so it's been a while since i've visited that hallowed place, the bluebell inn. lack of funds/people to go with have prevented me from making the ten minute trip down to my local drinking establishment, so me and fran were eek mega excited about last night. we hyped it up so much in our minds that we began to believe the reality couldn't possibly be as good as what we remembered. we were wrong- it was better.
honestly, to say i live in what is described as a 'desirable middle-class village', you don't half get some characters in that pub. within about twenty minutes of arriving, fran had been accosted by none other than william's best friend's father stating "i'm fucked, want to come back to mine?". a tempting offer which i am sure was hard to decline. i was beginning to despair of finding any totty in the pub, until after returning from the ladies room, fran informed me that some lad had told her 'yer mate is fooooking gorgeous'. feeling slightly more heartened, i turned to look at my admirer. sadly i was disappointed- not the worst looking man in the world but currently pissed off his face and rolling around on the floor, having fallen off his chair. 'ratboy' as i found out his friends called him, approached me and did the whole "can i get your number, are we going to pull?" routine. sadly it wasn't ratboy's lucky day (i wasn't drunk enough to not know better and getting with twenty-six year old eejits has never been my thing anyway) but we chatted for a bit anyway, me and fran getting more and more amused by his outrageous drunkenness. things came to head when he grabbed a random stuffed deer head off the wall and in some strange bid to impress me started... stroking my leg with it. oh my god, to say i was freaked out would be a gross understatement, i went completley psycho on him for running a dead deer over me. i've always hated stuffed animals (memories of year seven: my mum phoning in to complain to my biology teacher i'd come home crying after having to sit next to a stuffed owl in lessons) so it was NOT the best way to get into my good books. thankfully we left soon after (although not before having been bought a drink by a drunk old man who told me he loved my father and that my grandad was a beautiful man), walked back home and crashed straight into bed... where we didn't surface from until eleven this morning.
lazy day again today, me and francesca watched st trinians and bemoaned the fact that we don't look like gemma arterton or talulah riley whilst eating copious amounts of cereal. and i've literally done nothing all afternoon except re-read the other boleyn girl in a bid to get my mind back in gear, it's actually worked as i've spent the past half an hour researching anne boleyn and trying to decide whether she was guilty or not. at the moment i'm swaying towards possibly guilty of certain charges but i think phillipa gregory has influenced me there. may just have a debate with zoe about it tomorrow in history, henry viii's reign can still inspire me even when his dad's cannot. i really should have done some work today, i need to get my hedda gabler lines stuck in my head, do my exploration notes, do some history, do some english coursework, the list goes on and i just want to bury my head in a pillow and make it all go away.
i think i'm going to brave the snow, go visit my grandma and watch pride and prejudice for probably the fiftieth time (i swear i don't watch it because colin firth circa 1995 was sex on legs...) and pretend that i am elizabeth bennett. although you know, me really, catherine morland much? although i haven't got the whole hopeless romantic thing going on so maybe i'm a bit like emma woodhouse? or maybe i'm not really good enough to be any austen heroine and should spend my time striving to do good deeds (although i'm putting my emma-like matchmaking to bed for a while!) instead of scribbling away on this blog for hours on end? haha, who knows?
victoria x
No comments:
Post a Comment