Britishness

I was recently watching the tv show “Very British Problems” and it’s made me realise that I am quite possibly, the most British person you’ll ever come across.

I sound like the queen, I have the classic “posh” accent. So much so that in secondary school, I was actually nicknamed “Posh Katherine”. This nickname may not have just been down to my accent, because there was another Katherine in our science class, this nickname could’ve been a way to avoid confusion, although her name was spelt “Kathryn” and mine’s spelt Katherine, which the class called “the posh way”. I didn’t even know names had posh spellings…

I apologise to everything, if I trip over something (which is less of an “if” and more of a “when”) I’ll say “oh sorry”. The same goes for if I walk into something. A few years ago on a rainy afternoon, I was walking up a hill with my umbrella in front of me. I managed to walk into a lampost, which literally crushed my umbrella. So I apologised to the lampost and my umbrella, despite the fact I was the embarrassed one in physical pain.

Customer service bothers me, if you ask me if I need help or if I’m okay I will say “I’m fine thanks” and avoid all contact with you. Even if I did need help, I would never ask for it, not without apologising first.

Public transport. Don’t sit next to me unless you have to. I like my space. The bus windows are something that bothers me too. If they’re open, my hair will be blowing in the breeze and I’ll end up looking like something from the 80s, and I’ll be shivering with cold. But I can’t shut them incase someone else gets annoyed as they’re too hot. Plus I’ve not got the strength to pull them shut.

I always carry and umbrella or a coat with me. Just incase.

I can’t leave a room or end a conversation without saying “right”

Right. I best be off now, thanks for reading, goodbye, bye, see you soon, goodbye

Advertisements

Happy and Glorious Holiday

I recently went on holiday to Bournemouth (yes I know I did a Miranda and went on holiday to the town I live in) but it was honestly such a great weekend. I went with two internet friends called Emma and Lamb (not her real name obviously, but it is to us), who I’ve met twice before but the third time was the most eventful.

Emma, Lamb and I in our natural habitat, stage door
Emma, Lamb and I in our natural habitat, stage door

We did so much over the three days we were in Bournemouth, we played football in the hotel garden, ran away from terrifying wasps, watched Frozen (now I’ve finally seen it, I can add it to my list of 15 films), went to the beach, watched an air show, went to a bar, went shopping and, arguably the best bit, got to meet Michael McIntyre again.

Some of my favourite people in the world
Some of my favourite people in the world

I actually saw the “Happy and Glorious” show on the Thursday night and I loved it, honestly I can’t recommend him enough, he has an amazing ability to find something funny in everything. Also, if you watch the tour or buy the DVD you’ll see my hands “gliding” on the introduction. So keep your eyes peeled.

Meeting Michael is such a great experience, and I feel so lucky to have met him so many times, especially when I think about how much I’ve wanted to meet him since I was about 15. So I suppose this is me trying to be all motivational again. If you have a celebrity you want to meet, don’t let yourself think it’ll never happen. Anything is possible if you believe.

The Doctors

If you’ve come to read this post thinking it’ll be about Doctor Who then I apologise, it isn’t. It’s actually about the awkward GP experience.

Before you can even get to that awkward experience, you need to book an appointment. I prefer to do this in the actual doctors surgery, (I’ve always found that to be a weird name), as you don’t have to wait 40 years for the phone to be answered and it’s not as awkward or anxiety making as making a phone is. If you do have to ring then it means you have to begin the call with “yeah hi” or “oh hello”. You can never just say “hello”. Then you have to say “I’d like to book a doctors appointment please” which is just ridiculous, it’s not like you’re ringing up to book a boat trip down the river Nile is it, it’s a DOCTORS SURGERY obviously I’m going to be booking a doctors appointment. The person on the phone then makes you tell them what the problem is, which is embarrassing, no matter what it is.

Once you’ve made your appointment (which will probably be 3 weeks after you phone and by then you’re probably cured anyway which means you feel like you’ve wasted everyones day), you have to sign in. My doctors has the worst touch screen system I have ever come across. You have to drag the curser around with your finger and try and tap the screen in the right places fo your birth month and initials, but because the calibration is off and the lag is dreadful you end up clicking the wrong things and having to drag the curser to the corner to cancel it. And don’t get me started on the germs that machine is harbouring.

Then it’s the waiting room. Which is probably the most tragic and boring place on earth. The waiting room should be renamed to “the ‘extremely long and uncomfortable’ waiting room”  because no matter how early or late you arrive for your appointment, you will rarely be seen on time. When I went to the doctors last week, I arrived a few minutes late and I still didn’t get into my appointment for another 30 minutes. But luckily there’s plenty to do in the waiting room, such as stare at ill people, or read the scary “be careful this doesn’t kill you” posters and leaflets. I can’t get much signal in my doctors so I can’t even go on the internet. It’s a hard life.

When I was eventually called (not that I heard properly as the tannoy sounds like a potato, so I rely on the tv screen) I made my way into the consultation room (after getting lost because they don’t tell you where anywhere is). I find the whole consultation very awkward. We all know I’m awkward with new people but the situation is made more awkward by the fact the doctor was just staring at me waiting for me to tell her my problem, She didn’t say “what seems to be the problem?” just said “hello” opened the window because the room was 50 degrees and stared.

I spent all this time at the doctors for her to say the words “take some ibuprofen”
THAT IS IT. I thought I was dying with heart pains. But she told me were muscle pains that can be solved with ibuprofen.

What even was the point…

Family Days Out

Once a year my dads side of the family meet up for “cousins day”. Yes it is as awkward as it sounds. The cousins in question aren’t even my cousins. My uncle and his wife on my dads side don’t have any children, so the cousins we see once a year are my second cousins. So it’s my grandma, her siblings and their children with their children. Don’t worry if that didn’t make sense, I’m confused as well. But the long and short of it is, I’m barely related to any of them, I can’t even remember some of their names.

I find the whole day incredibly uncomfortable. Every year it’s the same questions “how’s the year been?” “how old are you now?” “what year at school are you in?” etc. If you know me, you’ll know that I am not good at social situations, they make me feel really shy and awkward and anxious, and this results in me giving short almost snappy answers, resulting in the cousins thinking I’m weird and my parents telling me to “stop being so quiet go and talk to the girls”. I DON’T WANT TO WE HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON, just let me sit in the corner and eat my food in peace.

However. There were also some specific questions that they ALWAYS ASK ME that bother me;
“do you still do your art?”
Okay, one of the ladies is an artist, and when she asked about whether I liked art, I BRIEFLY mentioned that as a CHILD I used to do drawings. I won an award for my art aged 7. This does not mean I still do much art, and when I do, I’m not doing it with the intention of showing her. I don’t even own a sketchbook anymore. But I always answer this with “sometimes” to which she replies with “you must show me your sketches one day”. No.

“are you old enough for the wine yet?”
One of the ladies brings a bottle of red and a bottle of white for the picnic lunch. And every year they make a big deal about me not being old enough to drink. I don’t even like wine, so despite the fact now I’m old enough to drink it, I say no, which earns me a look of pity.

“what are you studying again?”
I reply with “communication and media” which generally gets a response like “oh, wow” followed up by either “you can study anything these days” or “medias important in this day and age”. Studying a media based subject doesn’t make me more stupid than those who study science or maths, it just means I have a different interest. It makes me feel especially bad when the only other girls there are studying fashion in London, and maths in Cambridge…

The fact I have to answer the same questions every year just shows how unimportant the answers are, if they really were bothered about what I had to say they would remember the answers. The whole thing is pretty pointless.

Then, as if this day out couldn’t get any more middle class, we line up against a stately home wall for family photos. With the older generation and younger generation being separated. The pictures are taken with people in height order AND then in age order. Can you hear that? It’s the sound of me crying with embarrassment.

I also have a problem with the speed my extended family walk at. THEY WALK SO SLOWLY. It’s 5 steps, 20 minute stop and chat, 5 steps, 20 minute stop and chat. JUST WALK AND TALK. There’s a small lake/big pond (I’m not sure what to class it as) at this stately home, and my mum, brother and I, can walk round THE ENTIRE THING, before the rest of the family even get to the lake. The waiting around is more exhausting than the walking, and that’s not right.

Question, tell me what you think about me, (literally) let me know what sort of blog posts you prefer to read/if you have any requests for me to do. As cheesy and awful as this sounds, I would love to hear your feedback!

Camping Horrors

This post is a bit different to my normal ones. It’s an anecdotal childhood story, it’s not like my post on Friendships on Rough Seas this one is less sad, more ANTENTS. This is a rather brilliant pun but will only make sense wheny you’ve read this. So if that hasn’t got you hooked I don’t know what will.

I was in primary school, and it was the “Tentathon” which, for some reason, my school thought families camping in the field would be a good way to spend a fews days summer. My dad decided it would be a nice thing for him me and my brother to take part and, at first I was pretty excited, it was my first time being “close to nature”; my first time camping… and my last time.

I was in the tent, obviously otherwise I’d have completely messed up, and it was dark, as is the norm for night time. I was enjoying the experience so far, the quietness and the nature-yness of tenting was pretty nice. I also had my favourite drink, a Blackcurrent Fruit Shoot (the bottles by the way are now SO MUCH SMALLER THAN THEY USED TO BE) and I thought it would be an appropriate time to have some of it.

MISTAKE

As it was summer time it was ant season. Ants are black and the tent was black. And ants like sweet things. So I attempted to have some of the drink. I didn’t get the drink in my mouth, I got ants. There were ants on the lid. Which were now running around on my tongue. Obviously as a 7 year old I reacted by screaming. spitting and crying. To be honest I’d have reacted the same way if it happened now.

So now I cannot deal with ants, both the normal and flying kind, and on Friday when 10000 errupted from my back garden (not a euphemism), I very nearly had a breakdown.