No More

My decision has been made. For final. I am off to university next year to do a foundation course in Sports Coaching followed by the full degree and for once, I feel fairly certain that this is going to happen. I've decided I need to do something before I get left in the grit of everyone else's tyre squeal as they race off to their futures.

There were many factors in deciding this. Apart from the exams and possibly financial situation, I have heard nothing but good stories about university. The fun, the frolicking, the pure stupidness of it all and deep down I feel I am missing out. Another reason is the fact I am getting fed up of the monotony of BP and it will only ever be the same if I move on to another job and I will get more and more bored and more and more lonely. And finally, and possibly most importantly, is the place from where I'm currently typing this post. Home. I have said I wanted to move out, but why does that mean I have to rent a flat? I can move out by moving to university.

I, of course, had questions to ask myself. Do I really want to go through education again? This was the toughest. I HATED school. I HATED A-Levels, I cannot describe how much I despised it. However, university has its air of freedom about it, not being badgered by people to complete an assignment and it will be in a subject I do like. A huge mistake I made at school was picking subjects I wasn't 100% sure about, which ultimately backfired. Secondly, of course, is the debt. I will be at university for 4 maybe 5 years depending on which course I go for and that will rack up an enormous amount of debt. Fees are set to rise, which ultimately isn't fair, but it's all about the times. I'm now used to having a large amount of money at my disposal, running a car and having money in the bank, but university will be so, so different. Limited money at the best of times, loans that I will have to pay back at some stage, it's going to be tough financially. Despite this, all of my friends have seemed to manage OK.

And that's the bottom line. All of my friends, bar a couple, have gone to university and to be honest with you, I feel a little bit lonely here on my own. Only Christmas and Summer I will get to spend time with good ol' mates and maybe it's time for me to get out there and find new friends of my own. Maybe it is time to take a risk. Maybe it is time to move on.

Because as a wise man once said, "You don't get anywhere in life without taking risks". And I believe, now, that he is right. I didn't before. I was content, sort of, with playing it safe, but it's not going to hold out forever. And I need to act before it's too late.

So, I'm not backing out of this one. This one isn't an overnight foray of hope that is blissfully blown away by the gales of depression the next day. This idea is here to stay and to my day job, (or night..), I say, no more.

Ciao x

A Final Swansong

Who'd have thought it? Another cricket match at the end of September and a team needed another player last minute, so I said yes! It would have been rude not to!

So, 25th September, cold and nearly too wet but who cared?! We fielded first, (with me keeping for the 2nd time in 2 games and for the 2nd time of this elongated season!) in a 35 over match. I dropped a tough chance diving across first slip but caught a skier 2 balls later and got a good run out and a stumping towards the end, so all was good on that front. They got a very good score of 197 off their 35 overs, even if we did let them get most of them!

We chased the target down well and won with an over to spare. "Humph" edged behind for an agonising 99 and a few 30s plus my invaluable 4 not out at the end meant we won by 4 wickets and a good end to what is definitely now the end of the season!

But of course, I had worked the night before and was, of course, going to work again that night, so I had one more taste of the 'no sleep disorder'. It was so bad on Sunday night. No sleep for 42 hours before I started the long walk home. The Mittenmobile was having it's yearly check-up. I finally got home and collapsed, and woke up, now. 4:42 on a chilly Tuesday morning. A new record for the amount of hours stayed awake followed by a new record of the amount of hours slept at once, (22!).

The prospect of a full-time week awaits, but I'm used to it. Somehow, I've also started to run out of money, so a tough few weeks ahead! Fighting it, I will do.\

Bye x

The Adventures of Simeon and Ken

Ok, I'm back. I have to admit, I have missed this after a monumental amount of time .. Sort of.

Still, business as usual. Saturday night means only one thing these days. Partying, drinking and maybe a little bit o' lovin'? (Ok, I won't ever say that again), but no. Work is the only thing on the agenda at this time of night and I have to say, this evening was one of the strange ones.

It was quiet. Not quiet quiet but certainly quiet, for a Saturday night. I thought it would be mayhem seeing as the university students are back in full flow and they'd be all over their first Saturday night like a swarm of bees over my ears when I was 6 years old. Ouch, that hurt. But, it wasn't.

I wasn't in the best of moods at the start of the night. Usually, I wake up at about 9:15 and it takes me forever to wake up properly so I start the shift in a bad mood, but it wasn't the case today. I woke up a few hours early but still left the house in a bad mood. Bad times. My mood wasn't improved by the ever-existing Wall, and even the departure of the Store Manager for the last time, (he's now left), couldn't improve a darkening mood. I feared a long night ahead.

However, a special mention to certain people for improving my mood. 3 different people in fact. I only know one of them. Daniel Beddoe. Probably drunk, I texted him of my troubles of running into the wall this evening. He texted back this reply:

"I'll be there in 5, see if I can f****** self-destruct down that piece of Wall. Tell him, from me, he looks like twat tonight, and his baby is going to grow up as a whore!"

Sorry, I know it's wrong. As I'm sure does Beddoe, but it made me literally laugh out loud. In the middle of the store. That made me look a tad strange, but it kept me smiling the whole night! Truly epic!

The other episode was a little stranger. In the deep depths of the night, probably 4am, two guys dressed in only a tea-towel, you did read that correctly, ran in and started "presenting" a TV show. They called it 'The Adventures of Simeon and Ken' and I have to admit it was a good as entertainment you can get whilst not watching some dumbo in the auditions of the X Factor. They acted out a sort of soap-opera scene which ended up in Ken being stabbed and then sang a fairly dreadful duet of Britney Spears 'Hit Me One More Time' before sprinting out again. I was amazed and I'm glad to say The Wall missed every second of it. He was hibernating somewhere in the outer regions of a blocked toilet.

Despite these two acts of greatness, I still left the store in a bad mood. I found out I have been given extra hours in a couple of weeks that I don't want and wasn't asked about and for some reason, I was incensed about it. The manager in the morning said, "Ask Alex", trying to fend me off so he could enjoy a fag and a coffee. I hope that gets sorted out sooner rather than later.

As for me, there is no football this morning due to our team getting a 'Bye' in the first round of the League Cup. Through to Round 2 we go, but I would have preferred a match I think. And I always though a 'Bye', was a strange word to use. It suggests we're saying goodbye to the competition! Maybe a 'Carry on, Walk Straight Through' would be more appropriate? Yeah, maybe not.

I'm not in the greatest of moods still. Someone suggested I had S.A.D, (Seasonal Affective Disorder), which occurs during the months of September to April, but surely everyone has 'S.A.D'? Everyone feels more down when the days are shorter and it's cold, wet and miserable in contrast to Sun and daylight. So I'm not convinced about that. Better than the other guy that said I used my depression "as an excuse to shirk the responsibility of life". It goes without saying, I no longer speak to him. A disappointing diagnosis there.

I think I need another pay day. And a flat of my own. Definitely a flat of my own. I'm fed up of looking at the same four, blue walls of my bedroom at the back of the house.

Cya x

The End (For Now)

I think it's time to pull the curtain on this blog. I feel, as winter comes, it will become nothing but a depressing read for a few people and maybe it will encourage me to find better ways to vault my anger/frustration/depression and maybe actually talk to a few people, face to face. If I end up bottling it all up again, like before, then I will consider bringing it back. Letting the occasional person know of my life. And how it's going. (Ask for odds!)

You see, there are a lot of things that I would like to say on here. There have been ever since I started but I don't have the courage to tell. Especially the people they concern. I will have to live with my inability to open up to people and I reckon there is no way that this can be helped. I worry about peoples reactions and whether or not I may be ridiculed by it all. I worry about the consequences of my actions. Certain events have shaped my thoughts in recent years and I am still determined to not re-live those happenings. That, is how it is.

There is literally nothing else to say.. Well... maybe one thing, something I have been thinking about for weeks. But, as I said, I don't have the courage to even write it down. This particular though lives in my slowly decaying mind and that is where it will stay.

No cliffhanger intended.

Bye for Now! x

The Winter Is Coming

State the obvious why don't you! Yep, winter is on it's way, the darkness is setting in and there will be times of darkness in my head aswell as in the air, but I'm prepared for the good times aswell as the bad.

Football was pretty good today. I was stocked up on Pro Plus and Red Bull, and we played fantastically for a 5-1 win. I made a few good saves and only conceded the penalty, (It wasn't a penalty!)

Nothing else to say. Sleep needed now. One more night at work, hopefully avoiding the Sunday Night Syndrome, and then 4 much needed days off. Lovely jubbly.

Bye x

The Dismissal

Yesterday was by far the most difficult day of my life. The day of the funeral had finally arrived and I wasn't prepared for the constant sadness that is a day of mourning. All night, at work, I was wiping away tears, telling myself every 10 minutes to stay strong. For Grandma.

I knew it was going to be tough. I knew there were going to be tears and procedure but I never really was expecting the, almost Hollywood funeral that came. We, the close family, roughly 9 of us, convened at Grandma's outdated yet beautifully arranged bungalow and waited. A few tears were already rolling down my Mother's cheeks and that is the main thing that sets me off. It hadn't even started yet. I had a stroll round the bungalow myself. I went into rooms that I didn't even know existed, with my Uncle, (Grandma's only Son), and he showed me the photographs that Grandma always kept. From 20, 30, 40, 50 years ago. Every single one kept in this dusty, old room. So many memories. So many anecdotes. There was a cold feel to the room, like the room knew someone had left it.

We waited, talked and stood in silence begging for the day to start and end without trouble. 20 minutes we waited, until it arrived. The hurse and the flowers and the car. All in black, except the wooden coffin with colourful flowers comforting it as it drifted towards us. I tried to fight back tears, under the guidance of Dad who told me to "stay strong". Words I repeated to myself all day and all night. Stay strong. The funeral-man, (I don't know his official title), expressed his condolensces in his soft Irish accent and we climbed into the car. We left, at the speed of a snail, behind Grandma. The man in the long tail-coat walked ahead as a funeral procession commenced. After a short walk, the man with the tail-coat got into the hurse and we started our long and painful journey to the crematorium. In absolute silence. The deafening silence, no one uttered a word. I could only stare out of the window, thinking that this surreal event couldn't be happening. Passers by stopped, stared seemingly straight at me with faces of sadness. It seemed as if everyone knew what was going on. That journey, despite only lasting 10 minutes seemed more like 10 hours. It was incredibly painful.

We finally reached the crematorium. The same place my Grandad had his funeral 15 years ago. I was too young to remember. Too young to attend. This was my first funeral, and it suddenly dawned on me that I didn't know what was happening. What to do. What if they asked me to say a few words, I had nothing prepared. Do we carry the coffin in? Do we stand and watch? What? Luckily, the man with the tail-coat directed us inside, after all the other guests had filed in. Looking in our direction, just as everyone on the streets during that journey had done. I recognised a few faces, but not many. Distant relatives and friends. And a few professional funeral go-ers. We stood inside, and watched as Grandma was carried inside, past us through to the crematorium where she would sit for the service. We were then asked to walk behind it. Walk past the seated audience. This was the worst part. Walking behind, with the sad music louder to the ears than screaming, walking past people with tears strolling down your face. It was almost as if you were walking towards your own death. It was terrible.

As we sat for the service, I had the feeling that I couldn't do it. I couldn't sit there and listen to the vicar ending the soul of the woman who once had so much life about her and was the kindest, sweetest person that a grandson could hope for. The service progressed, with prayers said and hymns half-sung, but I couldn't even speak. I was choked. This was impossible.

The end of the service came. Again, I didn't quite know what to expect. The vicar stood down from his podium and more organ music blared out. The vicar stood and said a few loud words, over the music and the curtain started to close. The final glimpse of Grandma. It was almost unbearable. Uncontrollable emotion, wanting it to end. The curtain closed and I could see my Mum ahead of me, shaking with sadness. That was it. The end. The curtain had quite literally closed, on a remarkable life.

The rest of the day was filled with memories and a few last-minute tears and meeting a few relatives I barely knew. We went to a local pub for a few drinks and sandwiches and reminisced. I didn't want to be there. I was still in shock at what had just happened and how I had reacted. I knew I had to go to work that night aswell, so was desperate to go home and have my own space. People asked what I was doing with my life, and I half-answered them and didn't bother listening to their patronising responses. I felt sick.

When I finally got home, I went straight upstairs and lay under my covers, in darkness, and cried so much, as silently as I could. I cried for hours. I pretended to be asleep whenever I thought someone was coming in, but I couldn't. I just cried...

Part of me was happy to go to work. Keeping occupied and busy despite the day's events. Part of me was disgusted at the fact I had to endure yet another 8 hours of The Wall's incandescent failure as a human being. However, tonight he was fairly .. well.. good. I told him about the day I had and he was fairly understanding about it all. He even pulled off a couple of risky jokes, not about the funeral or my day, but just in general. He was a different person today, and for the first time in a long time, I actually enjoyed my night at work. I stood and reflected a couple of times but the shift was generally too busy to sit and ponder. Today, is a new day. And life must go on.

My Grandma was a special person. She was loving and kind and, as was pointed out today so many times, her passion for knitting was just uncanny. Haha. Ohh, the memories. Even if a loved one is lost, you will never lose the memories. And of those, I have a plenty.

R.I.P x

The Pattern

I'm troubled at the moment. A life full of monotony and exquisite loneliness awaits unless I do something quickly. Naturally, this blog entry comes at an impossible time of the morning, given I am waiting to go to what will certainly be 8 hours waiting to end. A week full of sadness, memories and consideration has barely begun and already I am feeling the pain.

I have just watched a film. 'Notes on a Scandal'. The story of a young teacher who gets drawn into an affair with a student while a veteran gets drawn in to the situation. Seemingly, the moral of the story? No one ends up happy. Content even. People will do anything for events. Judi Dench was exceptional in this and it seriously triggers thoughts of what your life will hold for you. Even if the events are far from what is happening in your own. Of course, I know what will happen. At the moment, I lie in this rather warm and stuffy room, while everyone else is asleep, as normal people should be. Waiting to start the monotony of the monotonous work. Tears rolling down my cheek impossibly, mourning.

My sister returned home from her adventure earlier. I didn't hear her come in but I was strictly awoken by the sound of tears upon tears not soon after. The unequivocal sound of mourning in action. I couldn't help but wipe my own tears from my eyes, but something stopped me from joining them. The thought that I don't belong in normal life. The young man who works when everyone sleeps and sleeps when everyone works. The impossible life. A life full of loneliness.

I'm going to be candid and honest here. For once. I am lonely. I feel like everyone I love and cherish and hold friendship with are going away. Ready to move on with life and prepare themselves for the torture that will always be adult life. I don't blame them. I would, if I could. But I can't. I don't know why, but I feel I don't belong in a place where people advance. I don't belong here where people are stuck in the mire. I don't belong anywhere.

The potential that people talk about is stuck. Stuck somewhere between my heart and my head and I don't know where to go. I don't know where to go, or what to do, or who to turn to. Friends are doing their own thing, too bothered about organisation and waiting in anticipation to start their new lives. I am scared to say, but I will, that I have never trusted my family to speak words of comfort. My Father cuts a figure of "a man doesn't cry" and my Mum worries too much. My sister has a modicum of sense and she is the family member I can rely on at least a little. But she is never home. She is doing what I am not. Realising her potential.

More honesty. I no longer have dreams of stardom or success. I firmly believe I am destined for the most average of average lives, living day by day without excitement, love or passion for anything. Even now, at an age where you're supposedly supposed to be enjoying life, I secretly can't. The question that burns me is "Why don't I do something about it?".

I pause... The honest answer? I don't know. I don't have the bottle to I guess, or I don't have the ambition. The questions burns so much. I want an answer, I NEED an answer. I try so hard not to return to the Dark Days, I try so very, very hard. I try not to clog people down with my troubles, I'm sure they have their own troubles to deal with. Maybe that's my trouble. I try not to create sadness around me. People ask if I feel OK every now and then and I lie and say I'm fine. Deep down. Deep, deep down, I'm not. I'm scared. I'm so very scared. The honest answer. Ask me if I'm OK, do it when you next speak to me, and you will know if I'm lying. If I'm "not bad" or "ok", then I lie. Because I am far from it.

Milkshake Crime

It's biography time. Of Asian descent, age : unknown, slight grey-ish tinge to his hair, this poor excuse for a man is a COMPLETE BASTARD!

You all know who I'm talking about. The man I have to spend pretty much my whole weekend with. A man who has no concept of teamwork, communication, humour or intent and no, it isn't The Stig. Friday and Saturday nights have been impossible and this weekend was no exception. For the brief amount of time I can get on with my "jobs to do", he calls you to the tills for no apparent reason and then coaxes you behind the tills for periods up to 90 minutes and literally vanishes off the face of the Earth. On Friday night, I didn't see hide no hair of him for nearly an hour. When I questioned him on his eventual return, he simply mumbled something inaudible and walked off to the shop floor. My patience with this man is nearly reaching maximum, but I have no choice but to put up with it. My only relief is when I work with someone every other Wednesday and Thursday and we both have a go at him for being a complete moron.

However, this abomination wasn't the only reason that these 2 nights went pear shaped. Besides from him, the excessive amount of work to do and the amazing amount of customers that simply came in to abuse me, when I finally got to go home at 6.40am on Saturday morning, I walked out to the Mittenmobile to find some idiot, probably drunk, had snapped the aerial off and poured milkshake all over.. I was fuming. Even more so when the manageress said no to my request of looking at the CCTV that is plastered all over the site like a rash. She claimed, "It would only cause more trouble". Absolute dog crap.

Of course, Sunday nights are notorious for being as dead as Michael Jackson, but something always seems to go wrong on Sunday nights with the tills. I have dubbed it the 'Sunday Night Syndrome'. Usually, my till freezes for an obscene amount of time but last Sunday the card machines decided to charge everyone twice for every transaction which created absolute mayhem. I hope, beyond anything, that nothing obscene happens tonight. I'm just too tired.

Long week ahead. See last post. For now though, I'm going to sleep. Oh no ... wait. I've got to go to work. Great.

Bye x

The Long Week Ahead

The laptop is well and truly on its last legs. For the past week or so, it has taken about half an hour to shake into life, another half an hour to prepare itself to open Internet Explorer and then seemingly faints and switches itself off.. It is in need for a trip to Laptop Hospital, so I have resorted, once again, to the local library to keep this blog from going into disrepair. I wonder who actually reads this anymore..?

The last couple of weeks have been fairly non-existent and have flown by at a rate of knots not experienced by the Titanic. The week ahead though ... the looong week ahead, will not go at that speed though... I am not looking forward to it at all. You see, the past couple of weeks I have been dying slowly from some unknown disease, (uncovered this morning by Dr.Inskip as a "severe throat infection") so I haven't really had the energy to do anything apart from sleep and work. Sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep ... makes me sad.. The past 4 days off I have tried to do as much as I can without fainting and, ok, I've done fairly well. I've had a couple of nets in preperation for the season ending swansong on Sunday, (weather permitting as always...), and I went to the cinema on Wednesday evening to watch what was the strangest movie I've probably ever seen...

... The Last Exorcism. A movie about an "exorcist" who knows he is a scam artist. His views on exorcisms were changed and he vowed to do one last exorcism before giving it up. However, this "last exorcism" was a genuine case of a poor young girl being demonised. I can't be bothered to go through the plot, just google it, but I have still yet to make my mind up on whether it was a good film or not.. It made me jump a couple of times, which is fairly hard to do..

So, the week ahead. What does it have in store? Well, I'm working the best part of 60 hours, (yep, you read that right, 60 HOURS) due to severe staff shortages. In other words, everyone is pissing off to university, so I'm working many nights and many mornings with a couple of 16 hour shifts to make it all worse... Plus the prospect of a funeral which I am absolutely dreading... I refuse to cry..

It all starts tonight with the customary weekend nights before the slog of next week. Monday 20th September is the date I look forward to.

I went out "on the town" last night aswell, which was a big mistake. I wanted to make the most of my last day of freedom but this illness really played more havoc than I thought. I couldn't drink a lot because I felt noticeably more ill every time I had a sip of anything, and with no drink inside you, it's tough to enjoy yourself. Especially with the thoughts praying.. I called it a night especially early and went home to bed..

My bloggles will become frayed in the next few weeks as my laptop will doubtless be sent to A&E for the repair it so desperately needs. Like it matters anyway.

Cya x

Relaxing Isn't The Way

I chose tonight to relax and sit and do nothing for the first time in a while and I can safely say I regret it immensely. It's 10 to 9 and I fear I may be asleep by half 9 through boredom, although it ultimately wouldn't be a bad thing.

The last couple of days have been good. Went to Thorpe Park yesterday with Beddoe and a couple of unknowns. The park was phenomonal with it's thrilling rides and although I was, and still am, dying through some sort of unknown illness, it was a fantastic day. I was knackered at the end of it, having stayed awake for pretty much 24 hours.. Work was a bastard, but I'm determined to not go there..

These 2 unknowns were fairly cool. I had met one of them before, Jessica, in one of my few visits to Beddoe in Manc Land and my impressions of her there were that she was a bit demeaning and up herself but maybe that was because she was trying her damnest to make me go out, when I felt crap and didn't want to. Yesterday was different, she was cool. Her friend, Max, was also cool and we had a good laugh. I liked the guy, up until I found out he was from Hampstead and probably a rich, pompous bastard, but it wouldn't tarnish the day!

Today, on the other hand, has been rather dull and pointless. A trip to the Undertaker's definitely confirmed that and to be honest, I'll be happy to say goodbye to it. Waste of 1 of 4 precious days off before my marathon of working hours and the dreaded funeral of next week.. Honestly, Monday 20th September cannot come quickly enough..

I may just go to bed.

Cya x

Can't Sleep, Won't Sleep

Things are pretty awful at this current moment in time. I can't sleep, it's nearly 10am, I have the prospect of yet another incredibly busy night shift with His Wallness tonight, I have possibly the worst chest infection possible, (it might aswell be AIDS), I've been roped into doing a fair bit of overtime in a couple of weeks, I have a headache, (Malaria?), nothing to look forward to this weekend for the first time in a long time and a lack of money in the bank account. Oh and also, because of my sad mood, I've decided to listen to Celine Dion on Spotify ... What have I become??

I've been coughing a lot in the last few days because of this chest infection. I can feel it nearly giving me a heart attack and it's not as if I can just ring in sick at work either because they will instantly start hating me.. It is this then, that means I can't sleep, which means tonight will not only be long, busy and irritating but also ridiculously tiring. I've been convinced to work 2 day shifts in a couple of weeks also along with my 5 night shifts, (one day will be spent working for 16 hours), and that, along with my Grandmother's funeral and yet another empty weekend means I am not a happy Mitten and won't be then either.. The last week has literally been work, sleep, work, sleep, work ... and the golden rule about any job is that you musn't get yourself into that routine...

Eurgh ... even the word 'routine' makes me feel sick .. or it might just be the phlegm produced from a particular gutsy cough just then..

Now on to another completely different subject, I'd like to briefly talk to you about animals and cars. They don't mix well, especially when it's my car that is being involved. I do a fair bit of night time driving, as I find it incredibly invigorating and relaxing and at times, blood-gushingly exciting, (especially for the animals..) At night-time, animals reckon they can get away with sitting in the middle of the road but when my headlights come round the corner at high speed, they ain't got a chance!

In the past, I have hit a badger. On that occasion, we went back and put it out of it's misery by kicking it repeatedly in the head, (which broke my toe!), and kicking it into a ditch. I've also ran over someone's pet cat and made their guts sprawl across the road in spectacular fashion. I do believe there is still a poster saying, "Cat Missing", in the middle of Renhold.. I've also hit 2 hedgehogs and glanced a deer and earlier this week I splatted a rabbit that ended up with the same fate as the cat.. I've also hit a cyclist, but we won't go there..

This morning, I was driving home from work and saw 3 pidgeons sitting in the middle of the road, obviously attracted by some stray food that had probably been left by a drunkard the night before. For once, I slowed down, (slightly), but they didn't move. So, I now have the feathers of 3 outlines of pidgeons emblazened on the bumper of my car and they go on to join they're animal friends in Animal Kingdom heaven. I don't mean to kill them all!

(Except the rabbit... I swerved to make sure I hit it..)

The Art Of The Prankster

I feel a little bit sheepish this morning. I did ask for people to text me during my shift, mainly to avoid boredom, but was expecting people to just text me because they were bored. The text I got at around 11pm though, was one I wasn't expecting.

The manager was lurking, going through the week's pointless "huddle" with us. A document of company policy that is updated every week. I knew I had a text and I wanted to read it but I thought, "it can wait till later" as I thought it wasn't massively important. I didn't want to get into trouble for reading a text that said, "Hi, you ok?"

When the manager finally left and the din of customer chatter had silenced, I reached for my phone and looked at who had sent the text. "Ahh..", I thought to myself, "An unknown person!" I opened the text, (in the canteen area, as to avoid the cameras!), and read it. This is what it said:

"Hi Tom, this is Mick from Bedfordshire Cricket. After seeing your scores this season we would like to pick you for are upcoming tour of Devon." (Notice the spelling mistake..)

Now, my initial reaction was one of immense surprise. Me? Surely not?! I didn't think I had been picked for the 1st Eleven but instead maybe the development or the 3rd tier of Bedfordshire Cricket? I don't know how the county system works. Even I am not so stupid to believe I've been picked to play Minor County cricket.. But, none the less, I believed I had been picked for something. I texted him back, asking for more details and texted others to tell them this frankly astonishing news. I texted Mick back, asking why I had been picked:

"Our young batsman, Rob, has pulled out due to injury so we are looking to replace him with a young batsman such as yourself who has been in good form this season".

Ok, I was still thinking this may be possible, I've got some decent knocks this season, but why me? There are loads of better young batsman in Bedfordshire, who play at a much higher standard, so why has this guy appeared out of nowhere to pick me? I questioned him again, asking why he's picked me and the fact I didn't quite believe him... I recieved this reply:

"You should believe it, this is all real! I can understand it's a great achievement. For more details, I will put you in touch with our captain, Oli Clayson, and you can meet up to go through details of the tour."

It was at this point where it clicked that this was clearly a prank. Oli Clayson is the captain of Bedfordshire 1sts, (I found out from a reliable source!), so I texted "Mick" back saying I didn't believe him. I got one more reply saying, "This isn't a joke, I am the manager of Bedfordshire Cricket" and heard no more from him for the rest of the night.

There are a few candidates who could possibly send such texts. I texted all of them, and no one claimed responsibility, so I still do not know the identity of the prankster! To be fair, I did ask for it and these series of texts made the night go much faster. So, maybe it was all in good spirit! Throughout the night though, (which was a ridiculously busy night!), I couldn't help thinking if it was real. What if this Mick person had broken a fantastic bit of news to a young batsman and all he got in reply was a load of words saying he was a liar. I know I have no chance to play Minor County cricket but I couldn't help daydreaming about what it must be like. Coming into bat at Number 6 and then being bounced out by an 80mph opening bowler. I can only dream..

I'm not usually the person to fall into believing practical jokes. I'm usually the person playing them believe it or not, but maybe tonight I was dreaming of a better life while starting yet another long and arduous shift and this completely caught me unawares. Congratulations to this unknown person for conning me into believing I was the next best thing. They did well!

I'm not complaining, it kept me entertained. But I would like to know who he is. So I can buy him a pint. Just to say thanks!

Ciao x

Life Changing Decisions

Now, this is a biggy. Whether it's just me dreaming of ambition or a serious attempt to make something of myself or just another flop because of boredom, I do not know. But I'm feeling a strange sensation that I may have just made the first step to cracking it..

You see, it's been an impossibly long night. I've watched 2 Ashes 2005 tests, a few Doctor Who episodes, a lot of useless YouTube videos and it's still only 5.30am.. I have a few hours left before I start to feel even a bit weary, so I thought to myself, let's see if magic can be found.

UCAS is a service that helps prospective students in everything about their university lives. Most people found out ages ago if they were going to university, and I was a person who thought it wasn't for me. But, this evening, not looking for a particular course, I stumbled across something. Sport & Drama. The two things that, a few years back, were the only things I lived for, all in a single degree in a place a fair way from home in a major English city where the activity will be buzzing. All of a sudden, it sounds perfect. What has just happened?

I've made an enquiry. E-mailing them, hopefully getting a reply soon. Surely it's all too late? The course would start in a few weeks.. How would I get everything sorted? How would I sort things out with work? How would I get the finance and accomodation to make something of myself up there? So many questions, and like I said, what if it's just a rush of blood? A rush of energy to delete this boredom I've felt all night. What if I bottle it? But, surely I have to take a risk? Stop myself from shrinking even more into my shell..

Ha! It doesn't matter now. I've just been told I missed the deadline by 24 hours. Excitement over. Back to boredom. Maybe next year, but by then, I'd have lost all will power..

Never mind.

Cya x