A Curious Incident...

The last time I saw them was yesterday 'morning' (at about eleven thirty) when I was having my breakfast.

Today when I woke up and went downstairs, I opened the kitchen cupboard to find that they had mysteriously disappeared. Funnily enough, I thought it was odd, but dismissed it as a human error. After all, I had thought that they were full the last time I checked, but maybe I had been wrong.

A few hours later I went downstairs into the kitchen again to make lunch. My Step-mum was sitting at the table eating a banana. Immediately she asked me:

'Do you know where the Jaffa Cakes have gone?'

I told her that I didn't and that the same thought had been going through my head since yesterday morning when I'd last seen them, when there had appeared to be a full box, and about the mysterious disappearance this morning.

I could tell she didn't believe me. We discussed some pretty feeble theories.

'Maybe Dad took them to work?' (a whole box of Jaffa Cakes to work? Unlikely)

'Maybe your sister took them? Does she having cooking today?' (Woman, please. Do you hear yourself? Why the fuck would you need Jaffa Cakes for cooking?!)

'Do you think the dogs could have got at them?' (of course, if they had somehow learnt how to open the cupboard, reach in and grab the box without disturbing anything else, open the box, snaffle the Jaffas [and nothing else] and dispose of the evidence without anybody noticing the whole bizarre ordeal then yes, that is entirely plausible. You know, it's no wonder you're an estate agent)

I will of course be reporting back once I know more on the subject. But the whole thing is toeing that interesting and incredibly fine line of amusing and unspeakably horrifying.

Quick Catch up

Today, my sister threw a cup at my head because she saw a spider in the sink.

Wow, it's been a long time. But I definitely want to get back into the swing of blogging once I'm more settled. The past few months have been an absolute nightmare.
Starting with results day. I opened up my envelope to find that I had got three Cs. This was was most alarming and what's more, pretty outrageous. I mean, I know I'm not exactly an A* achiever but come on! Three Cs? At the time, I thought something must be wrong, but when you're standing there, holding that brown envelope surrounded by people with their own brown envelopes, you kind of just accept what the brown envelope tells you.

And my brown envelope told me that I wasn't going to University.

But. as it turns out, UCAS is a giant whorehouse.
To cut to the chase, they 'redistributed' (completely fucked up) my results. So I did get in.

Since then my life has been a mix of late nights and formal looking letters piling up on the doorstep whilst I try to remember what my student account number is when I'm lying on a sun lounger in Lanzarote.

Lanzarote. That was a good holiday. It was probably one of the last holidays I'll be going on with my parents, which, frankly, is a fucking relief.
I'm not trying to be ungrateful, because the hotel was actually really really nice, and the island it beautiful if not slightly barren. But I'm sure you can all understand where I'm coming from. When you don't have the relief of texts or phonecalls or even msn to fellow human beings, things can get... tense.

I mean it's not like I was practically bouncing up and down in my plane seat waiting for the seatbelt signs to go off so I could grab my bag. bolt off the plane and finally get home to check my DeviantArt and Facebook....

I mean really, that's just pathetic.

Anyway, real blog later, right now I need a lemonade