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18 September 2013

The Trials and Tribulations of Sisterhood

I spent my whole 'childhood' (it is depressing I can actually use that word now) wishing I could be an only child. Me and my little sister would fight and fight and fight until eventually a parent, who had probably lost a quick game of rock paper scissors, would storm in and drag one of us, kicking and screaming, into a separate room of the house. Now, I would like to say this was a very rare occasion. But I am talking day in, day out, me and Sarah would be arguing, pulling hair, she even slapped me so hard on the knee once that it left a hand mark for 3 days.

I don't want you to get the wrong impression about us as individuals. As a person, I (well, I like to think) am laid back and go with the flow. In fact, I avoid confrontation at all costs. But siblings have a rivalry that is unlike any other.

Growing up with someone a couple of years younger than you is always going to have its ups and downs. But when I was younger, I ALSO had to contend with Sarah being the petite-blonde-who-did-gymnastics, whilst I was the heffer who couldn't walk for longer than 10 minutes without falling over... and cart wheels or handstands? Don't even get me started on my inability to do them...

Luckily, being the eldest, bossiest, and biggest child, meant I did have a few years of power over my younger sibling... a highlight of my childhood was a game called 'Sarah the Slave' in which we made me a den out of cushions at the bottom of our parents wardrobe, I would crawl in and sit there, sometimes for about an hour, whilst I ordered Sarah to bring me things... generally this involved food (heffer child, remember!) and drink. Sadly, this came to an abrupt end, when Sarah started to realise that this wasn't technically fair... and I was too stubborn to let her be the Queen, so my 'reign' came crashing down fairly quickly.

Once Sarah was old enough to stand up for herself, instead of me being the bossy (and yes, bratty), older
sister, things started to take a turn for the worse. And with our teenage years, came the 'stealing' phase. No, we didn't don hoodies and creep into shops on missions of theft... Instead, we stole from each other. Clothes, jewellery, make up, shoes, perfume... all under the same roof, but never where you left it. The endless tantrums, hissy fits, shouting matches and fights that came from 'who stole what' arguments, I am surprised my parents didn't take everything off us, although this was threatened on many occasions- ye olde 'I'll put both of your stuff in a black bag and take it to the charity shop if you don't shut up' trick.

Please don't get me wrong, this phase is definitely a current one. However at 16 and 18, the days of running to parents are long gone, and instead our personal items are used as a method to keep things from them... a classic example of this would be me turning up at 4am, ridiculously sloshed and no key. Calling my parents and waking them up would be an option, if I wanted a grudge held against me forever. So instead I call up Sarah, who is sound asleep, and ask her if she'll sneak down and open the door. Of course her immediate answer is 'no', fully knowing I would never hear the end of it from mum and dad. This is when I use the 'If you do I'll buy you alcohol for your next party' trick (this never fails for under 18 year olds), and before you know it she is at the door. With age, comes secrets and with secrets, comes a whole lot of blackmail (mwahahahahahahahaha).

About 10 years on from 'Sarah the Slave' I think it is safe to say we have moved on from the 'launch an unsuspecting attack at whoever has the remote control' days. But these are not something I will never look at un-fondly, because however annoying, grumpy, rude, painful and just downright stubborn sisters can be, I have come to the realisation that we are stuck with each other, and despite EVERYTHING I just said in this blog, I would not have it any other way.


Ciao for Now! x


16 September 2013

Informal Introductions

This is definitely going to be your stereotypical 'Introduction to Alice' type of blog post,
everyone has a secret one somewhere I'm sure of it, and I think I'd rather get
mine out of the way!

As you may have gathered, my name is Alice and right now, I am mulling around in the world with not really much to do. This time a year ago, I started my final year of sixth form and was embarking upon a world of 'UCAS' (the application process here in the UK), universities and personal statements. I had a look around a few, chose the 5 I liked the most and hey presto! I had a place at University.

I WISH it was hey presto,  I really do. But the honest truth is, those few months of  picking universities, trudging around them with a parent in tow, going to lectures on subjects I didn't even like, they were some of the worst months I can remember (get on your snorkel and flippers- we're about to get deep). I had NO idea what I wanted to do at university, and eventually I settled on English at Swansea... because I wanted to  because my parents wanted me to go. I always knew I did want to go to University, but what my family and friends never understood, is that I just wasn't ready yet.

Fast forward 12 months, and whilst all the rest of my friends are doing the big 'Ikea shop' in preparation to move into their Uni halls... I am currently sat on my bed, eating a giant Toblerone, without a single care in the world... having withdrawn my application in June.

Honestly, it was the best decision I ever could have made. I now have my A Level results back, where, I actually achieved higher than my predicted grades (just wanted to throw that out there) (screw you school)...I have just got back from 5 weeks travelling (a blog post on that will come soon, just you wait) I have a year on my hands, a part time job (if you like Pizza Express, I'm ya gal), a job in Italy from January and now a new found blog... So for the first time in a long time, life is looking very promising and I will be sharing as much of it as possible with you, please stay tuned!

Ciao for now! x


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