After purchasing a lava lamp Wednesday, I’ve noticed my mood chill out. The blue bubbles of lave bounce off each other in a kind of boring but weirdly relaxing way and have somehow inspired me to actually do something.
Considering the fact that my end of year exams are only a week away, you’d think that I’d do some revision, right?
No.
Well I’ll be honest and admit that I’ve been a little distracted. Continue reading
Tonight I have decided that I am really mean.
I know.
There are two things that really stand out in any argument I have with myself or my closer friends on the matter and usually end with the conclusion that yes, I’m a mean guy. The first of these is slightly self inflicted. I have a way of bullying myself into thinking that working lots is fantastic and leads to great success, but all its done so far is given me a shift-change and broken my natural body clock so much that sleep? Well, that’s not a word in my dictionary. Continue reading
Taking a couple of weeks out of the heat of the kitchen at home and living off your mum’s cooking doesn’t sound like a bad idea, in fact, it’s a wonderful idea. For the first time in three or so months, I tasted vegetables and meat cooked properly. I enjoyed lamb chops and parsnips, carrots too! However, this ultimate luxury wasn’t going to last for long as I would soon enough be returning to London and that would mean having to be independent, once again.
The whole idea of living independently sounds ace, until you realise that as soon as you dump your stuff in the flat, you have to immediately do a quick shop for toilet paper, a bottle of milk and a packet of chewing gum before TESCO closes. What is really scary, that return to the kitchen that you have to do. If you leave it too late, and you’ll forget how not to give yourself food poisoning, return too soon and you think you remember well enough, but it’ll turn out you really haven’t a clue.
Now that it’s been a week since my return, I decided to really venture out and cook something special. I combined all the things I learned since starting uni, and all the tips my wonderful mum has shown me over Christmas and managed to cook my favourite BBQ chicken and pasta.
It’s not really a favourite, just makes me feel like I’m a good chef because of it’s complicatedness, that’s all.
I began by sprinkling my marinade on a baking tray, before throwing some chunks of chicken on it. I washed my hands and sprinkled a little more of the powder over the top and let it begin it’s magic. It was then time to throw some pasta into the saucepan which was ready and waiting with boiling water. I felt so confident that I even took photos!
I continued to balance and juggle between the pasta and the meat, carefully selecting the spices that would add flavour to my meal, while also preparing extras; a packet of grated mozzarella cheese and a glass of water. The time came when the meat was ready for cooking and it was carefully placed on a frying pan before I whacked up the heat. It took a few moments to heat up
before the oil started spitting; I was even more brave with the camera now and took some close up photos, only to get caught out on my bare arms by the burning oil.
It looked delicious though and my stomach was rumbling louder than the music on my iPod. The smell of barbecue was incredible too, really setting the tastebuds on my mouth on fire as they warmed to the taste in the air.
Of course, that was all very well until I realised the pasta was sticking to the side of the pan and that the chicken began to burn. I took the meat of the heat and tipped the pasta into a waiting colander that was perched in the sink. I used some wooden ‘things’ to flip the chicken over to stop it from sticking to the pan and launched the pasta out onto a nearby plate. I slashed open the packet of cheese and poured it over, which began to melt. The chicken was too hot to pick up and the frying pan was balanced so I didn’t dare touch it.
The cupboard door flung open and I reached in for a pair of tongues to pick each and every piece of chicken from the pan. My chicken actually looked like it had been on a barbecue; unintentionally, but it looked the part.
Hello dinner. Welcome back, bad chef.
I couldn’t believe my eyes as I woke, peering through between the curtains at the garden below. A thin layer of mist swept through the trees, floating seamlessly across the grass and spreading towards the stone patio. A bird was chirping from it’s warm nest, high above the ground in a tree. I listened carefully, before climbing down from my bed and reaching out for my robe.
Down the stairs I ran, missing the last step and I leapt out onto the landing. I swiftly headed into the kitchen, and through the cupboards I rummaged like a fox between the bins – scavenging for food. A white bowl was filled with clusters of corn flakes, flooded by a splash of milk before landing at the table. The clatter of the spoon against the edges of my bowl sent shivers down my spine. I flicked a little switch on my radio, and began to twist a dial to tune into some reasonable music. It was as if all the music had been stopped, it was talking. Talking.
Mumbling words on each frequency, saying nothing but horrible things. I swivelled around in my chair, taking another look out of the window while listening into the noise to my side. The bird had flown away, it’s bright colours were no longer to be seen through the thick fog that had covered my garden. The pond in the far right corner had disappeared, the patio was nowhere in sight.
The day was six hours in, but mine had just begun.
Using my passport as ID on my eighteenth birthday was possibly the worst thing that had ever happened to me, until I woke up.
The scent of chlorine was what woke me, as my best friends girlfriend lay naked beside me at the poolside. My bare chest gripped by her tanned arms. The sun was beginning to rise, blinding me as I glanced over the side of the balcony. It was a beautiful view out onto the beach, up until I looked around at the pool.
My skinny jeans and white short-sleeved top floated in the middle, my converse soaked in a puddle on the side. My stomach growled with excitement as I leant over to Jenifer lying at my side. Her freckled face looked peaceful against the stone tiles.
A distant call echoed from across the poolside, a ringtone I was deemed ‘uncool’ for having. I quickly gathered to my feet, waking the confused sleeping beauty as I raced towards the soundtrack to my torment. My phone relentlessly alerting me of a chunk of messages sent through the night. I began making my way back over to Jenifer, who rose from the ground, covering herself up from a towel on one of many sunbeds that followed the curvature of the pool. She looked around at the scene that surrounded us both before concentrating on me. A smile of amusement filled her face as she pointed out one sock was pulled up to my knee, while the other lay rest at the bottom of the pool with her red underwear.
After retrieving our clothes from the water, the two of us settled down on a stable looking sunbed to read an array of messages on my phone, which had miraculously managed to escape my jeans before going a soaking. Some of the sunbeds closest to where we woke had been badly damaged, with legs strewn into the water. It was a wonder what had happened in the twelve hours upon leaving a club back home in Birmingham. If that wasn’t worrying enough as it was, we still had no idea where we were in the world. Just the two of us stranded together with a message from Lee asking if I was alive. Lee is one of my closest friends, who claimed to have woken up on a grotty bench at a foreign train station with Jenifer’s boyfriend, Mark.
By this point, Jenifer had claimed back her handbag from a tree near to the balcony. Her phone was hidden away in a compartment between her mascara and eyeliner, the only tools needed to make herself feel more beautiful. She jokingly asked me if I fancied anything on me and I smirked, as the response I was humouring myself with was probably what happened during the night.
It was almost six o’clock and the sun was still climbing across the horizon in the distance of the sea in front of us. Another five minutes past us before the sound of church bells, followed by the chugging of a train over the hillside on the bay. My phone irritated me with another shout out; this time Mark had explained how there was a train due at the station in a matter of minutes. I quickly took hold of Jenifer and tugged her in an attempt to follow the guidance to Mark and Lee. Together we ran, through the winding pebble-stone streets before the chugging continued out of range. Jenifer was quick to protest that we were lost, but a tourist friendly sign above our heads pointed in the right direction.
Through the winding streets we paced, with more and more encouraging signs that we were closing our destination. The streets got busier, as daily commuters left their homes in suits, clutching their briefcases by their sides as they headed for their commute to the city. Everybody was heading towards the one place, typically the place that we needed to be.
After what felt like eternity we rushed past a corner shop and stood face-to-face with Mark and Lee. My hand quickly fall to my side, after having held Jenifer by my side since waking up earlier that morning. Lee looked me over, making his own interpretation of the night while Mark clutched his girlfriend close after what sounded like a horrific night by his account. He seemed to remember the most out of the four of us, but it wasn’t exactly enough to explain how we woke up where we did. In fact, Jenifer and I still didn’t know where we were in the world, before Mark was quick to point out the large French flag, fluttering in the wind on top of the grand entrance to a very busy train station.
Lee had also been rummaging through his pockets, only to discover a fiver and boarding pass for the Dover to Calais ferry sometime last night. Lee knew more about the situation than anyone did, which I found rather surprising considering he began drinking earlier than the rest of us. He knew that we were only a mile or two away from the dock, still confused as to how we split up he led the group down to the port. I walked ahead with him, while Mark and Jenifer straggled behind. He was destined to know how the group split up in such a way that let his girlfriend spend the night with me, yet so curious he failed to spot the real cause for alarm.
