My Jam-Packed July

If you’re reading this, then you’re the very privileged reader of my first ever travel blog post. Well, so it’s probably not technically a travel post, as it will have little reviewing of places or anything boring stuff like that, but instead what I mean by it is that I’m writing it on my previously mentioned jam-packed summer. Oh and I’m also writing it whilst hurtling at some not fast enough speed back to Macclesfield on a train. Which is my excuse why today no T⁷R will be seen, as I have no access to internet and therefore my whole recipe base has been taken away from me; however, if you actually care about T⁷R, you will be pleased to know that I will attempt (and attempt really hard) to write it tomorrow instead (and I don’t care that it’ll be Friday it’ll still be called T⁷R.)

So I presume the right place to start will be to explain why the heck I’m on a train, and why the heck is said train taking me back to Macc (no offense Macc, I would just prefer to be going elsewhere). Well the fact is that I’ve already started my jam-packed July (don’t you just love it when the title of something is included in the thing itself), and the place I’m currently travelling away from at a speed which frankly should be greater is Hampshire. (Also well observed people might notice that it is in fact June atm, but my July is so jam-packed it has overfilled into June and August)

Now I think it would be right to justify my comments about the train’s speed, which I will actually do properly this time (most usually for me, no waffle here, an actual solid reason). In the process of getting down to Hampshire (it was no coincidence that I ended up there) I took the train down to London Euston, then the sub across to Waterloo (well it in fact a mix of sub and frantic running after Waterloo sub was closed). That train took a measly hour and a half to make it to London, the train I’m now on is taking over 3 hours to make it back to Macc. Although having complained about the time taken, it has in fact ended up producing this (no doubt excellent) post.

Right so what else do I need to explain? How about why on earth was I in Hampshire in the first place? Well that one’s easy to explain, I came down to visit my friend Emma (who is the same Emma whom told me to write T⁷R, and now has subsequently caused the slight failure of it one week in). I’m going to go back on my original promise now, and just say quickly that Hampshire is in fact quite a nice place, end of review.

So that means one holiday down, several more to come with leaver’s ball and results day thrown into the mix too. Hopefully this was a sign of things to come, great-ish weather (well great for England) and great company with bundles of laughs; surely that is what summer is all about. 

However of course all these holidays do have their downsides, and no the travelling isn’t one (I’m the kind of person that believes that the journey is part of the holiday, even if it’s spent listening to music whilst day-dreaming about absolutely nothing). The major downside I foresee is the packing, for you packing fans might I add that I don’t hate packing (well maybe a little); it’s merely the situation and the timing of the packing.

Let’s put it into perspective, this train will arrive in Macc gone 11 pm, and I’m so tired (well tired now the “so” is retrospective as I know that I will have to sort this post out once back) and so I will be trying to get a good night’s sleep. Then tomorrow evening I will be at leaver’s ball, all dressed up in tux et al, then the next morning I will be driving at a great speed (I’ll add legal to that) all the way back south to Neath. So that leaves Friday afternoon for all packing and various and frankly a lot of chores.

Not too bad then, you might think but next Friday I’m having to leave my friends and Neath to get back to Macc, ready for a cruise (which is setting off from Southampton, so yet again I will be travelling to the south). Lucky me hey, well yes I’m not complaining about it, I really like the fact that my summer is so packed. But it does mean that tomorrow I will also have to pack for that as well, and since I don’t own enough clothes to last all 3 holidays (well t-shirts are fine) I will have to be washing and frantically drying clothes in order that I don’t end up getting a full body tan.

Sorry about complaining about that, it’s frankly a small price to pay for what will hopefully be the most bestest summer yet. Especially when I will able to make use of all my newly acquired blazers, having already done so (although it really hampered my mad dash across London). But wait, that’s not all, after all that I’ve got soul survivor to come (which luckily is not in the south, there’s a limit to the amount of yo-yoing between Macc and the south I can cope with), then Y-Not Festival (which is fantastically under an hour away). Then after the small matter of results day, I will finally be able to relax in Macc, before getting ready for uni and the dragging of Emma up north, in order to finally prove to her that north is best.

I think that’s enough of me talking frankly, and I might potentially get a kip (but most likely some useless time-wasting day dreaming). If you haven’t yet realised, this post is serving as my excuse of the very probably potential lack of posting in the coming weeks. So I’ll take this opportunity to wish you all a great summer and hopefully I will be writing in a few weeks about the great time I’ve had, and if not then at least it’ll be an entertaining tale of woe.  

The Seaneid

This is the tale of how one man went on the search for a new home for the next 4 years (and during term times only), and his other quest for search of Christmas presents. In case you have little classical literature knowledge and are wondering what on earth my title is talking about then go and read the whole Aeneid by Virgil, in the original Latin of course, none of this cheats English. Or you could just wiki it and prove to yourself that it exists and i haven't gone truly and utterly insane. Or maybe i have and just haven't realised yet, i may currently be sat in an asylum typing this on an imaginary computer in my little own imaginary world. I'm a bit worried now, is there a way to check if you're mad and have created an imaginary world to live in? Hang on why am i even asking because then you'd be imaginary too.

So anyway, leaving my slightly crazed ramblings aside, back to the Seaneid. In truth the tale began two years ago on a long and dangerous trek into the south. I know a dangerous place to go right, where the pies have vegetables in them and fish & chip shops aren't found on every street. So there i was journeying to Southampton (it even has south in its name) via Cambridge and tbh i can't actually remember what really happened but after two expeditions to the north this time (where i can confirm the pies are free from vegetables and the chippy is as common as the pub), i was only slightly clearer on where i would go.

All this jibber-jabber is essentially trying to explain why i found myself first going to Oxford, then Lincoln (actually this was nothing to do with Seaneid, but was occurred at the same time), then nearly going to Lancaster (although i thought better of it and didn't go in the end, just so i could partake in the epicness that was cipherfest '11, more on that some other time though) anyway today i traveled down to Loughborough and tomorrow i will be going to Manchester in the epic quest for Christmas presents (yes i know it's less than a week until Christmas, but i've only just started feeling Christmasy enough to buy them (plus a Taco Bell has opened in Manchester!)).

So as you can tell i'm glad i've nearly finished all this traveling, and soon my search for uni will come to an end, with pretty much all my uni's contacting me this week about offers :s, and with Christmas on Sunday the quest for the presents will be pointless (it might not be quite finished though i'm expecting late presents might be the case for some). So it's could be quite a momentous week with the next four years of my life being decided, although i have a feeling it still doesn't matter at all with my view of whateverhappens,happensandifyoujustgowithitandyoullenjoyyourself, and the awesomeness of my time in Oxford and the great people there (bit of a shout to my fellow St. John-iens (?) if you're reading this)

In case i don't write again before Christmas, Merry Christmas, and if i don't write before New Years, then shame on me because i won't be doing anything next week, apart from maybe contemplating my future...
and revising for January exams...
and finalizing my DofE...
and probably buying people late Christmas presents...
and something else which i've forgotten.