Well, its official, I am packed and off to Uni tomorrow. The only thing not packed at the moment is my laptop, as I need to use it before I pack it to write this post.

Thanks to facebook, I have already met 3/4 of my fellow flatmates. They all seem really nice, although there is a possibility they could *turn* once I have met them in real life, although I am hoping like insanity that this is not the case. I’m sure it won’t be.

Flatmate 1 seems to be very much like me, a fellow webby geek and animal lover + chocoholic, which is always good.

Flatmate 2 also seems very easy to talk to, seems a real girly girl but really into horror films…surely this is an oxymoron! She is doing computing science, not computer science. Still don’t know the difference between the two but sure I will find out soon!

Flatmate 3 seems nice, but I haven’t found out much about her yet.

All hail facebook.

I think this could be an all-girl flat by the sounds of things. I will let you lot know how things get on

I may even post a picture of my room…

This is so weird. The last 4 years especially have been building up to this, and on this Sunday it is finally happening.

Move in starts at 10 am. I must admit I am really nervous but at the same time really quite excited!

It will be a chance to study my special interest solidly for 4 years, and also it will be my first taste of any real independence.

drool...

Above are my latest creations. I think they went rather well, although oddly decorated.

New laptop webcam

Hi guys and gals,

Sorry for the wait, but I have been rather busy recently getting ready for uni and all.

I have finally got all of my DSA equiptment. Only after five months. Anyhow. I am typing on my new Toshiba Laptop, and I must say, it is rather sexy, if you can call a laptop sexy that is. That is it. I really am sad.

Anyway. Who knows, when I am at uni, I might treat you all to a Vlog. Maybe not, maybe I will.

Hmmm…

The holiday did have its highlights, which funnily enough were nothing to do with where we went, what we visited and what we ate. No, oddly, it was about what happened on the way back.

The highlights started with the underground car park. I thought I had poor depth perception, but this time my own dad topped it.

Like any other English holiday makers, dad and grandad appreciate French Wine.

To the point of filling up a roof rack full of plastic tanks of the stuff.

Mum usually is a bit funny about underground car parks because she isn’t always convinced that a seven seater with a roof box will fit under the height bars. To the extent that she will even comically crouch (in the car) to avoid the yellow bar, and insist that everybody else does the same. I always try to point out that crouching actually in the car is a pointless exercise, whereas if someone decided to sit on top of the car she might have a point.

Well, to cut the story short, her fears were not unfounded, and we got stuck in the underground car park. We were able to get in, but unfortunately not, out!

This ended up with me, my brother and my grandad following the car in an almost proccession like manner, whilst dad shoved the roof box with a fraction of a millimetre to spare, into the back of the car, in order to escape the car park.

This ended up with us creeping in a starfish like manner, trying to flatten ourselves  against the uphill exit tunnel on the way out, trying to balance on a walkway that, lets face it, had to be designed for a lizard it was so thin. I was particulary pleased at this point that I am a size 10 and actually have relatively slim legs, otherwise there would be every chance that I would probably fall into the windscreen of the nearest car, as my balance isn’t one of my strong points.

God knows what passers by must of thought.

Anyhow, let’s jump to the ferry.

The experience of travelling accross the Channel was rather eventful.

Firstly, there was me, trying not to get quarentined by french border and ferry officials, as I have been having a rather explosive amount of hayfever at the moment. The last thing I needed at night would be to be thrown overboard due to people thinking I had swine flu. Mum kept on hissing ‘Don’t sneeze’. Well, everyone knows what happens when people say this don’t they…that is exactly what I did! I contemplated making it quite obvious with the hope of getting a free cabin for ‘quarentine’ in the rather crowded ferry. Mum told me that this probably wouldn’t be a great idea. It didn’t help thatwas walking around with a tissue almost surgically attached to my face, and the way people stared at me after announcements on the ferry about it.

Then there was my poor brother who gets horrible seasickness. He spent the whole time looking rather green and making numerous amount of trips to the on-board loo, which leads me on to the next ‘event’.

Poor Co-ordination and balance +turberlant ferry crossings are not a good mix for walking ablout on a ferry. The ferry consisted of many inside pillars, which I spent most of the time grabbing on to, as I like to move about when I am travelling. I have this theory that people who spend the time stuck to a chair get seasick, whereas the people who try and attempt to walk about don’t. (i.e. me and dad). Most probably a load of rubbish, but I’m convinced it tricks our bodies somehow.

Anyway. In the middle of the crossing I desperately needed the loo. Normally,going to the loo is OK on a ferry, apart from the magnetic doors that you literally have to force open, and I can normally balance OK if I grip onto something whilst on the loo.  However, this time was different.

The first problem was actually finding a free loo. 99.9 % were occupied and it just wasn’t funny. They smelt of sick and had the sound effects as well. So I decided to use the disabled loo. I have never been so thankful for handrails in my life. The simple act of sitting down and trying not to collaspe in an undignified heap was something of an act that I bet even a talented world class gymnast would find challenging whilst emptying ones bladder on a ferry.

Then there was the door and the lock. Doors are normally ok, but locks are a nightmare. I either lock myself in – something I did at Pizza Express last week, or can’t lock the bloody things at all. The worst thing about this particular one is I was unsure of either, and everytime I heard the slightest creak, or felt the slightest rock, I had visions of the giant thing swinging open to cruelly strip me of any dignity I had at the time and reveal myself to the busy ferry corridor behind it.

Anyway. I’m now home and had a lovely, proper, homemade sunday lunch, and have spent most of the afternoon trying to convince Archie to stop humping hkis bed, and suggested he get into a steady relationship with a good influence of a bitch, instead of getting pleasure from performing intimate actions on inanimate objects, at the grand age of 10 years old. Plus he stole some of mums applecake, which I know is incredibly naughty of him, but to be honest I have given up on telling him off. If telling him off or setting traps were to stop him, it would of happened 10 years ago.  Plus you can’t stay angry with him, he has a habit of melting your heart and getting away with things with his big brown eyes and waggy tail that humans just can’t even attempt to get away with!

I consoled mum with the fact it wasn’t chocolate and the cake was moist and not too dusty cnsidering he had a throat operation 6 weeks ago.

I am home alright!

I am planning to go bearing baked goods, as a result of my slowely improving cooking skills. Mum even said today ‘You are a good cook’ ! My brother, G even now will eat things that I have made. High praise indeed.

I need some ideas.

Also, her boyfriend ‘D’ refuses to eat muffins, but does eat cupcakes. Apart from the fact that the poor lad has got a screw loose, what are the difference between them both?

I now have a family getogether tommorow, which should be fun…Of course mum has packed the fridge with mad amounts of food and I suggested that she needs to treat herself to a commercially sized one or have a room converted into one.

Let me make one thing clear.

If you come to my house: YOU. WILL. NOT. STARVE.

The amount of effort, time and generosity she has put into her food are very apparent.

It would be very easy to ask other people to bring food or get a quiche or two at tesco. This is something I highly admire.

I awoke at 4.51 am and had the sudden realisation, with heart thumping at God knows what pace, that today was the dreaded A-Level Results Day.

Grumbling to myself, I realise that the curtains are now illuminated, and that there was no chance of even getting back to sleep even to pass time.

Firstly, I tried to read a book. It didn’t work well as a distraction, as I got 2 words in and decided that, contrary to what most were saying about UCAS TRACK being only availiable until mid-morning (Which, according to my mum, is 10′O clock in the morning. According to my theory, mid morning is that, mid morning – 6am!) I decided to log onto to Track on my mobile phone at exactly 5 in the morning, hoping in utter desperation that I would be able to magically log in to track at God-knows-what-o-clock in the morning.

So thats what I did. At first, I could only view the ‘Service Suspended’ page, which again had a reminder that it was to update mid-morning.

I feel very silly to say this, but every 3 minutes (that might be slightly over-estimated. It was probably every 3 seconds) from 5 am I refreshed Track.

So thats what I did, until exactly 5.54, Tracks log-in screen finally became availiable. My heart must of been going at a really unhealthy speed because it kept beating erractically until at least 9.15 in the morning! Oh well, I’m still alive and thats what matters…

Anyhow. With trembling hands I first pasted my personal ID in (Yes, I am that sad, I had my PID already copied on my phone in advance…) and filled in my Track Username and Password.

It took about 6 seconds to load, but it felt like six hours. If I had waited any longer I swear I would of had a heart attack because of the suspense!

I looked at the phones screen again and there it was:

“Congratulations, your place at Staffordshire University to study Web Design has been confirmed!”

I looked at the phone again, for a second time, just to check it wasn’t one of those hallucinations people get when they really want things. Like people who get lost in deserts for ages and have visions of Coke vending machines.

So I looked. It was most definately there!

At which point, I screamed “YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! I got in! Igotinigotinigotin…” (Mutiply the decibals in your imagination by a few hundred and you will get there!!).

Funnily enough, at this point, whilst I was about to walk out of the room to shout to the rest of my house and the world my news, I bumped into Mum who was going to check whether I was awake or not. Having heard the good news, we ran down the stairs to tell Dad, who was in his default place (on the downstairs loo) and spent a good 20 minutes shouting, jumping, screaming, crying, screaming and celebrating that I got in! Dad even came off the loo – thats how important it was!

At which point, I asked dad whether it would be mad to drink champagne at quarter past six in the morning. He then replied that it sounded a good idea to mark the event, and managed to produce some Bucks Fizz from the fridge.

At which point, I ran upstairs with the Bucks Fizz, with 3 champagne glasses in hand, and announced what seemed to be from a Little Britain sketch  with “Bubbles De veir” to Mum and Dads bedroom: “Champagne! Champagne! Champagne for everybody! Champagne!”.

George is still asleep at this stage. Then we had a very surreal moment of drinking Bucks Fizz at 6.30 in the morning and phoning round friends and family the good news. Cue all 3 of us sitting with breakfast in bed.

Next I went downstairs to see that again, A-levels were getting berated and bellittled on the news. May I ask anyone who agrees with this argument to take an Edexcel IT exam. They are at least 10 hours and concentrate on purely the back end of databases!

Next, at 9.30, we set off (Me and Mum) to collect my A-Level results.

I first went in at 9.40 to see if I could collect them. Too early. Go back to mums car.

Mum: “Go on, I bet you they will give you them now!”

Me: “No. I am waiting until 10. Results day is not the time or date for small talk. Invaribly there will be someone celebrating with at least 3 As (*COUGH* DAVE 1 *COUGH* Dave 2 *COUGH* GEEKS*COUGH*) or there will be someone who has failed epically.

Mum: Go on….

Me: *sigh*

So I go in.

I wait in the queue for my results. I then grab the envelope off the nice lady and run like a madman (or lady) out the common room, out the corridor, out the school and into mums car.

I stare at the envelope, as if I’m sizing it up for a fight.

Preparing myself for the worst, of getting the minimum grades of DDE (160 points) to get into Stafford, I open the envelope.

After looking through the pieces of paper (Which take at least 5 minutes to be deciphered…), it turns out that I got:

IT: B

Web/Multimedia module: A (92/100)

Project Management: A (83/100)

Database Exam: E (47/100…or something similar!)

Media: C (13 marks off a B!)

Audience/Representation: A  (93/100)

Billy Elliot/This is England Essay: B (can’t remember)

Coursework: C(“”)

Product Design: D

Design: E

Making: E

Exam: D

I was very chuffed with my two ICT coursework modules – 1 being 8 marks off full marks, and also one of Media exams – 1 being 7 marks off full marks (where I ranted on about the BBC being biased torwards the goverment and swine flu scares being immoral panics, and continuing terrorist scares being reported  to mantain control over its people.). I have learnt the formula to Media Exams – RANT, RANT and RANT again. You will be highly  rewarded. They must of obviously agreed with me!

Staffordshire University here I come! I can’t wait!

I am rapidly losing hope with student finance and the way they handle DSA applications. (Disabled Students Allowence)

I have had promise after promise that they will call me, to no avail. So I have sent off yet ANOTHER email of complaint.

GAH.

Today I went to feed the dog and left his bowl of food on the worktop, me thinking I had put it down for him and then I decided to go and have a lie down.

Mum: ” You’ve not put Archies food down! Its still on the countertop!”

As if on cue, dog drools a big puddle of slobber on the floor.

I look. Dog is staring forlornly and very intently at dog dish, willing it to somehow fall into the depths of his mouth and looking at me appealing for me to take the appropiate action. I put dog dish on floor. Dog satisfied, whilst probably thinking deeply about the stupidity of the humans in his “pack”. Or rather, that one is slowly losing her marbles very rapidly in the run up to results day. Dog wags tail and snuggles up to me forgivenly, as if he always knew this day would come…

Anyhow. I have also taken up a bit of cookery to keep me occupied, and have so far cooked this week:

- One Carbonara

- One Puschenestca (sp?)

- Two batches of apricot cookies

- One batch of cupcakes

- One Batch of blueberry muffins

What should I do tommorow?

I have 8 days until I turn into a complete and utter quiverring wreck.