» Putting the Fun in Funeral

Well, I don't want to *upset* anyone...
At my granddad's funeral (think a kindly Christopher Lee):

I was leaving the church, crying to myself, as you do in such situations, up comes the fat, so-similar-to-vicar-of-dibly-it's-not-even-funny vicar (who had forgotton to mention my mum in the summery of grandad's life...) and puts her arm around me, I turn my tear-stained face up, waiting for Christian words of wisdom and comfort;

"Don't cry - you might upset people."
(Sat 13th May 2006, 9:28, More)

» Fancy Dress

Childhood trauma
Once, in Haven (*up north*'s answer to butlins) my brother and I were informed we were going to be in a fancy dress competition. Yay we thought. My brother was promptly provided with a superman costume.
"What can I be mummy?" I piped up.
So my mum spend a busy afternoon tying my hair into a high ponytail and furnishing me with black trousers, a black top and a huge cone shaped bra - made of cardboard and painted silver.
That's right, I was Madonna.

I was also six years old, had no idea who Madonna was, and ever since have carried round the trauma of being the only six year old with gigantic pointy boobs.
...When I look back on my childhood, I do wonder at times what the hell my mum was thinking....
(Fri 13th Jan 2006, 22:07, More)

» Sacked

Two things I hate...
... are the general public and the catering trade.

So, upon relection, taking a job as a waitress probably wasn't a very good move in the first place.
After slaving my arse off in this upstart little coffee shop/restaurant all summer for one of those pyschotic women you always get in these places - whose life has become so unbearable the only way she can cope is by berating 16 year old girls about putting tea spoons *only in the tea spoon draw*

Was sacked in the autumn because I was coming up to 17 and they didn't want to increase my wage, they had the cheek to predend it was because they were concerned I wasn't concentrating on my studies enough...
F*ckards. I still go in there for time to time, and drink their hellish and overpriced coffee, just so the woman will ask after me and I can tell her how much better my life is than hers. Bitter? never...
(Sun 26th Feb 2006, 19:35, More)

» On the stage

Barstards
Well, being a fabulous drama student, there are of course many wonderful stories I could tell you darhling....

But the one that really sticks out? I was 10, a bit chubby and rubbish, but had been cast as Mary in the nativity play - every little girls dream. My sister was the infants school Mary as well, so we were both well chuffed.

Imagine, if you will, the therapy-inducing, crushing childhood HORROR and DESPARE when, two weeks before the play, I'm told "you're too quiet to be Mary" and am promptly replaced by Ellie Parsons, smarmy child-model type, my rival for teachers pet, who all the boys liked.

I mean - are school nativity plays really about the fine caliber of the acting? I still marvel at how they could have been so cruel.
(Fri 2nd Dec 2005, 13:47, More)

» Injured Siblings

The good old days
like all siblings, me and by brother would tear chunks of of each other - to this day he has a scar on his nose where I walloped him with a tenis racket.

But my crowning hour, I feel, was when I was about 13, and he was 12. Mum and Dad had gone out, I was left in charge -was told my brother couldn't go out, as he had homework, or something.
My brother went out, sat on top of the phonebox in our miserable little hamlet, and refused to come inside - I told him if he didn't I'd snap all his playstation games. He didn't believe me.
FOOL
Five minutes later - a distressed pre-teen boy fighting between pride and horror as his precious games are stapped, one by one, in front of him (they're quite hard to break you know) in the end - he came inside.

Best bit? I got praised for *taking authority* and he got told off for going out :D

The greatest childhood memories though, were when me and my brother would gang up on our much younger, childhood-obesity specimin of a sister. Most inspired nickname? Pigalotta; she cried and cried and cried. Now looks like any normal 14 yr old, but is forever paranoid that she's fat - I like to think me and my brother played a big part in this pyschological scarring.....
(Thu 25th Aug 2005, 9:23, More)