Whitby

Went to Whitby on the train with my mam and auntie on Saturday. It was pretty good, the weather was a bit shabby, it was fucking freezing, that was the worst bit, we got rained on once but not for long so that wasn't too bad. Here's us on the train ride there. My mam, followed by me and my auntie.






When we got there, we found this ace junk shop, I could have stayed in there for hours but I could tell it wasn't really the adults scene so we only stayed long enough for me to snap these cheeky snaps. I believe it was called the stonehouse emporium, on skinner street.




Generally had a bit of a mooch about, y'know. There is a polar bear in Whitby, true story. Not sure why its above a Holland and Barrats, I think it used to be a toy shop.

Other things we did included having dinner, more mooching, spending not as much time as I would have liked in the arcades, I won a little car filled with sherbet and a plastic mobile phone that had a pinball game in one side and sweets that were like nerds in the other. Well worth £1 in two pences. All of which I didn't take pictures of.

By this time the weather was going a bit crazy, the tide was really high and the sea was more rough than I've ever seen it there, it was quite scary. In hindsight I really wish we'd have gone closer to other end of the seafront and got some great picures, but I didn't think of this at the time cause it was bloody cold and we were on the way to catch the last train and didn't have time. Here's some windy pictures before we had to shoot off home-

And one where I'm not sharing the shot with a massive bin.

Thank my auntie for the great framing skills

Insane sea conditions-

Click this one for bigger, the waves are pretty cool closer up.

And of course, even though we didn't climb up to it this time, you can't really go to Whitby without taking a picture of the abbey. It must have been very pretty, once upon a time.

Just after taking that picture it was time to get the train home. I don't want to write too much about it cause I'll end up going on about it for ages and it pissed me off enough at the time. I'll write a separate blog about it another time maybe. Basically loads of drunk people got on the train, were dead noisy, had 2 proper fist fight brawls, close to where we were, we had to move. Train stopped in the middle of nowhere where yet another fight broke out. We waited for police/transport police who did fuck all when they arrived. Waste of time. Got home late, blah blah.

But anyway, here's the last few pictures of the train, before everything went mental.
I bought two amazing hats in a charity shop for £1 each. More on that later.

Done and done.

Glove love

Regarding the aforementioned carpet of junk that is my bedroom floor, allow me to explain that recently I had been pondering re-arranging my bedroom. I really did love having my bed next to the window, the bed having two mattresses brought it exactly up to window level and it was generally quite good. Except that it didn't fit into the alcove behind the bed cause it was only a few annoying inches too big. But I didn't wanna be near the window anymore cause it was getting cold, the weather, and I was paranoid about spiders getting in (Ha!) And generally I was a bit itchy for a change. So I mentioned it in passing to my mam last week, and before I know it, we're in, lugging wardrobes and clothes and boxes and all sorts, in and out of the room.

The basics are in, but I'm trying to get rid of junk I don't need but haven't thrown away before now. I'm a bit of a hoarder though, so its turned out to be harder and take longer than I thought. The first night of trying this, instead of making progress I somehow managed to make even more work for myself. I'll get there eventually, but at the moment my floor isn't very visible and its hard to walk around.

Anyway, in the big clean up effort I found these gloves I used to have when I was a kid. Only one of them, but I'm sure the other is close by. They are way too small now though, but I think they're the best gloves ever.

Spider

Spider, singular. At least I'm really really hoping its singular spider.
So there I was merrily stepping over the carpet of junk that is my bedroom floor (more on that later) in the dark, when suddenly I notice a dark spot on the wall/ceiling that I never noticed before. I'm really really hoping it is just a blotch that I've never taken notice of before, but in my heart, I know its not. So I put the light on, and yes, my worst fears are confirmed, that is a rather sizable spider up there.

Great. I have a little look, it doesn't look too bad. This situation made me realise that I've never seen a medium sized spider, they are always either about the size of a 5p, or MASSIVE. Anyway, at first I thought it was in the 5p sized category, I'm a lot closer to the floor than I am to the ceiling though, and further gawping reveals that its actually a MASSIVE one. Goddamn. It was getting pretty late and I had been about to get into bed. If it was a 5p size I would have just thought fuck it, and not been too fussed. But this one. I spent a lot of time debating what to do. I had only just noticed it, how long had it been there? Why hadn't I noticed it before? Has it been there all day?

In the end, I pussy out and sadly decide to retreat to the safety of the spare room. That is until I get in there and discover that its fucking freeeezing cold, because the window has been open for ages. Also the dog is laid on the bed, and the bed is quite hairy and she looked so sweet and comfy. After this dilemma, I decide to go back to my own room, I hate the big spider, but I hate the cold more. When I get back to my room and reassess the spider, I momentarily change my mind and wonder if there is any way around the spare room glitches. I change my mind again and decide there isn't. The spider hasn't budged. Then I get a hit of bravado, I'm not being pushed out of my room by a spider. The bravado retreats and I start thinking, maybe I should sleep with the light on? Spiders don't like light. Then I get a bit more hardcore again and think about how ridiculous the whole thing is, and just get into bed already. I try not to think about waking up in the morning and finding the spider next to me on my pillow. Or waking up in the night with it trying to crawl into my ear. I turn the light on and off a few times, to see if it runs away in the dark. It doesn't. So I go to bed. I slept on the edge. The spider was close to my bed see, and if it had fallen off, it would have landed on the other end of it. I'm not sure I actually got any sleep, it didn't feel like it.

When my alarm goes off at 7am, the first thing I do I look at the spot. Sure enough, the spider is gone. Shit. Not long after I find it again, still way out of reach, but at least its gone in the right direction along the ceiling, the right direction being the opposite direction of me.

Yick. I get dressed quickly, keeping one eye on the spider most of the time, and leave the house all day for a trip to Whitby. I have a nice day free of spider free thoughts. Upon returning to the bedroom after getting in quite late, the spider is gone again. I'm just looking around seeing if I can spot it anywhere, when I hear my mam shout from half way up the stairs, "Bianca, I think I've found your spider".
Turns out it was on the dining room door, and even bigger up close. Fortunately it was on the move and when it got to the floor I managed to glass it.



And that concludes the spidery tale, I hope. I hope they are one and the same spider, cause if not I probably have one still in my room, somewhere.

unemployment

So I don't know if I already wrote about this on here, but I had a job interview for/at clintons cards the other week.
I say "interview" but it was actually a "group assessment" or as I like to call them "make a fucking twat out of yourself session".
We had to build card houses, do a little maths test, then the worst part was they made us all go down into the store and mill about to "show them what customer service was", which was fucking horrendous, and basically meant walking up to people in the shop and pestering them. It was a Wednesday afternoon, the shop wasn't even that busy and there were 7 of us interview morons stalking what few customers were in the place. I would have no problem offering people help if I actually worked in the place(and they actually asked for or wanted it), but at an "interview/session" I felt like an absolute dick. Needless to say, I failed this part miserably.

At the end the woman really really hammed it up, how brilliant and marvellous and solar system bendingly fantastic we had all been and how terribly hard it was going to be to make a decision.
So I expected to hear from them a little bit sooner than 8 days later. Obviously by the first day or two it was pretty obvious I wasn't in luck, fair enough, but it pissed me off that she said they'd send letters out, after hamming it all up so much, that I had to wait so long for the reject letter.

Anyway, in conclusion, I am never attending a group session interview ever again because they are bullshit. Thanks clintons for making me make a knobhead out of my self, for making me traipse to middlesbrough for fuck all, for wasting 2 hours of my life, for making me wait over a week to let me know you didn't want me, for making me buy shit interview clothes that I needn't have bothered with when I'm already fucking skint.

And by the way, what my favourite film is has no bearing on a job interview, and I lied when telling you the dreamers was my favourite film because "what it said about me" was that I liked french things. Actually what it says about me is that I want to bone Louis Garrel, and Eva Green makes me question my sexuality. Maybe if I'd told the truth, I'd have got the job?!

Month..middle?

Month 2/3rds more accurately, but ohh well. I just realised how much I've slowed the blog down, which is a shame. I still like it. I'll try harder to write more stuff.

Its 8 days until my birthday. I'll be 24, I really don't want to admit it, but I'm pretty sure that counts as mid twenties. I don't really have any more to add, because I really don't know what to think of it all. I'll form an opinion later.

I've got writers block. Blog writers block, letter writers block, diary writing block. Its most unpleasant, and possibly means my life is getting even more uninteresting. Or maybe it just means I'm getting worse at writing, ha.

Anyway no worries. At least I've still got my health, and all my limbs.

Today was cold, yesterday was cold. Like cold-cold. Like I wore my thermal long john type things under my jeans the past two days running cold. Like I wore a woolly hat today cold, like when I'm sitting on my bed the last few nights cold, I can feel it seeping through my single-glazed window and throwing out a gentle but icy draft. Its been a while since I felt the cold from the out side making its way inside. Probably time to move the bed away from the window. I'm definately due a bedroom re-arrange.

So basically I can't think of anything interesting to put, I have some pictures that I wanted to post but my camera is out of my reach and I can't be bothered to get up for it. I'll do it in the next post, and leave off this one with a list of things that I've been enjoying the last couple of days/weeks

• Beirut
• Edith Piaf
• Australian crunchies
• Rafael Nadal
• Big coats
• Ross Noble
• Bargain scarf

That about covers it. More interesting content next time (if you're lucky)