New Year's Eve: A Family Affair

Happy 2015! Christmas officially feels as though it never happened. It came and went so quickly that I still have a bottle of Winter Jack out in the kitchen that I didn't even get a chance to open. My head is still spinning and there's nothing but a few leftover chocolates and a lingering feeling of exhaustion to suggest that Christmas ever happened at all.

And now suddenly it's 2015. I'm glad. 2014 was an odd year for me, almost like a stopgap, which went by in a blur of confusion and, as we went from November to December, I was happy to get the last few dregs of the year over and done with and start on a new one. I had my annual, "Next year I will sort out my life and transform myself into a wonderful, fully-functioning grown-up human being" pep talk and, after that, New Year's couldn't come quickly enough.

Prepare Yourselves for Food Envy: Pizza Express Review!

It seems like it's been a good while since I wrote my last post so I apologise to those of you who use this blog as a means of procrastination. I know there are quite a lot of you. I get stopped by drunken people I I've never met before in Timepiece and Arena who tell me my blog posts are their favourite distraction from revision or dissertation writing, which I love. It's kind of like being a really low grade celebrity. In a really low grade club. But then they ask me about the Beacon and I have to explain my break up story to someone I've never met before when I'm half a bottle of whisky worse off than I probably should be. I don't know what it is about the queue in the women's bathroom, but I always get into the most in-depth conversations with people.

Anyway, on a less irrelevant note, I got an email from someone at Pizza Express a few weeks ago, inviting me to go and sample their new lunch menu and write up a review on it. So, I made time in my crazy schedule, jam-packed as it is with dissertation-writing and napping, to stuff my face. I know, I know, my life's a chore.

I invited Hayleigh to come along with me. She was impressed with my promotion to official-one-day-pizza-sampler.

"They invited you to sample the menu? Wow! Your blog is practically a real job!" 

"I would totally do a full-time job that paid me in pizza" I told her. "...I just don't think my mother would accept rent in edible form."

So we headed over to the Swansea Pizza Express on Friday. Despite my sordid love-affair with pizza, I'd never been to Pizza Express so the review that follows is my honest opinion from the point of view of a brand new customer. 

Firstly, I want to admit that I went there with every intention of making healthy choices. What with my new diet, training for the 5k, and bikini season lurking on the horizon, I've actually been converted into a salad-eater of late. I'm never going to be particularly enthusiastic about carrot sticks, but I'm trying my best to make good choices. And really, there was no excuse for me not to be healthy because the lunch menu has all kinds of salads and soups. But I caved and had a pizza. And dough-balls. And a chocolate fudge cake. 

But first, let me start by saying that I really liked the place itself. It wasn't at all what I expected of a pizza restaurant. I'm not entirely sure what I did expect, but the picture I had in my head wasn't nearly as nice. Plus they had a bar stocked with Jack Daniels. I'm quick to notice the most important things first. Overall, great first impression.

Our waiter was friendly, (albeit probably a little confused by the obsessive way I was making notes) and the food came quickly. And now I will attempt to describe how delicious my pizza was. I had the Pollo ad Astra, which was just a little spicy and entirely yummy. It was the perfect size for lunchtime and the base was thin and crispy and...I just want another one right now. Like I said, I'm a pizza lover. It's my favourite food. So when I hold my hands up and say a pizza was particularly scrumptious, I have a lot of experience to back that up. I also had dough-balls on the side on Hayleigh's recommendation, which were nice. 

Hayleigh, on the other hand, actually was healthy and went for the Leggera Superfood Salad, which she said was lovely. Looking back, I should have tried some, partly for a more well-rounded review and partly because I had a little food envy. I actually looked like a meal rather than a plate of leaves, which, let's face it, is a big deal for a salad.  

"absolutely, bring on the cake"

When we had scraped our plates (literally) our waiter came over to clear everything away.

"Would you like to review the desert menu too?" He asked.

The answer to that question was and will always be, 'absolutely, bring on the cake'.

Cue me making my way through a generous slab of chocolate fudge cake with ice cream. It It was well worth however many million calories I had to go and burn off afterwards. Hayleigh had the cheese cake (again, why did I not steal it off her plate for the good of the review?) which looked delicious. She had nothing but good things to say about it. And, yet again, we both ate every mouthful. Walking back to the car I was so full I literally had cramp in my side.
was...perfect. I really think I can honestly say it was the best chocolate fudge cake I've ever had (and, trust me, there have been many servings of chocolate fudge cake in my life). It wasn't heavy or sickly like some of them can be.

So I give the new Pizza Express lunch time menu two very enthusiastic thumbs up. I was surprised at the prices considering how tasty the food is and how decent the portion sizes are. Hayleigh and I will definitely be making another trip. Maybe next time we'll dip into the Jack Daniels too.

Check out the menu for yourself!

All the Random Details of my Life: The Liebster Award

Let's make the most of the fact that for first time in a week I can get internet in my room and write a blog post. Yesterday my housemate Jess, the blogger behind Mismatched Knitwear, tagged me to do the Liebster Award. I have no idea who or what Liebster is, but these are the rules...

1. Include a link to the blog that tagged you.
2. Share 11 facts about yourself (11 seems like an odd number, but I'll roll with it)
3. Answer 10 questions put to you by the person who tagged you
4. Make up 10 new questions and tag some more bloggers to answer them.

Confused? I am...

11 Facts About Me

1. I have a crippling fear of cows. I don't know whether is the slow, lumbering way they move or the evil that is clearly lurking in their eyes, I am just terrified. Once, when I was younger, I was on a walk with my father when I noticed a cow lurking in the bushes. I screamed and fled and have never walked down that path again. To this day my father insists that the cow was just standing there, but clearly it was up to something malicious.
2. I am left handed. Let's just put that one out there now because I'm sick of people I've known for years randomly shrieking one day, "You're left handed? Since when?" Since birth. Let's all accept it and move on.
3. When I was born I was a jaundice baby. For those of you who don't know, jaundice is a pretty common condition in newborns that turns your baby an attractive yellow colour. The doctor told my mother to make sure I got plenty of sunlight to make it disappear faster. When I was a few days old my Nanna dropped by to check up on us, only to find my mother had left me out in the garden to bake in the noonday September sun in some kind of attempt to cook the jaundice out of me. My Nanna quickly pointed out that this was probably not what the doctor had had in mind.
4. My favourite food is Dominos. I know my dad is right when he says it tastes like cardboard, but I just can't get enough!
5. Most nights I dream about Disney World. I don't particularly spend a lot of time thinking about Disney World when I'm awake, but it somehow always manages to find a way to creep into my dreams. Usually I'm rushing to see the parade or meet Belle and recently my dream-self has spent a lot of time trying to get onto It's A Small World, which, for some reason, has an entryway so small you have to crawl through it. If any medical professionals would like to offer an opinion on what on earth is going on in my brain, please feel free.
6. I'm a godparent to both my niece and nephew. No one actually ever mentioned this to me and it was a bit of a shock when the vicar asked all the godparents to step forward. The first I knew of it was when my mother poked me in the back and hissed, "Move, that's you."
7. I don't like gravy. Go ahead and judge.
8. I love Halloween. Ever since I was little my dad made a big deal of it. It started out with him making a few creepy decorations and screwing in coloured bulbs. Eventually it got to the point where our entire house would be transformed, inside and out. One year complete strangers dropped by to take pictures of it (Halloween isn't a big deal in the UK like it is in the US...except in my house). Some of my best memories are of Halloween and now that I'm a grown up it's my job to scare Ellis and Lauren.
9. My eyes are so big that my eyelids don't cover them when I blink. I need eyedrops. Yes, I'm a freak.
10. I am pretty much always cold. There are not enough layers in the world to get me through winter in my student house and, when I'm at home, I have to put the heating on full and curl up next to the radiator while everyone else slowly melts.
11. I organise my wardrobe by colour and I am in no way ashamed of this.

Jess' Questions

1. Where did the name for your blog come from?
I don't particularly like the name of my blog. It just kind of happened. I wanted to start writing about all the random stuff that was going on in my brain and didn't have the patience to sit and think about the fundamentals of the blog itself.
2. What was the last thing you ate?
Bran Flakes. Is there a more boring food?
3. What is the weirdest thing someone has searched for to find your blog?
I always hear these great stories about the weird and wonderful keywords that can lead to your blog. Unfortunately, the only thing anyone has ever searched to find me is twentyoddball.
4.What is the first thing you do when you get up in the morning?
I'm judging myself right now, but the first thing I do is look at my phone to see if the Beacon has text me. Loser!
5. What was the last GOOD film that you watched?
I watch a lot of bad films. The other day Kirsty and I watched Boogeyman 3. I can't imagine how Boogeyman 1 and 2 proved so popular that it was necessary to make a third, but it does exist. The last good film I watched was Frozen. I loved that, Tangled, and the Princess and the Frog. Finally Disney are making good films again!
6. What was you New Year's resolution? Have you stuck to it so far?
My resolution this year was a bit of a tricky one. Basically it was to get my life together. Get more organised, spend less time in bed, get fit and healthy, stop wasting so much money and so on. I've definitely improved in some areas, but it's an ongoing process. That's how I can justify being in bed right now.
7. What is the 'go-to' song on your Ipod?
Oh Jess, why would you ask this? Generally speaking, I refuse to let my Ipod embarrass me.  I fully admit that my music tastes are...individual and varied. I'm aware that the amount of Britney Spears is probably disturbing for some people and the lack of house music or whatever annoying noise my housemates listen to probably makes me very uncool.
But I am ashamed to admit that recently my go-to song has been my 4 year old niece's favourite, LOL by Isabella Barrett and Eden Wood. I need to link the video so you can see why it grieves me, but be warned. It will be stuck in your head forever.

8. If you could pass 1 law right now, what would it be?
Twentyoddball is not the place we go to to talk politics so I'm not going to give this much serious thought. I do think they should ban airbrushing because if you've seen that weird gif that's going around the internet of a model being 'touched up' you'll know how freaky it all is.

9. What is your proudest achievement?
Tough question! Probably winning a Blue Peter badge. My dad used to tell me that when he was little he'd always wanted one. I didn't tell anyone I was submitting anything and when I won and they sent me the badge I felt so proud that I could give it to my dad and he could finally have his own. He still has it framed in his bedroom.
10. Tell us an embarrassing story.
My life is just a series of embarrassing stories! Where to even begin?
When I was in my first year of uni I lived at the bottom of Cardiac Hill, which, if you can imagine, if even worse than it sounds. One day I had a 9am seminar (boo!) and I hadn't felt too great when I first got up. But I ate some breakfast, packed my bag, and made my way up the hill. Then I got to the top...and collapsed. No one seemed particularly bothered about my being sprawled on the grass with by head in my bag, but I did get a few funny looks when I came to and had to lay on the floor for 15 minutes before I could walk back home. I did not enjoy that.

Ok, so now I have to tag some bloggers to answer some questions of my choosing (all of which will probably be totally bizarre).
So Bethan Jane and Ashleigh, it's all on you.

1. What's at the top of your wishlist right now?
2. What was your most ridiculous hairstyle?
3. What would be your plan of action in a zombie apocalypse?
4. What's your signature dish?
5. What was the most random thing that happened in 2013?
6. Do you still sleep with a teddy? (I won't deny that I am guilty of this)
7. If you had to be a Muppet, which Muppet would you be?
8. What has been your best ever bargain?
9. What is your weird food addiction?
10. What is the worst item of clothing/outfit you own?

So there we are Liebster, whoever you are. I hope that's done to your satisfaction.

The Beacon in Wales: Part 2

I didn't intend to keep you in suspense for so long, but this week has been challenging to say the least. We aren't even a month into 2014 and I've been hit with a kidney infection, the horror of navigating the university mitigation process, some kind of strange stress induced rash on my hands, and, when all was said and done, I was too ill to sit the exam anyway. Now I'll have to come all the way back up to Exeter in August to sit it. As you can imagine, I'm currently writing this through the haze of last night's Scotch. I cried, I drank, I watched Mulan, and now I feel somewhat better.

"Why did I agree to come here?"

Anyway, this is not going to be a 'woe is me' post. This is picking up from where I left off in my last post. The Beacon and I had checked out of our hotel and were heading to my parents' house in Port Talbot. One of the striking things about approaching from Port Talbot from the east is that the first thing you're hit with is the sight of the steelworks. Unless, that is, you are hit with the smell first. For anyone who lives there it's a strangely comforting sight. "Yes! Home at last." For everyone else it must be slightly disturbing. "Why did I agree to come here?"

The Beacon only said that it was strange that people lived right next door to it. And right next door to the motorway. And in houses that seemed to be built practically on top of one another. In Wales our houses are generally small and squashed together. We're only a teeny tiny country after all.

Once the Beacon had been introduced to my parents and shown to the 'spare room' (which is so small that once he put his suitcase in there all the floor space vanished), we sat down in the living room and my parents tried to give off an air of normality. My mother was talking in her telephone voice so the Beacon would have half a chance of deciphering her accent.

That evening we went to the local pub, the Tyn y Twr, or 'tiny tour' if you're the Beacon. It was there that the Beacon first met my brother.
"Bonjour!"
Great, he's drunk.
I had to later assure the Beacon that it wasn't just the accent. In fact, none of us had understood very much of what he'd said. But such is the beauty of New Year I guess.

"we were very cultured"

The next day we were very cultured and went to the Penderyn Distillery for a tour of Wales' only distillery. I would highly recommend it. It was cheap to get in, it was interesting, the staff were lovely (obviously, they were Welsh) and the free samples at the end were in no way stingy. The only downside was the Beacon constantly asking me to translate the Welsh signs into English, despite the fact that there was already an English translation printed below. And I haven't spoken Welsh since I finished school. My brain didn't seem to understand what I was trying to make it do.

We were intending to continue along the cultural side of things the next day, but the mine in The Big Pit was under construction and it was too wet, windy, and cold to venture to St Fagans so we went to see the new Disney film, Frozen, instead. Not particularly Welsh admittedly, but it was so great. Even though we were the oldest people there. And the bad weather had messed with the ventilation systems in the cinema. I'm sure the cold would have been more bearable if we weren't watching a film about snow. As it was, even with my coat and scarf on, I felt like I had somehow become part of the film.

That night my parents threw a party. There was no way they could convincingly disguise the fact that it was in fact an excuse for my entire nosy family to meet the Beacon up close and personal, but he handled it very well. Even when my mother's friend got drunk and told him she loved him...4 times. And when my niece wrapped herself around his leg and refused to let go. It takes a special kind of person to make it through these kinds of family functions with their sanity still in tact. I barely made it myself, having to crawl into bed at 3am while my auntie and the Beacon continued to discuss why the Americans consider the Brits rude and why we, in turn, perceive them as slightly crazy.

The next day was questionably even stranger. We visited my brother's house, where my niece, still at the height of her affections, would not let the Beacon out of her sight and randomly adopted an American accent. Then of course, she donned her Toddlers and Tiaras dress I made her for Christmas and danced to Eden Wood songs for 20 minutes, insisting that we "keep watching" and "act surprised".

That night we went to Cinnamon, which is a fairly new Indian restaurant near where I live. The food is amazing and it would have been nice to take a romantic stroll along the seafront afterwards. As is was, we valued our lives too much. The weather was like something out of The Day After Tomorrow. So we just headed home.

And all too quickly came Sunday 5am and a trip back to Bristol airport. Luckily this time my father drove, but the Beacon refused to let me sleep on his shoulder. He said I should get used to early mornings. I am not willing to even count 5am as morning. It was still dark.

I can't say I miss being woken up at 9am by the Beacon shouting in my face to see how much he can make me jump. Or the annoying way he pronounces aluminium. Or the criticisms on my cooking (my toast was perfectly fine, thank you very much). Or the crowd we seemed to attract every time we left the house ("Oh, is this the American we've heard so much about?"). But I do miss the Beacon. And watching the amusing way my niece followed him all over the house. But, next time I guess, is Germany.

The Beacon in Wales: Part 1.

It's 2014! In the immortal words of Abba, 'happy New Year! May we all have our hopes, our will to try. If we don't we may as well lay down and die.' Uplifting.

"I spent the countdown to 2014 with the Beacon."

Usually I'm not a big fan of New Year, partly because it's the most expensive night out of the year and partly because it is the official marker for when I have to stop stuffing my face with leftover Christmas chocolate. But I spent the countdown to 2014 with the Beacon and a room full of people over the age of 50, which, weird as it may have been, was pretty fantastic.

Yes, the Beacon came to stay with me in my parents' house over New Year, and yes, there was drama before he even managed to step foot in the country. He was meant to fly into Bristol on the 30th, which was also his birthday, but due to delays he missed his connection and ended up stranded in Amsterdam overnight. I'm sure there are worse places for a man to spend his birthday. ("Birthday or not, no prostitutes sweetie.") I'd booked us a hotel in Bristol as his birthday present and, after eventually deciding better of turning up by myself and getting hammered in the room by myself, I spent my evening pouting under a blanket. The only plus side was that my mother felt sorry for me and bought me a pizza.

Since the last time I was home, my 2001 Ford KA has gotten mysteriously moldy on the inside, and hopping into it at 6:15am to drive to the airport before the sun was up or I had mustered the strength to apply mascara was a challenge. But I stuck to the usual early morning driving routine. Stick Collin the SAT-NAV on and argue with him the entire way between singing at the top of my voice to keep myself awake. And despite the fact that the weather was practically apocalyptic, I made it.

I decided to take the Beacon into Cardiff so he could see the capital city of Wales. In fact, I generously gave him a scenic tour because I got lost trying to find a car park and we drove around in circles for over an hour. He only found the Millennium Stadium impressive the first 2 times we drove past it. That said, he was very excited when he spotted Glam, having watched the entire second season of MTV's The Valleys. When we finally parked, I was in charge of choosing somewhere to eat lunch so naturally we ended up in that traditional Welsh institution...T.G.I Friday's. The Beacon soon got over his initial objections after knocking back a few house cocktails. In fact he ended up completely hammered, mumbling about how creepy the dolls in the Disney Store were. It wasn't even midday at this point.

We had booked to spend New Year in Bryn Meadows, a posh hotel in Caerphilly with a golf course, a spa, a pool, a bed big enough for the Beacon to escape from my cwtches during the night, and a TV in the bathroom. It was beautiful! And so, after getting out of the torrential rain, and dumping our bags down we did what any star-crossed lovers kept apart by the British Channel would do when finally alone. We napped until it was time to get ready for the New Year party.

After surveying our fellow guests and feeling an initial concern that we would be the only people under the age of 60, we made our way through the free champagne and canapes. The Beacon had no idea what the word canape meant and even if he had he couldn't understand a word any of the waitresses said anyway.
"Would you like a canape?"
"Sorry, what was that?"
"Do you want any canapes?"
"Wait...what?"
"Do you want canapes?"
"I'm sorry..."
"Canapes!" I broke in. "It's tiny food!"

Looking back, the canapes were probably a bad idea considering they were followed up by a 7 course meal. In the end it was almost painful.

1. Salmon with little pieces of bread and salad.

"They were in fact sugar cubes."

2. Mushroom soup - this one sticks in my mind the most because once I'd eaten all of my croutons I took a handful from a bowl in the middle of the table. They were in fact sugar cubes. I made some very interesting faces during that discovery.
3. For some reason neither of us could remember what this was. Maybe we were so full at the end that we started repressing the memories.
4. Haggis with mashed swede and potato. This was my favourite course so it's a good thing I didn't ask the waitress what it was until I had finished it because there is no way I would have knowingly shoveled innards into my mouth.
5. Steak with side plates of vegetables and potatoes. By this point I was starting to feel overwhelmed.
6. Chocolate brownies with clotted cream.
6.5. Casual plate of chocolate covered fruit slices because obviously 7 courses wasn't enough and we needed this little extra in between.
7. The cheese platter. I couldn't even bring myself to look at it. I had been well and truly defeated by the sheer overwhelming amount of food.

As I had a feeling it would be slightly inappropriate to just collapse across the table in a food comma in such a classy establishment, I attempted to dance it off. Second bad idea of the night (well, third if you count the crouton/sugar cube fandango). A good life tip is to never follow up 7 courses of food with any kind of fast movements. Before we even reached 11pm the Beacon and I were sprawled out in the lobby while people 3 times our age who had clearly never heard of the likes of Robin Thicke, were up dancing to the greatest hits of 2013.

Unable to keep up with the pace of our fellow guests, we made friends with the staff. What I mean by that is that the teenage waitresses all but collapsed at the Beacon's feet and practically fell over each other to laugh at his jokes. The Beacon put it down to his 'charming' American accent. Clearly it had nothing to do with the fact that he's 6 foot tall, gorgeous, and was the only man in the room under the age of 40.

"No celebration is complete without a ridiculous hat."

And so I spent the first few minutes of 2014 dancing with the Beacon and pretending to know the words to Auld Lang Syne whilst wearing a ridiculous hat. No celebration is complete without a ridiculous hat. It was a far cry from the way I ushered in 2013, outside Shaun's father's house, banging a saucepan with a wooden spoon while Jordan David ran around the street in nothing but his boxers. Some might say that this New Year was a somewhat classier affair.

But by 12:30am the early morning, seemingly endless drive through Cardiff, devouring of somewhere in the region of 1 million calories, and dancing like loons to the Motown supermix, had left us exhausted. I am not even ashamed that the oldies were still shaking it out on the dance floor while I was in tucked up in my reindeer pjs. In honesty, I am slightly ashamed that, despite our early night, we still managed to sleep through our complimentary breakfast. Slightly ashamed, but in no way surprised.

From Caerphilly we headed to my hometown of Port Talbot, where by this point, the Beacon-related hype had spread so far around town, that I wouldn't have been too surprised if we had been greeted by the mayor. But before the Beacon could do his meet and greets with the ever-growing list of people desperate to catch a glimpse of this mysterious American, he had to meet my crazy family...

The Weirdness that was my 2013!

At the risk of sounding like someone's great aunt, time really does fly. I can't get my head around the fact that 2013 is about to come to an end. It has been a fantastic year for me! I'm partly sad to see the back of it, but partly excited to see what kinds of adventures 2014 will bring. 

My Year in Pictures!

 I thought I'd do a review of the year with a little questionnaire, all about my 2013.

What was your favourite memory of 2013?

How can I even choose? This year has been crammed full of great memories. Over 20 of us went on a family holiday to Greece this summer. A particular highlight was when my sister-in-law and I drunkenly hid behind a tree to make bird noises at the others, totally oblivious to the fact that everyone could blatantly see our heads over the branches. The joke was on us as they sat, silently judging us. But my absolute favourite part of the year was the Eurotrip I took with my friends, Hayleigh and Bethan. Midnight police raids, humans with gills, giant penises…and that was all before we made it as far as Germany. If you’re intrigued (which you should be) I blogged all about it back in September. Trust me, it’s dramatic.

 What was your most embarrassing moment?

If I allowed myself to feel embarrassed I would have to immediately move to a cave, far from any kind of human contact. My life is just that full of socially awkward situations. I tend to scream at strangers quite often. I’m just so jumpy. If they happen to be on the other side of a door I open, or are within 3 feet of me when I turn around quickly, I scream in their faces. Loudly. And then scurry away with eyes diverted.

What were you most proud of completing?

My 3,000 word Acts of Writing essay. ‘Discuss the spaces in-between identity positions.’ I successfully managed to blag my way through 3,000 words of rubbish during one of the most awful weeks of my university life. For two whole days I didn’t leave my room and by the time I finally finished typing it up I had lost all feeling in my right leg because I’d been sitting down for so long.

What was the biggest risk you took?

Flying to Cologne to meet the Beacon for the first time. In part I was terrified of having a ‘Taken’ type scenario kick off (and it’s safe to say my Dad is no Liam Neeson), and in part I was worried that he would turn out to be a balding, 40 year old man instead of the good-looking guy I remembered. And then there was the risk that he wouldn’t like my shoes…

What was your worst habit this year?

Procrastinating! It is the curse of my life.

What do you wish you had done more of?

Reading for uni. I’m sure it would help with the exam I have next month.

What do you wish you had done less of?

Candy Crush Saga. Why do you plague me?

Have you positively influenced a child this year?

I got my niece a dress like the one she saw Eden Wood wearing in Toddlers and Tiaras…so probably not.

Did you suffer any illness or injury?

Amazingly no! (Although, let’s not tempt fate. The year isn’t over yet.) I am a doctor’s worst nightmare! Between allergies, low iron, and my general poor excuse for an immune system, I was pleasantly surprised to get through the year unscathed.

What was your favourite book?

Gone With the Wind. I’m just waiting for hoop skirts to come back in fashion.

What was your favourite film?

I really haven’t watched many new films this year. I think I only went to the cinema twice, once to see The Conjuring and once to see Disney’s Planes. I didn’t particularly like either of them, although I spent half of one crying into my popcorn and half of the other trying to get Lauren not to throw hers at me.

Describe your style for 2013 in one word.

...Aimee.

How old did you turn on your birthday and how did you celebrate?

I turned 22 and, to celebrate being a very grown up person, I had an Alice in Wonderland tea party. We had cocktails, tea cups, cupcakes, pink flamingos, playing cards, and all things quirky. I loved it!

What was a typical day in 2013?

When I’m in Exeter my average day starts at about noon. If I don’t need to go anywhere then I may or may not change out of my pjs, depending on how zealous I’m feeling. I will typically consume at least one Cup a Soup, crawl into Kirsty’s bed while she’s trying to work, avoid my own work at all costs, and bug the Beacon.

What were you doing most Saturday mornings this year?

Sleeping.

What were you doing at 3pm during the weekdays?

Sleeping.

What were you doing on Sunday evenings?

Napping.

How will you be spending New Year’s?

The Beacon is coming to Wales! I’m not sure if he fully understands what he has let himself in for, between my crazy family, the constant rain, overwhelming number of sheep, and indecipherable accents. But we will be spending New Year’s Eve at a golf club about an hour from where I live, where we will have a meal, entertainment, and copious amounts of alcohol. The next day I’ll be bringing him back to Port Talbot. Pity help him.

What are your New Year’s Resolutions for 2014?

I want to work on my blog next year. I’m finally ready to deal with my technophobia, which means I may also be experimenting with video blogs on Youtube…providing someone can show me how to make that be a thing. And to kick things off I’m going to attempt a January Instagram challenge. It will challenge my technophobia as well as my memory because I’m meant to post a different picture every day. Goodness knows how that will go. But I’d love some new followers (because it’s slightly sad if you’re uploading pictures purely for yourself).

My Instagram name thingy is aimee_oddball

What quote sums up your 2013?

“Guys, would you rather be a fish with lungs or a human with gills?” 

Happy New Year everyone! And if anyone does this New Year review post for yourselves I'd love to take a look. I promise I won't try and copy your answers or anything.

My Christmas Countdown

Well, somehow it's Christmas Eve which is slightly concerning because it feels like only yesterday I was putting up my advent calendar. But the presents are wrapped, the cookies have been baked and the Muppet's Christmas Carol has been watched so I guess there's no denying that it really is Christmas. So I thought I'd mix things up and give you a rundown of my '12 days of Christmas' as a kind of overview of how the festive season has gone so far.

12 Beacon Inquiries...
You really don't realise what a small town Port Talbot is until you come home and everyone knows your business. I seem to have become at least 70% more interesting since my last visit home and the question on everyone's lips is "When's he coming?" And they don't mean Santa!
I was a little surprised when I ran into my cousin a few days ago and she informed me that the entire family had watched a video of the Beacon on Youtube ("Beacon, I'd like to introduce you to my creepy, stalker family"). I was downright confounded when a women I didn't even know tapped me on the shoulder and asked when my 'young man' was flying in from Germany. I suppose in a place where nothing has changed in the last 30 years except the names of the bargain shops, an American pilot from Germany is going to cause a stir. And some doubt apparently.
"I mean, is he even a real person?" Asked my friend, Chris.
Yes! Yes, he really is!

11 Shots of Whiskey...

This year, my best friend, Hayleigh, happened to have her birthday on Black Friday. For those of you who, like the Beacon, have never heard of it, Black Friday is the Friday before Christmas and the basic idea is that people start drinking at 12pm, drink until they can't walk, continue drinking until they can't see, and stumble home the next day somehow or other with little or no dignity. I had no intention of being a part of the madness.
Unfortunately, after a few drinks at Hayleigh's house, my friends decided it was time to head out. Not just out, but into Port Talbot town, which is a great place for a night out...when you're 17. Wetherspoons had to shut midway through the night due to an emergency. No one had a clue what the emergency actually was (although rumours ranged from a cat fight in the toilets to a tragic death) and, try as I might to convince staff that I was a member of the Exeter press and needed the details, no one would tell me anything. The night did not pick up when a 39 year old DJ with a very questionable haircut told me I was 'too old' after I requested a Britney Spears song, and when I found the birthday girl vomiting into a gutter I was ready to call it a night.

10 Yards of Ribbon...
I love wrapping presents. I make my own gift tags, glue on pom-poms and bells, cover everything in glitter, and have perfected the art of ribbon-tying. So my mother kindly left all her wrapping for me to do when I got home from Germany (it has nothing to do with the fact that she hates wrapping and can't do corners properly, I'm sure). Trying to squeeze all that wrapping into a few days was a festive challenge. Perhaps the most stressful part was wrapping my nephews Furby, which my mother insisted had to be wrapped with the batteries already inside. Trying to tie a bow around something that keeps moving around and complaining that it's hungry is not an easy task.

9 Hours of Gluing...
For Christmas my niece wanted a dress like the kind her newest idol, Eden Wood, wears. Naturally, those dresses start at about £200 and the one she had her eye on was going for more like £500. My budget was £30. But, being Super Auntie, I was determined to make it work. I ordered in a cheap dress in the right shape from China and several hundred rhinestones. And so I've spent the last few days peeling super-glue off my fingers and trying to make a replica of the infamous Eden Wood dress. Next year I'm just getting her a Barbie.




8 Dodgy Cookies...
After the carnage that was my attempt to make gingerbread cookies with my niece and nephew last year, we played it safe this Christmas and bought a pack of precooked biscuits with icing and sprinkles to decorate them with. Ellis took the whole thing very seriously. Lauren, on the other hand, covered each of the cookies generously in icing and then licked them clean, one by one. Needless to say, those ones did not make it onto the Christmas tree.

7 Stolen Crackers...
When the children had finished decorating/ destroying the Christmas cookies, they turned their attention to the crackers on the tree. Long story short, we have one Christmas cracker left. And a draw full of tiny sewing kits and keyrings.

6 Secret Santas...

Ok, so this is going back a bit, but before I left Exeter we had a house Secret Santa. In reality it wasn't a secret because Kirsty and Sophie spent weeks figuring out who everyone had. At one point algebra was involved (see, they said it would be useful one day). When I found out that Kirsty was my Secret Santa (long before the present-swapping took place, of course), I was thrilled. I knew I'd be in for a treat because that girl is a talented shopper. And I was not disappointed when I unwrapped my Minnie Mouse slippers, fairy lights, and pink, sparkly hip-flask. Apparently the latter is exactly what I would be if I were an inanimate object. Girlie, over the top, and full of whiskey.


5 Days of Drilling...
As we all know, the best time to do any major remodeling of the house is just before Christmas. That way everyone can enjoy the immense stress, struggle to do DIY during the dark nights that start at 4pm, and postpone putting up any kind of Christmas decorations because a tree is hardly appropriate in a room that has no flooring. Luckily, by the time I got home, the majority of the building work was over and I was able to come home to a beautiful new living room. However, it was slightly inconvenient that for 2 days the only furniture we had was a Christmas tree. But at least it was festive.

4 Quirky Decorations...
While we're on the topic of the Christmas tree, I want to show off the decorations I bought while I was travelling during the summer. Our tree has always been a place for memories and it's full of decorations from all over. Some are particularly ugly. For example, my mother forced me to hang the one I bought in Poland at the back of the tree. But each year she is forced to endure the Christmas decoration she hates above all others. The slightly creepy angel I made for the top of the tree when I was little. I think it's a beautiful tradition. Mam thinks it's some kind of Christmas curse.

"Christmas curse"

3 Thousand Words...
This is basically the point in the blog post where I complain about the fact that I have a 3000 word essay due in January...and an exam. Way to be Scrooges, University of Exeter administrative staff.

2 Crazy Children...
Earlier this evening we called into my brother's house, aka Bedlam. Lauren has turned all of the Christmas trees in the miniature Christmas display upside down. Perhaps it was meant to be some form of protest? I am just grateful that we've made it passed the years when they were babies and there was a threat that they would pee under the Christmas tree...which, unfortunately, did happen one year. Now we just have to keep our fingers crossed that we won't have a repeat of last Christmas Day, when Lauren projectile vomited all over me and the majority of her new toys. Barbie has never been the same.

And a festive photo of me...

Merry Christmas everyone!

The Beacon and the Ball

Guten tag everyone! I would say my mini break in Germany this week has taught me some language skills, but that would be a lie because I stayed in a town that (Wikipedia has led me to believe) has the largest American population outside of the USA. I guess in some ways it was a cultural experience. I learned that Americans don't use duvets (despite the fact that, in my opinion, a bed is simply not a bed without one), picked up a new song called 'Red Solo Cup', which has been stuck in my head for 2 days and is slowly driving me mad, and came to conclusion that eating mac and cheese imported from the US is likely to cut about 5 years off your life expectancy.

"2 delayed flights"

I left Exeter on Friday 13th. My day started at 4:45am after 3 hours sleep, and I was dragging half my body weight in luggage through the city before the sun was up. At one point I was so tired and disorientated that I saw my shadow and literally screamed. Travelling on such an unlucky day, I wasn't surprised when I lost my train ticket and had to buy another one. I was slightly more surprised and considerably annoyed when I realised the man had charged me for 2 tickets. Come on! It isn't as if ticket inspectors work on commission!

After hauling all my bags out of the train station at Bristol (and then back in again to get to the ATM), I held up the shuttle bus by not being able to get my ridiculous case into the luggage rack. At first I was judging every man on the bus for their lack of chivalry, but then I remembered I looked like some kind of half-dead hag and so I couldn't really blame them. After 2 delayed flights and an unpleasant business at the Mac counter in Amsterdam, when the sales assistant kept me waiting for 30 minutes to buy concealer when there was no queue (and she, unlike the ticket inspector, was working on commission, so judge that logic of that for yourselves), I finally got to Frankfurt. By the time I got to Kaiserslautern my impatience with the entire world burned in my eyes and showed through my freshly applied 3 inches of make-up ("Yes, Beacon, I am just naturally this fabulous").

This is just the Beacon, being 'an enigma'

That evening I was thrown in at the deep end, meeting a room full of the Beacon's friends, all of whom enjoyed the novelty of my accent, but could barely understand what I was saying. It took me a while to get over the initial feeling of being in an American sitcom (surely that accent is always followed by canned laughter?), but everyone was lovely and I had a fantastic time. We played some kind of high-tech version of charades on the Ipad called 'Heads Up', which was hilarious. I highly recommend it. Then the Beacon tried to get me to take part in Just Dance on the Wii, which I declined for the health and safety of everyone in the vicinity.

The next evening was the night of the ball. In reality, it wasn't a ball. It was a Christmas party. I just insisted on referring to it as a ball so I could feel like Cinderella. I had sparkly princess shoes and everything! Although I don't recall Cinderella ever sitting on the sink in the bathroom, cursing under her breath at the mangled state of her feet.

Despite the fact that there were no Cliff Richard songs or Christmas crackers, it was so beautiful and festive. And everyone was so nice! I don't think that British people are particularly rude, but we do tend to have that 'British reserve'. We're a bit socially awkward, like Hugh Grant. Walking into a room full of Americans was like nothing I've ever experienced in the UK. Everyone was so keen to introduce themselves. I learned the names of more people in that party than I have people I've had classes with over the last 3 years in uni. Cue me drunkenly insisting 5 hours later that "Americans are just the nicest people in the whole world". Another couple of parties like that one and I may well be talking about how America is a beacon of hope for the rest of the world.

After the party, more or less everyone headed to a club in town and I could no longer escape inevitable humiliation. I cannot dance. Everyone I tell that to seems to think I'm either modest or crazy because 'everyone can dance'. Then they see my attempt at it and realise how wrong they were. Grinding being the preferred dance move of the Americans, the situation was more complicated than usual because I had to keep in time with the Beacon, who seemed genuinely stunned at how little rhythm I had. 3 different people attempted to teach me how to do it, but I simply could not get my hips to move the way they were meant to and, as always when I dance, my fingers started jabbing the air in wild motions without me having any control over them.

The next day was spent in large part recovering from the tequila shots and me fighting with the blankets (a problem that easily could have been solved by a duvet. I'm just saying). And in the evening things got all Christmassy. The Beacon and I went out to get logs for the fire and we watched Love Actually. I wore a tiny Santa hat with bells on, much to the Beacon's obvious distaste. What a Scrooge!

"the new love of my life"

And on my last night we went into town to explore a real German Christmas market, where I discovered the new love of my life. Crepes with melted white chocolate. Where have you been all my life? Needless to say, by the time I was done eating it there was white chocolate everywhere. It was carnage. But it was great. I washed it down with a mug of Gluhwein, which I suppose is similar to mulled wine. Whatever. It was warm and alcoholic.

The trip home on Tuesday took about 16 hours from start to finish. By then a large part of the festive cheer I'd acquired had worn off and I had morphed back into half-dead hag. But I had such an amazing time. It's always lovely to spend time with the Beacon. I especially appreciate being able to poke him, mess up his hair, and generally annoy him in all the ways our Facetime conversations don't allow. But this was an extra special trip because I got to be Cinderella...and stuff my face with crepes.

The Beacon Visits the Mad House

While we were in Cologne, the Beacon and I decided that he simply had to make a trip to visit me in merry old England. So last weekend he stayed in my grotty student house in Exeter with my insane housemates. Because clearly that's how to impress a man. And what with Kirsty and the Beacon bickering over Northern Ireland, my determination to impress him with my culinary skills (that don't actually exist), and a near death experience, it's safe to say there's plenty to write about.

I went to meet the Beacon at the airport. I did the whole walk, train, bus thing and got all the way to Bristol without my hair going flat, which led me to believe things could only go well. But I attract unfortunate situations the way my friend Hayleigh attracts creepy stalkers. So I stood at arrivals, innocently thinking nothing could possibly go wrong in the few short minutes before the Beacon walked through the automatic doors, trying to work out where the best place to stand was.

Then it happened. The doors opened, I looked up expecting to see a tall blond American, and there, as if my life were suddenly an episode of One Tree Hill, was 'The Ex'. In the time it took my brain to register that I wasn't delirious and that there, in real life, by some freak coincidence, he was, not in the Netherlands where he was meant to be, but at Bristol Airport arrivals, I'd lost sight of him in the crowd. He didn't see me. We wouldn't have to make awkward, polite conversation/valley holler insults at each other (depending on his frame of mind at the time), which was a blessing. But when the Beacon walked through the doors seconds later the voluminousness of my hair wasn't enough to cover the unattractive look of confusion and horror spread across my face.

"I introduced the American to the sights of Exeter..."

The train naturally took twice as long as usual and stopped at every single station so we didn't get into Exeter until the early hours. The Beacon had been stuck in Turkey right up until the night before his visit because there was something wrong with his plane so he'd flown through the night from Turkey to Germany, before doing the whole Germany to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Bristol journey. Nevertheless, I was the one who slept all the way home.

On Saturday I introduced the American to the sights of Exeter, which as it turns out, are very few when it's raining. But we went to Mango's on the quay, where I had the world's best hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows, whipped cream, biscuit, and a chocolate flake! Then we headed to Exeter's Underground Passages, the highlight of which was watching all 6 foot of the Beacon crawl on his hands and knees through a space that even the kids in front of us had struggled to get through. And that night, in true British student fashion, we sat with my housemates, drank alcohol, and watched The Valleys. And the Beacon secured the love of everyone by ordering in pizzas. Because the way to a student's heart is always through Dominos.

The next day I bravely set out to make a full English breakfast, complete with sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, fried bread, toast, hashbrowns and grilled mushrooms. Considering I had to quietly take Kirsty to one side to ask her what making scrambled eggs actually entailed, it went quite well. There was that moment when I knocked over the entire tray of fat, but we can skip over that.

"The air was just full of thick smoke
and cries of terror."

That evening we celebrated our own belated Guy Fawkes Night. Sophie, Andy and the Beacon were in charge of fireworks, which in itself was somewhat scary, especially considering we had already started drinking again at that point. We stood in the garden as the rain came down in sheets, watching them trying to light rockets out of empty wine bottles. It went surprisingly well until one of the fireworks fell over and started shooting out towards us, one fireball after another as we all screamed and ran for cover. Even some random people who happened to be walking past our garden at the time started screaming. The air was just full of thick smoke and cries of terror. That was not a high point of the evening.

 And now the Beacon is back in Germany and while I can't say in all honesty that I miss him waking me up at 7am, I might be just a little excited to see him again next month.

A Fabulous 48 hours...with the Beacon

After being separated from my laptop for an entire week, I am finally back in Exeter with access to my blog, the internet and, most importantly, Roller Coaster Tycoon. So now I'm able to share all the gossip from last weekend's trip to Cologne to meet up with handsome American I met in Prague and also say, "I told you so" to anyone who secretly doubted whether I would make it back alive.

My weekend away started with thirteen hours of travelling. From my house in Exeter, I walked to the bus station, caught a coach to Bristol bus station, had three people push in front of me in the queue at Greg's while I was at said bus station, caught the shuttle bus to the airport, got a flight to Amsterdam, almost missed my connection because people will insist on not labelling the airport gates properly, got another flight from Amsterdam to Frankfurt, and then drove from Frankfurt to Cologne in the Beacon's fancy car, all on a single glass of wine. Add to that the fact that I simply couldn't fit all my necessary liquid items into the one clear plastic bag I was allowed to take through security, and that trying to smuggle my moisturiser through customs almost tipped my stress levels over the edge.

Needless to say, by the time I boarded my second plane, I didn't look as alluring and sophisticated as I had hoped. The woman next to me probably thought I was going to have some kind of nervous breakdown as I waited for the pilot to turn off the seat belt sign so I could have a go at trying to make myself look presentable. There was a lot of twitching, drumming of fingers, and muttering under my breath until I safely had my make up bag in front of me and a glass of wine in hand.

Forty minutes later I stepped off the plane with a face so transformed that the air hostess didn't recognise me and I was ready to do the whole, "Yes, I naturally look this great after travelling all day in the rain" charade.

We stayed at the Radisson Blue in Cologne, which was quite a step up from a Travel Lodge, let me tell you. It was absolutely amazing, what with its high ceilings, huge television in the room, two types of showers in the bathroom, swanky little bar downstairs complete with swivel chairs, and staff that called me 'Madame'.

And so that night we sat in the swanky little bar, drank whiskey, talked, laughed, and rolled our eyes at the general lack of chicken nuggets.

My hopes for the weekend were simple enough. Be absolutely perfect at all times and don't humiliate myself in front of the Beacon. I didn't even make it twelve hours before that bubble burst. First I delved into my makeup bag only to find that I'd left my mascara on the plane. Then we couldn't find the hairdryer. So I was forced to walk through the streets of Cologne with pale eyelashes and my damp hair tied up in ridiculous plaits. I looked like a tramp.

To compensate, I got all dressed up that night. Curls, LBD, the full shebang. Unfortunately when I opted to wear my sexy new stilettos I didn't anticipate how far away the train station was...or how many different ticket machines we'd have to walk to because none of them were working. All I could do was smile and hope I wouldn't end up with an incredibly unattractive limp. I didn't want to replicate both the tramp and pirate looks all in one day!

In the end we gave up on public transport (something I wish I could do for good based on my track record with busses) and got a taxi to Pepe's Cocktail Bar. Apparently it is the place to 'see and be seen' in Cologne. I'm not entirely sure how that works as the lighting was fairly dim so I didn't really see much of anyone. But the people we did see, from the staff to the somewhat awkward-looking couple at the bar, we made up dramatic and intricate fictional lives for. Anyone who thinks people watching is boring really needs to reevaluate their life. Or just drink more, because as the cocktails went down the back stories of everyone around us got more and more impressive.

In spite of having had one Black Russian too many (for which I totally blame the Beacon), I was determined to keep an air of grace and sophistication. This was especially difficult for me considering I don't have much of either even when I'm sober. But, that said, I somehow managed to get through the night without making a fool of myself. And a lovely evening ended with us watching Halloween entirely in German. Having never seen the film in English I found it rather hard to follow, but I enjoyed the dreadful 70s outfits.

And then came Sunday morning and with it, a rush to stuff everything back into my suitcase, an airport breakfast, and another full day of travelling. I've spent more time in packed airport shuttle buses, sat on a bench in Schiphol Airport, and dealing with liquid restrictions in my hand luggage than I care to think about. But maybe...just maybe, the Beacon was worth it.