As you read this blog, I must warn that you will find, honest thoughts, ambitions, and hopes from my mind.

Travel Tweets!


You know when there are certain things you need to pack, but also need in the morning, so you have to pack them just before you leave in a rush? I’m talking about your phone, iPod, make up, hairbrush… Well, today, I was packing these final things when I realised that I’d lost my phone charger. Of course, I told my mother, as she knows where EVERYTHING is, but, for the first time ever: Mother didn’t know where it was. My mother… The woman who I rely on so much couldn’t find something – what was the world coming to?! I stared on in dismay as she got more and more frustrated, demolishing couches in desperation to prove that she was still worthy of my dependence. She eventually found it in the car – the one place she had sent my father to check. She held it high above her head, like a trophy, and triumphantly marched into the house to wave it in front of my father’s face. I watched my father turn sheepish and make excuses, but there was no point: This is her moment of glory, and she was going to savour it. After my father accepted that he was wrong and that my mother was indeed Queen of the world, we walked to the car, followed by my mother, whose proud moment was suddenly turned into one of sadness when she realised it was time to say goodbye. I held back the tears as she waved me off and swallowed the lump in my throat – you would have thought I’d got used to these farewells by now. I have found the only solution here – distract myself by educating my father in the ways of modern music.


I suspect Father doesn’t enjoy these quizzes of mine, as he always informs me of Radio 2’s Pop Quiz (which he is apparently excellent at), but the reason MY quizzes are better is because I know all the answers and can give clues when he doesn’t know the artist. Let me give you some examples:


Me: “The opposite of up…”
Dad: “Down…”
Me: “Yeah, and like a village but cuter…”
Dad: “Town?”
Me: “Yep, and now the opposite of fact!”
Dad: “Fiction?”
Me: “Put it together!”
Dad: “The Downtown Fiction!”


Then there was:


Me: “What motorway are we going onto?”
Dad: “The M4…”
Me: “Minus 1 from the number, and lose the M.”
Dad: “3… Is it 30H!3?”
Me: “You’re getting good at this!”


Followed by:


Me: “You were really horrible to me when this band broke up…”
Dad: “BUSTED! Busted are busted… That was funny, admit it!”


He didn’t do very well, but you have to admire how much he tried. We pulled off at the service station and went for a GIANT McDonalds for lunch. Just before we left to go back in the car, I stopped the shop of heaven in the corner: Costa Coffee. I floated over on a cloud and stood in line, anticipating my beautiful large Gingerbread Latte. I ordered the coffee, and it was then that I heard it. The sentence that stabbed me like a knife deep into my stomach. The line:


“That’ll be £3.79, please.”


I stared at the Barista stood before me, with her hand held out expectantly. I smiled patiently, waiting for her to correct herself, but, instead, I was greeted by a stony silence. My father, who was suitably uncomfortable, nudged me and said, “Give her the money, darling.” I looked at him in shock. For everyone who has not read my previous blog, I regularly order a large Gingerbread Latte, get 10 points on my Costa Card and pay £2.95. This woman wanted 84p more than I was willing to pay. She must surely be mistaken – I know Costa Coffee prices better than anyone! I looked up at the board, ready to use it in evidence, but the board had defied me also, demanding £3.79 in its beautiful red and white writing! What is this?! I looked back at the woman, mouth open. I could feel the queue staring at me, impatient at being held up by this idiot. My father was embarrassed and nudged me again. I whispered to him that I didn’t have enough, and he fumbled around in his pockets for an extra 84p. My face went redder and redder as I waited for my latte to be made. After a painstakingly long wait, I raced to the car, faster than Mo Farrah could even dream of running. It wasn’t until we were in the car and safely driving away that I explained to Father my confusion. His simple reply of “That’s service stations for you, love” frustrated me – how dare these stations charge me more than a normal Costa Coffee would?! Are they using milk from blue cows on planet Mars or something?! I think it is disgraceful that they get away with this – its daylight robbery, my friends! I hereby vow to never get a large Gingerbread Latte from Costa Coffee if it charges more than £2.95 without causing a scene by demanding to know what makes this coffee so much better than when it is served in another Costa Coffee. I don’t care how embarrassed my father gets – someone needs to make a stand! I am willing to be this person – this saviour of the poor coffee lovers who need a delightful coffee while travelling! This injustice shall not continue anymore!


On the road again, I remembered something amusing about my father. He has a serious case of ‘Road Rage’. This involves shouting, honking horn, banging the window or all three at anyone who is a less competent driver than he is. It’s a bit of a shock at first, but then when you see how wound up he is by it all, it turns rather amusing. I say a little prayer for all drivers on the road who may suffer the sight of an angry, red-faced man in their wing mirror, shouting at drivers who can’t hear him while his daughter plays on her phone, attempting to stifle her laughter.


Of course, my favourite part of these long, boring car journeys is the fun I can have while my father fails to stop me. As he is concentrating so much on driving and avoiding idiots on the road, he never notices his phone slip from his pocket into my meddling hands. I take countless, useless photos on his phone and, of course, I hack his social-networking sites. I hope I entertained my father’s Twitter followers, who saw him tweet the following this afternoon:


“I like big butts and I cannot lie! ;)”


“I love Jedward! John, Edward, you are amazing – love your oldest and biggest fan x x x”


And, my personal favourite:


“Why did Busted ever break up?! Sat here crying while listening to ‘Air Hostess’ and praying for a reunion! #MidLifeCrisis”


I love doing that to my father. He is powerless at the wheel, and I am the evil genius on his phone. He should really get a code or something…




Well, my dear readers, I am back at The School! As suspected, WordPress is blocked from the Internet, but yet here I am, defying these restrictions! So strong is my love and promise to you all to blog nightly that I am going through all this effort to deliver some entertaining reading material to you! I hope this blog has been fun to read – if not, I blame the lack of entertainment to my extreme tiredness. It will be better tomorrow! Much love to you all. Good night.



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