A Short Memorandum from Lucy's brother, Tom. (NOT Thomas!!!)

hewo fecky

Luuuuuuuuuuuuucy's

I am at boffiny best friend Luuuuuuuuuucy's house. we have just had (NOT Linda McCartney veggie) sausage casserole which was TREEEEEEEEEES yes and are now going to watch the Devil Wears Prada with strawbewwies and ice cream and then Wild Child, which I bought in Homebase for £6.99.
We have just conversed intelligently over the course of science, mainly using the mean parts of brain.
i mean, we were BITCHING. A bit.
And we're going to do more laaaaaaaaaater. Just let it all out with a niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice, looooooooooooooooooooooooong...
BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!!!!!!!
Ooooooh, sounds like fun!!!!!
anyway, we are going to the Hay Festival tomorrow to see some people that just happen to write books... ( NO! NEVER! The Hay Festival is for POLE DANCERS AND THEIR POLES!!!!!)
No, actually we're seeing some people that I don't THINK are pole dancers...
Well, I hope not.
I am going now to have fun with Lucy and her brother.
(PIPPA: Mine are called Bill and Ben. What's yours called, Tom?)
Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee bye, sexy Fecky, my only follwers.
Tally-ho!!!!!!!!!

Yay!!

I'd just like to say a HUGE thanks to my millions of supremely sexy followers. You are SO supporting and it feels great that SO MANY people enjoy reading my blog. YAY. LOL

the most boring, prejudiced, cliqued, discriminating institution ever. I mean school.

The 1500m. Wow, how fun! not. I came last. I don't usually, it's just that two stupid lazy slackers decided to skive the last lap. I got to the end and the teacher asked me, "Oh. Are you still running?" I said, "Yes, I've just finished." They stopped all the stopwatches because I'm so bloody slow they thought I had finished. Ugh.

the usual

It's that time of week again. Auntie comes in from the village, Nan from the town. I'm playing tennis in the garden. My brother is kicking a ball around. Dad is making a barbeque. Mum is cooking the lunch. A crowded table; full benches, the gabble of meanless chitchat. "So, what did you do at school this week, Chris?" "Got any boyfriends recently, Charlotte?" Cringe. Waiting for ten minutes. Tick Tock. Time goes by... So slowly... Finally. The Aga door is opened and the smell of cooked meat, sizzling potatoes and bubbling gravy wafts around the kitchen. The veg are at the ready, gently simmering on the hop. Carrots. Swede. Cabbage. The carrots are drained, the swede mashed. The cabbage left to stand. Mint sauce mixed up, redcurrant jelly. Sat at the table, waiting for the banquet. Tick Tock. It'll all get better in time... At last. Plates on the table, filled to the brim with roast lamb, roast spuds, steamed carrots, mashed swede and boiled cabbage. All sit down, ready to tuck in. "Oops... forgot the gravy!" Thick, brown gravy is poured out, steaming into Dad's face. The slight slip of his hand. The clatter of the gravy tin as in hits the floor. The swears of my parents as the gravy splatters up the sie of the cream cupboards. The giggles of my brother. The "Oh, the gravy!" from the oldies. My sigh. The gravy. Cleared up, food eaten, dessert out and ready to eat. Rhubarb Meringue Pie. Marks & Spencer recipe, homemade by us. Mmmmm. The soft, crisp meringue topping, as light as the down of a freshly preened swan. The pastry: soggy yet firm at the same time - golden and crubling beneath the weight of the... Rhubarb. Pink like jewels, yet green as grass. Juice dripping out of the crust: a soft, rose-coloured liquid, yet clear as glass. A cut. Juice squirts out, a pool forming on the plate. Cream dolloped on the side, a stiff, white, mountain peak. Rhubarb syrup gently drizzled on top: the blood red lips to Snow White's fair skin. Five Minutes. That's all it takes. The plate clear, tummies full. Compliments to the chef. Compliments from the chef. Mmmmmm.

mmmmm, coffee (sort of)

The last time I drank coffee was during February half term last year when I was in Venice with my family. There was a deal on that if you bought a cappucino you got a free cake. My dad, another bargain-hunter (it runs in the family) decided to let me have the coffee and my brother have the cake. i was NOT happy but as we were in Italy, I wanted to look sophisticated so, needless to say, I had it anyway. My parents watched over me as I sipped the bitter drink. My mum, totally against having sugar in hot drinks 'because you'll get used to sugar in it and want more', guarded the sugar bowl with glaring eyes. The only thing I had to use to weaken the brew was milk, and in the end even that was not enough. In the end I had to resort to using the leftover icing sugar off the top of the slice of cake my brother had gobbled down. So, we were sat in that cafe for about half an hour while I valiantly gulped down the strong drink. I had that strong taste in m y mouth for the rest of the day until tea, and was grumpy because of it. I had convinced myselt NOT to like coffee. Well, this afternoon, while my mum was in the garden (she'd totally ban this action) I made myself a mug of instant coffee. My dad has a posh coffee machine, but I didn't want to waste any of his posh coffee. I had a cup of coffee because loads of people I know drink it. Anyway, I had this HUGE Cath Kidston mug full of coffee. The thing is, the coffee doesn't really count because: a) it had milk in it b) it was decaf c) I had added LOADS of sugar. And by that, I do mean loads - I think I added about 2 dessert spoons full. And... It was really nice. It didn't taste like the bitter Italian coffee I had to endure in Venice (probably because it was only Nescafe Gold Bland. I mean, Blend), it tasted like a creamy, even slightly chocolatey, sweet taste sensation. It tasted slightly like the CoOp coffee cupcake I'd had that lunchtime. Next time i have it, i'm going to (gradually) reduce the amount of sugar, then the milk, until I get used to having it black. Wow, that'll sound cool. At my friend's/cousin's/nan's/auntie's 'So, Charlotte, what drink do you want for breakfast?' 'Coffee, please. Black.' 'You drink BLACK COFFEE??!! Since when?' 'Since May 2nd, 2009, actually!'

fake tan troubles

Orange font. Why? Because my leg is ORANGE!!! Why is your leg orange??? Because I have streaky fake tan. Why do you have streaky fake tan on your leg? Because I was messing around. Well, strictly speaking, I wasn't messing around. On Wednesday, after school, me and my mates Laura and Emily went into town to by me some fake tan - for a laugh, you know. Only my legs are REALLY pale so I wanted to try some for when we have P.E. So, we went into Boots, and I knew what I wanted to get because I'd been in earlier than week. On the 17 counter they had an offer going on: spend more than £5 and get a free makeup set. So brcause I love bargains (and am addicted to makeup) I got it. the fake tan was over £5 and I got a fake tan Remover Wipe as well, to clear up any streaks. After Boots, we met up with Katie and Jade in Primark. Katie wanted to get some red aviators (or gayviators, apparently) and I wanted to get some white sunnies to look cool. LOL. So, after about ten minutes of trying on different sunnies, we finally chose and bought our chosen ones. Back at HQ, (for the school mag) we all tried a bit on our arms and were going to compare them the next day. That night, i tried a bit on my hip to test it out. only I think i tried a bit too much because it looked a really dark brown. Great. Yesterday night I decided I would try it - except with moisturisor, which my friend Lucy suggested and leave it on overnight. The colour wasn't very strong so I put a bit of normal tan on on top and the another of my tan 'n' moisturisor mixture. Result: I wake up this morning with pale legs and an orange streaky bit down by my ankle.I'm not going to use the corrector wipe because that is for EMERGENCIES ONLY and the streak isn't really that noticable. I'm just going to hide and bear it.Tonight I'm going to put on more of the tan 'n' moisturisor to see if the colour will build up. I hope so. My second* attempt EVEr at fake tan went a bit wrong. I'm not looking for orange legs, just a bit more colour. *My first was last year when I 'borrowed' some of my mum's Clarins stuff which actually turned out a really nice, naturally browny colour. Too bad it's too expensive for my (usually skint) purse.

*brand new blog

Hi, I'm Charlotte, and this is my blog. Created because: -on Facebook everyone knows you as the nerdy one who's always quiet (but to her friends is pretty exstavagant and mad and LOVES shopping, in case you hadn't realised). On here, I can let my personality, not my physical stuff, shine through. -My friend Katie was on here and doing this blog during a free period, and it looked interesting, so I thought, 'Hey, that looks fun, I'll have a go'. -I wanted to comment on my friends' posts because that is always fun. :P So, those are my reasons for my blog. Enjoy.