Life has been a bit mad. Up and down.
Up because I completed the CELTA course and I managed to push up from a Pass to a Pass B which I am so proud of. I know I got there because I worked damn hard and not because of luck. For the first time in my life I tasted the fruits of really working hard for something I’ve wanted (apart from passing my theory test which wasn’t hard at all). I’ve always coasted through my A-levels and degree with a push at the end, but CELTA for me meant steady improvement week after week and taking on board the suggestions of my tutors. So I am immensely proud of my Pass B (it’s not as good a a Pass A but that was out of my sites so I don’t worry about things like that. Pass was were I was and Pass B within my sites so I really achieved my goal). I got the certificate last week with a report in it saying that I’d be an asset to any language school, and my tutor told me face to face some very complimetary things, although he told me to eliminate the nervous jibbery part of my personality to improve further. Hehehehe. I said why hadn’t he put it like that before in the actual lesson feedback. Maybe it would have worked better than the official term they use which is “grade your language.”
Afte CELTA finished, I got all down and sad feeling like I only had my job to exist for until I get to Spain where my love is. I felt also that the intellectual part of my brain was not getting any sort of work out so I felt quite depressed. With all this extra time, I had too much time for feeling low like nobody cared about me other than Mr S. My uni buds have their own things going on and I don’t have many pals in Merseyside. To fill my time, I meet up with a Portuguese girl to get that all back on track. I help her with English, she helps me with Portuguese. Fair enough.
Last weekend I had a marvellous time in London. I was rather surprised. It’s been some time since I was last in London and I’ve only ever had school trips or Soul in the City 200…4? That was a project-based programme and so I only saw Trafalgar Square and St. Pauls. This time, we spent three nights and two full days making the most of it. We saw some great places like Portobello Rd which I remember the Ras from my old halls of residence going on about constantly. I saw Covent Garden, which was beautiful and seemed like a posher Liverpool. We saw the Apple Market where everybody exhibited their crafts and stunning gifts and a fabulous reindeer nearby illuminated for Christmas.
I visited Harrods for the first time ever and bought a present from the Arcade for the Love of my Life. We went to China town and Westminster and Brick Lane and all over. I overcame my fear of the London Underground. I didn’t see any ghosts, sadly, but it was a marvellous way to get about. We had Oyster cards which made life easy. I blame the time spent on the Tube for turning my snot black (sorry to be so graphic, but I had to live it so you can all share in the misery!). There was a spectacular Christmas Market and Winter Wonderland based at Hyde Park which would have been a great place to spend a whole day. I’m happy to say that the Wish Fairy was conscious of my thoughts and has since magicked an amazing Christmas Market in Lord Street in Liverpool just for me. I’ve only seen the closed huts being prepared, but I shall endeavour to make a visit there tomorrow or very soon. I need a friend to go with. Mr S is not here so I need someone else. I’m not going to take my Portuguese friend as she insulted me by saying that Manchester is a better city than Liverpool. People have been hanged for saying things like that to a Scouser! You just don’t make unfavorable comparisons like that to me. London was fab but Liverpool is where my heart is and Manchester doesn’t even enter the equation.
When I was in Harvey Nicks after visiting Harrods, I had to have a look at the clothes. I looked at the clothes in Harrods as well. We felt like we wanted a true impression of this world that we don’t belong to. I glimpsed the price tags (okay, I deliberately looked for them!) and gasped at the idea of paying 2800 pounds for an ugly safety pin jacket. I have no desire to ever buy any of these things but the curiosity makes me browse. The shop assistants seemed very helpful, two of them asking me if I needed any help. I felt like I was being watched by security for being a prole in an establishment such as this wearing my Accessorize hat and Primark coat looking rather indescreet. I thought I’d set off a thought police alarm for not revering the articles within this shopping temple. One assistant, on asking if I wanted assistance, to which I replied “No thank you, I’m just admiring the things I’ll never be able to afford” looked at me and said, by way of comforting this poor Northern oik “Oh, I’m sure you will be able to one day!” Errr, yeah. Because the whole aim of my existance is to one day afford Harvey Nicholls clothing. Because nothing else matters. Because my life is simply incomplete with out a dazzling wardrobe of designer clothing. I cant’ imagine how I’ve come this far without taking my own life, reduced to a pitiful life of lower end of the range high street shops. The shame of it. I wanted to say that even if I had that sort of money, which is unlikely to happen on an EFL wage, I simply would not look any further than good old Mr John Lewis where I’m sure I can buy anything as beautiful. That’s as up market as I would go. I honestly did not see anything in Harvey Nicks or Harrods that appealed to me more than what you find in Jane Norman, New Look, Top Shop or Dotty Perks. Maybe I’m vulgar and blind to the bountiful qualities to be found within HN clothes…but it would sicken me to part with that much cash on a cloth to cover my nakedness.
I’m now making lots of earrings to hopefully sell at a craft fair in November. Will post some pics soon.

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