End as you mean to go on. Or should that be start? We’re on the edge of 2011, staring down the barrel of 2012. I’m wrapping up this mad, tangled year with a cup of tea and a seat by the fire, basking in the glow of twenty-one successful eBay listings and the wonderful news that one of my poems has been published in the latest issue of Railroad. It’s a good way to wrap up 2011, and before I look ahead I would like to look back at everything else that’s occurred.

2011 was the year I…

…left the country.

At the end of February, after months of planning, I quit my job in the bookshop and travelled across the United States. They were the best weeks of my life. I cannot understate my gratitude and love for the people I met, the friends I made, lessons learned and experiences enjoyed. I wish I could do it all again only this time without it ending. Relive my USA adventure: here, here , here and here.

…recorded an audiobook.

Marley is probably the hardest working person I know. He keeps an eye on us unruly artists with his production company, Naplew Productions, and seems to have an endless supply of creative projects and brilliant ideas. I love him and loved working with him on the Fight the Sky audiobook, the making of which almost killed me, but I do adore the end result. Have you downloaded it yet? Have you laughed at my pitiful croaking towards the end?

…released Revolve.

2010 was all about my short stories collection. This year I released a second book under the Painting Lies imprint, a poetry collection called Revolve. It collects together pieces from 2004, right up to my return from America at the start of this year. I’m proud of it. Poetry is personal and it can be daunting to “get it out there” and into people’s hands, but I’ve managed it with this little book. I was also thrilled that the GoodReads promotional giveaway attracted over 700 entries from around the world. Still waiting on that first Amazon review, though…

…lived in a tent.

Between May and mid-October I lived in a tent in The Netherlands, working for a holiday company. I did this because I wanted to try something new, and also because I wanted the experience of working abroad. It was testing and an emotional drain at times, but I’m glad I did it. I met some wonderful people, got really into baking and fell head over heels in love with Holland. It’s best summed up by the poem I wrote, All Roads Lead To Duinhell.

…made a comeback.

After moving back to England, I went back from whence I came (for a short time, at least). I got a temporary position at the bookshop again. I sold a few books, found a few familiar, friendly faces, and slipped back into the routine of Wake, Work, Curse The Rail Service, Repeat.

…finished a novel.

I started writing a story, Doors, in May 2010, after Fight the Sky was published. I took it seriously then and still do now. On New Year’s Eve 2010 I completed the first draft, and have spent all of 2011 re-drafting and crafting it into something nigh on presentable. I’m happy with it and plan to publish it in the summer, if all goes to plan…

…started a new novel.

In November I set my heart on a follow-up to Doors. This will conclude the overall story, and kiss goodbye to another chapter of my life. For now, I’m calling this second novel Flipside. It’s still early days but it’s good to have that first draft creativity flowing again.

…lived alone.

Two days after returning from Holland, I moved into my own place. I’m in love with the solitude and can’t complain for all the space and opportunity I have to write, which is really all I’ve ever wanted to do. I know I can’t keep it forever, so I’m going to enjoy Solo Life while it lasts, and get as much out of it as possible. The day will come when I have to force my infurirating habits and obsessive behaviours on other human beings again, so we all might as well enjoy the peace for the time being.

…walked away.

There have been no specific confrontations, but I’ve walked away from many situations this year. I have no interest in struggling over things, or fretting, or worrying who or what or when I’ve caused an upset. At the beginning of 2011 I decided to Just Roll With It, and it’s a philosophy I can see myself sticking with. No arguments, no unnecessary emotion, no chasing after people or letting myself get hurt. Just pick yourself up and get on with it. Walk away if you have to. And if you can mend it later, try.

2012 is the year I will…

…try veganism.

I’ve been harking on about this for a few years now, and this time I mean to try. Since moving back to England I’ve been gradually removing dairy from my diet, and I think I’ll do okay. I can give this a decent chance. If It doesn’t work for me, I’ll be able to say I gave it serious effort. Here goes nothin’.

…publish a(nother) book.

Doors is coming. I want the second half ready by the end of the year. Push push push yourself apply apply apply and make somebody take notice.

…spread the word rather thin.

I will enter writing competitions (even the ones there is no hope of winning), I will find a writing group, I will talk to more writers, I will Get Myself Out There, I will try and I will believe. I will be nice. And most importantly, I will enjoy.

…study.

There’s a small plan forming, involving a course in the spring, and if all goes well, another in the summer. I don’t know what will come of it so I’m saying nothing more for now, in case it never happens. But I know self-improvement is an on going, wondrous thing that doesn’t come easy, so I’m taking steps over the next twelve months to progress myself further. There is always something you can be better at.

I’m looking forward to reading everybody’s hopes and resolutions for the New Year. I hope everybody enters it happy and achieves what they set out to. And hey, if the world’s still around at the close, maybe we can have this conversation again.

This weekend was the Duinrell reunion in Southport. It was a chance for all employees and couriers to get together and drown any post-summer sorrows, before enjoying the greasiest (but free!) breakfasts known to man, courtesy of Pontins. I’ve never been to Pontins before and I won’t go again. It was like a condemned council estate, honestly. What a depressing place. Still, it was nice to see everyone. I’m aware that I won’t see most of them ever again (no point beating around the bush, is there?) so it was nice to mentally return to Holland with them one last time, and gain some kind of closure. It’s strange how after weeks apart, and in many cases months apart, we were immediately comfortable with each other. It was as if we’d dug up the tents and live area and just shifted it to this shithole on the edge of Liverpool.

I spotted Matt as I arrived – he helped me check in and find my “apartment”, am impressive feat considering he was absolutely slaughtered.

Naturally, it all got a bit mad in places. There was a lot of naked dancing and rowdiness on Saturday night, after most of the boys had reached the point of mental incapacity, and the usual dramas gaggles of young ladies take everywhere with them. Friday night was a more chilled affair – I didn’t turn up at the venue until well past 10pm because I couldn’t travel until after work finished at 7pm, so I was knackered and had already missed a lot, but it was still good. We were placed in these crap little apartments, and though everybody else was sharing, I ended up alone. This suited me. It was cold and ‘orrible, but I made a nest out of all of the blankets and pillows I could find and shivered my way through the nights. Saturday’s daytime activities included a pool party, but I’m reluctant to take my clothes off in front of people unless smashed so I was delighted to go shopping with Ceris in Liverpool instead. I’d never been to Liverpool before, and though we didn’t get to see much due to how unbelievably busy it was, I liked it. I want to go back when it isn’t crammed with Christmas shoppers and explore properly.

Here are a few photos from the weekend, then…I got back Sunday afternoon after two train journeys and an exhausted slog across town. After cleansing myself (shitty Pontins showers had no hot water…I’m doing my best to sell this place to you) I got into my pyjamas, ate a massive bowl of rice and Quorn, and opened the mail to find a contract for next season…a promotion. Now, do I accept or decline?

Top girls – Katie, Ceris, Kelly, me, Eilidh, Lucy, Amy.

Todd IS the party.

Host: “What’s your talent?”
Todd: “I can balance a pint on my head and stand on anything.”

This magician blew our minds.

It was an 80′s themed weekend, so a few people dressed up. Dean (fourth from the right, can’t miss the chap) won best costume.

I had so many compliments about All Roads Lead To Duinhell. It makes me happy to know it was liked and that, if nothing else, we have that poem. I’m useless at accepting compliments and praise, but I don’t feel like it was only me who worked on that piece; it was everybody who was there and who did crazy things worth writing about. Horrified as I was at times, it does makes me grin.

Next week is the Waterstone’s Christmas meal. I’m going to wear the same lacy dress because I can’t afford another one, chalk the alcohol up as a lost cause and hope for the best. Before then I’d like to have a slice of glorious garlic bread from the German market and make some substantial progress with my Doors submissions. I’ve done my first publisher submission, and once I get a decent synopsis and cover letter written, I can send off one or two more. I don’t feel nervous because I don’t expect any interest. I’ve realised that I’m doing this for my own benefit. I’m proving something to myself, and when I accept it, I can work hard on another Painting Lies publication. As with the last two books, I’m going to say I want an amazing cover designed. This time I plan to actually make it happen.

If my life seems like a boring, endless cycle of complaint, cake, writing, talking about writing, brief mentions of doors and rabbits, then that’s because it is. Except it’s not boring. If I squint and look at it from the corner of my eye, it’s a pleasure.

 I had a brilliant time at the Britney concert. I know she’ll always get bad press, and there’s no musician alive who is to every single person’s tastes, but for what she does, she’s ideal and doesn’t disappoint. Me and Lisa got there around six-thirty and took our seats (high up on the right hand side – I couldn’t take any decent pictures because if I try to zoom in with my digital camera, it reports a ‘lens error’ and shuts itself off), observing as the LG Arena slowly but surely filled up. Some people were dressed in Britney costumes, others in tour shirts – it was pretty cool. The venue’s huge, so there was an insane amount of people there! The first support act were a bit cheesy, but Joe Jonas was surprisingly good. I’d actually consider listening to his record, he did a good job. Britney looked a bit uncomfortable at first but once she started smiling and talking to the crowd, she relaxed and the show got going. Immaculate stage show, by the way. The budget must have been astronomical! Moving parts, trap doors, aerial acrobatics, fireworks, platforms descending from the sky, a car rolling across stage (during How I Roll, naturally), angel wings…it was the perfect pop show. I’m glad I didn’t myself with taking photos; I just wanted to drink in every bit of it. Visually, very impressive. I’ve found a quick video clip (there are quite a few others on Youtube) and photos from others that were there, so I’m going to share those instead. Full credit to whoever uploaded these!

The only way the night could’ve been better would be if she’d sang Stronger. Or Break The Ice. Still, we had so much fun!

I’m back at work now, today was my third shift. It feels like I never really left, just spent along weekend in a tent. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Who knows. Either way, I’m earning money for Christmas presents and surrounded by people I like, so it can’t be a bad thing. I’m knackered, but that’s nothing unusual. I’m still trying to sort my sleeping pattern out. Consuming copious levels of caffeine won’t help me with this, but tough – the Starbucks Christmas menu is back, and I plan to drink my weight in toffee nut lattes before the year is through…

This post is brought to you by the fake blood stains still adorning my arms, chest, legs, back, stomach and face. You are welcome.

I had the weirdest job interview of my life on Thursday. It was a group recruitment session for Asda, and among other things, I told the world how I wished I could be Top Cat (he’s such a snappy dresser) and helped create a bound-for-Youtube smash-hit advertisement for pink rubber gloves. The very last question, “Why should I employ you, Sinead?”, prompted the response because I would rock the uniform…yeah, I did not think I would get that job. But I did. The lovely lady who ran the session called on Friday to offer me the job. So I turned it down.

Eh?

Oh, right. Forgot to say that as of right now, I’m back at the bookshop. Where I began this mad year of mine, and where some might say I belong. Just stick the girl on a shelf somewhere, give her something to alphabetise, and she’ll be fine. I’m happy with this arrangement. It’s only temporary, so who knows what can happen in the New Year? I know it’s a luxurious position to be in when I’m turning down employment. So thank you, Asda, for the crazy afternoon and the confidence that phonecall gave me. I hope the person who fills the position is amazing and not a veritable nutjob, like me. I still have a 100% track record in job interviews, can’t complain.

This week has been a whirlwind of best loaf cake ever invented, costume shopping with Jack, cramming as much literature into the car as possible and never, ever stopping to rest. Yesterday was particularly good. Naomi and I checked out the Wolverhampton Vegan Festival at the Civic Hall, which was packed to the rafters and filled with fantastic things. I came away with many leaflets, an extremely full stomach, one large carton of coconut milk and the realisation that, when it comes to crucial advice on tombola tickets, I am the girl to listen to.

Miss Berry, ecstatic with her bag of Amy’s Kitchen soup and related paraphenalia.

After the festival we retired to my flat for the standard session of Big Bang Theory + tea, this time with added fake fur. And blood. And cat ears. And…PVA glue? I felt like a sodding Blue Peter project.

The costume was a last-minute attempt at roadkill…I’ve been threatening to be roadkill for years. If I’d had the time and budget I would’ve made a wicked Rogue costume (early idea for next year, perhaps?). Once sufficiently mussed up, we went to Lisa’s and Luke’s house where a few friendly freaky faces were gathered. We drank, got rather merry (well, Naomi had to drive home, so she managed to behave herself), stumbled into town and ended up in Babylon. Another quality night out in Wolverhampton. I do love how Hallowe’en always delivers.

This busy week of mine doesn’t show any signs of slowing just yet. Tonight is the Britney Spears concert that me and Lisa will be attending…it might just be the best few hours of my life, so even though I’m tired and hanging and ready to drop, I’m going to dance like a maniac and sing along to every damn word. Give me coffee and pizza and cake to keep the energy levels up! Tuesday is my return to work, so I best dig out the ol’ uniform sometime soon…before you know it, it’s time for Bonfire Night and evenings at the cinema seeing films that might not be any good, and – a dentist’s appointment. Oh. What a sorry note to end on.

In my dreams it’s me and you

Naomi bought me this mug as a housewarming gift. I can’t think of anything else that more accurately sums me up as a person, except maybe this. Yes, that is a leaning tower of Stephen King books. As the move continues, I find myself +literature, -shelving. Oh dear.

The fortnight’s gone well since my return. I’ve eaten two jacket potatoes, caught up with all of the news, got my 2011 reading challenge back on track, applied for several jobs and got the vast majority of my things in order. I’ve sorted out home insurance, the taxman, made a dentist’s appointment and sent off forms in case I want to do the mad holiday courier thing again, next year. We shall see. It’s an option, at least. I’ve also asked Wolverhampton council for information on local writing groups; I’d like to find one I could fit into, if such a thing exists. I want to start French classes as well, or find a lonely French person to speak to. Self-improvement is non-negotiable.

More fun should be had, as well. Stop denying yourself things you enjoy. If I want to scoff cake and biscuits, I damn well will. That’s precisely what Naomi and I did last night.

Isn’t it fantastic how you can shove all of these messy, ‘orrible things in a bowl, stir it up a bit, whack it in the oven and produce a lovely, glorious banana loaf?

Lisa and Luke came over just in time, as the cake was cooling. We watched Megamind, ate, drank tea and squash, talked a load of rubbish. Good times. I think Naomi’s going to come to Wolves on Saturday to check out the vegan festival that’s being held at the Civic Hall…that should be a nutritious and environmentally friendly good day.

My brother, mother and I went to see Funeral For a Friend’s gig at the Wulfrun Hall on Sunday night. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a live band. The support acts were decent and FFAF were, of course, terrific – they played Your Revolution Is A Joke, which was beautiful. Matt still seems to be madly in love with his music, it was great to watch. The show was a nice, irrelevant warm-up for the legendary Miss Britney Spears, who me and Lisa will be watching this Sunday. I actually can’t wait. I’ve only ever been to one pop concert before, BSB in 2008, but I can’t imagine that can compare to the kind of budget and showmanship Britney commands. Mind you, she could turn up on stage in her pyjamas, off her face and not even bothering to lip sync and I’d be quite happy. So maybe I’m not a fair judge.

Right, back to the day I must go. Yet more stuff was retrieved from storage this morning, so I should go home and tidy, then do a bit more work on Doors. I’m formatting the manuscript at the moment, and once that’s done, I’m going to give it another read through, double-triple-quadruple check everything, then get a couple of copies printed to hand out. It’s good to be at this stage of things. I like that I’m proud of it. I love that already I’m having serious ideas about the next installment. Did I mention that it might take me three books to tell the entire story?

It’s so good to have my boys back.

On Tuesday evening Sue took me to Ikea…the plan was to go mad and buy everything in sight that I could possibly find a use for, and though I didn’t end up with everything, I did get a fair amount. I spent the following morning assembling flat-packed furniture, which I was surprisingly adept at. I now have a bookcase and coffee table in the lounge, and a shelving unit in the bathroom. They haven’t collapsed yet, so s’all good.

Lisa came round in the afternoon to help us retrieve my books and writing-related things from storage, and helped me sort it afterwards. I thanked her with macadamia blondies. If in doubt, say it with CAKE.

Yesterday I ventured to Birmingham to enjoy coffee and wine with Naomi…I loved walking around the city, reacquainting myself. It feels like I’ve been away much longer than five months. I went into Waterstone’s and saw some of the old gang, which was nice. After we’d polished off our bottle of Jake’s Point, me ‘n Nomes tagged along to a pub quiz with them all, in which our team came fifth (not bad at all, some of the questions were impossible! I think there were eleven teams in total?). I also ate a massive filthy pizza, fuck yeahhhh.

Naomi enjoying her copy of Revolve. Not a staged photograph.

I stayed at Naomi’s afterwards, then caught the bus back to Wolves this morning. I’m unnecessarily shattered, working myself up for a trip to Asda which I will find overwhelming, but it’s vital. Need bananas!!

I’ll leave you with a new poem, which I’ll include a video reading of. This is something I plan to do more often in theory. Enjoy? I’m red once again, by the way.

In Servitude

I say I AM POET
but what if
I am poetry instead?

I am the words
and the meaning
and the reason
wrapped in ribbons,
curls of ignorance
in my house made of cardboard,
sensibility shredded and sodden.

I walk the path well-trodden,
my footsteps tiny rhythms,
little dents in time.
I am the poem
and I like it just fine,
ideas bright with
no measure of time,
infallible feeling of
YES, THIS IS MINE.
THIS SPACE,
THIS FREEDOM,
STEADY HANDS CRAFTING LINES.

I wrap myself in blankets
stitched from paper and ink,
my cousins, my brothers,
lovers sit thinking
that there’s none but the other,
no, nothing at all.

They are wrong.
There are words.
I am the poet, enthralled.

What a mad weekend this has turned out to be. This is the first time I’ve sat down to actually think about what’s happening, so please excuse me if it makes no sense. My mind’s an exhausted muddle – since returning to England I haven’t managed to snatch more than a few hours sleep. I think I’m too excited to rest. I’ll keep working myself into a frenzy until I snap, then sleep for a week. Or die.

So, where to start? My time in the Netherlands is over. I said my goodbyes on Thursday morning, crammed my cases (and, of course, the stycle) into the car and was waved on my way to Rotterdam. How do I feel, now that it’s over? Well, I’m not missing the living conditions. It is strange not to see everyone. My hands do not smell of bleach and my knees aren’t coated in floor-muck. I’m glad I saw my contract through, glad I met so many brilliant people, glad it went well and that I can look forward to the end of the year. I feel positive. I was ready to go but I didn’t go sadly, if you know what I mean. I came back with absolutely no regrets and no doubt that it was the best thing I could’ve done with the summer. A time I will never forget. So many mad moments to sift through and make a story out of…

Me and Daffy Duck.

The most Welsh person I have ever met.

Quality roommate!

The journey back was a long one. The ferry ride was over six hours, and I can only thank God it was a calm crossing (won’t lie, I was hangin’). After getting off the ferry, my mum kindly drove for five hours back to Wolverhampton. Naturally we made a coffee stop, so I could sob with happiness into my expensive latte and try to get over the mild culture shock I was experiencing…I kept yelling at things I’d forgotten about, like Morrisons, and chip shops, and the fact that everybody was driving on the left.

We got back to Wolf Town at one o’ clock in the morning, so there wasn’t much time for anything other than a reunion with my rabbits (my little monster is still a chubby lunatic), quick chat with my brother, and…wait, has my mother bought me Britney Spears tickets?! OH DEAR GOD. How was I supposed to sleep after that?! I didn’t, not really. My brain was wired and I was excited, shocked…dead on my feet, but I couldn’t manage more than a few minutes rest at a time. It put me in a bit of a blurry mood the next morning, but I survived.

First day back was spent delightedly choosing something to wear that I hadn’t worn in five months and that hadn’t, at some point or other, been molested by earwigs – WONDERFUL FEELING – and then rushing off to meet Lisa for lunch. We had the biggest hug outside Sainsbury’s, then a bang-on meal at Chiquito. I missed that place. We talked about our summers, what had changed and what hadn’t. I shared my Britney news (I really hope she can come with me!) and told her what I knew about the flat…afterwards we walked into the city to scope it out, see what was new, have our usual Cherry Sourz & Coke in the Royal. Luke and Stephen popped in for a bit; it was good to see friendly faces. In some ways it was like I’d never gone, but also felt like I’d been away for ages. Strange, in a good way. We ended up in Asda so I could get a few essentials for the flat – coffee, porridge, kettle, washing up bowl and a wooden spoon…CRUCIAL.

I’d planned to have an emotional reunion with my PS3 in the evening, but went to bed instead. Then I was up insufferably early again yesterday for breakfast and another round of wardrobe raiding. Happily dressed, Sue took me to Wednesfield so I could print off some job-related shenanigans (I’m going to save that little bombshell for the future, depending on whether it works out or not first!) and get a couple of things from Sainsbury’s. Then we went straight to the letting agent’s to sign the lease and pick up my keys…

Of course, it’s not much to look at now because my stuff is still waiting to be unpacked and arranged, and until I’ve been here a week or so it won’t actually feel lived in. But it’s something. I’m already a little bit in love with it. Once my workspace is set up (desktop, laptop, typewriters x 2, manuscripts, notebooks, expertly organised selection of pens!) and my TV’s sorted, it’ll start being mine. The fireplace was a nice surprise and there are decorative plans for it, when I come across the dollar.

We moved a few bags of stuff in in the morning, then walked into the city centre for a hot drink, so I could make some sense of the area. It’s a nice, easy walk to Wolves, and even a twat like me can’t get lost (note to self: the route is yet to be tested whilst inebbriated). Good news!

Naomi drove over in the afternoon and we had a slow-motion Baywatch-style reunion, then cooed over the flat for a bit before heading back into town for frappuccinos and a much-needed chat! It’s so good to see her again, and Lisa, and people from “the real world”. I suspect I’m going to severely miss the Duinrell-ites before much longer, but everyone at home had started to grow fuzzy in my mind. You know when you realise you’re forgetting faces? I definitely needed to be here.

We came back to the flat afterwards, so Naomi could pick up her car. We had mugs of tea, oat biscuits and looked at recipes we want to try. We spoke of baking, seeing friends, going to Birmingham next week for a night out…plans. Have I told you I’m feeling positive? Unheard of, I know. But nice.

After she left I unpacked a few other things, then got into bed to read and promptly fell asleep. I woke up at four-thirty unable to drop off again, so I got up and bleached the kitchen. Yeah, that’s right. Fuckin’ back-to-backed that bad boy. Had a bash at the bathroom as well, and made a stab at filling the wardrobe. There’s still much to do until I’m settled, but that’s what this week is for. I reckon a day out at trip to IKEA so I can eat veggie hotdogs is necessary!

Today’s going to be good. I can tidy, buy things, make lists and feel organised, which to me equates to happiness. Then I’m going to my mum’s house to harass the rabbits and eat what I have been craving for months: one large, extremely sexy baked potato, with melted cheese and coleslaw. There will be enjoyment, maybe a few tears…but, as always, no regrets.

It’s so good to be living in the mobile. I actually cannot put my happiness into words. Waking up and knowing I don’t have to sneak back to camp of a morning, and that I will be staying in this bed until I go home…oh, bliss. Thank you thank you thank you. It’s not luxury but it’s a definite step up from damp, muddy groundsheets and seagulls yammering away on the roof at the crack of dawn.

Goodbye, tent. Jack and I kept you tidy, cosy and as homely as we possibly could. Good times were had, as were many bad nights’ sleep. I will not miss you.

The weather’s been amazing this week, a right glorious heatwave. Why the good weather now, right at summer’s death? Shouldn’t complain, I suppose. On Saturday I managed to finish work relatively early, so me and Daf cycled to Leiden in the sunshine to check out a festival taking place in the city centre. All of the main streets were blocked off for fairground rides, market stalls, food stands and several live music stages. I don’t know exactly what was being celebrated, but it was fun. The Dutch know how to party!

That damn Miffy, she gets everywhere!

See the tower in the background? That was the one ride we went on, at night when the others arrived. It cost us eight euros each but it was worth it for the view.

Fellow couriers arrived when night fell, and after they’d had their fill of Burger King, we explored. After going on the Around The World ride we nearly broke our necks on the dodgems, chickened out of a couple of other rides for financial reasons, had a drink before choosing to head back to Wassenaar…I enjoyed the bike ride back, even though it was freezing.

Colin, Daf, Adam, Heidi, Caroline…

Seriously, we spent about a tenner trying to get a damn Miffy doll. Mike SUCCEEDED!

Apparently we’re having a bake-off this week, possibly Friday evening. I’ve got a serious cake in mind, should it happen. I hope it does. I need to take advantage of the oven in this mobile home before I go. Not long now. Not long until I get to see the rabbits. Cannot wait to harass Jaster. I hope he is still as chubby and batshit insane as he was when I left him.

My form’s been handed in for reunion, flat negotiations are ongoing. And the real world is closer. I wonder how everybody else has found it?

This week and weekend is about saying t’ra to those campers going home for uni or other such things…we’re seeing them off with good food (Amy made me a bang tidy vegetable stew, and I finally got to Luciano’s ice cream parlour yesterday – coffee and cinnamon, delicious) and a few good nights. We went out in Scheveningen on Wednesday and had round two of Tent Crawl last night (remember round one?)…I was in the shower at five this morning trying to feel less like a ratty mess. Me and Jack revived our tribal rave (“UPGRADE!”) so hairspray, backcombing and the reckless application of bodypaint was in order.

Ready for visuals?

Let the tent crawl begin…I managed to get shots of the costumes, this time. How it works is you decorate your tent in a theme of your choice, dress yourself to match, then go between the tents with the rest of the group, sampling a specialty punch in each one…the aim is to end up in the local bar, Rickie’s, having crawled there. Much like last time, I didn’t make it that far.

Let’s rave!

In the pitch black with glow sticks splattered everywhere and incense burning, it was pretty intense.

Sophie, Mike and Kelly – everybody put in so much effort!

Strawberries, cream and Pimms at the Wimbledon tent.

Where are we?

Pete Doherty and Ms Winehouse put in a performance…

GO TEAM!

You can see more on my Facebook, should you have me added there. I don’t doubt there’s more to come before the season’s over! At the beginning of next week my mum, Jack and a couple of his mates will be on site, paying me a visit. I’m sure the boys will end up in Amsterdam at some point, too…can’t wait!

Rest is for the dead! Sleep is for the weak! Stationary is not an option! Etc. etc. With those words of wisdom in mind, my two days off last week were spent stycling around on a mad mission to do myself in. Lord knows how many kilometres I covered, but it was a few too many. Pushing yourself to the limit feels good at the time, but afterwards…I ache.

I’ve seen new places, had some adventures. Every second spent pedalling in pain was worth it.

Haarlem

I wasn’t that taken with Haarlem, in all honesty. I enjoyed the early morning ride to Leiden, and the train was as efficient as every other mode of transport in Holland, but the city wasn’t all that memorable. I would’ve enjoyed it more if it wasn’t tipping it down with rain, but even then, it wasn’t the most special of places. The shops can all be found elsewhere, as well as the cafes…it was worth the train fare to see the organ inside the Basilika, played by a 10-year-old Mozart, but I won’t be rushing back.

Gouda

Gouda was great – Thursdays is market day, so I got to see the traders dressed in traditional costume, and witnessed the weighing of the cheese! I’ve never seen so much cheese in my life. Free samples were given out so I took advantage, and also took a good look around St. John the Baptist’s church, which has the most beautiful stained glass windows I’ve ever seen. Pictures can’t do them justice.

To get to Gouda I caught the train from Den Haag after another lovely morning cycle. On my way back to camp Amy text me to say her, Sophie and Mike 4 (one of the new Canvas reps replacing the ones mentioned in an earlier post) were in Leiden to take a boat trip along the canals. I stycled like my life depended on it and got there in the nick of time…

We stopped by Subway, raided the British food shop (I resisted the biscuits and cake…somehow) then cycled back. I was dead by this point. I haven’t been that knackered since the 35km death cycle to Zoetermeer and back on my orientation.

The days off ended with vanilla chai tea, Strepsils (I sounded like a man for a while there) and episodes of Bones…always a good way to wrap up a burst of sightseeing. It’s yet another busy week of work and I’m ready to drop. Got to fit everything in whilst I’m still out here. There’ll be no looking back and thinking I wish I did that or I wish I went there. Just get it done, go whilst you’re able. Oh, and don’t forget to smile.

Let’s finish this off with something short and sweet…remember I mentioned the Moleskine notebook I filled whilst travelling to Bruges? I’ve hidden it inside a favourite book of mine. I wonder if anybody’s found it yet…

On Katwijk Beach

I’m putting a piece of myself
inside a book
for a stranger
to find.
Asked myself all day
what to feel about this,
sad to say
I got nothin
at all.
Sharing my secrets,
baring this animal soul.
Why does it not cut me?
Because I believe
who finds it
won’t read it.
It is fine
if I let it be fine.
That I’ve tried
says there’s courage,
there is lion in me.
On a beach
six kilometres at least
from those who know me,
walkers staring for they see
solitary, one girl,
writing on parchment
with a parched throat
in old clothes
and there’s no one
for her to share
the sea with,
or sand.
Well do ask me, passers-by,
know in truth that
all is grand.
Must take a full minute
where I don’t think
or wonder
or worry.
Then on my feet,
off I go,
to face the morning’s
new story.
Meet me there in the bookshop,
though I’ll leave
in a hurry.

(24.8.2011)