Rochdale Tea Party.

I have decided to have an afternoon tea party for my birthday. The theme is going to be "famous tea parties". I think there's plenty to do with that, for example the mad hatter's, the importance of being earnest, Miss Havisham, even Gaga does the teacup. We're going to scour the second hand tea shops looking for chintzy china and make nice cakes, it'll be great. I am already starting to think about food. Thinking little sandwiches, tarts, cupcakes, big cake, fresh coffee, tea in teapots, pink lemonade, champagne-ish. I love it :).

Glory Days.

Today is an absolute Springsteen day. Sometimes, just nothing else will do :). My summers don't seem as impressive as his I feel. I have all my clothes for the first time since the Willowman Festival and I have a tidy room, clean bedding and a highly anticipated visitor arriving in an hour or so. Today is good.

Brown Hair

Had my hair done again, it's still shorter and browner than the "ideal me" of this time last year, but I quite like it. It's my old hair but more bob-like darkened to a glossier brown that will lighten up but at the minute is nearly black to me. I do like it though, it's been on my head about 24 hours now and I do quite like it. The drawback is it makes me look washed up without makeup which is bad for summer, but the good news is my clinique foundation is rather amazing. It makes me feel vaguely french and looks reeeeally good with sunglasses. In my playsuit it makes me feel vaguely 1920's and like I should be striding purposely around a chintzy bedroom in a negligee and kimono. Before Poirot comes along too solve my gory murder the next day. Poison would be tres chic, I feel. Alternatively, a 3 quarter length maxi (all my stature allows) works for the living. The annoying thing is, for some reason in photos it just doesn't look as bobbish in real life. Therefore, to make up for this I enclose a delightfully pretentious black and white number.

Ellie Walton Book Club.

I have just finished reading a plethora of books. Yesterday I started reading "One day" by David Nichols. And I finished it this morning. I cannot recommend it enough. The beginning, in their university years uncannily echoes my own current situation. The characters manage to be annoying, but you still want to stick with them. The female protagonist, Emma is just a little bit too close for comfort, so maybe that's why I like it. The male counterpart, Dexter, isn't any one individual to me but manages to massively incorporate every male I've ever had any romantic encounter with. Read it- it's good. Cannot wait for the film. Apparently Anne Hathaway is gonna be in it, should be good.

Cupcakes and sunshine.

These are my fairy cakes I made the other day, decided we're gonna have afternoon tea with the such like for my 21st. In 3 and a half months. Scaryy.

I knew Prufrock before he got famous...

In case you were wondering, the title of that last post came from this poem, which is lovely:

The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock

A bit long to put the whole thing out on here, but this phrasing is my favourite bit.

And would it have been worth it, after a

ll,

Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."

AND I'm clearly not the only one who likes it :) Frank does too :)

http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Love_Song_of_J._Alfred_Prufrock

and walk upon the beach, I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

in just about a month I will be here. Lush.

Folky timeee.

Also, feel that the last post was so miserable, need to balance things out. Despite not going to glasto, I HAVE been to the Willowman festival, was great went there with one lovely Emma Jayne Nagouse and her wonderful band of singing geordies, also known as Rainfalldown. The whole thing was free courtesy of being "with the band". Unfortunately Rainfalldown performed about half an hour after arriving to what seemed like an audience of Robin Hood's merry men (small children yielding bows and arrows).

But it was a really nice, really chilled weekend with a real pagany theme, saw some pretty good acts, such as the blockheads, who I've been forced to listen to for years but actually loved live, despite the weirdest old people doing the most strenuous dancing. Also saw a really nice folky duo, to whom we did a bit of folky-dance-jigging, I think you probably had to be there. Saw a really good female artist called Elaine Palmer too, you should spotify her.

Rounded off the weekend nicely seeing in the summer solstice up at the stone circle, having done nothing like that before I was a bit suspect about what exactly they were gonna use the accompanying dog for, but once sure they weren't going to put it or us into a wickerman, really enjoyed it. Aside from the bitter cold, but when we took refuge in the pub that was fun too.

I wrote my name in your book, only God knows why.

Definitely out of season, but I desperately want to see her live and I just think this song is so beautiful!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGot7yoKyg8&feature=player_embedded#!

absolutely love her whole album, it's what For Emma Forever Ago was last year :)

feeling all summery with Gaslight at the minute though, they make me think of the colour everything looks when you're wearing sunglasses. And dust.

Not at Glastonbury.

Well, I can't pretend I'm not disenchanted with things at the minute. Glastonbury has embraced my boyfriend heartily, stolen him away and left me sat in the muggy clouds of provincial Lancashire. This is not fun. I would very much like to be at Glastonbury, for free, doing a job I'm already trained for like he is. As it is I am now stuck at home being unable to attend both Glastonbury or the university planned trip to Granada that originally restricted my attendance there. Bah. Obviously this is not through any choice of my own, other than concern for my own stupid health.

I very rarely have to go to the doctors and I'll put it off as often as I can. However after some worrying developments around April time, I decided it was time to pay a visit to a GP, who after 3 weeks waiting was then referred to a hospital, then another appointment only to be sat around still waiting to hear more, left knowing nothing more really than "it looks like you have precancerous cells, I'll write to you with more information".

So yeah, in more detail, following some pain and unsavoury bleeding, good old Dr Wren referred me to Sheffield teaching hospital for a colposcopy on the 10th June. A rather unpleasant procedure I could probably never have again and be thrilled. The procedure is to look at the cervix in detail, with a certain acid on it- they refer to it as vinegar, but I did GCSE chemistry and listened just enough to know they weren't exactly tipping a bottle of sarsons in there. This solution was supposed to show up if there were any "abnormal cells".

The whole procedure could be seen on a screen next to my head which was simultaneously interesting and repugnant. Having showed up some abnormalities, the doctor decided to take a couple of biopsies. This involved her scraping my cervix with a pair of nail clippers (it probably wasn't but it looked that primitive).

However something has to be said for the pain guidelines of the NHS. Before this delightful experience occurred I was informed by a plethora of medical professionals that it only caused mild discomfort and the cervix has no nerve endings on it. I'm pretty sure that whoever defined a colposcopy hasn't had one.The acid, unsuprisingly stung, despite me having no nerve endings. How odd. As you can imagine the biopsy hurt too, the doctor distracted me by making me cough at the same time as she took it, but i did feel very peculiar, especially because it feels more like its in your stomach than anywhere else.

Afterwards is odd as well, when you move there's twinges and quite alot of bleeding and other solutions for a while too. It's also underrated just how traumatic emotionally the procedure is as well, when carried out by professionals for whom this happens alot, it is quite understated but I found the whole thing thoroughly upsetting. But maybe I'm just a baby. Honestly though it took it right out of me, I was quite lethargic for a few days.

Afterwards we had a chat about what she'd found- suspected precancerous cells and she told me I'd probably have to come back for some "treatment" but until then she wouldn't tell me anything til my test results came back. So for now thats all I know. After this I had to book a appointment a week later for an internal scan of my ovaries and uterus to check these growths were only in one place and I didn't have any cists. I was told off the record it all looked fine which is something, however I knew I hadn't over exaggerated because being nervous for the colposcopy, because explaining why I turned up to the scan equally nervous, they understood completely and said it was no wonder as they're horrible. So now I feel suitably brave.

So now I'm sat at home, with no friends back from uni yet, or doing grown up things like working waiting for something fun to do, which yesterday was baking for 6 hours. Once it's all sorted out it'll be nice, but its worth letting people know whats going on, because the doctor told me I wouldn't have been routinely checked for any of this at age 20, for another 5 years. By then these cells obviously wouldn't have been precancerous, so its important, scary as it seems to be checked before its too late. And if you're worried insist on being checked!

Roar, Cemeteries and Glee.

Right. Well, never done these before and usually the ones I do read pop up in my news feed and are the result of the more pretentious of my peers playing the journalist. Being a practised essay writer, I'm sure mine will sound just as pretentious but I will try my hardest to curb this. I'm certainly not going to tell you what you should be wearing, eating or doing. I do however, like this non-assigned "you" it make me feel a bit like Bridget Jones. Probably the closest self-narrating heroine I could draw a likeness to.

Currently I am sat in a beach towel ( all my others are in the wash) with a lime green hand towel on my hair, waiting for my shin to stop bleeding, after I rather successfully sliced it shaving my legs. Tonight I am going to the regular uni jock night (which I not-so-secretly love). I'd certainly say that unless you are a 6 foot 5 rugby player, ROAR is not where all the cool kids are but Wednesdays are a bad night for credibility anyway, and when you're wearing a hand-me-down dress that's hung in the back of your friends wardrobe for 3 years, why bother. At least Roar plays Glee, and I'm not talking any of the Don't stop believin' nonsense; everyone knows on a night out that song belongs to Journey and Journey alone. No, ROAR plays hardcore Glee, I'm talking mashups. Fantastic.

continuing along the lines of the utterly superficial, I am rather excited about tonight, for the first time since I visited the bloody cemetery, to conduct possibly the stupidest research project in existence I am getting the LEGS OUT. Previously they had been far too scratched and scraped from clambering over graves. I have to say I do feel somehow the graves inhabitants were instructing the nettles, brambles and insects to attack us as a consequence of clambering over their already dilapidated plots. Can't say I blame them, I conducted the entire data collection process repeatedly whispering "sorry" as I had no choice but to wander over their graves.

The end of the cemetery project saw the end of all coursework for 2nd year and the beginning of exams. Cue me having very little work and everyone else becoming a hermit. Yawn. If anyone actually sits in, zealously revising without a break unless they have an exam the next day I would be mightily surprised. So stop pretending you are, and come and entertain me.

Needless to say, with Sheffield being so boring I am embarking on pastures new, Saturday, for one night only I shall be out in Birmingham, seeing one of my very oldest friends on her twentieth birthday. Lovely.

Well this is the first time I've ever written a blog. Its rambling and a bit rubbish, but it was only to get the hang of it. Next time (if there is one) I shall give my non-existent readers a more coherent and chronological depiction of my life. But yes, I have tried the online equivalent of my scrapbook and I quite like it, so I shall be back shortly, possibly with something far more insightful than Glee mashups and cemeteries.