Where childhood ends…

Today, I have suffered injustice. I now know what it means to be left out, scorned and treated like a second class citizen because of something I have no control over. I feel hurt, hurt by the unfairness of it all.

Since when were teenagers not allowed into the playground without an accompanying younger child? What is this nonsense?

I queued for twenty minutes outside the Princess Diana memorial playground in Hyde Park only to be turned away. Twenty minutes of my life wasted and my childhood ripped away. Not that many years ago, I would climb to the top of the pirate ship, hide in the red-indian tepees and hunt for the closed treasure chest in that playground but today, I was too old.

When it comes to voting, I am a child but all this changes at the playground gates. Why is that?

The ducks didn’t think I was too old for a chat. They understand the insignificance of age better than any human authority.

The irony of it is that I was turned away from a Peter Pan themed playground for being too grown-up.

“If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I’ll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!”

I should have grabbed a few kids from the queue and gone in with them, or claimed to be younger than I am. I should have complained and made a big fuss. I should have never grown up.

Are you ever too old to play? Have you ever been turned away?

An open tag

So, I’ve been tagged by Blogs-Of-A-Bookaholic and because today, it is thundering and the sky is gloomy, and because I love being asked questions, I am full of answers.

Here are the questions she asked:

1.) Which book do you think should be adapted into a film that hasn’t been already?

Hard one to answer because many of the books I have read are already films, that’s usually how I find out about them. The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins, if it isn’t already a film.

2.) Which classic are you too scared to read/keep putting off? (E.g. War and Peace.)

I do not fear books. Give me a classic, I’ll clear up my schedule. I might not particularly like the book but I’ll see it through.

3.) Sam or Dean Winchester? (Show Supernatural)

I don’t watch the show but I like the name Dean better. Sam is too common.

4.) Do you think the paperback will become extinct and be fully replaced with the Kindle?

I thought so at first but then I read a quote by Stephen Fry :“Books are no more threatened by Kindle than stairs by elevators.”

5.) Have you ever had an experience with the paranormal? E.g Ghosts, aliens etc.

No, just the usual sounds in the middle of the night that turn out to be the dishwasher or dark figures that are really just shadows.

6.) Your least favourite genre to read?

Full-packed action. I can’t follow to many movements and usually skim over battle scenes.

7.) Who’s biography would you consider reading?

My own, from the future. I would get to read about everything I will do, any mistakes I should avoid and I could get things done a lot quicker and do more in life because no time would be wasted if I know the shortcuts.  

 8.) The best birthday present you’ve ever had?

I’ve suddenly gone blank and can not recall a single past birthday present. I don’t make a big deal about birthdays. I don’t even remember what I got for my last birthday. Oh, money. I got money.

9.) Your opinion on Shades of Grey? (Whether you have read it or not.)

I definitely haven’t read it but I think that it should be totally banned because it gives people distorted ideas about human relationships and I believe in the sanctity of marriage as the only place for sex.

10.) Your favourite place to read?

It’s the book not the place. Somewhere quiet but not eerily so, warm, dry and comfortable. My bed is just fine but so is the sofa.

11.) Which books from present day do you think has the potential to become a classic 50/100 years down the line?

Harry Potter. All of these vampire, werewolf and demon series are great teenage reads but they’ll never last. Harry Potter has longevity. It has the magic and the magical creatures but it does it right.

The people I’m tagging:

The Chronicles Of Radiya

and ten more volunteers. Just volunteer in the comment box.

And that is how you take the easy option and compensate for your inability to make Blog Buddies.

My Questions:

1) What is the first book you have a memory of as a child?

2) What is the last book you’ve read?

3) What is the worst book you’ve read?

4) Vampires. Yes or no?

5) What are your favourite T.V programmes?

6) What two book characters from different books do you think would make the perfect couple?

7) How do you mark your page?

8) Hop on a plane right this minute. Where to?

9) Have you abandoned any book series? Why? Name them.

10) Do you have any book quirks/habits?

11) What hopes do you have for the future?

The Rules:
1. You must post the rules.
2. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post.
3. Create eleven new questions to ask the people you’ve tagged.
4. Tag eleven people with a link to your post.
5. Let them know they’ve been tagged.

So, tag away.

Dreams of Travel

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”

The world is huge, wonderful and amazing. Those are only the first three adjectives that came to mind. It is so vast but when you point to your location on the map, your finger covers it. Only a small speck on the globe.

I wonder about the other specks. Their different languages, buildings and ways of doing things. I am not content with images, not matter how vivid and detailed. I want to be there. I want to explore.

Where do you want to go? Anywhere. Somewhere different. Somewhere new. Somewhere that will make me feel foreign and lost but allow me to enjoy every moment of it. I haven’t done that in a while. I always visit the same few countries and whilst I’m sure they hold their own magic, it is not to be found in the same places I am obliged to stay at. Duty calls and when you live far from any extended family, it ties you down, every school holiday.

I’m not even sure if I love travel. It could just be the idea of it. A right of passage for the young: a desire to explore, to find where you truly belong. A common cliché of life. Maybe it’s just a passing phase, or maybe it’s just the boredom of being home for the summer, but right now I want to travel, somewhere, anywhere.

Big cities full of lights and shopping centres, or small rural villages where locals make traditional handmade crockery- I have no preference. Hot or cold, snow or dessert- as long as it is not British climate. Or if it is to be in British climate, not London. You can travel in your country; there are many places within a few hours drive that you have yet to see and wonder in awe at. Ever since studying a poem about Romney Marsh, I’ve been wanting to visit the lyrically described scenery in Kent. I am also attracted to Italy; the language, the Mediterranean atmosphere, the small villages by the sea, the history and the architecture left for us to see.

I’m tired of my little speck of the world. I want to travel.

Anyone else want to travel? Where to? Or are you lucky enough to already be abroad?

 

Nightmares- Ducks, Cars and Exams

I’m generally not a restless sleeper. When I wake up, I find my bed almost done and I can hardly remember what I dreamt about the night before. I tried keeping a dream journal once but that didn’t work out because I wouldn’t have anything to jot down. Dreams are said to have signs and hidden meanings but I just think that they are whatever you are thinking about whilst you are asleep. We never truly have a moment’s rest and our minds can not be expected to switch off for eight hours a night. We might forget how to think in that lapse of time and wake up dumber than when we went to bed.

 

Lately, my dreams have been worrying. Some our self-explanatory. I have my GCSE exam results coming up in a few weeks so it’s natural that I should have nightmares about them. I dreamt that my statement of results was given to me in Arabic and so I couldn’t understand it, even though I can actually read Arabic, and that our form tutor went through the humiliating, old-fashioned process of reading out everybody’s results. That kind of dreaming is normal and expected. I don’t dream of failing exams, I just dream of getting lower grades than I would have liked and receiving them in Arabic.

 

Some dreams are just bizarre. How would you explain being surrounded by ducks with nowhere to escape? I tried to cross the bridge but it became submerged in water and a duck blocked my way. I turned to the left. Duck. I frantically turned to the right. Quack. Then, I woke up, shaken and confused to find that what I thought was a feathered wing was actually a fold in my flowery pink duvet. What does such a dream say about my state of mind? Does it say anything about my personality? How about my future? I think not, but I could be wrong.

 

Another strange dream found me defending my mother’s incorrectly parked vehicle from a large woman by biting her hand as she pointed her keys at me as if they were a gun. This resulted in me locking the door and windows before peddling all the way home. The only possible message here is that I was born to be the hero, to cycle, or to clean up my mother’s mistakes.

So, what do you think? Do dreams always have a point or are you sometimes so tired that you start thinking gibberish in your sleep? Has anyone had any weird dreams lately? Leave a comment if you would like me to have a go at interpreting it for you. Although, don’t put too much faith in whatever I come up with.

I was a part of London 2012 Olympics

Last night I was one of the 70,584 spectators at Wembley Stadium, watching the women’s football match between Brazil and Team GB. A few of my football questions were answered. I learnt that the players do not stop playing to watch the replays and that when the ball is kicked into the audience, they are expected to throw it back. I still have no clue what the offside rule is all about, but I have a feeling that no one does.

I screamed ‘Team GB’ until my voice was hoarse and took part in no less than eight Mexican waves that went around the entirety of the stadium, so frequently that the match was just a little extra entertainment. We were the people who provide the sound effects for your television screens, the boos, the gasps and the cheers. We deafened each other with our joint voices and after only a few minutes in the stadium, I had a buzzing headache that stayed with me until this morning.

Women’s football is unlike men’s football in that there are far less fouls and they do not mess around, throwing themselves to the ground in hopes of a penalty. From what I observed, women play clean and follow the rules. Let’s hear it for the women and for the London 2012 Olympics, unless the traffic and television take over are spoiling your summer!

Why do we always think the worst?

This afternoon, I was out shopping on Oxford Street with my sister and as is the norm the place was packed with shoppers, many of them tourists. I bought a periwinkle cardigan and black harem trousers and tried on a few maxi dresses but because I am incredibly short, those were left behind. I was happy with my purchases but they were not the only things I brought back with me.

Somewhere in between one shop and another, amongst a throng of people walking past each other, one stopped and handed me an object. It was unexpected and my automatic response was to take it. I hardly had time to look at the curly-haired woman who gave it to me and did not look at the object itself until she was gone, leaving my sister and I in a state of confusion.

Here is what she gave me:

After we had gotten over the initial surprise our thoughts naturally turned to the worst conclusions. My sister thought that it might be a computer virus and I thought that it might be the stolen data of a major corporation or bank that had been hidden with an unsuspecting stranger who know one would suspect (me), to be collected at a later date. Neither of us thought, maybe it could be a….I can’t even think of anything positive that it could be.

Is it a city thing to be suspicious of everybody’s motives? A result of reading too many crime novels or watching too much CSI? Or even watching too much news? Why did we automatically think the worst?

I’m wondering what other people would think in the same situation. What do you think is on the SD card? I’m not going to dare to find out but I’d like to read your thoughts.

I caught a glimpse of the Olympic Torch

Today, I braved the heat (unusual for any time of year) to witness a historic moment that I will be able to tell my grandchildren about in many years to come. The build up was tremendous (at least on my part), despite the traditional British moaning about the traffic, the sneaky immigration and the new olympic lanes.

The crowds slowly built up…

The police were waiting whilst telling people to keep to the pavement…

Coca Cola made an appearance, commercialising the entire event and gaining publicity that they most definitely do not need…

And finally, the Olympic Torch passed us by. Those who blinked missed it. The torch-bearer was jogging along the road and was gone before some people had even realised he had arrived. I was prepared and managed to catch it on video.

These small fleeting moments make up history and it feels good to be a part of it, even if it means baking under the hot sun for three seconds worth of a historical event.

Second Attempt at Work Experience

As I have completed my GCSEs this year, I started my summer holidays extremely early and almost a month has gone by since. I wouldn’t want that month to have gone to waste and my extra bit of holiday to amount to nothing, so I decided to do something productive and get a job, not a paid one, but a job nonetheless.

Working at my local medical practice this past week was actually quite enjoyable and I have learnt many things; it was a nice change from my last work placement and this time I got to do more than just a spot of shredding.

This is just part of what I got up to during my time at the practice:

Monday

I met everyone in the practice and they were nice and friendly. I did some scanning, stamping, opening of letters as if it were Christmas and nosed about through patients’ business (only I can’t tell you anything). I sat at reception and saw the way they prioritised patients in order of urgency, handle prescriptions and rude patients.

Tuesday

I spent the morning with the phlebotomist (blood-taker), learned how to find my veins (the visible blue ones), and my pulse. I held warm blood tubes and gently shook them so as not to break the cells. I noticed that not everyone is as big a wimp as I am; I saw our first patient through my fingers but then became more comfortable as I saw the ease of the procedure and the speed at which the tubes filled up. I didn’t take any blood but by the end of it I felt like I would know how to. Perhaps some dart practice to help me along…

Wednesday

I joined the nurse in vaccinating squirming children, poking at squidgy swollen feet and peeking into magnified ears. I learnt that cotton buds are evil and that their inventor’s motivation was purely financial. The ears had dried blood, blocking wax and a burst drum, all because of an innocent looking cotton bud. A man entered with sharp abdominal pains; trapped wind was suggested but upon checking a urine sample, blood was detected even though the urine looked perfectly normal. I also pressed a little boy’s spotty belly to see if it was meningitis but because the spots reappeared shortly after pressing and he was far too lively, it was nothing serious.

Thursday

I did general admin work; updating event calendars, taking in and stamping the mail and discovering a birthday card (not for me) in the mail. I oversaw a patient consultation meeting, signing people in and making sure forms were completed. I rummaged through a neat filing system to find a patient’s notes, hidden deep within.

Friday

I spent the day with the practice manager, made call cards with everyone’s telephone numbers (for when the building gets bombed and cordoned off), got to grips with the new laminator she had just bought, typed up notices, laminated them once I had figured out the laminator, and got to go home early because she was leaving at the same time. I also signed a non-disclosure of confidential information contract, so, in case of any lawyers chasing me up, I have withheld all names and the people reading this are perfectly trust-worthy.

These are just a few of the things I noticed:

• Everyone makes use of the internet, whether to check the symptoms of a minor ailment or to show the patient where the kidneys are in their body. The internet is an extra employee.
• Urgency is subjective. What one person considers serious another would not even blink at. My family does not often visit the GP, but there were people requesting urgent appointments for a mosquito bite.
• Politeness is appreciated. Many receptionists complained about the demanding nature of some patients. Not even a thankyou.

This week has been extremely beneficial in terms of gaining experience and a feel for the medical profession. I still want to be some kind of doctor, still a psychiatrist but I am now also considering working in A&E. I have another week to go and am pleased to say that I am actually looking forward to it.

Round and round we go

Yesterday, in celebration of the end of our exams, a bunch of thrill-seeking teenagers headed off to Thorpe Park to pass the day high- in the sky- shaking about the brain cells that they would not be needing for a few months.

We were not the only ones with the same idea and many other teenagers, donning the same Leavers’ Hoodies as us, had decided upon the same day to visit the theme park. This influx of visitors creates a very serious problem and the one thing that I hate the most about theme parks: queues. I almost wish for it to rain just so that everyone, but me, will go home and leave me to the rides.

Fortunately, the queues were long but endurable and the longest length of time we had to wait was 45 minutes, which is relatively short if you consider that this waiting period can easily go up to 2 hours later on in the summer when most schools start going on trips and during weekends. Queuing up is such an integral, but hated, part of theme parks that they have evolved into something more than just the original straight line of people. Now they are tricky and deceptive, as they wind around hidden corners, behind ruins and into caves. The queues are now mazes of slow-moving people, that create false impressions and hopes that are overcome by groans of dread at the discovery of hidden rows of people.

The option of paying to skip the queues by buying Fastrack strikes me as slightly immoral but it was unnecessary as according to the some of my classmates, they needed the waiting time to digest their food, or coax a wimp onto the ride. Far from being bored, a game of ‘Mathew says’, provided some entertainment as restless teenagers queuing for SAW- The Ride, mindlessly hopped and hi-fived each other on demand, in response to an invisible voice, reflecting the nature of the SAW movies, of which I have only watched the third.

Due to the mostly short queues, I managed to go on just about every major roller coaster, and even had time for the little boats and the spinning tea cups! I am not scared of heights and whilst most people scream on rollercoasters, I can’t help but laugh. In every single one of the theme park photos, I was smiling, and not just because I always made sure to be ready for the flash. Nothing scared me.

Not SAW- THE RIDE,

or the new SWARM.

Well, almost nothing scared me. The thrill and excitement that had me cackling in hysteric joy up in the air was not present when it came to the most childish but diabolical ride ever to be created.

The Rocky Express:

With time to kill between roller coasters, my friends and I had a go on this small train ride, that quickly went round and round in a circle, over a series of bumps. Though it was a therapeutic massage compared to the bigger rides, it made me extremely nauseous and I couldn’t wait for it to end and to escape my bright red train carriage.

Unfortunately, that was not so. Despite unanimous protest, bar one, the controller gave us another nostalgic go. Bearing my teeth and holding my poor stomach, I endured it and when it finally stopped, I felt ready to kiss the ground- had I been allowed to reach it. For again the evil controller refused to stop the ride and around we went for a few more infernal minutes as she laughed on with a manic smile. At least on a roller coaster you have the benefit of knowing that in 20 seconds, it will all be over, but on this ride, we were not sure when or if we would ever be allowed to leave. No one would hear our screams over the mind numbing cowboy music. Three consecutive rounds were enough to satiate the sick urges of the controller and her smile illustrated her twisted sense of humour as she allowed us the room to escape, angry and green in the face. All our anger was turned onto one of our own as we found out that she had been in cahoots with the controller and that the sly nods of her head, had been the signal for the commencement of our torture. Betrayal in its purest form.

I have never been on so many stomach juggling rides in one day and it was with 15 minutes left to spare that my stomach had finally had enough. The bus ride back was absolute agony. Shattered, I closed my eyes to sleep but the movement of the bus had my mind twirling, tumbling and looping as if I were still on a roller coaster. Then, the road bumps, which the unsympathetic driver took no care with, were torturous. Even as I closed my eyes to sleep at night, I could not rid myself of that falling and swirling sensation.

Who came up with the idea of strapping a person to a piece of metal and tossing them about viciously in the air anyway?

The anticlimactic end

After five weeks of GCSE exams, I would expect to feel more excited than I do at the moment. After 5 years of education in the same school, I would expect to feel something greater than what I do now. However, my own feelings are non co-operative and I even sense a hint of boredom approaching. Is it a case of delayed reactions or is finishing a key stage of your education not so important? After all, if all goes according to plan, I have plenty more years to go.

Perhaps, it is a completely opposite case of advanced reactions. I celebrated the end before it came? What with counting down to the finale with each completed exam, my final exam may have been just another step and although it was the final one, it did not get any more recognition than the first because my mind had got so used to taking steps. Had the exams been compacted into a single week, I think I would have felt more emotional at the end, relieved and excited, but because they were spread over weeks, all the feeling diffused in between. Maybe A-levels will feel like more of an accomplishment…

I can’t believe I am already going to do A-levels. It feels like only this morning I was practising for my weekly spelling tests, but in reality, it has been a long time since I’ve done one of those. It has been a long time since I’ve been in a playground. Teenagers do not go to the playground at break time. It has been a long time since I’ve lined up in a straight line, crossed my arms and placed a finger on my lips. Teenagers are not so docile. It has been a long time since I’ve used a pencil to write, carried a lunchbox, worn plimsolls, frozen when the whistle blew for the end of break or sat on the carpet. Those were the good ol’ days… Years go by so quickly and things change so fast. I can already feel the wrinkles hiding under my teenage skin, bidding their diminishing time.

I was talking to an elderly lady on the bus this morning and she was telling me about the importance of buying the right pair of shoes to maintain a good, healthy back. I found myself wondering if she felt like only that morning she had been practising for her weekly spelling tests. Trust me to get all reflective and go into deep thinking over something as trivial as finishing exams…

Exams are over! School is out! I am using exclamation marks to compensate for my lack of enthusiasm!

This will be one of the longest summer holidays I have ever had and to ward off feelings of boredom or unnecessary over thinking, I will read all the books that I had no time for during the school year. So, recommendations please!