As you read this blog, I must warn that you will find, honest thoughts, ambitions, and hopes from my mind.
The holidays. What do you think of when I say that happy phrase? The Oxford Dictionary deems it as ‘a time of festivity or recreation where no work is done’. I think of it as a dreamy period of delightful lie-ins, where I can slowly open my eyes and stretch out on my bed, rolling over in the duvet for another 5 minutes huddled by the radiator without a care in the world, before sleepily disappearing downstairs for a lazy morning in front of the TV. Bliss…
It is unfortunate that my father doesn’t think the same. He woke me up at half past 8 this morning – yes, I’ll say it again, because I know you are staring at the screen in disbelief, he woke me up at half past 8! In the holidays! I naturally chose to defy him, and rolled over to face the wall in silent protest – but he sensed this would happen. 20 minutes later, he was back. Oh, he knows me too well. I trudged unhappily to the shower, and emerged half an hour later downstairs, fully dressed. I blow dried my hair, I straightened it – I even put make up on, for I knew that Father had dragged me out of bed to go somewhere. It must be somewhere thrilling, somewhere exciting and new, for him to have forced me out of my dungeon at this ungodly hour. We clambered into the car, and with ‘Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’ blasting out the speakers, I turned to him, eyes full of wonderment, and enquired, in a voice sweeter than sugar: “Father dearest, pray tell, where are we going on this fine day?” (Or something along those lines.) He smiled, and replied “The bank.”
The bank. The… bank. I was awoken at half past 8 (in the holidays in case you didn’t know) to go to… The bank. My smile dropped, and he sensed my annoyance. Trying to diffuse the situation, he explained I was getting my first bank card. This actually worked. A bank card… For me?! First going out to a pub for New Year, then starting a fantastic blog, and now getting my own bank card?! This must be me ‘growing up’. The start of the journey to adulthood. I whipped out my purse and looked at the slots reserved for cards. It was then that I realised that, throughout my adolescence, I have actually collected a wide variety of cards. Although these may not be viewed as being as ‘grown up’ as my own bank card, they do actually hold a great importance to me, all unique with their amazing gifts just for me. It is only right that these cards are mentioned in my entry on ‘Cards’ as they have guided me through my childhood, so here they are, The Cards of Adolescent Enjoyment.
First up, there are the standard gift cards. I have had many given to me as presents, from Accessorize to Matalan. The two in my purse at present are from Boots and New Look. I think the reason I like gift cards is because when I hand them over to the sale assistants, I don’t think of them as a representation of money that can only be spent in one shop – I simply view them as pieces of plastic. It’s almost like I’m showing the sale assistants the clothes I like, making them pack it in a bag, and then stealing them away in exchange for a flimsy piece of card. This is surely the closest I will ever get to a life of crime…
Then there’s my 16-25 rail card. This is actually awesome – it means I can travel anywhere in the country on a train, but for cheap. The other day, my card proved to me that it was worthy of being in my possession. Sat on the train with my iPod in and the standard bottle of Diet Coke in my hand, I witnessed a man paying to go the same distance as me – Weston-Super-Mare to Swindon. He paid £20.70. The ticket collector looked at me, and I smugly requested “Swindon please… With my 16-25 rail card discount.” I sensed envy from the rest of the public on the train surge towards me, as the ticket collector said to me “That’ll be £13.50 please, love.” Oh yes, public, I’m young and poor, so I get things cheaper. This ties in nicely with my student discount card. What. A. Babe. Discounts for Amazon, Apple, Domino’s, Fat Face, Joules, Lipsy, Prezzo, Superdrug, Urban Outfitters… DISCOUNTS EVERYWHERE! These two cards, my dear readers, are the reasons I decided to stay in education.
Saving the last to best… My Costa Coffee Club Card. Who cares if I’m not in the popular crowd at school?! I am part of THE BEST CLUB IN THE WORLD! There is nothing I look forward to more at the end of my academic week than walking into Dover town, buying a large Gingerbread Latte and slurping at it for an hour in the warm homely comforts of my local Costa Coffee. Yes, £2.95 is quite a lot for a coffee, but I love that shop, and those lattes are divine. Each one is 10 points on my card – to prove my commitment to this shop, I shall inform you that, as of last Saturday, I officially have 950 points! That is an equivalent of £9.50, which is around 3 and a quarter gingerbread lattes? My ingenious plan is to keep getting more and more points so that when I am a desperate university student, eating cold pizza crusts for breakfast, I can have FREE COFFEE to cheer me up! Yes, readers, my head is not just a hat stand…
After perusing through the contents of my purse, I walked – no, I strode into the bank – determined to get the card that would open me up into the exciting adult world of finance. I looked the woman behind the desk straight in the eye and asked for my first ever bank card. She requested for ID to prove I was 16 – I produced my student card. Yes, I have ID – I have ID to prove I am an adult. The woman returned the card to me and uttered a sentence that chilled me to the bone:
“Sorry but the only things I can accept as ID are your driving licence and your passport.”
Driving licence? You mean the one I can’t have until I’m 17?! And passport? The one that’s in my drawer 230 miles away in Dover?!
“I have my 16-25 rail card here, could that count?”
“Sorry, I can only accept your driving license or passport.”
“What about my Costa Card? It has 950 points – only an adult can be that committed to collecting points! Look, I haven’t spent any on coffee – That shows I know how to save right?!”
“Sorry, I can only accept your driving licence or passport.”
I left the bank, red faced and upset. My early rise at half past 8 was all for nothing. No bank card, no proof of adulthood. What kind of world is it that doesn’t accept a Costa Coffee card as proof of ID?! Well, fine, National Westminster Bank, just fine. Your silly little cards can wait another half term before you gain the almighty access to my wonderful purse. I guess that’s just how it is.
Well, my dear readers, today my blog’s views hit triple digits. Yes, that’s 100 views! Thank you so much to you all for reading my entries, I am so incredibly grateful! I hope this entry has lived up to your expectations! Thank you again. Much love to you all! Good night. 🙂