Why I I do Internetz

Yesterday, my granddad (I call him Poppa) asked me what Summer in the City was about and why I make videos and do all other sorts of things on the internet, and suggested to me isn't it all a bit “codswollop”? Yes, he said codswollop. He thinks it's pointless.

I use the internet mainly for social networking. I've met most of my friends via youtube and other social sites and it introduced me to the wonderful world of vlogging and the youtube community. It introduced me to gatherings and Summer in the City, events that make me feel like I am part of something unique and special that also provides me with the opportunity to travel to places I've always wanted to go, like Edinburgh, and a great excuse for frequenting London. I once appeared on an episode of “Genius” by Dave Gorman because of twitter.

I explained to Poppa that not just youtube, but there are many adventures the internet can take you on, whether it be new career opportunities, raising money for charity or meeting amazing people you never thought you would meet. The internet is changing the world as we know it, and I thought it was about time I explained why I think the internet is important. There is a lot of current bad press about the internet at the moment in regards to bullying and the ask.fm website, which is why I want people with concerns about it to stop freaking out.

I spoke to Poppa and explained that many successful youtubers have gone and worked with the BBC, such as Chris Kendall, and Dan & Phil who have regular slots with BBC radio. YouTubers who have made a career for themselves as a musician, even getting their music in the top ten charts. People like Charlie McDonnell and his mum who raised a lot of money for charities. There were many examples, and I think he at least has only started to learn that the internet isn't an evil place full of trolls trying to make other people's lives a misery.

Poppa mentioning to me what has been going on in the news with people calling out for more restrictions on the internet, I had an idea. How about encouraging people to beat bullying in a more encouraging way rather than discouraging from the internet all together. I made a lot of my best friends via the internet, and people who are having a hard time can do so too if they feel like they have no one else to talk to.

My idea is to create a website, a forum in which people can post advice, experience and their current problems in regards to bullying. A place for a community to be born to help fight bullying. Bullying won't go for good, it's every where you go, you can't escape from it. It's in schools, work, the internet. It's in every day life, and no amount of fighting it will ever get rid of bullying. It will always exist. That's the sad fact.

That doesn't mean we can't make ourselves stronger and build immunity to it however. So I've decided to create the mentioned forum. When it's ready, I will post it in the information box in this video and mention it again in my next video. You can also look out for it being mentioned on my twitter at @tarka98, or my facebook page in which I'll provide the links for below.

In the meantime, if you'd like to share with me the reasons you use the internet such as youtube, tumblr, facebook, twitter – any of those social networking sites, please comment below, as I'd love to read them.

If you have any stories on bullying you'd like to share, please comment below, and I will try to share some advise with you, and I encourage other readers to do the same too. 

Dog Tease

I uploaded this a while ago, but it really is funny and needs to be appreciated when possible! :)

The Edinburgh Nerdfighter Gathering Part 1. The Journey.

This Thursday just gone, I took a 10 and a half hour train journey to Edinburgh for the big Madness in the Meadows gathering to meet loads of Nerdfighters and have fun!

My train departed at 9:42pm from Lincoln, and that train would take me to Newark, then from Newark to Newcastle. A four hour stop in Newcastle and then finally from Newcastle to Edinburgh, arriving in Edinburgh the next morning at 8am.

I usually find that majority of my train journeys go far from smoothly as I would like them too. This one was not going to be an exception to that rule.

Part of that reason  - that reason being I wasn't expecting Edinburgh to be so hilly, I thought it would be a great idea to take me bike with me. To take your bike with you, the train people like you to book your bike on your train journey in advanced, rather then just showing up with it - as there might not be enough room to store it, and you could risk having to leave your bike behind at the station. I booked my bike in days before, so I knew my bike was safe for the whole journey there, and back.

At the Lincoln train station, I hauled my bike from the platform onto the far end carriage, the only carriage labeled to store bikes. It was neglected to be mentioned from any of the train staff that the front three carriages would only fit on the Newark Castle platform. Not only that, but the carriage I was in was the one that would be furthest away from the platform. The train driver thought to only mention this once we were just approaching the platform. No way enough time to work my bike all the way down three carriages in time to jump off onto the platform before the train continued its journey to Nottingham.

I bolted down three carriages and swung my head out of the carriage door screaming at the top of my lungs; "HELP! CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME, PLEASE?!" I could see the driver down the far end, opposite end to me, either ignoring my cries for help, or simply couldn't hear me.

I continued to shout, as loud as I could. Another passenger helped me, as I flailed my arms wildly in the air and continued to shout, he managed to shout louder then myself, and finally, the train driver turned and glanced our way, showing recognition of my pleads for help. He walked swiftly down the platform and asked me what the problem was.

"No-one told me that the end carriage wouldn't meet the platform. My bike is down there. How am I supposed to haul it all the way back up here with all my other stuff and before the train leaves?" I panted, breathing rapidly in blind panic.

"Bring the bike through the carriages and be quick." The train driver replied simply. I was flabbergasted at his blunt, yet unhelpful answer.

"Will you wait then, as it is three carriages I need to get through!" I exclaimed.

"Yes. But hurry." He replied. With the other passenger helpfully accepting to look after my handbag while I charged down the three carriages to retrieve my backpack and bike. In my blind panic of thinking how the hell am I supposed to get this bike through three carriages "quickly" the only thing I could think of was to haul my backpack on my back, as it's supposed too, then I lifted my bike above my head, and started to run through each carriage, looking like a total idiot with a puffy red face and sweating like an arse, hitting the odd seat, or luggage shelf as I made my way down the carriages. Half way down the second carriage, the train driver meets me and tells me to stop.

"Wheel it down on the back wheel." He tells me. Confused by what he meant, I just stare at him puzzled. "Here, give it to me." He says, and takes the bike from me, propping my bike on it's back wheel and wheeling it down the rest of the train. Feeling like a total fool for not thinking of the same thing, my red cheeks of unfitness of running down the train with a bike over my head was now redness of embarrassment for not thinking of that obvious solution. I hastily followed after the driver, and thanked him for his help once I met him back on the platform. "That's alright, I'll just charge you double!" He joked before he jumped back on the train and set off. I laughed nervously not knowing for a brief moment if he was being serious or not, and then shaking my head to myself, tutting at my stupidity that he couldn't possibly charge me extra.

I wheeled my bike away from the platform and away from the station, noticing my handbag felt slightly damp. Weird, I thought. I stopped and lent my bike against the fence and took my backpack off before examining what was going on with my handbag. The two energy drinks I had purchased earlier to keep me awake for the whole of my over night journey had burst! Everything in my bag was now drenched in sweet smelling energy juice. "Argh!" I couldn't help exclaiming. For fuck sakes. The liquid is stored in a tin. How on earth did I manage to burst them in my handbag? When I was running down the carriages with my bike, and the handbag hitting the edge of all the seats as I was running? Somehow denting the tin to the point of a terrible leakage? That is the theory I assumed anyway. One can seemed to have burst quite badly, so I took it out my bag and attempted to down what was left in it, before checking over the second can. It seemed alright, I couldn't see any sign of leakage from it, but to be on the safe side, I propped it the right way up securely in my backpack. I checked the rest of my stuff in my backpack. Yep. It had got the majority of my things inside the bag soaked. My "Catching Fire" (2nd book to the Hunger Games series) book was fine, but my two note books, make-up bag, "Mockingjay" book (3rd book to the Hunger Games series) and purse were soaked. Sighing with frustration, knowing there was nothing I could do about it right now, I hopped on my bike and headed to the Newark Northgate station.

As I arrived at the Newark Northgate station, a train was just departing. To Newcastle. For a moment, I panicked, thinking it was my train, but then quickly realizing that my scheduled train wasn't for another hour yet. I spoke briefly to one of the train staff about what happened at the Newark Castle station, and then he ran through with me the procedure for checking in my bike for the next train, which was a lot different to what I had to do on the previous train. Apparently they had a carriage for just luggage and bikes etc that was separate to the passenger carriages, which was reassuring to the fact that my bike wouldn't be easily at risk of being stolen on each stop.

The journey from Newark Northgate to Newcastle went smoothly, I got off on the platform, retrieved my bike and locked it up safely where a load of other bikes were kept too. Now I had a four hour wait until my next train. The four hour wait had to be spent in the train station too, as the station was closed, and I was locked in. Nothing was open. So I sat in the waiting room on platform three, and read. Read until I was so tired, that the words I was reading on the pages started to make no sense anymore, and my eyes couldn't focus properly. I decided to attempt some sleep for at least a little while. I tried lying down on the seats, but this wasn't easy. Each seat had arm rests, and so I had to slide my legs through them, and yep, not at all comfortable. I think I lasted ten minutes before giving up on the idea. So I tried half lying on a seat and table, and used my bag as a makeshift pillow. This worked for about twenty minutes before I gave up on this idea too. Eventually, a few more trains pulled in the station, and people started to fill the once empty, bar myself, waiting room.

Eventually, two hours since I had arrived passed, which meant the Costa shop was finally open, and I could get coffee and a breakfast roll to wake myself up and obtain the energy to continue reading my books for something to do whilst waiting for the next train which wouldn't be for another two hours.

Four hours finally passed, and I was waiting at the platform with my bike for my next train that was the final stretch to Edinburgh. Again, I popped my bike in its designated carriage with no problem and sat in my designated seat, and drifted in and out of sleep for a little while. The train was quiet, but at each stop, more people got on. I was surprised at this for it being so early in the morning. I had a booth to myself at first. Three out of four chairs vacant with a table. Myself in the occupied fourth seat. About twenty minutes away from Edinburgh, we stopped in Dundee, and three middle-aged women got on, and sat in my remaining three seats of a majoritivley empty carriage. I was a bit annoyed about being boxed in, and having to listen to them natter away whilst I sat isolated and quietly in the corner. So I closed my eyes after smiling awkwardly at them and pretended to be asleep until we arrived in Edinburgh. I probably would have fallen asleep properly if they didn't keep nattering loudly and quickly. Thank goodness this only lasted twenty minutes.

The train eventually pulled up in Edinburgh, and I gathered my things, waiting impatiently for people to move off the train so I could run and fetch my bike from another carriage that was quite far away from the carriage that I was on. One of the train staff people, whatever their official name is, I'm unsure, off loaded my bike for me just as I was approaching the carriage. I thanked him, and wheeled it down the platform towards the exit. It took me a good five or ten minutes to navigate my way out the station, stepping onto a surprisingly busy high street for eight in the morning. I took my surroundings in. Finally! I was in Edinburgh. Now... to hunt down my hostel.

Edinburgh! Here I Come!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2voYfe1XJ4&feature=youtube_gdata_player



As always... My train journeys are never smooth and simple!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9Oyu3MZRjg&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Dramatic Train Journey. Part 2.

This blog may switch from past to present tense as I am half writing it whilst on my train journey, so please bare with me!

After a lovely day with my Mum and Duncs, visiting a falconry centre, eating a hotdog, visiting my friends Mark and Vanessa, and finally dinner, Mum and Duncs were driving me to the train station so I could begin my journey back home to Lincoln.

I told Mum and Duncs that my train would leave the station 5 minutes earlier then it would just to make sure I got there on time. After my farewells at the Banbury train station, I only had a short wait until I would catch my train to Birmingham, and then change there for a train to Nottingham.

Surprise, surprise, I get on a majority quiet train, and coach, to find that my booked seat is sat on already, and not by me. Even though there is a sign above it stating that it is reserved. Every time I book a train journey, my seat always seems to get sat in, even though it is clearly reserved! Dead annoying! Then it is a 50/50 percent chance that when I ask the intruder to vacate my seat, they either do so politely and apologetically, or rudely make a big fuss of it all.

Like my trip down to Banbury. Was fine in terms of people sitting in my seat. The lady was polite so I didn't make her move. I sat next to her instead. No big deal. She was getting off the train after me anyway so it worked out best for the both of us.

So yeah, given the train was almost empty, I was expecting this chap to not cause too much fuss. He looked the type of gentleman that would abide by a certain set of standard customs with grace and respect. So I said to him "Hi there. You are in my seat. But don't worry, I'll sit in the other booth as it is quiet." To which he replied rather sarcastically "I'll move now, just in case it 'gets' busy, I don't want to have to move later." He said this in a doubtful, grumpy manner with an awful attitude I did not care for. I couldn't help feel bloody pump furiously to my face, making my cheeks flush. I was annoyed. How dare he give me that kind of attitude. It was my right to that seat, seeing as I had booked it over a month ago. Like I have ranted before, if you want a particular seat, book it. Like you are supposed to. Don't leave it to chance. I don't moan when I don't book and can't get a decent seat. I take what seats I can get, and quite often on these occasions, I don't get a seat at all.

I'll be travelling to Edinburgh and London soon via train, I better not get these same types of problems! Cuz it is really going to wind me up beyond measure!

I'm beginning to really dislike trains. I mean really dislike them. When I got to Birmingham, I nipped to W H Smiths to get myself a couple of drinks and chocolate bars for the long 4 hour journey. My Grandma had given me a tenner on Saturday when I went for dinner at my cousins Becca's. When I fished in my bag for the tenner, I couldn't find it any where. Swallowing my rage I told the guy at the counter to serve other people whilst I checked all my bags for it. Nope. Nothing. So I had to reduce the drink and chocolate amount to one each as that was all I could afford on my card. Thoroughly embarrassed by the ordeal, I hurried away to wait on my platform.

The train to Nottingham is quiet. But yet AGAIN, there is someone sat in my seat. But in all fairness, no-one has marked it as reserved, and I can't be bothered to move her, so I sit opposite her. Which is a mistake. She keeps coughing. Loudly and really annoyingly. Really looking forward to this journey being over!

Girl coughing loudly, frequently and without covering her mouth, so spreading germs too! Great!

So the final part of my train journey really improved! A lovely old man, 79, boarded the train with his handsome golden lab, 9, called Chubb. Very obedient good dog. I spoke to him and told him he has a beautiful dog, and that I have a golden lab myself, that lives at home with my mother back in Oxfordshire, and we engaged into a conversation about our pets and what they mean to us.

The picture attached to this blog is of Chubb, the 9 year old golden lab. Cute isn't he? My golden lab, a female called Tarka is now 14 an a half years. A very good age for a Labrador dog. You can tell she is old. Most of her hearing is gone, her back legs aren't what they used to be, but she is still very well spirited and still trots along happily and a good walk with her 'sister', Ruby.

It was such a nice change to have a friendly fellow engage in conversation with you. It's not often you get strangers willing to talk to you. People seem to fear too much strangers nowadays, I do understand sometimes for good reason! There are wackos out there, but that is only a small minority. I've noticed this in cities and towns mostly, that people are more reserved. As you know, I grew up in a remote little village. Everybody knows everybody. A new neighbour moves in, everyone rushes to greet and welcome you to the community. It's a shame society now shys away from communicating much with one another. I hope this changes sooner rather than later. We are social beings after all.

Dramatic Train Journey. Part 1

So I am currently travelling down to the Oxo-shire to visit family and for my Mother's birthday. Her birthday is on Monday, but she works weekdays, do visiting the weekend before was the only option.

This morning, my journey began from Lincoln Central train station which would then take me to Sheffield, and then from Sheffield to Banbury, where I would walk to my Dad's house and wait for my Mum or her partner Duncs to pick me up and take me back to Shenington, the village I grew up in before I moved to Lincoln.

The journey from Lincoln Central to Sheffield was basically, I eventful. I was quite content having my nose stuck in the book "The Hunger Games". Yes, that book by Suzanne Collins that a bunch of whinging trolls on the Internet claim to be a direct copy of the graphic novel "Battle Royale". I can't actually judge this myself as I've read neither the graphic novel or seen the film, compared to having seen the film of the "Hunger Games" months ago and now just reading the book. But I digress.

As soon as I step off the train and onto the platform of the Sheffield train station, my instant instinct is to headroom Burger King for some much needed food. I had snacked on some cheese triangles on the way, but I needed something with a little more substance. I checked which platform I needed to be at for the Reading train that would drop me of at Banbury on my way to the fast food shop.

With burger and fries in tow, I retreated to platform 6, where I parked myself on one of the many benches and snacked on my lunch greedily. It was delicious as always, and a little more so after having just haggled a 20% discount when they wouldn't take my vouchers.

The train soon arrived at the platform and I headed straight or coach 'f' and located my seat. As usual, someone was sat in it. But it was no big deal as the seat next to her was available. I asked her where she was getting off, and she explained to me it was the stop after mine, so I told her not to move, as I got off sooner. All was fine.

The train was fairly busy, and this other young, really skinny woman with a baby in tow had sat in several peoples reserved seats. She then struggled to find a seat for herself and her baby, who was in a car carrier. Eventually, she felt she had to air her opinion on the matter. "People just have no consideration these days. No-one will give up their seat for me and my baby. I had the exact same problem when I was heavily pregnant. It's ridiculous."

She made me mad. I held my tongue though. I thought, no, I won't say anything back to her. I'll save it for my blog, and possibly a YouTube video. So my exact thoughts are these. Cheeky cow. She never asked ANYONE on the train to give up their seats. Secondly, if she wanted to guarantee a seat for herself and her baby, she should have booked seats. Like everyone else has to. Just because you have a baby, and couldn't keep your twiglit legs shut, doesn't give you any more superiority to seats on trains. This might be different on a bus. But not a train. I booked and planned my journey over a month ago. Why should I move and be inconvenienced because your flutter brain didn't think to take 5 minutes on a computer to book your tickets?btell me the whole train load of people are inconsiderate? Take a look at your own reflection silly cow.

I'm not being harsh here. It's not the whole story. She did manage to point out in her glorified speech that there were seven spare, unreserved seats available. But singular. So she could have seated her baby if she wanted to, it just meant she would have to stand with the baby, or, stop being a lazy bitch, and take the baby out of the seat carrier and held the baby and tuck the seat carrier away like any other sensible person would do. It's not rocket science. She seemed like the type that probably didn't have any GCSEs though - ok, that was harsh of me. But c'mon!

Her stop was one before mine, and it transpired in the last 10 minutes of her departure off the train, she was intact with her partner, who was in a seat, with a seat spare next to him. So what was stopping HIM giving up his seat, sitting next to someone else, and allowing her to sit in those two free seats with the baby carrier and all?

Really, peoples ignorance and stupidity amaze me.

She left the train still rambling, loudly, on her phone this time, about the train full of people's disrespect for not giving up their seats for her. So I whispered under bated breath, loud enough for those sitting around me to hear, but not loud enough for her to hear "Should have booked a seat then love, just like everyone else has to."

And that be the end of my rant. So apart from a couple of minor dramatic incidents, I got to Banbury no problem. Walked to my Dad's until Mum's partner, Duncs, picked me up and took me to the beautiful village of Shenington. Where I grew up.

Madness in the Meadows

Less then two weeks until I am off to Edinburgh! My train is booked, my hostel is booked! I'm so excited! This will be my first time ever visiting Scotland. Also, my first holiday alone too. As in, no family or friends accompanying me! The people I will meet are people that I've only known via Facebook. It's a lot less dangerous then it sounds. Honest.

So 'Madness in the Meadows' is pretty much the same as 'Summer in the City' But in Edinburgh not London. It will be my first ever YouTube gathering so I am very excited about that too! Finally meeting people with the same interests as me! As in videoing yourself talking to no-one and plastering it all over the Internet.

Yes... I am alive... Again

It's that time again, where I make the promise that after months of not posting, I will make more of an effort to keep this blog updated. One day, I will make good on this promise. Whether this will be now, or in the future, who knows.

Good news is, I've been making good on uploading regular vlogs on my youtube channel, if you aren't subscribed already, or not seen it before, you may find it by clicking here.

One of my latest vlogs has been one of my most funniest to film. The "Marshmallow Challenge" aka "Fluffy Bunny"

Myself, and my friend Karma attempt the challenge after viewing Carrie Fletcher's attempt on her channel "ItsWayPastMyBedTime". If you like seeing people fail at challenges, you'll like this video.

So, what is going on in life? The usual I suppose - working in a job on minimum wage with no sign of progression, relentlessly trying to better my future, but failing epically as always. Ah well, still time for the luck to change I suppose - anyone got a rabbits foot they'd like to gift me?

Some good news though, new ideas on the horizon, which hopefully will blossom into something amazing - we'll see, but more on that as it develops.

In other news, my laptop died :( And as I am on minimum wage, there is no chance I will be able to afford one anytime soon. LUCKILY, I have one very awesome and new house mate, who is loaning me hers for the time being, so I am able to get on with my usual projects that demands more then an hours session on a library computer.

Things I am looking forward to this year - 'Summer in the City' - a well established summer vlog gathering. It will be my second gathering ever, shortly after my first YouTube gathering ever, which is the Edinburgh gathering in the first weekend of August. I am so excited for so many reasons! I really can't wait to meet loads of new people and make new friends that share my 'weird' interest in the internet and the vlogging and blogging world. August really can't come quick enough!

This weeks challenge - at work, I start of a bit of an addictive game - to try and name all the European countries without looking them up (there is just over 50 countries - it is quite hard!). On my first attempt, I only got about 22, however, I wasn't really trying. On my second attempt tonight, I got around 34, so pretty happy with that attempt. A challenge I set myself though, is to learn and memorize all the European countries by the end of the week and be able to list them all off by heat - wish me luck! I should be uploading a vlog about it, so look out for it!

For now though blogspot, goodnight!

A bad morning

Yesterday was my cousin's hen do. A very special occasion, and something I had been looking forward to for months, and it was really, really great. We all went go-karting in the day, then went out to a Greek restaurant in the evening which was followed by Greek dancing, then it was to Oceana's for some drinking and cheesy dancing. A brilliant day, even for Birmingham! It made up for what could only be described as a nightmare morning that occurred before the events that took place that day.

It all started when I got to the train station at Lincoln, so I could depart from there to Nottingham, then from Nottingham to Birmingham New Street.

Well, technically, the trouble started before I left the train station. I knew I was going to encounter a problem, and I was hoping for it to be easily resolved. This was proved wrong quite quickly. For future notice, and my advise to young persons under the age of 25 and are likely to have some use of travelling via trains, if you are going to get a railcard, buy online, not at the station. Why? Because when you buy from the station, you have to have two pieces of cards that make the railcard. One with the photo I.D, then one that is the actual valid as the discount card. Lose the discount card part, expect to pay the full price for a new discount card.

So basically, it's just another way for them to make money out of you. Daylight robbery. At least the railcard off the internet sends you just the one card you need, and if you loose it, it's really easy to go online and organize a replacement, which is also cheaper then having to fork out for a new one like you do when you are at an actual train station.

I paid £25 for an open train ticket from Lincoln to Birmingham New Street, that's the price with a young person's discount. I went to the train station to see if my railcard could be sorted out reasonably. My only option was having to buy ANOTHER train ticket for the same price WITHOUT refund on my previous ticket for £34. So it would have cost me over £50 for a train ticket to Birmingham, somewhere that I was only going to be there for a day. The other choice, buy another railcard for £28. Both choices were way out of order, but there was no way I could miss my cousin's hen do, and rail companies must love making money on people's crises. I took the second option. It probably was actually a good thing, as it was due for renewal the following month anyway, it was just one more expense I could have done without at the time. Pay day was less then a week away, I was broke and the money I had was saved for what needed to go on for the hen do.

That brings me to the second part of the nightmare morning. I got into Birmingham, the first thing I needed to do was to make a phone call to my parents to ask them to loan me money to cover the expense of paying for a new railcard. I couldn't phone my parents because I was blocked from making any sort of communication on my phone, as the bill was over due. I thought I was good for that til pay day, which was only a few days away.

Not only was I stuck for calling my parents, I was also stuck for calling my cousin's hen do organizer and bridesmaid for details of where the hotel was and where to meet for breakfast. So I ran around like a headless chicken looking for an orange shop, a natwest and somewhere with free wifi. Found an orange shop and had to negotiate and negotiate for them to put my phone back online, which cost me £10, but at least it meant I could get hold of help! So I called, got sorted and then was running around trying to find a Holiday Inn, which seemed impossible, especially as everyone walking or hanging around Birmingham that I asked for directions seemed as clueless as me! Can't believe I couldn't find one person that could give me directions.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, I've been getting gradually ill since my holiday in Yorkshire the other week, Friday being the worst so far, and then Saturday was just as bad, so being ill and having a crappy morning was not improving things.

Anyway, eventually I got to the hotel, and in a state of relief after checking in, and getting a phone call telling me where to be, but being slightly awkward to describe where to go, even though it was less then a minute away, but my scrambled and stressy brain at the time just couldn't process it, I burst into tears. They were tears of relief, as a girl named Fiona, my cousin's friend, bridesmaid and the hen organizer met me from the hotel and took me to the whetherspoons where everyone was meeting for breakfast.

After that, everything went perfectly, as mentioned at the beginning of this ranty post somewhere.

Well, it's Sunday now. I'm still ill, lost majority of my voice, got stuck in Nottingham for three hours, as trains to Lincoln from Nottingham on a Sunday is atrocious.

But now I'm home. It's half 11 at night, still ill, and I've got work tomorrow. Well, at least it's not til early afternoon, hopefully some luck will come my way, and I'll start to get better over night in my sleep!

Tarka, over and out!

My Thoughts on the England Riots

I know this is a few days late, but I was away in Yorkshire on a family holiday. So...

I am appalled by the behaviour of our British citizens that are responsible for the riots that have spread across Britain. Britain should be a country that its citizens are proud of, and the excuses of individual characters whether involved in the rioting or not, are despicable. There is absolutely no excuse for the behaviour of those involved in the looting. If the rumours are true, that the looting is in protest against government action, then these people shouldn’t be acting violently towards their neighbours. The people who work hard to run their businesses, the people who provide the community with everyday services, the people who are struggling themselves to make a living are the people getting hurt, innocent people. It is despicable. I hope the families of those involved in the rioting and looting are ashamed of them, and don’t hesitate to report them to the police if they know that members of their families are involved. This also goes for those who “understand”, meaning, agree with those involved with the violence, theft and arson that has contributed to the destruction in the mayhem and chaos of the riots and looting.

I am also disappointed with the media in their portrayal of those responsible for the riots. “Youths”, “teenagers” and “children” are the most common words that have been used to describe the majority of those that have been involved with the riots. This is an unfair stereotype, and a predictable one at that. While I can admit I have an unfair bias of my distain for chavs in hoodies, it is clear from the CCTV footage shown on the news rather than just the photographs in the newspapers that it isn’t just the “youths” involved, it’s adults too. I ask the media to be more forthright with this reality. This is a common occurrence with the media, and society’s opinion on the youth of today.

This doesn’t mean I deny that no youths are involved, I know there is a small minority responsible, but the way the media have been representing this notion makes it seem that all the youth of today act this way. Now, it wasn’t long ago that I was in that “youth” group. I’m 22 now, and while majority of my family would consider myself and my cousins of the same age, to cousins that are up to 25 the children in the family, I am an adult. It wasn’t long ago, however, that I was in my youth, and in that time, I still had the same stereotype follow me and my friends. In my home town, the shopping centre I used to visit, I would have security approach me to tell me to put my hood down, if by chance I had it up. This was in my college days. Now, I bet if it were a thirty year old with his hood on his hoodie on, no-one would bat an eyelid. It’s not like there are just hoods on hoodies either, raincoats, and other clothing garments have them too. I bet no-one who wears a hat is asked to remove it.

I can admit the thugs involved in the riots and lootings are giving hoodie wearing folk a bad name, but I implore people to not take this as a thought of assuming all people wearing hoodies might mug, rob or attack you. I’ve seen a response from the general public that this is a common opinion.

The problem with the troubled youngsters AND adults is that these particular have either not had a proper upbringing, which cannot, in all cases, be blamed on parenting. While I think in some cases, this can be true, particularly in witnessing poor parenting skills in the general public.

What really needs to be addressed is the lack of power in schools and general public services. Teachers and the police don’t have enough power these days to dish out the force and punishment that is required to shape our society into a civilized community. As a nation, we are too soft. The government urgently need to review and rectify a suitable solution to this ever growing problem.

You're So Vein

A Very Fishy Story... (Update no. 4)

The Will Reading and "What Really Happened"

Along with the letter about the "funeral", also what came with it was a "will" and a letter about what really happened. This is what they both said:

"The Official Reading of the Last Will and Testament of Beatrice Bobblethorpe

I Beatrice leave the following to my baby Betty:

• My forever Love x X (Love you baby) X x
• A packet of fish fingers - remember me when you eat each finger (will be delivered in due course)
• 70 2p's from my official fishifax savings account (will be delivered in due course)
• 80 1p's from my official fishifax savings account (will be delivered in due course)
• A bottle of water, this water was blessed by sharks on September 11th after the terrible plan crash which led to powerful trembles rushing to the Mediterranean killing your great grandfather twice removed (will be delivered in due course)
• A blank sheet of paper for you to write all of your great grandfather twice removed (will be delivered in due course)
• A blank sheet of paper for you to write all of your memories of me down - read it and treasure me forever (attached within)
• A star, when you were born I decided to buy a star and name it Betty. Every night look up at the sky and that shining star will be yours! I shall be waiting on it for you.
• A deep dark family secret. Barry is ALIVE! The story on the following page.

Beatrice, what really happened?

One sunny morning Barry, your brother and lover witnessed something so SHOCKING it destroyed his vision to happiness. Your brother and lover Barry walked in on your uncle Bagdad having sexual fishicourse with your TWIN brother Botty!!!

House passed and Barry could not cope with this! He later went up to his uncle and Botty had told them he saw everything that happened, his uncle told him he was onto to talk and made Barry feel like an apple. Later, Barry still could not cope so decided to go for a swim, he saw his uncle and Botty once again, things were not as they seemed they were arguing and Botty was crying. Bagdad slapped Botty and knocked him out. Barry witnessed everything, and then suddenly out of nowhere Bagdad killed Botty! My poor Botty dead. The police interviewed Barry and for the case to get to court Barry had to fake his death. Barry agreed and things all went to plan, this was until Bagdad escaped prison and killed himself on Botty's grave.

I could not take all this terror as I didn't know Barry was under witness protection. I only found ot the day before I decided to take my own life. There was nothing I could do as I had already taken an overdose which in SeaWorld kicks in a day later, I tried going to the hospital bt there was nothing they could do for me. It was too late my baby :( that is why I decided to write this terrible tragic will leaving you the real truth behind my death and it was nothing to do with all the crap Detective Brad told you! He had to lie so that terrible truth would not come out and risk your life Betty.

Your grandparents do however want to stay in touch and don't hate e like Brad said. As I come to an end of writing this letter I am starting to lose the will to live. I managed to publish my own Book (Finding Beatrice) it gives all the fll details about what really happened and you will be able to find out all about your birth, my dead, your brothers and ncles. I really hope that you meet your grandparents. Barry will be out of witness protection shortly so may be joining you. Barry is very disturbed at the moment and may not fully recover; he is suffering from Fish-dish this means he may change into a different or item of fishy products such as tuna. I hope you read my book and get the full story of what really happened with everything. I love you so much my baby. Love Mum X x

End of official WILL reading

This document is a legal document and should be disposed of as soon as possible

The court of law advises all WILL readers to wash their hands after reading this letter to wash away any sins that may have entered the reader's fins

This WILL was signed off... 24/05/11"

Thus concludes the last letter received about our newly adopted fish, Betty.

Next blog it will most definitely reveal who REALLY left me Betty.

A Very Fishy Story... (Update no. 3)

"Beatrice Bobblethorpe

15th May 1971 - 1th May 2011

Lover, fighter, mother, friend, beater, worker

All things we loved her for

xxxxxxxx"

Followed by:

"In the Memory Of Beatrice Bobblethorpe

15th May 1971 - 15th May 2011

On Thursday 19th May, Beatrice was flushed to rest. I have taken it upon myself to include to you some details about the service.

The funeral service was lead by Vicar Billy, a close fishy-friend of the Bobblethorpe family. Beatrice's close friends Bolly, Brax, on and off lover Brian and auntie Bee all delivered moving, emotional speeches during the service. Beatrice's mother and father did not attend the funeral as they were in so much shock they did not feel ready to publicly acknowledge the loss of their daughter at the moment in time. Bolly was said to be crying all the way through the service and had to be restrained at one point when he tried jumping in the toilet to pull Beatrice out. However, Brax, a very butch fish twice removed from seal world shocked everyone within the service by revealing Beatrice was a secret, casual lesbian and had actually been undergoing a no-fishnets-attached lesbian affair with lesbianism and made a few bubbles. Finally auntie Bee revealed that she was Betty's mother, this caused SHOCK within the bathroom and later announced she was joking and wanted to add a bit of entertainment to the service, however no one thought she was funny and told her to leave. Apparently auntie Bee has always been the dark sea-WHOREse of the family. The family asked me to pass on a very special poem to Betty that was written by Beatrice and read at the funeral.

You are gone, but not forgotten

you're a mother, lover and friend

I will love you until the end

Hold me, touch me, feel me

Kiss me, stroke me, release me

I will never replace you

I will never love again

Love me, Love you, Love us

Beatrice x

Yours sincerely, Detective Brad."

This letter was then followed by a 'WILL' reading... [will add tomorrow as I am too exhausted to type anymore!]

A very Fishy Story... (Update no. 2)

"Official Report and Statement Released by the Detectives at the Metrofishitan Police Force:

Beatrice was gentle and caring; a loving and generous fish. However, she could not cope with the burden of being a mother. That is why one sad evening she did the most devastating thing a mother could do... Beatrice decided to give her babies Betty and Barry up for adoption. Sadly, before he could find love and shelter with a different family, Barry passed away. We hope to explain this tragic turn of events to you more fully in order the shed some light o the experiences your new child, Betty, has endured.

Barry and Betty had been undergoing a sexual relationship (which in sea life is legal) however; when Beatrice found out it drove her to the edge of sanity. She went mental. Beatrice did not approve of it being legal for all fish to be lovers regardless of their possible relation to each other. Beatrice felt this way partly because her brother Bongo and sister Bella had an affair which resulted tragically in them both killing themselves. Bongo and Bella were seen as the sea versions of Romeo and Juliet... and you know how that story ended. However, back to the accident: when Beatrice found out about the nature of Barry and Betty's relationship she had an emotional breakdown. She lashed out at the pair and confined them to a small tub. She selfishly left them alone for several hours while she went out and painted the sea blue. When Beatrice came back the following morning, she had a terrible fishover and found Barry on the floor DEAD. She found his tiny fishy body contorted on the sea bed. Betty told her mother that Barry could not cope with their mother's disapproval and resentment. He felt that the only way out was taking an overdose of air which he did before Betty could stop him and he collapsed onto the floor and died.

Beatrice could not live with herself after Barry's death. She blamed herself for both of her children's misery and for Barry's suicide. She believed that she would find peace within herself once her remaining child, her beloved Betty, was safe int he care of more capable loving parents. Unfortunately she was wrong and discovered that she could not cope. Although this family's terrible story is filled with betrayal, woe and pain, we hope that it will not result in an unhappy ending. We implore you to provide for Betty the quality of life that her fish family could not, and to attempt to erase the pain that had been so present in her life up until the point you rescued her.

Beatrice's WILL reading is still being finalised with will be annouced once the date is officially confirmed. The finalisation of the WILL has experienced a few minor complications and is therefore delayed until further notice.

In Memory Of Beatrice Bobblethorpe."

So this is the third/fourth letter now. Getting more and more strange, and this letter definitely indicates that more letters are to come. And they did, which I am going to post in my next blog.

-Tarka98

A Very Fishy Story... (Update no. 1)

Ok, so woke up this morning, and went to fetch my post to find... YES... another letter. The letters get weirder and weirder, and I know there are more to come, as this letter indicates there will be.

This is what it reads;

"Dear Tenants,

My name is Detective Brad and I am writing to inform you that on the 15th May Betty's mother committed suicide. Beatrice Bobblethorpe Left the following message for Betty...

Betty, my poor alone Betty

I, your mother just could not cope with what I; YOUR MOTHER did to you. I was saying a little prayer on my birthday and it all came rushing back to me. The flashbacks really got to me and I was so alone and disturbed. By the time you read this I will have been found as dry as a bone on a bed of hot rocks somewhere in the Mediterranean.

I thought that I could cope with what I did to you, but no, I was wrong. I don't know why I thought I could live with myself after what I did. I really wish I could go back in time and change my selfish immature, cowardly actions. I can no longer live with myself after what I've done to you, so I say goodbye to this cruel world.I am such a sea WHOREse.

Please, please, please don't hate me. Just remember that I am forever your fish mother and despite my lack of love and care, somewhere deep down in my fins I truly loved you. So when you can find time to forgive me, look down into the sea and you might see my fishy reflection staring back at you.

Love you forever, mummy.

As you can see from the message, Betty's mother was a very disturbed fish. We felt the need to pass along this message to Betty, so she would receive this vital information about her mother and would not grow up doubting herself of fishy origins. I am pleased to pass on the information that Beatrice's mother and father would like to stay in contact with Betty. Their names are Benedict and Barbara and expressed the deepest shock, disgust and sadness when they found out the news that Betty had been put up for adoption. They were considering fighting to have Betty returned into their guardianship, but thought it would be better for her to stay with her new family she has become settled with.

With your co-operation they wish to make regular contact with Betty in the hopes that she will at least know some of her blood fish family.

I will be in contact shortly to let you know of Beatrice bubblethorpes funeral and will reading.

Detective Brad."

Again, I am lost for words what to make of this. Should I be expecting to receive stuff out of the "will"? Haha, or should Betty... who as I said, I renamed Custard, be expected to attend the funeral?

I really do applaud the author's imagination on this one. I really do hope I find out who is behind all this! It is definitely the most random thing that has ever happened to me. Whether this be a stalker, a neighbour, someone I know, or complete stranger... whatever, I hope they find a way to read this or see my youtube videos, or else I'm gunna have to come up with more inventive ways to communicate back.

Again, feel free to comment or whatever, or maybe give some advice? Ha!

I'm signing off now, expect a youtube video later today!

-Tarka98

A Very Fishy Story...

Hey guys,

Yeah, been a while again since I'd posted but never mind.

I have good news. I MOVED HOUSE! And it's beautiful. Got a gorgeous spacious bedroom, and a happier, bigger location to film my vlogs.

Anyway, aside from that, I've got a really really strange story to tell you all.

After moving into my new house, a week later, I came home from a BBQ at a friend of mine to find a strange surprise awaiting me at my door step.

A plastic beaker, full of water and a goldfish. Not only that, the beaker full of water, with a goldfish also came with a note. A note that said;

"Dear Tenants,

Please please please look after my baby: Betty. Through my neglect, her lover Barry killed himself. [Picture of Barry "dead"] (Barry the fish. Dead)

This has proven to me how much of a bad parent I am and I hope you will be able to give Betty the love and support she deserves, but that I cannot provide."

So yeah, that was weird.

Picture of the letter above, hope you can all read it, and then the fish in the mentioned beaker just below:

So, I took the fish in like any reasonable human being, not like I am going to leave a poor goldfish outside for a chav to find and probably try to BBQ.

The next day, I bought the fish a tank, some fish food and chlorine stuff to make the water nice. Cost me just over £6, so thanks stranger for leaving me an extra £6 short, cuz I really need all the money I can get at the moment! You owe me.

So I figured, I took the fish in, that would be it. Then, a week and a half later, I received a letter through the post. A letter a lot longer then the note I was given. Very strange.

The letter reads:

"My darling tenants,

I don't know where to begin to thank you for your fantastic hospitality of Betty. Betty was a good girl at heart, always new how to be a good girl and treat the other fish with love and respect. However, Barry treated the other fish BAD! Sometimes I think that is why god took him from us so early in fish pond life.

Sunday 27th March, the sun was shining and I had just given birth to my babies. Late afternoon I was allowed to leave the aquarium as I didn't bleed too much and they were both easy swimmers. They both swam out of me like the titanic leaving the docks; that horrible event always brings a tear to my eye.

Bet, their father though I am unsure as I did have unprotected sea food one summers evening with a naughty shark. I always like to think Bert as their daddy as he sadly died in some fish nets after giving me a yummy massage one December morning. Oh that morning was a cold one; you could so tell Christmas was on its way!

For my birthday, which bu the way is May 15th (Hint, Hint) I would like you to say a little prayer with my Betty. Every night, we would always pray together that life would not separate us. I feel so ashamed of myself for just not being able to provide for my babies. Currently I am lapping it up in sunny Spain with my mother Barbra. I always dreamt of taking Betty to see her, however, that never happened.

I hope Betty is settling in comfortably at your residence and not causing too much hassle. I would love to visit her one day, but I just cannot face what I did to her. This is why I am writing this letter, in the hopes you will read it to her one day when she is old enough to understand. And maybe one day, Betty will find a lover that will treat her like a pearl... something Bert, Betty's father, could not do. He was always on the scrounge, which did make me consider abortion, but it was just something I couldn't bring myself to do.

As this letter is coming to an end, I just want to send my love and kisses to my darling Betty. I hope one day she will come to understand my reasons for giving her to you, and perhaps one day, when she is ready, she will decide to track me down on facefish.co.uk. Tell her to find me under Beatrice Bobblethorpe. At the moment my account is deactivated, as I do not want to pressure Betty into anything so sudden, but I will re-activate it once my heart begins to mend itself. I should think that this is when Betty is 18 and can willingly look for her true, fish mother.

Yours sincerely,

Beatrice Bobblethorpe.

7 Rocks to the left,

Behind Pearl Lane,

Centre of Crab Street.

Mediterranean Sea,

Spain."

Yeah, so very very strange stuff! I can honestly say, I don't know anyone that would come up with this bizarre stuff! I mean, I've had weird things posted through my door before, as a student before, but nothing like this! (And that is saying something).

I thought this maybe might meant to be a riddle, or there are hints in the letter to who this can be, if there is, I can't figure it out. I'm sure this is a prank by someone, but who, I have no clue. Myself and my house mate think it is no-one we know, but friends I have shown the letter to think differently.

I really can't guess.

If the original owner of this fish is reading this by chance, I re-named the fish Custard. Sorry, but Betty is just a ridiculous name for a fish, and she is tragically scared for life from her previous guardian. She felt a change in identity was a better way to go.

I am now curious to see if I get anything else related to Custard through the post. I shall keep you posted.

-Tarka98

A Very Happy Tarka

So it's only been just under two months since I posted here but never mind. I WILL try harder, I promise. My youtube uploads have dwindled too, but for good reason in which I shall explain.

You may have noticed that my url for this particular blog has changed. It used to be fal108.blogspot.com and now it's tarka98.blogspot.com - the reason for this is that I've gone through a bit of a re-brand. Well, a recycled re-brand. Many years ago, when I first started out on the internet in 1998, all my user accounts for any internet website, I used my dogs name Tarka, as one of the many rules of children (and even as adults) never use your real name. So I used my dogs, because she is special and significant, and I don't see the name around very much, so it felt unique.

Now, I know those very few of you that do read my blog posts will know my real name, which is fine. I am nearing 22 now, so I think I can safely say it doesn't really matter whether people on the internet do know my real name or not, and those that don't, I'll give it you now, even though it's in my profile description box. My name is Zoe. As I said, I am old enough and wise enough to be able to publicize my real name, which I have been doing for some time now, but with enough maturity to be careful enough for silly things to not happen to me.

Anyway, back to the point of this blog post, which wasn't originally supposed to be about my name or change of url address.

I got some very happy news today.

I'm pregnant! Nah - just kidding. I know we've past April Fools but I couldn't risk that little one liner.

The good news is that I have a new house to move into. It's very pretty, spacious and non-studenty. Which is lovely and all sunshine and rainbows.

For my last four years of living in Lincoln, I've lived in student flats or houses, meaning having to share with 4-7 people at any one time. First year it was five other people, second year it was three, so four including me and then third and final year was five other people again and after graduating but remaining in full time work, I've been staying in a 7 person house share. Well, technically 6, but there are usually 7 people here. Which can be lovely, but from May onwards, I get to share a house with just one other person, and in that house I look forward to the letting agents to not be treating me like a student.

I also look forward to many other things about the new house such as not having to conceal that fact I have a rabbit anymore, having my own bathroom, having a huge big double room, being able to treat my bedroom like a bedroom and not my living room and dining room too, and I can actually have a living room and dining room for the initial purpose. I know this may all be very boring to you all, but I am very excited about it, and I will be inflicting a vlog on it too once I get the keys to give you a tour!

Oh yes, the reason behind the lack of videos. Well, as mentioned before, I live in a house that is occupied by 6-7 people at any one time, and truth be told, I feel weird and strangely un-confident about filming my videos with any of my house mates in the next room. I'm not used to it, and it was strange filming the recent vlogs over the past 6 months or so. My real life friends do know my habits, but it appears I am a wuss to filming around them. I do feel right silly. But once I move, that should all change. Living with just one other person and feeling silly should be easy, and it also means I'll be more comfortable with multiple film locations too instead of just constantly filming in my room which does get boring.

I know my last videos was me trolling trolls. Don't worry, I shant be stopping that, but I do want to continue doing normal vlogs too and other little projects I am thinking of as well as attempting a few short films. So watch this space patiently and I should be kicking myself up the arse soon enough to please my lovely little quaint audience.

Night my lovies!

-Tarka98

Sleep is a luxury not a life necessity.

I love to sleep. It's probably my favourite out of all life's necessities. Although I see it more of a luxury, because when I wake up in the morning, or depending how rough a previous day, in the afternoon, I always seem to remember my dreams. Dreams that set me off on adventures I can't even begin to imagine. Every morning I wake, I get excited over remembering what I did in my sleep, but also disappointed it didn't really happen.

For example, when I woke up this morning, I smiled as I remembered I dreamt about Captain Hook. Now the only explanation I have for him popping into my mind in the land of slumber is because I've been watching "Hook" on my breaks at work. Which is bizarre as I have watched "Black Swan" now three times within a week and a half. If anything, I would have expected that one to pop in my dreams. But no, Captain Hook. I'm not complaining however, I do like the chap, he's entertaining. I've dreamt about him before.

The first dream I ever had about Captain Hook dates a few years back in my life. Definitely childhood - but childhood at secondary school, so between 11-13. I can still remember that dream almost as clear as day now. Tinkerbell came to my bedroom and gave me some of her magic dust that allowed me to fly. So I walked outside into my back garden in the dead of night, my mum fast asleep next door in her bedroom that is next to mine. I jumped into the air, and I was flying. It felt so real and unbelievable. I was flying, I was really flying. Of course, I wasn't really flying, it was just a dream, but even now it felt like it really did happen.

I flew over my village, remembering every detail of it from a birds eye point of view, then headed Stratford way and eventually towards the North Star.

Tinkerbell suddenly disappeared, I don't remember when she did, but she wasn't around anymore. I arrived at Neverland alone, and gasped in horror. It was completely destroyed. No-one was around, there was smoke and dust everywhere. It was a wasteland. I landed on the wasteland and started calling Peter's name, as one would expect to meet Peter Pan on their arrival to Neverland. He didn't appear. I started to walk across the wasteland that was once Neverland, and suddenly, I began to hear voices. They were familiar, but not a good familiar. They were pirates, and where there are pirates in Neverland, there is Captain Hook. I need to hide. I thought and quickly browsed around for where too. I saw a cardboard box, big enough for me to fit in. I scrambled inside, clenched my teeth and shut my eyes tight, praying they wouldn't find me.

I could hear footsteps by this time, and their voices had grown louder.

"Someone has been here. I can smell it." I heard Hook say. "Look everywhere." I watched in fear and awe as from my hiding place, I saw him take a step forward so his feet were in my line of vision from my hiding place. He bent down onto one knee, and in slow motion, I could see him lower himself to look into my hiding place, first his long, ebony dreadlocks came to view, then his pointy, sharp and savage face peered down toward me, a smile elongated across his face in pure delight. He fad found what he was looking for, and what he was looking for was me.

Then I woke up.

Which pissed me off. I wanted to know what happened next!

So I had a good old dream about good old Captain Hook again last night. Like the film "Inception" reminds us all, we never really remember how our dream starts, we are just there, and it doesn't occur to us how we got there. So there I am. I'm not alone, I know I am with friends, but I can't remember who I was with. One of my friends informs me that Captain Hook has been arrested, and it was my job to go "book him in". Now I don't exactly take him to a police station. I take him to a strange and unfamiliar house. Unfamiliar outside the dream, but in the dream it was familiar. Have you ever had that happen to you?

So yes, there I am with Mr Captain James Hook, I take him, in handcuffs to this house. For some reason, no-one has taken his weapons off him, so I quickly see to that, taking his sword and gun off of him. Then I take him out into the garden and handcuff him to something that I don't remember. All I know is that he can't escape. Or so I thought. I go back into the house and I'm chatting with someone. There are holes in this dream that I don't remember, but eventually, Captain Hook breaks free, and I'm pretty much shitting myself because I know he is going to come after me. I run into the garden, and we both freeze as we acknowledge each other. I run into the shed and grab at whatever weapon I can, and we begin to battle.

THEN I FUCKING WAKE UP. UGH.

For once, I wish I could dream a full dream and remember every detail of it.

So, blog readers/writers, do any of you remember your dreams, and do you find them particularly epic? I would love to know. Comment on this blog if you do.

I'll be uploading a vlog later, a little rant about a particular troll that is trolling at the moment, if you are interested, take a gandar on this page: http://www.youtube.com/tarka98

NaNoWriMo!

I'm taking part in NaNoWriMo this year. If you haven't heard of it, what is involved is that you have to write 50,000 words within the November month toward your novel. The novel I'm working on, I have planned for many years now, dating back to a time when I was a wee lass at Secondary School. In that time I have made many changes, but hopefully this year my mind is set on the plot. I don't know if any other author out there has had the same type of thing when writing a book, but this seems to work for me.

I know I've been away from blogging for some time, but hopefully my writing for NaNoWriMo will help me write more, as well as vlog more, which is something I have been doing more of recent.

If you would like to check out my NaNoWriMo progress, you may do by clicking the following words: My NaNoWriMo Page.

When I write this, I have only just hit over 6,000 words, and as it's day 10, I am supposed to be way over this word count. Fingers crossed I can catch up!

Anyway, I need to go now, if you are interested in what I am writing, you can read below the synopsis as well as an extract from my novel, feel free to comment with your opinion and critique, I love to know what other people think and what I could do to improve, but please be gentle, this is the only first draft, so it isn't going to be perfect :)

Synopsis: Grace Miller: Otter Odyssey

Grace Miller is your typical inbetweener. Not popular nor un-popular at school. Nothing special. Lives at home with an ordinary mother. Visits her ordinary Grandmother. Her father not in the picture, because he died before she was born. Not that ordinary, but nothing that made her peculiar.

Until her Grandmother, Suzie, is suddenly diagnosed with a fatal illness. An inoperable tumour nested right in the middle of her brain, leaving her just months, if not weeks to live.

Grace prepares herself within these months to say goodbye to her Gram-Gram, and when she leaves her life forever, a new chapter in her life starts, particularly when she opens a letter left for her from her Gram-Gram telling her the truth about her father... her real father.

Now Grace embarks on a journey of self discovery for the missing answers of her life, helped along when after a thunderstorm in the middle of a meadow strikes her with a lightening bolt, trigging something inside her that she never knew existed...

Excerpt: Grace Miller: Otter Odyssey

Dear Grace,

If you are reading this, then it means I am no longer with you. Just know, I love you and your mother with all my heart, and I’ll be watching over you. It was the right time for me to leave. I’d had many chapters of adventure in my life, and while it is sad that I say goodbye to you and your mum now, we will see each other again. I know I’ve never been much of a religious person, but I do believe death isn’t the end.

Even though I’m gone you still have a life to live, and your own life chapters to write. I have left you some money. I’ve known since you were little you’ve always talked about how you would like to travel the world. The money I have left you, I would like you to use that for that purpose.

Now, there is something I need to tell you. Please make sure your mother isn’t reading this part. It’s very important and I don’t think she is going to like what I am about to tell you, so much so, I was a coward and decided to leave it until I was gone.

There’s something you need to know about your father. Your father isn’t dead. In fact, he is very much alive. He was arrested for murder, and has been in prison since before you were born – well, he was supposed to have been, expect he escaped. No-one knows what happened to him. I happen to believe he was innocent, despite what your mum thought. Now don’t get too mad at her, she told you what she told you because she loves you and thought she was protecting you.

Your actual father’s name is Oliver. He escaped from prison. The police contacted me, and told me to let your mother know what had happened in case he came to find her – and you. Even though your mother had told him she had had a miscarriage, he didn’t believe her, he knew her too well to know when she was lying. So he knows you exist. I can’t say where in case this letter gets into the wrong hands, but since he escaped, he has been sending you letters, pictures, birthday and Christmas cards, all of which I have saved for you.

I believe Oliver has a brother who lives in Cape Town, South Africa. His name is Jeremy and I have his address logged down in my address book.

I’m sorry this information has been kept from you for so long, but your mum believed him to be dangerous, and was only looking out for you, not many people believed your father, I was one of very few, and he didn’t deserve to stay in prison. I told him I’ll make sure you are aware of his existence when the time was right, and if you wanted to contact him, it would be easy for you to do so.

Love you forever and always,

Gram-Gram.

30th September 2010

A lot has changed for the better, finally. I’ve finished uni now, and although there is some angst over sitting some resits for a few failed units toward my final degree, my job has picked up from the last couple of months of depression that was there when changes began to happen, and everyone was down in the dumps for.

For one thing, the new changes, although have been difficult and challenging, they’ve definitely brought something different to the team I work with. A competitive side, which, despite much disagreement, I think has made working healthier then not. Obviously, no job is perfect, so there is always something that people are going to complain about, and when these people complain, it fuels that complaint to sounding worse than it actually is.

Fortunately for me, the past few months at work has served me well, and after this week it could not get much better, for I successfully have been granted a nice small promotion following up from my interview the Friday before. This is something I am particularly proud of myself for, as I was really convinced I wouldn’t obtain a place, and to be told that I really impressed people with how I handled the interview has really uplifted myself with confidence that I never thought I’d have.

I had told myself before I went for the interview, with the likeliness of me not getting the job, which it would still be worth going through the interview process just for experience for the future if any other similar job elsewhere were to arise that promised better or more life full-filling opportunities.

I got the good news whilst I was at home-home (home-home being where I lived before I left for university) visiting family, as my Uncle, whom resides in Australia was visiting with his daughter of 1 and a half years. Her name is Alice, and she is beautiful.

Now, as I write this post, I am on a train journey, Lincoln bound, to home, except I am going via Nottingham to visit some friends before returning to Lincoln tonight. I wish I had more than a week to spend with little Alice, so she would remember me for the next time she visits. She goes home today as well. Via Canada for a week first though. By the time she visits England again though, she would have forgotten myself, mum and her Poppa (I know Poppa might mean father to a lot of people, but Poppa is Grandfather to me in my family). I would love to visit her in Australia, but alas, that costs money, and money is something I do not have in this current time.

I’m still settling into my new home in Lincoln, in which I had decided to stay after I finished my university course, mainly because I want to remain independent after I finished university, although, as of this year, I do have family moving up here. My younger cousin has just moved to Lincoln for his university course, so I expect to see much of him now he’s here, which is great because back at home-home I didn’t see him that regularly compared to other family.

Seems that I will shortly be arriving at Derby, where I need to change for my train to Nottingham, so I’m signing off here for now, and will return to add more later. Toodles x