trente-six: rien, rien, et rien.

I haven't written one single post this year and we are now in April. Luckily for me I doubt that anyone reads these things, otherwise my audience would be severely disappointed. Hopefully my plan is to completely redo this whole blogging thing in time for my year abroad, which is edging closer and closer as I type. This time next year, however, my time in France should be pretty much over. My theory is that if I really made an effort to blog about my time over there it could be extremely useful and posssibly even interesting for other people to read, if I'm lucky.

In the meantime?

It's the Easter holidays for me at the moment, and it has been for a few weeks now. University has been pretty hectic this year, with 5000 word essays, 2500 word essays, getting trains back and forth, reading, more reading and finding time to escape from the chaos. My essays for the entire academic year are almost finished, then the exams will arrive, but at the end of it all Martin and I will be going to Majorca, which I am incredibly excited about.

Then it will be France time.

I'm not as scared as I was before. Things are definitely improving. Growing up is hard to do but it's not impossible. I'm managing a bit more everyday.

trente-cinq: trop tard.

I've said it a million times before, but I really cannot keep up with this blog. I just completely forget about it, which is a shame because I had so much free time this summer and I just re-read my last entry about the Doncaster Open, and it made me laugh even if no one else on the interweb is bothered. I just can't believe that that happened last summer, which was a hazy dream that sometimes bored me to tears and sometimes elevated me beyond the natural realms of ecstasy.

But I'm back at Warwick. In Coventry to be more precise.

This year is slightly different. Easier in some ways, harder in others.

Easier: we're in a house. Much more homely, I don't feel as alone as I did last year somehow. But then there are occasional times when I'm sat in my room and it feels just like Claycroft and I feel like I'm drowning, that awful suffocating feeling that you just can't shake off and translating French or reading Flaubert just does not help in the slightest

Harder: we're in a house that isn't on campus. Consequently we have to deal with buses. I quite like buses but I don't trust Coventry ones. Not only do you have to have the exact change at all times (not a problem with my bus pass but nevertheless) but seeing as they head towards the university they are often majorly packed. Which is wonderful when you're in a hurry. Fortunately I am the most prepared young lady of my generation so I am always an hour early for absolutely everything, wow I'm so cool.

Easier: I'm a uni veteran now. I've kind of got used to the heart pangs and the nausea that accompagnies trop de travail. I can cook and I can clean and I can take care of myself.

Harder: still doesn't make missing Martin and the family any easier. I'm more settled but every now and then I still burn, and then I have to organise next year en France and it scares me more than a little. But I picked this degree; in all honesty I need to do this. It will help me so much. The work at university is also evidently harder, which was to be expected but maybe not to the extent that we've all encountered. Luckily I'm quite paranoid about studying and I like to get as far ahead as humanly possible with work etc. Makes it a little easier on myself.

I really am going to try and make an effort. If not now then definitely when I head out to France, I can imagine that it would be a useful memento. As I keep saying, just have to keep plodding away

trente-quatre: des pongistes et des lecteurs.

So ridiculously close to averaging a first in my first year of university. But I passed, and frankly, for my first year that was full of upsets and traumas, that should be good enough. Unfortunately, I'm a perfectionist.

Nevertheless, a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. And now I'm free to enjoy my summer, which has so far been filled with reading, days out and spending time with family, friends and Martin. Until Saturday, when we encountered les pongistes.

Table tennis is way cooler than ordinary tennis. For one, you don't really get any overly epic matches in table tennis, i.e. boring rallies which carry on for hours, as was seen in Wimbledon this year. I just can't cope with that kind of thing. Luckily for me, my boyfriend prefers the version played on tables, which is much more exciting and doesn't drag on for an eternity. In fact, watching him play at the Doncaster Open last Saturday was one of the only times in my life that I've actually enjoyed watching a sport. Usually I just don't get it

It did incite me to commit murder though.

The object of my homicidal intentions was a highly irritating coach of a kid that Martin was playing in one of his groups. This kid wasn't exactly overly confident and thus aggravating, but in contrast his coach on the sidelines was, choosing to clap every time his protégé got a point instead of Martin. He clapped insanely loudly. I was furious. In fact, I was so enraged that I decided to retaliate and clap when Martin got a point... but my clapping was muffled by my hay-fever induced tissue. Oops. It must have worked though because Martin won so NER NER NER NERRRR stupid arrogant coach man. Martin did really well throughout the tournament, especially in beating this guy who had a high rating very easily, and although he did have a "quick sulk" as he puts it, compared to the majority of tense players present at this competition (a trait which I had never witnessed in table tennis players before, usually calm and gentle souls), he remained positive and relatively stress-free. Compared to that stroppy pre-pubescent teenager he played at one point his disappointment was nothing, thank goodness I never have to be fourteen again is all I'm saying. Anyways, I'm proud so there

Et les lecteurs...

Desperate for a bit of valuable work experience, I recently contacted my local library to see if they could do anything for me, and their solution was to participate in therapeutic reading groups. My response: huhhh? Their response: come to the staff meeting, it might make a bit more sense. So I did. Today.

After this meeting, I was whisked away to Nelson to observe such an example of this innovation. I watched as a small group of elderly people were read a short story and a poem, and the way they engaged with it and conversed about memories gone by was pretty extraordinary. Although I usually feel uncomfortable all of the time, especially with this kind of thing, I felt quite sentimental for some reason during the whole time I was there. I think it's because in the glistening eyes of the tender aged, I sometimes see my grandma

trente-trois: chez moi.

Back home for the summer, finally.

It is insane though, how fast the past year has gone. I really didn't expect it, but all of a sudden I'm back where I started, back in Burnley, back to trying to find a job and trying to read as much as I can whilst I have the time. I have no idea how I got here and how I survived, but all I'm hoping at the moment is that I really have survived, i.e. that I've passed my first year of university. I'll get my results on Wednesday afternoon, but as I'm at home that means I'm going to have to ring my university and have a very awkward phone call. Mind you, it's much better this way rather than being stuck in my lonely room on campus with nothing to do and missing family and friends and Martin too much. Staying there for another two weeks was completely pointless, and besides I can do so much more at home, even though I do still feel slightly useless here currently. And I'm starting to worry again about my inability to spend a long period in France this summer, unlike quite a few of the people on my course who will be working abroad and speaking French frequently... there's not much I can do about it now but I'm just anxious that my French is going to be terrible when I return for my second year, something which I'm trying not to think about right not, even though I'm not as apprehensive as I was before. I think once I have my results and know where I stand, I will feel so much better.

However, I really am enjoying being back at home. Yesterday Martin and I went to Blackpool, because it's been majorly hot here recently, and it felt great to just be able to relax and not worry about exams or revision or laundry or any of the other things which are daily concerns of my university life. Sometimes I worry that I should have been having the time of my life (as everyone seems to put it) at uni, but that cliche can't apply to everyone, can it? Surely the fact that I'm getting a degree in order to have a better life in the future is enough? Though I can't deny that towards the end of this academic year, I really started to settle in and actually began enjoying the whole experience... the fact is that I'm too sensitive and too much of a worrier and my anxieties often just get in the way of things. The fact is that I can't really change that.

trente-deux: j'ai fini.

Ahh the relief of finishing awful, awful exams.

Seriously, some of these exams I've had to do in my first year at university have been the absolute worse. I can't remember struggling so much when I was doing my A Levels, though to be fair I did those exams at home where I felt more comfortable and less home-sick and friend-sick and Martin-sick, which inevitably adds to the wonders of exam stress.

But yesterday it all ended, culminating in a two hour exam in which I had to write 500 words of French about the pros and cons of euthanasia. Almost as delightful as my mock exam for this subject, where I had to consider whether paedophiles should be put to death (too easy was my conclusion in case you're wondering for some strange reason). They sure do come up with some interesting topics for us to write about, I remember the good old days of A Level where we churned out essays about the environment, which was the most radical subject we ever considered.

It felt so strange when I put my pen down and left that exam hall yesterday. It still hasn't sunk in that I've basically finished my first year of university and have somehow survived it all (in the hope that I won't have to return early to do resits that is, fingers crossed please) and now I have a long, free summer to enjoy. It sounds really geeky but I'm looking forward to being able to read for fun again, though in all fairness I am doing an English degree so I'm allowed to be geeky about books and literature etc

So tomorrow I'm heading back to Burnley for the summer, I truly can't wait. It's funny how much you miss a place that once upon a time you thought you couldn't wait to escape from. Though I suppose it's the people I miss there and not the actual town in reality. Yet there's something really comforting about the fact that this time tomorrow, I should be back home without any real worries. And so much to look forward to.

trente et un: trop d'examens.

Seriously, I'm only a third of the way through my exams, and only two weeks away from hometime and summer, but I'm incredibly fed up. The problem is, now is the time when I've actually quite got into uni and I'm wanting to make plans, but everyone apart from me likes to revise in the evenings and at night and therefore people don't really want to get out of their rooms at the moment. Which is what I'm becoming obsessed with. My room used to be a refuge from my routine of classes, in which I could get work done and then chill out afterwards. Now it's become a claustrophobic prison where I'm constantly faced with the terrors of revision and boredom. Or l'ennui as Baudelaire aptly puts it

I'm actually dreading my next exam. 2 more weeks, just 2 more weeks

On a more positive note, me and Emily are hoping to organise a trip to France this summer, not only because I need to practise some French, but also because it'll be nice to have a holiday with my best friend. We're thinking Bordeaux, yet it's very difficult to organise as of yet due to my being here, freaking out about exams, and her having finished her first year of uni and starting to enjoy summer. I know I started quite late here at Warwick (i.e. beginning of October) and we've had our fair share of holidays too, but I'm just so ready for summer to begin now, and seeing all of my friends finishing exams and things just makes me feel nauseatingly envious.

It's surprising how tired you can get after not doing much all day apart from analysing poetry and revising French grammar, but mental exertion is the worst

I'm ready for shorts, sunnies, sangria, my back garden and a good book. And more picnics please, mine and Martin's when I went home last week was wonderful, I hope the weather keeps up the good work

trente: les examens.

Yes I'm rubbish at blogging, it's official, unlike Martin who is using his lovely skills to redesign this for me, I have no idea what to do with it. His site is much better, see:

So I'm in the middle of exams, well a third of the way through to be exact. For some reason these exams have been much more stressful than any others I've experienced, and although my mum says I say this every year I know its especially true this year because it's just so strange doing exams and revising so far away from home. It's horrible to say that I feel lonely sometimes, but it's true. I am growing up a lot though, at least I hope I am

2 more weeks or so

After my fairly successful Medieval to Renaissance Literature exam this morning (yes I don't know why I'm studying English and French either), I think it's safe to say that I'm getting into the swing of exams now, in fact this morning kind of felt like it was a year ago, when I was in the midst of A Levels and didn't really care that after the summer I would have to move out and grow up. My next exam could possibly be horrific, as I've hated the module from the beginning, but I've decided, thanks to the help of my wondrous friends, family and petit ami, that it's best to be positive, and most importantly merci mon petit ami for reminding me to breathe. That's very important

So maybe I might make more of an effort with this now. It helps to vent after an exam, and even before it (as my bathroom-mate found out in the early hours of this morning as she heard me screaming in frustration due to lack of sleep), and writing like this definitely helps. I also have another aim for this blog, inspired once again by the petit ami, and that is to focus on something with it. I'll probably use it to chart my final weeks of year one of university, and then my adventures in the summer, and possibly might get even more adventurous and actually just write and review things. After all, I did once harbour dreams of being a music or fashion journalist, it's just that everything has been so scary as of late. This is no excuse, I'm going to write, if only for my benefit. And although I'll look back on this in a couple of weeks and despair and sigh, right now I want to make an effort, with everything. I'm trying harder with everything more than I ever have in my life.

Okay rant over. I cannot wait until these exams are over and I can enjoy summer again, last summer seems like an age ago. When did everything change?