid-afternoon, dashing around earning money, and my mother is always at work at this point, so of course I expected to have to wait around outside for a little bit. Okay, I thought - this is bearable. So I dawdled about from foot to foot, resting my bag on my long feet like a penguin's egg. But soon it became embarrassing - my house is in quite plain view of the public, and being after school there were plenty of passers-by.

The logical option was to retreat to my back garden. Hardly a paradise, but good enough for a few minutes. The not so logical option was to kick the gate to the back garden multiple times, before eventually spotting the rusty handle which promptly and efficiently opened this wooden wonder. Well, forgive me for thinking that my house would be equipped with better security measures.

I shuffled into the back garden, and for some reason expected more than I ever could from my plain old bit of green. Yes, there is a bike shelter, but I was unsure of the cleanliness of that area and din't mind snow at all, so I chose to stand in the middle of the garden. I gazed over at the broken-and-poorly-reassembled bench covered with leeks, which made standing feel all the better.

However, this was not a sustainable action, for I was aware of the fact that my father may have been in a different city and my mother was liable to be at work until 5, so I thought of trotting down the road to the nearest payphone. Easy! Except, of course, coins go in purses. Oh. Thankfully, a 10-year friendship led me to march down to Sam's house.

It's just down the road... a main road, and then there's a left, but that's beside the point. I reached his house in roughly 10 minutes, and upon opening the door he jumped a little in shock, good shock. I was greeted warmly by him, his mother and sister, so it was a lovely comfort after my stand-up experience, and not the comedy kind.

Having watched 'Come Dine With Me' for a little and discussing Slankets and exams, another kind gesture came my way. Sam's mother drove me back to my house, where I greeted my father wearing a bright orange, moth-ravished woollen jumper. Well, of course, he arrived back just minutes after I left.

So, my event was split up into minutes scattered around, and the whole chaos occurred in around an hour. Yes, I was delayed by about an hour and consequently was doing homework until after 6 pm, but ultimately it was enjoyable as I was able to see Sam. A good day, I suppose.