It is then a rush into the bathroom, a sprint back to my room to find a crumpled shirt on the floor of what can hardly be called a wardrobe. This is most probably due to the amount cotton draped so “artistically” in a modern style called MESS!
I then contemplate going for a jog, but at this time in the morning? Thought is about as far as that subject is likely to run in the near future. I also seem to be taking an age eating my cereal as the nutritional information on the side of the box is captivating me. In fact it’s gradually horrifying me to such an extent that I decide a “weight watchers” yoghurt might be a slightly healthier option than extra chocolaty coco-pops. The cereal is discarded instantly.
A speedy walk down to the bus stop is coloured by animated facial expressions and mad arm movements to whoever is on the receiving end of “Love your hair,” or “New bag?”
On a good day, school can be surprisingly…good; but they don’t seem all that thick on the ground. The minute you walk through the playground, the backstabbing, the bitching and the snide comments start. Sometimes I just want to go back to playgroup where all is simple and innocent – well, maybe not always. There forever seems to be someone you can’t talk to or something you can’t say, and to be honest it makes you rather wary.
But that’s only 5 days a week. There are still 2 left to savour, when you can dress up in all your clobber and walk down the street in a Charlie’s Angels trio. Go into the most outrageously priced shops and try on all their delicate beauties (even if the irritable shop assistant is only too aware of how little you could afford there). I think it’s important to have friends that you can be with out of school.
Apart from shopping, I baby sit for my neighbours in the evenings. They have the cutest little cats – Devonshire wrecks (easily mistaken for minute lambs). Coco, the brother, is always hunting down birds or mice and bringing them to my feet and in a desperate attempt to match up to her brothers skills, Misty, the tiny female, is adamant on bringing me leaves and maybe even a stone. I don’t have cats of my own though, due to the amount of interest coco displays in my lovable hamster, Jedi.
I have recently adopted the hobby of trawling through job pages trying to work out which route I shall be taking after school. At the moment, it seems to be an advertising creative, however only a few days ago it was a floor manager in a film set. There are so many careers to choose from that it really is difficult to decide even what GCSE choices to make as there is always the thought that you’ll want to do something completely different later on in life and those exams will have been pointless etc.
But in the mean time I shall keep on working at the garden centre dispensing coffees and biscuits, or maybe even a knicker-bocker-glory from time to time and saving up all my earnings for an open plan flat in the centre of London.
I can dream…