The Most Wonderful Time of the Year…

It’s that time of year again.

I mean the time when, by the time you’ve left school, the sky is slowly dimming and by the time you’ve reached your road, you have to walk quickly up it; your hand in your coat pocket and the sharp-edge, point of your key clenched firmly between your index and middle finger.

The time when every single footstep behind you in the almost-dark is a potential stalker slash murderer and the backstreet shortcut which is a faster walk seems to have somehow become more menacing.

The time when the cold numbs your hands when you are talking to your friend on the phone, holding it to your ear (sans gloves), simply so that they will know if anything happens to you. Or even when nobody is at the other end of the line.

The time when Tchaikovsky blocking out the world no longer seems like a good idea because then you won’t be able to hear the potential telling sounds around you. And Mozart is playing very silently in one, solitary earbud. Just one. Very quiety.

Oh the joys of winter.



Why Justice and Equality Don’t Exist

A man walks into a bar.

It’s the horrific reality of a nightmarish joke, almost causing you to be expectant of a similarly terrible punchline.

The only problem is that it’s not a joke. It’s an atrocity committed for unjustifiable reasons and an equally disgusting hatred. I don’t even know what to say. There is nothing to say to this. To make it worse, the general media response (i.e. their pathetic attempts to ‘depoliticise’ a – specifically – homophobic hate crime) has only further served the purpose of eliminating the voices of the LGBT community at a time when their voices should be the loudest.

Today, I watched the video of Owen Jones walking out of a live Sky News interview. To which I say, good on him; he had every damn right in the world to. How dare they accuse him of ‘monopolising’ a tragedy?! Like what the hell? This is literally a specific attack on the LGBT community and all the news want to do is make out as if the gunman was an ISIS terrorist (because YES let’s blame the Muslims again, it’s not like you have an issue with gun laws or anything…) whose target of ‘insanity’ JUST HAPPENED to be a well-known gay club?

It’s ridiculous that people are trying to make this an ‘inclusive’ attack. Why does everything have to include you?! As Owen Jones rightly said, if this was an attack on a synagogue, it would be labelled anti-Semitic, so what’s the difference here? Why is this attack called an attack on ‘human beings just trying to have a good time’? They’re gay. Gay people were targeted. The LGBT community is under threat and all you’re focused on is the religion (or, in this case, ex-religion) of the gunman? Are you for real?

This, is why equality doesn’t exist. Because this attack is being used to further Islamophobic agendas, and we are completely ignoring the SPECIFIC group and trying to ‘depoliticise’ an event which is VERY political, and VERY specific. Because the LGBT voices right now are being ignored, and the ones that are being listened to are the ones that are saying, “He was a Muslim terrorist” and ignoring the fact that this was a homophobic hate crime. Because ‘some people’ were shot and they ‘just so happened’ to be gay.

I don’t care what you think. I don’t care if you have religious motivations or personal experiences or political opinions. It doesn’t matter what you think about people’s lifestyles, or genders, or sexuality. Everyone deserves the right to live. Your opinion means nothing in the grander scheme of things. Nothing gives you the right to take lives. Nothing gives you the right to take anything.

Nor does anything give you the right to take what you have not been given; but apparently Brock Turner didn’t get that memo.

The media love giving us the unnecessary facts. ‘Omar Mateen was a Muslim.’ ‘Brock Turner is a swimmer.’ As if their religion or personal hobbies justify their crimes.

How about this? How about we replace the words with what they’re supposed to be?

Omar Mateen was a Muslim homophobe.

Brock Turner is a swimmer rapist.

In Turner’s case, his athletic past should have had absolutely no relevance in determining how light or heavy a sentence he carried in court. Why should his life be considered? Why should the ‘severe impact’ on HIM be counted as more important than the ‘severe impact’ he has had on his victim, psychologically and mentally, and even physically? Why should we care about him? Did he care about the girl he raped?

And here’s a question for the so-called ‘Justice System’: how can someone who is the criminal and perpetrator be treated in sentencing as the victim? How does the letter (the very BIASED letter) from said criminal’s father hold a greater sway than the testimony of the victim herself?

For the rape of an unconscious woman behind a dumpster (or “20 minutes of action”, as was referred to crudely by said father) to the point where he had to be stopped by another witness, and forcibly pulled off the woman, for the woman’s subsequent discovery of said rape only after she had come to in a hospital, for the psychological and mental damage that ensued, he was sentenced to 6 months.

6 months in a county jail with protection from other inmates.

6 measly, pathetic months, of which he is only expected to serve 3.

6 months, which could have been up to 14 years, but was made lenient because why?

Because he was a ‘good boy really’. Because his ‘character profile didn’t ring true with his crime’. Because he has goals and ambitions. Because he goes to Stanford. Because he’s a swimmer. Because his daddy cried “White Privilege!” and suddenly all was fixed. Because this was his ‘first rape’. Because his athletic career would never recover. Because apparently, ‘raping someone does not make you a rapist’.

Because we don’t want prison to have a ‘severe impact’ on him, oh no. God forbid he learns the severity of his crime in a system created specifically to punish those who commit criminal offences.

This, is why Justice doesn’t exist. This, the fact that the system caters more for the criminal (if he is white and male and straight) than the victim and attempts to make his life as cushy as possible, even though he has committed a crime. When he can serve half of his already-pathetic and inadequate sentence, and this is seen as acceptable because the judge has some ‘very justifiable reasons‘, naturally, and Justice is forgotten. Justice is an ideological concept.

I am so sick of hearing all these stories. I am so tired of being reminded every single day, whether it’s on the news or through personal experiences, that there is no such thing as Equality or Justice. I am saddened to hear of all these people (all the victims of the shooting RIP, the victim of rape) who are affected by the hateful, hurtful actions of hate-filled, small-minded criminals. Because, let’s call them what they are, thanks. Criminals.

I want to talk about the refugees. I want to talk about the bombings in Beirut. I want to talk about the flooding in Ghana. I want to talk about everything. My heart hurts so much right now, so I cannot even begin to imagine how the families of the Orlando victims or the victim of Brock Turner, or the refugees or the victims of the recent international bombings, or the victims of the flood in Ghana, feel right now – and I won’t pretend that I can.

My heart goes out to everyone I have – and haven’t – listed. Wherever you are.

Love from Rianna x

A Wish Lis(z)t

The title was a pun. For those who get the joke, congratulations. For those of you who don’t, I am very much into Classical Music, and one of my favourite ever pieces is ‘Liebestraum‘ by the composer named Franz Liszt. So. That’s it. A pretty pathetic joke, but a joke nonetheless.

*Clears throat*

It’s coming up to the Christmas period (I mean, it practically is Christmas already) and there’s this hype – that naturally, I very much dislike. Seeing as I haven’t done a list for a while, I thought, let’s be a bit different. So, I’m going to write a wish list. Which of course, will be fuelled with bitterness and sarcasm.

Before we start though, I’d just like to say: I’m not a Christmas cynic. I’m not Ebenezer Scrooge, and I don’t have anything against Christmas. (I am, after all, a Christian). HOWEVER, the one thing I DON’T like about this time of year is the commercialisation of something which was a religious festival. I mean, the principles of celebrating Christmas are somewhat pagan anyway, but we’ll ignore that for now.

Christmas has become more of a secular celebration than a religious one, Jesus is no longer the ‘Reason for the Season’. (If you would excuse the cheesiness) Presents are the reason; EVERYONE, no matter what religion, buy their family and friends presents. So it just doesn’t make sense to me. Because, I mean, the media doesn’t make as much of a storm about Eid or Diwali, or other religious festivals. (Clearly, it just doesn’t think these other events are as profitable enough to commercialise and secularise so…) But ANYWAY. This isn’t ‘Rianna’s Rant About the Media’s Secularisation of a Traditionally-Christian Holiday’. (Maybe that can be my Christmas Day special).

No. This is ‘Rianna’s Rant – in the form of a Lis(z)t’. Sorry. I really had to drop that in again. In case you missed it the first time.

So let’s go.


I wish that…

  1. Everyone thought twice about their shopping exploits. For the whole year round, everyone’s complaining that they’re broke. I mean, understandably, because of the government and the impossible living conditions nearly everyone (other than the elite) are in, but I’ll just… sip my tea. But everyone is ‘broke’, then they spend money they don’t have on ONE day of the year. Then at the end of it, they’re even MORE broke. I mean, come ON. Do you NEED that one-of-a-kind, limited edition, gold and platinum plated toothbrush? No. Is that diamond-encrusted toilet roll dispenser entirely necessary to impress your visiting relatives? The answer is no. Do you have to buy a game you may play with once and then never again? No you don’t. Put it down, and save your money.
  2. Everyone was as friendly at Christmas as every other day. You get cards from people who didn’t even knew you existed (albeit, your name is spelt incorrectly, but it’s the passing thought that counts, right?), Secret Santas are (mostly) pretty sweet, and everyone seems more willing to share their chocolate. (Chocolate. 🙂 ) But why is it that every other day of the year, people ignore you. I mean, okay yes people ignore you at Christmas, but LESS so. And you’d think everyone was your best friend. But there’s more of a sharing spirit, mostly, and that should definitely be translated into every other day.
  3. People could spell my name correctly. This isn’t a big one, but for me, it is very irksome that people just cannot spell my name correctly; especially in cards that look so lovely. It’s not difficult. There’s no ‘h’. Stop putting an ‘h’ into my name. Stop removing an ‘n’. I need that ‘n’. Really. Put it back.
  4. Nobody left their shopping to the last minute. Do you know how anxiety-inducing Christmas shopping is? It’s horrible. Enough said.
  5. Houses always smelled like pine needles. When people have real Christmas trees, their houses smell AMAZING. Every other day, the said houses smell like… Well, who even knows, because the smell is blocking your nose. And also…
  6. Rooms always had to be this tidy. You’d think that the whole family was eating dinner in your room for the amount of tidying you’ve had to do. And, to be honest, after all the effort you’ve put into making it so tidy, you sort of wish that everyone COULD eat dinner in your room, just so you can show it off. Seriously.
  7. People remembered the significance behind this day. No, it’s not JUST a time of exchanging presents. No, it’s not JUST a day to roast a chicken and boil brussel sprouts. (I LOVE brussel sprouts though…) It was originally a Christian holiday. It’s about celebrating the birth of Jesus. The whole idea of giving presents stems from the idea of the wise men giving presents to Jesus. There is a religious principle behind this whole day. Please. Try to remember this.
  8. People stopped caring so much about decorations. Some people say that the older you get, the less you care. I don’t know how true that might be for you, but for me, it’s very much true. Right now, I don’t know what I want for Christmas. I don’t really care very much, and it doesn’t affect me at all that we don’t have (and have no intention of putting up) a Christmas tree in our front room. Like, they make so much mess, and YES they’re fun to decorate, but then you’ve got to UN-decorate them, and that’s not fun. It hurts. It hurts taking down all the painstakingly arranged ornaments. *Sobs silently*
  9. Presents weren’t made into such a big deal. So your 6 year-old didn’t get the right colour iPad that they wanted? Boohoo. The 6 year-olds who MADE your child’s iPad hardly had your child’s Christmas in mind when they were waking up at 3am to assemble parts in a factory half-way across the world. And who cares if you’ve got socks again. Great. You’ve got more things to keep your feet warm while others in colder parts of this country wish that THEY had got the socks you discard underneath your bed. Presents have become the focus. Yes, presents are great. Yes, presents can be lovely, agreed. But they’re not important, and they promote a consumerism attitude, and it’s entirely unnecessary.
  10. Downton Abbey Christmas Specials were more widely appreciated. I mean, this Christmas’s one will be the last one (cri cri) but nobody appreciates them. Who is there to discuss them with who actually watches them? Fix up everyone. Clearly your priorities are all wrong.
  11. I can scroll through Social Media sites without seeing everyone’s perfectly-wrapped (or unwrapped) gifts. Like really. I don’t care. Get off my feed.
  12. There wasn’t so much wasted food. Look, I know this is a difficult concept to understand but… just because it’s December 25th, doesn’t mean that your stomach’s capacity suddenly increases. JUST COOK THE SAME AMOUNT OF FOOD THAT YOU USUALLY DO. If more people are coming, grettttt, cook a little bit more. STOP COOKING ENOUGH FOOD TO FEED THE THIRD WORLD IF ALL YOU’RE GOING TO DO WITH IT IS THROW IT AWAY AFTER GETTING SICK OF EATING SO MUCH CHICKEN IN A ROW. GET A SMALLER CHICKEN. STOP. STOP. I HATE food being wasted already, you’re just WASTING MORE. DON’T COOK WHAT YOU WON’T EAT. LISTEN TO ME. THIS IS IMPORTANT. It’s so important I had to type it all in Caps.
  13. There weren’t so many tutorials for EVERYTHING. I don’t want to learn how to make a Christmas wreath with the hairs of the squirrel in my back garden. I don’t want to spend all day hand-making Christmas cards that only end in my hands being covered in paper-cuts. We all KNOW that nothing we make will never even half resemble the pictures from the tutorial. And I may not be a professional, but I don’t feel like 15minutes and 39seconds of ‘How to Make: Homemade Christmas Frames (Glitter optional)’ will be a worth-while expenditure of time.
  14. Christmas jingles weren’t so catchy. Constantly humming them in my head. Irritating.
  15. Everyone could spread out the days of their shopping. When I just want to go up to my shopping centre and browse in the bookstore, I don’t need people lining every shelf. You don’t even come in here usually! Why the sudden interest? Please. Fully stress.
  16. More people effectively utilised the excuse to dress-up and/or paint their faces etc. Do you understand all the potential there is to just look like an utter idiot all day? Why would you NOT want to do that? Wear your Christmas jumper. Paint your face. Be Rudolph. Do whatever. Nobody can stop you. It’s Christmas.

I think I’m done now. And on that note, I think that was a good way to end:

‘Nobody can stop you. It’s Christmas.’

I mean, unless you’re planning on doing something illegal or ill-advised. In which case, the LAW and the POLICE can stop you. So please don’t. (Also, would I be implicated in your crime for somewhat encouraging you?) On second thoughts, let me rectify that statement.

‘Nobody can stop you, as long as you intend to remain a safe, law-abiding citizen of [insert country you reside in here]. And don’t let the fact that it’s Christmas make you feel like you are suddenly exempt from the law… but yes, act like an utter idiot if you want to. As long as you are acting like a SAFE utter idiot who is not endangering yours (or anyone else’s) life.’

Stay safe everyone, take care, don’t accept gifts from strangers. And have a great holiday.

RiRi x

Eye of The Storm

This week I have been at Pathfinders Camp. Pathfinders is the Christian equivalent of, I suppose, Guides or Scouts for example. (Am not sure what the American equivalent would be… Someone help me out?) I would explain Pathfinders as ‘Christian Camp’, but it’s not really just ‘Christian Camp’, because I don’t think that term effectively encapsulates exactly just what it entails. Yes, admittedly, Seventh-Day Adventism (which is what I am, an SDA) is a denomination of Christianity, but there is a lot more to it than that.

At any rate, I was pretty excited when we left on Monday (after my entirely hectic, chaotic birthday party… Shoutout to all those who dressed up authentically!) and was really looking forward to meeting new people.

Skip forward to today. I am tired, my entire body aches, and I AM SO ASHAMED TO SAY IT, but I have only had 2 showers in the entirety of 5 days (and one doesn’t even count because I only had it when I came home to get my GCSE results… Brrrap brrrap for that by the way, Queen RiRi actually did well by God’s grace!) I was upset because of people’s bad attitudes and stink personalities, certain people don’t know when to keep their mouths shut and others don’t know when to open them.

The tents were alright, but the second or third night it rained and some stupid boys thought it would be funny to run their hands along the insides of one of our tents. If you are a camper, or have been camping, then you will know that one of the golden rules is ‘Do not touch the inside of the tent’, especially when it’s raining, because it limits the tent’s waterproofing abilities, and the tent floods.

Which is exactly what happened. The tent flooded.

Other than perhaps the socialising aspect, learning self-defence, the song services and the Christian side of it, It has been absolute hell and I really don’t want to bring it all back, because, to be fair, it might have been a slightly poopy week, but what has happened in the past is in the past. Where it belongs.

I am not blogging today with the intent to make a statement or have a rant or anything (if I rant, it would just get super personal and I don’t need that) so I am just posting this short snippet before I have my shower (that makes 3!) to let you all know that I am alive and well, and also inform you as to why I have been off the grid for the past week.

Anyways, love you all, I may or may not post later, and I apologise for the negativity… but on a brighter note, it’s my birthday in 4 days. Woohoo!

Queen Rianna


21 Things That Should Be Illegal

I haven’t listed for a while, and I was thinking whilst I was writing one of my quizzes, and I thought, ‘Hey, that should be illegal!’ Seeing as I am Queen of my own country, I sat down and began to think some more about the things I should outlaw in Astellia, so I have compiled a list, which I will shortly be passing on to the Parliament. But I also thought that I hadn’t posted anything for a few days, so I would upload an edited version of my list onto my blog, and here they are. My top 21:

21 Things That Should Be Illegal (IMO*)

*In My Opinion

  1. Pineapple on pizza – I mean, I know I mentioned this before in my post when I was complaining about pizza, but COME ON now. This genuinely should be outlawed; it is a crime and a disgrace against humanity. It doesn’t work. Why are we mixing sweet and savoury?
  2. Illiterate children – There is nothing that upsets me more than children who cannot read. It is so upsetting, because reading opens the door to so many different opportunities, and opens your mind to imagination. Parents who are unable to ensure their children can read or are competent at basic speaking and writing in English should have a strongly-worded letter written to them.
  3. Really bad books (which are coincidentally published) – I just have a quick question. IF YOUR BOOK IS WRITTEN SO TERRIBLY THAT IT HURTS ME TO READ, HOW DO YOU GET IT PUBLISHED? Because let’s be real here, if you can get THAT published, then ANYTHING goes really.
  4. Finite Staples  It is so stressful when you need to staple a stack of important notes or homework and you press the stapler down and then you get that horrible imprint on the paper which indicates that THERE ARE NO MORE staples, and your heart bleeds… Because that shallow imprint isn’t just on that paper; it’s also made a shallow and painful imprint on your heart.
  5. People who smoke around children – Why. Stop. This. It. Is. So. Wrong.
  6. Teenagers who whine about EVERYTHING (#FirstWorldProblems) – Seriously, I am SOOO sorry that your hair straighteners weren’t working this morning, so you had to put your hair up in a ponytail and come to school – despite the fact that you have ELECTRICITY, hair straighteners, hair to put UP in a ponytail, the free will to choose what you want to DO with your hair and the ability to attend school as a female. 🙂
  7. Slurpy noises – OK. We get it, you’re a couple. We get it, you’re having a snog in the middle of the street. Could you please perhaps a) find somewhere a bit more private and b) stop making those disgusting slurpy noises?
  8. Bananas – Three words; They. Are. Disgusting.
  9. Fruit on Ice-Cream – Not fruit-flavoured ice-cream, because Strawberry isn’t too bad. But WHY would you mix fruit and ice-cream? Similar to point number one, it is degrading of the value of the ice-cream. Come on now. It’s a disgrace.
  10. Fairy Tales – I whined about this in one of my first ever posts, and I stick by my decision. Coincidentally, the title of my post was ‘Fairy Tales Should Be Illegal’.
  11. Certain People’s Opinions – Mostly those people who are one of the -ists: Racists, Fascists, Sexists, etc. Your opinions are not only small-minded, they should also be kept in your mind. They should not be coming out of your mouth. I really don’t want to hear them.
  12. Ignorant People – In relation to number 11, I suppose. If you don’t know about a sensitive topic enough to discuss it confidently and without embarrassing yourself (or having me embarrassing you) then DON’T.
  13. Bars of Soap – I am not condoning not washing – PLEASE, WASH! – I just hate it so much when you use that soap bar to within an inch of it’s life, and then you have to use this slither of soap, but it isn’t doing anything, but you can’t get a NEW bar until you’ve finished with the OLD one, but there is hardly enough LEFT of the old one for you to even use it successfully… I give up. I. Give. Up.
  14. British Parliament – I don’t even think I have to say much more about this. Most of them, especially the most influential ones, are pretty useless, selfish and heartless.
  15. Bullying – I had a bit of an experience (I say a bit, it was quite long AHA) when I was in Primary School surrounding this whole issue, and it is HORRIBLE. It is so horrible that people could be sending their children to school and not knowing the torment they go through when they get there. It is so horrible that people are scared to go into work or university because some teacher or their boss or lecturer is harassing them. It is so, SO wrong.
  16. Privileges in Prison – TV is not a right, it is a privilege. Satellite is not a right, it is a privilege. Video games are not a right, they are a privilege. So why does it seem that some criminals in prison live life better than people on the outside? Purely because they seem to think that these commodities are all rights; but they’re not, in my opinion. They are PRIVILEGES; and privileges that, supposedly, these people who are CRIMINALS shouldn’t actually be given.
  17. Comic Sans – Whenever I see a poster, a sign or a document written in Comic Sans, my heart sheds the tiniest of tears. It is so small, yet I feel the entire portion of my soul leaving my body with that tiny tear that comes from my heart.
  18. Automatic Numbering – The amount of fights that Microsoft Word and I have had because I need to number something, and then it automatically numbers everything else, but I don’t want it to do that, so then I change the formatting, but then I end up with the numbers wildly misaligned, and that is absolute chaos; and then I try to fix it, but it goes awry and I try and get rid of them completely, but then it decides to change my formatting of my document and I end up losing every shred of dignity I have left.
  19. Democracy – I am not hating on the principle of democracy; it’s a fantastic idea, which, in theory, works perfectly. It’s just that every country which calls itself a democracy only seems to be using that title in pretence; because most of them are Aristocracies. So, if they’re going to call themselves Democracies, then they need to BE Democrats, not Hypocrites.
  20. Using the Incorrect ‘Your/You’re’ and ‘They’re/Their/There’ I talked about how much this STRESSED me out, and got a very strong response from another blogger who decided to take my post very personally. (You should read the comments, they kept me entertained for about a week) But I genuinely feel like this is something which should be illegal and outlawed. It is entirely inexcusable for English speakers to not be able to utilise their own language correctly.
  21. Dropping ‘t’s out of word pronunciations – Why is it that when certain people speak, they feel the need to drop t’s out of the word? ‘Water’ becomes ‘War-uh’, ‘Literally’ turns into ‘Lih-uh-rullee’ and ‘Hottentottentotemnoctemhottentottenstalactite‘ is entirely mangled. (Well, even more mangled than it was before…)

I am aware that I probably dropped in some stuff which seemed a lot deeper in comparison to the item it preceded, but ah well. There you see how my mind works. (i.e. Rather chaotically, and without much organisation). Speaking of minds working, my mind is working right now (for once!) so I am going to go and do some writing now.

Hasta luego mis amigos*,

Queen Rianna


*See you later my friends 🙂 (Get some Spanish knowledge there!)

We’re Nearly There

Right now I am listening to the songs from one of my favourite musicals, ‘The Sound of Music’. As I type this, ’16 Going On 17′ is playing in the background. It’s almost finished, but (if you’ve seen the movie), it’s doing the instrumental bit when they’re sort of chasing each other around the garden, and then it starts to rain and Kurt kisses her and she gets all excited and runs out in the rain and screams.

Great movie. Seriously. Maybe my description didn’t make it sound as fantastic as it is… Ah well.

It’s actually great when I listen to my music because I feel this amazing detachment from reality and I can kind of submerge myself in my thoughts and write easier. (Depending on the day and my mood of course, but most of the time, it’s great). Right now, it’s ‘My Favourite Things’, which, can I just say, those adverts need to stop stealing and obliterating, because it’s a great song.

Anyway. I’m not even on topic right now. I was going to update you on what I’ve been doing this week, seeing as I haven’t posted in like, 3 days. (Shock horror, right?!) Right, so, my birthday is in about… 13 days. Not that anyone is counting, or anything, but because of pre-arranged plans, I won’t be around for my birthday, so I have been out this week planning my party and what I’m going to wear and stuff. Not that it’s particularly interesting, but I’m planning on going to a large green space (with lots of pretty scenery of course, for photo ops) and everyone has to dress up like characters from Ancient Greece. Basically, all the guys have to wear bed sheets, where the girls get to wear long, flowy, chiffon dresses; should make for some fantastic photo ops again.

So Monday entailed myself and my beautiful twinny running around London attempting to find me a dress – which is SO much more difficult during Sales, oh my goodness! – and I found shoes and a belt yesterday. (We’re on ‘Do Re Mi’ from ‘Sound of Music’ now…)

My planning has pretty much just been me organising the games we’re going to play (Egg and Spoon races, Three-Legged races, Sack races, Rounders etc.) because, you only turn 16 once right? I just don’t see the point of having a huge rave when you can just all dress up like idiots and run about like 4 year-olds in a park. Which is what I intend to do basically. And also make all my friends do… I love you guys. 🙂

I also had to write up the Quizzes, because of course, it isn’t just going to be a party. It’s going to be an intense competition; Survival of the Fittest really. So I have 4 categories; Greek Mythology, Disney Classics, High School Musical (I know it’s Disney, but it really needed its’ own category) and then Disney Lyrics, so basically completing a line of  lyrics from Disney songs. So everyone should brush up, and I’ll see who the Ultimate Survivors are.

Today, I woke up with throbbing feet – like, literally, they HURT from all that walking. And let me just tell you, shopping is emotionally and mentally taxing. It is actually so stressful. But I woke up, decided that I would ACTUALLY do some work for Sixth Form (because I have been given literally a STACK of work to do for induction). So, I got out my official looking notebook (Babs, I really should have gotten that one we saw yesterday!) and started making notes.

The first bit to tackle was English. I had an option of 6 books to read and then write an essay on one of them, so I downloaded one that looked interesting-ish (I’m not a huge fan of Dystopia or Sci-Fi, but that’s what all the books were) and put it on my Kindle. So I’ll make a start on that this evening probably, and read it tomorrow when I’m on the train or public transport or whatever. (I’ve given up on the Sound of Music OST, so now I just threw my Disney tunes on)

Then it was History. (Two parts; Nazi Germany and The Tudors, but COME ON. Like, I LOVE The Tudors, why would I even consider doing Nazi Germany first?) I literally spent half the morning watching ‘The Other Boleyn Girl’. No offence to the Queen of Historical Fiction (i.e. Philippa Gregory) but the movie adaptation was so POOR! I trusted it, because the book was AMAZING, but the movie was not there. I was so disappointed. And everything happened so quickly at the end; there was no gradual decline. Her ascension was FAR too rapid and her decline was FAR too sudden. But I got some notes down (not anything I didn’t know already, but I had a black biro and an official looking notebook; so I HAD to take notes)… And then I had to make a start on the Family Tree.

Let me just tell you, I swear, every Tudor and Plantagenet married their cousin. It’s so stressful having to chart all that stuff up when the lines are constantly crossing, and then you see their surname and think, hang on a minute, you’re married to your uncle’s step-sisters brother. (Not exactly, that is just an example). Or even worse, you’re married to your first cousin. (A lot of them were married to their second and third cousins…) But I mean, as far as they were concerned it was fine, because they all received ‘Official dispensations’ from the Pope. As if he has the actual authority to permit incest. As if because Mr. Pope says it’s alright then, ‘HEY-HO! Let’s forget everything else like basic LOGIC and decency and just get married anyway!’

ALSO, one of the key figures in Tudor England, Margaret Beaufort, was married when she was 12, and by the time she was 13, she was a pregnant widow. I kid you not.

But anyways. I’ll just sip my tea. 🐸☕️

The timeline for Henry VII was not as much of a breeze as I thought it would be, because in History, NOBODY CARES ABOUT HENRY VII because he’s not Henry VIII. (In my opinion, for everyone else, Henry VIII is only the interesting one in Tudor England History because he caused so many scandals with all the women he bedded and all the problems he created, simply because he couldn’t keep it in his pants…) So nobody thinks that there should be much information on his reign. There was a bit but not much, and I had to piece together information from 5 different sites, just to make a timeline.

And I don’t even know how I’m going to tackle Henry VIII’s timeline, because there will be SO much about him online. Without even doing Henry VIII’s timeline, I managed to fill four A4 sides of my official-looking notebook with gobbledy-gook about the Tudors, their family tree, their dates and places of birth and death and the tiny amount of information I gleaned from that *coughs* TERRIBLE *coughs* movie.

The next (and, it could be argued, most important) thing to tackle is the Spanish booklet. It is literally a 40 page booklet filled with CONJUGATING VERBS and TRANSLATIONS and I love Spanish so much, but I CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS. I managed to get through 12 pages, which is something I guess; I was doing it whilst watching ‘The Other Boleyn Girl’ too. At the boring bits or the bits when the characters were having those awkward and intense stare offs, then I’d just do more of the Spanish booklet, and try to ignore the sucky sounds they made when they finally ended up kissing. (Gross, still).

So I’ll be bringing that everywhere with me from now on. EVERYWHERE.

I’ve rambled for enough. The title is just in recognition of the fact that I have about 3 weeks before I have to be back at Sixth Form. (September third, YAY!) And so I’m not entirely THRILLED but I am also anticipating it anxiously.

So there we go. Shoutout to all those who are getting their A-Level results tomorrow, and also those GCSE students who have still gotta wait another week. Because we all know that it’s the waiting that kills us.

Love you all,

Queen Rianna


p.s. I also watched Ant-Man on Monday with some of my friends, and PAUL RUDD IS ANT-MAN????? As in, the guy who plays Josh in ‘Clueless’ (LITERALLY my favourite movie EVER!) HE IS ANT-MAN! I couldn’t even concentrate for most of it, I just kept thinking, ‘CLUELESS. CLUELESS. THIS IS JOSH FROM CLUELESS. BAE FROM CLUELESS IS CURRENTLY ON THE SCREEN.’

Sorry. I’m done now. 🙂

The Hills Are Alive

I haven’t posted for a week. I apologise. HOWEVER, this time I have a valid excuse.

I have spent the past week climbing mountains, walking gorges and rock climbing (all which I will explain in a moment) in North Wales. That’s right. I’ve been away from civilisation living out my life in the valleys. There has literally been NO internet. I was considering bringing something to write with, but in the end I settled on a notebook (story about this coming up too!) and I am so glad I did as well; because I was dead most of the other days.

Now, there is a stereotype that Wales is just valleys and sheep. Let me tell you:

THIS IS NOT A STEREOTYPE; there are literally valleys and sheep EVERYWHERE. Every single bit of land, there is at least one sheep on. More often than not, there is a whole flock (herd?) of them. And the ones we all drove past were all shorn (I now understand why the cartoon caricature is called SHAUN the Sheep! At least… I hope that is an intentional pun!) and had huge coloured marks on their disgusting wrinkly skin. Not that I have anything against naked sheep, but COME ON. Like, get some decency please and cover up. Nobody wants to see you naked.

Anyways, the coach journey started at about 11:00 on Monday 20th and we got to the small hostel in North Wales by about 5:00, which wasn’t too bad, seeing as we were all talking loads and absolutely captivated by the beautiful views. At least, we were all captivated until we quickly realised our phone signals were steadily dropping.

So there we were, sitting at the front, just chatting away about Spanish and Poland, and mating animals and stuff, and then someone goes, “Wait, guys. I think I’ve lost signal.” At which point we all frantically check our phones like, ahhh! Maybe mine has lost it too! And sure enough we have. Then five seconds later, “No wait… It’s back.”

And that was what it was like for a long time. On and off, on and off. The signal kept dropping and then picking up again. It was mental. Anyway, I met some fantastic people on the coach (unfortunately they were NOT my group, but I loved them all the same) and we had lots of banter.

When we arrived there we were all horrified to find that there was no WiFi… and we were yet to discover (for about… a day and a half) that there was a slight signal if you stood in a particular part of the foresty bit at the edge of the hostel grounds. (We later took advantage of this; I spent about an hour during free time every day out there trying to call my family and my baes and stuff).

The next couple of days kinda just sped by like a blur. The first day our team (Reiss! Brap brap!) went rock climbing with RICKY. (I have to scream the name of our instructor – his name wasn’t actually Ricky – because of the ‘Eastenders’ Bianca’s Ricky… we all yelled Ricky whenever we wanted to get his attention) We first had to climb up some super steep hill to actually get to the rock face. Now, the rock face was nothing like what you get in indoor climbing walls; it had no footholds or handholds. It was literally a rock. Face. RICKY ran up to set up the ropes while Team Reiss sat at the bottom like lemmings, just played a few games and then started climbing. After a small tiff with our harnesses (I put mine on incorrectly about 8 times) we finally started climbing.

I say climbing, but it meant that one of us tried to scramble up the rockface desperately while the others stood at the bottom cheering them on and eating our lunches while getting spat on by the rain. Our Senior Mentor and I decided that the weather was super sucky so we made up a sundance (we didn’t even know what it was???) and OH MY GOODNESS it was terrifying. We kind of jumped around in a circle singing (more like screeching), “RAIN RAIN GO AWAY, COME AGAIN ANOTHER DAY.” And then stopped occasionally and waved our arms in a circle and squealed, “SUNSHINE. SUNSHINE. SUNSHINE. SUNSHINE.”

I kid you not, everytime we did that dance, the rain stopped and the sun popped out.

Anyways, after I tried (unsuccessfully) to climb the rock, I slammed into the rock face about 6 times, before I gave up completely, turned around on the rope and just started talking down to my group. Banter.

We left from the rock climbing straight to the overnight camp which was – needless to say – so entertaining. Once we had set up all our tents in the rain (hahaha! One of the girls tents got rainwater through into the porch!) we cooked dinner. When I say we, I mean the girls. (The boys were all faffing about) When I say dinner, I mean pre-made pasta sauce and pasta. There wasn’t much cooking to do really. The cooking just entailed me chopping a bunch of onions and peppers to add to the sauce to make it taste like… something other than tomato puree. We stirred, we stirred and stirred. We emptied packets of salt and pepper into the sauce AHA it was hilarious.

It tasted alright. Was hardly gourmet food, but it was camping so HEY-HO. It was fun anyway.

The next morning everyone just complained about their sleep other than me and two other girls. We left from there back to the hostel where we got more stuff to go and climb some mountains WHOO!

Not whoo. Although the view was beautiful, I came back with scratches on my arms and hands, aching legs (#ThunderThighs), and a sore, wet butt. However, I literally sang the ENTIRE 4-hour hike. Every song I could think of. I did HSM, I did Disney, I did requests, I did The Sound of Music (since it was very apt, singing and spinning around on hills) and I felt so energised. When that got boring, I started talk-singing; which is basically where you talk through songs. It quickly became hilarious, especially seeing as myself and the Senior Mentor were doing requests and had to talk-sing while censoring the lyrics.

Then it quickly became irritating. Anyway, we survived that vicious ordeal and got back to the hostel where we got pizza for dinner (no offense but it was nasty… (there’s the no offense thing LOOL) No but seriously, why do people assume that all vegetarians eat are vegetables?! I HATE OLIVES AND I HATE PINEAPPLE ON PIZZA WHAT THE HELL) and had a rave in our room at night, which was great. (There are 16 girls in our dorm, imagine that)

That evening, my mind started working (in the way that it does, just randomly) and came up with a writing idea. So, when we all got into bed that night, (there also was a bat in the other girl’s dorm, but not ours because the first thing I did when we all came into that dorm on the first day was CLOSE THE WINDOW) I whipped our my notebook and wrote.

And wrote and wrote and wrote. For about 2 and a half hours straight. I filled 11 sides of A5 paper and had a little bit of overspill, but since my writing is quite small anyway, I wrote A LOT. Not that I remembered most of what I had wrote in the morning and had a good laugh at how entertaining it was.

The next day we were smashed. (Not as in alcohol – I keep using that word to describe extreme tiredness, but it always comes across as inappropriate to be honest – just completely TIRED smashed). We then learnt that we were going to go gorging. Zak and Kim kindly informed me with glowing, excited faces that it was amazing, fantastic, so much fun, and every other exciting synonym you could possibly think of.

It was NONE of the above. We were in cold wetsuits, in cold water, in cold weather, on slippery rocks. The higher we climbed, the further we had to drop to our deaths. (It really was that scary). Not to mention that our team decided to have a water fight in the rock pool (which, btw, apparently the Herbal Essence advert was filmed in!) and then RICKY pushed me into the pool. And we all jumped in and then climbed out and it was FREEZING AH. We also had to fit through these rocks called ‘”The Elephant’s Butt” which was as difficult as it sounds.

Somehow, I survived that. It could only have been God, I swear, I was genuinely convinced I was either going to fall to my death or die of hypothermia/pneumonia/an intense flu. (Right now anyway I have a sore throat – I have lost my voice – and a bit of a chesty cough, which I am CONVINCED is purely because of the gorging).

The next day, we all just packed our stuff up and left pretty much. The journey back was 7 hours and 55 minutes long (yes, I kept count) and after we stopped at a service station, I just didn’t think we were even going to make it back to London. However, myself and Tor struck up conversation and just chatted all the way back really, which was great, because I found an English person! (Long story short, most people at this age are either English people or Maths/Science people. Nearly everyone else I spoke to was a Maths/Science person, but Tor was the FIRST English person I had met on this entire trip!)

When we arrived, all I wanted to do was sleep. I couldn’t though. I partially unpacked, by which I mean threw all my dirty laundry into the wash and the laundry basket, but I still have to repack tomorrow for the next week, which should be fun.

But yes. I feel like that is a concise summary of the week without baiting anyone out or firing shots. And now my mission is to learn the rest of a rap to prove to Zak and Kim that I am the ultimate Queen.

Oh yeah. I got everyone to call me Queen. I am saved in people’s contacts as ‘Queen’. It is fantastic. Life of luxury. Now I am in more group chats from all these socialising things and it’s stressing me out. My Whatsapp pings enough from the Group at Royal Holloway; now I’m in a Team Reiss Group and a generic NCS group. I won’t be able to keep up.

Like I said before, I’m tired. So, here you go Team Sabesan. Love you all.

Also shout out to Frazza who is in Canada and may come back extremely polite. (Because we all know how lovely Canadians are) And Kazza who is in Spain (oh no, my apologise, she is NOT in Spain, she is in Sardinia), and Sazza who is in Hong Kong. Whilst Dezza and the rest of the Astellian’s are all sitting pretty in England.

Peace out people and goodnight. No promises for posts this week as I will be away again, but I will try my best.

Queen Rianna


No Quality And No Class

It feels like I have been lying on the floor with people walking up and down my body. And I’m not talking about the professional masseuses either; I’m talking heavyweight wrestling champions… in steel-toed boots. Also, I’m 84.5279% sure that my legs have been dislocated and that I will never be able to use them as effectively ever again.

Have I been doing extreme Judo? Have I been doing kickboxing?

No. I literally spent the entire day with about a quarter of the crew (RIP @ all the Squad who couldn’t come today! Love you all!) at the Science Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum.

There have been many hilarious experiences today though; other than the vicious ordeal of walking up Kensington High Street and then back up to Exhibition Road… But I won’t say anything because that’d just be whining. After all, it was a fantastically hilarious day.

First of all, it seems that I’d picked one of the worst days to visit South Kensington and all the museums thereof. When I got to the train station this morning, I can’t even begin to describe the shock I felt seeing school group after school group… after school group go down the subway to the museums and stuff. There were also LOADS of tourist groups, and lots of foreign kids on trips to London, I would assume. I felt kind of nauseous knowing we were going to have to compete with all those unappreciative children; most of them didn’t even look like they wanted to be there.

Even when I was waiting for the Quarter Crew to turn up, at one point, I was entirely surrounded by a bunch of intimidating teenagers from some high school – I had to give them my best ‘back off’ face and hope that they’d get the message.

Anyway, they turned up, we hugged and then we set off. Walking down the subway, I was certainly not impressed by a bunch of moron boys jumping up trying to grab onto the railing on the poorly constructed ‘ceiling’. Even after their leader told them to stop, they continued doing it. The worse thing: they looked about the same age as us. Shaking our heads in disgust at their monkeying antics, and thanking God that I was not born a boy, we walked past them up to the museum.

The Science Museum was fun. It really was. We managed to get into three interactive exhibitions – all of which I had never been to before! – and get lots of funky pictures and such. We literally spent the entire morning in there. Before we left, we went to the shop and had a good browse; there were some very cool looking gizmos in there… An equation clock, books about the mathematics of love, mugs of the periodic table, and (of course) those geeky t-shirts that only dweeby teenage boys wear. Dezza bought a NASA print of Jupiter (right? It was Jupiter right Dezza?) which looked like a LUSH pastel bath bomb, and I mind-lusted over the equation clock. NOT, may I add, that I knew what any of the equations meant, but I think my nerdiness took over there.

We left to go and find some chow, and after an EVENTFUL bus journey (during which we almost got lost) we made it to the highstreet. Dezza and I opted for M&S (I bought a bag of Double Chocolate cookies… mmmm… and she bought some potato and egg salad thing and some fruit) and though Hazza and Kazza tried to find a Subway, we quickly realised (a search for ‘Subway’ on Kazza’s phone led her to two Nando’s and the actual Underground station) that it was non-existent on the road, so they settled for Maccy Dees instead. (That’s McDonalds for all you who are unaware of this colloquial reference…)

We must have sat in there for about an hour and a half and just talked. About everything. We equated skin tones to the Nando’s heat scale (Plain, Lemon and Herb/Mango and Lime, Medium, Hot, Extra Hot), we ranted about America and their third amendment (which, correct me if I’m wrong Americans, but is the right to own arms?). We mostly just ranted about America. We also didn’t understand why some Americans get offended when you mistake them for Canadians. (It’s just like, what is there to be offended about? Canada in general is just a much nicer country than America! Canadians (other than Justin Bieber) are just so polite! Why would you be offended?!)

Anyway, on heading back, we decided that there was no point in us going back to the Science Museum, just to go to the Launch Pad (sad times! By the way, if you don’t know what I’m talking about then WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE! VISIT THIS MUSEUM!!!) so we just decided that the best thing to do would be to head to the V&A.

In which we took even MORE pictures and Dezza and I just mocked everything. Hazza wasn’t very impressed with us, because she said we should take the art more seriously… But Dezza and I didn’t understand most of the conceptual art! It looked fantastic and everything, but it was far easier to make jokes and it was quite difficult to take some of it seriously. I got some top notch shots of statues (and of course, myself standing beside/in front of them pulling the same pose…) and also some candid photos.

NOW this is where the title ties in. We went into a section called Europe (I think it was Europe) and there was a display of ceramics. One of the small displays was two small plates but one was a Chinese plate and one was British. The whole point was that we (the visitors) had to guess using the clues on the display, which plate was which, as they weren’t labelled. The clues said this – I’m just paraphrasing:

  • The British plate has a more uneven surface, there are cracks and imperfections, and the white background has a hint of pink.
  • The Chinese plate is very smooth, is made of thin porcelain, is very refined and the white background is tastefully infused with blue.

Dezza and I looked at each other, then the plates and we both agreed which one we thought was the Chinese/British plate. So we lifted up the flap and discovered that we were correct, and I said to her in the most chavvy accent possible (I don’t know what came over me), “It’s obvious that that one is the Chinese one. I mean look at the British one. It doesn’t scream ‘quality’ or ‘class’. And why? Because it’s British.”

But it sounded a bit more like, “Iss obvious vat VAT one is the Chinese one. I mean, LOOK aht the Bri-ish one. Ih do’n’t scream ‘qualih-y’ or ‘class’. And why? ‘Cuz iss Bri-ish.”

Needless to say, we both found it hilarious. Despite our British citizenship, neither of us feel a particularly patriotism towards this country, so we just mocked everything from then one. We passed a tapestry which was actually very pretty. She said to me (keeping with the chavvy accent), “That ain’t British.”

I said, “Dya know why? Cuz it screams ‘quality’ and ‘class’.”

And that was it. We passed a wicker-framed chair which was falling to pieces. I looked at her and said, “That’s British.” She couldn’t even respond. We read the information stand and it said ‘Made in England’ which I dutifully pointed out to her.

And so it continued. Every time one of us started the sentence with “That is/ain’t British” the other immediately knew what to finish it with.

Hazaa was NOT impressed with us, so we took to whispering it to each other. But it was our joke for the rest of the trip.

My twinnie brother rang me while we were there too, so I had to calmly explain to him at Kazza’s amusement that I couldn’t actually have the discussion we intended to, because I was at the V&A! (Which he completely did NOT understand or sympathise with and still tried to cajole me into a DMC. I was insistent that I would ring later… which I still haven’t, but I will at some point!)

Unfortunately, I didn’t go to the two exhibitions that I really wanted to see – the shoe exhibition and the Alexander McQueen one – but I did manage to get a sneak peek because the back door has been left open! It looked so plush! And we will be going back in August and spending an entire day there though… Can’t wait!

But me and Dezza did mock everything. We saw some painted picture and I told her in the same chavvy voice which we had been using since the “Porcelain Plates” incident, “I could EASILY paint like that mate. I swear down, just get me some watercolours and I could TEAR DAT PAINTING DOWN.”

She agreed bemusedly, joining in, “Yes, same RiRi, like, but you know what yeah. If you did that, they wouldn’t even put it up. Even though your painting would be better, they’d be like, nah, we can’t; cuz it would scream quality and class… and that ain’t British.”

When we finally left (not by choice… we were being kicked out because the museum was closing!) after looking at these HUMUNGOUS marble carvings – no but like, seriously, how is that even possible to make? – I was absolutely knackered. I only just about managed to make it on the train, and then there were delays and everything and all I wanted to do was sleep.

I suppose the only thing that made my journey slightly better was that on the train I heard a little boy telling his mother that he wanted to cut his hair like Michael Jackson’s. I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I assumed that she told him that Michael Jackson’s hair was feminine (because it was quite long), but he told her indignantly, “It’s not girly. Michael Jackson is a boy, so his hair is boy-y.”

I couldn’t stop a little smile. Even though my feet killed. They still do.

As soon as I got in, I put the bag of cookies in the fridge (TIP: M&S Double Chocolate cookies taste fantastic when you put them in the fridge) went upstairs, stripped down and then just napped.

It was one of the most beautiful naps I have ever experienced.

I only woke up about half an hour ago, and I got home around 6:30. I don’t even know how I’m going to make it out of the house for tomorrow, because it’s going to be another full-on day.

Anyways. I don’t know if this counts as a review of those museums, but here it is.

So I’m signing off, going to ensure the plans for tomorrow and Wednesday are solid and THEN, I am going to sleep.

There is no way I’m going to last much longer if I don’t. Goodnight my lovely subjects,

Queen Rianna


Hello! From Australia!

That’s a joke. I’m not in Australia. But I have barely been in London (or at home, at least) for the past week, hence the reason for my lack of posting. For which I apologise. At least, if you would LIKE an apology, then this is it. I am sorry. 🙂

Before I briefly highlight what I’ve been up to this week, I’d just like to point out that I don’t have a clue why I was awake so early. My friend T stayed over last night and we didn’t fall asleep til about half 12. I woke up around 7:30 and she was sitting there staring at me, like the fantastic weirdo that she is. (LOL, but I love her anyway)

We also went to the park yesterday after church, and we took some BOMB photos. Like, they were SERIOUSLY bomb. Seriously. Like, THE bomb. Awesome. Fantastic. Buff. Spicy. (I am very tempted to throw in ‘Cheeky’ for all of you who are aware of the ‘Cheeky Nandos’ meme)… And any other adjective you can think of which conveys the overall theme of those past words.

Anyways. I think I’m getting carried away.

I went on some University Experience thing this week at Royal Holloway (not the women’s prison – the University in Egham) so I met lots of lovely – and absolutely mental – people. I got to speak to loads of actual students and ask questions, and I learnt a lot more than I have learnt from teachers telling us at school, so it was definitely a well-spent three days.

The sessions were super engaging. (Some of them… NOT archaeology). We had taster sessions of some subjects – ones we chose before we came – and we got put into hour-long interactive sessions. The first one I went to was Law, which was, suffice to say, VERY interesting. It started off as a friendly group discussing the case. It ended with three girls (one of whom was me) shouting at each other across the table about whether or not this person was guilty. (He was guilty, we later learnt; which I was adamantly declaring, despite evident disagreement…) Regardless, it was nice to actually see what these sort of subjects would be like, and experiencing it in a practical manner.

We also sat through a psychology lecture, and it was so interesting that the lecturer only managed to get through half of his presentation, because everyone just kept asking him questions. It was about the Psychology of Delusions, and it was very enlightening.

The food. Was. Disgusting. It’s like people don’t know how to use salt. Or seasonings.There was not any level of culinary art being employed. Not even like, Lvl.3 – Scrambled Eggs/Fried Eggs w/ seasoning… It would have been a miracle if we had even had seasoning in the food. There wasn’t even salt! I had to sprinkle salt on everything I ate! The food was like Lvl. 1 – Butter on Toast.

The past week has been pretty hectic, at any rate, so I’m not just going to give a review on what staying at the Royal Holloway was like. (It was an amazing experience though!)

Today we went to Regent’s Street with my Aunt and I got my face painted! (Whoo!) It’s a tiny little crown on my right cheekbone, with three gems at the point of the crown. I don’t know how else to describe it in a way which fully communicates its awesomeness. I was standing in the queue while my sister was getting hers (a butterfly – how cliche, right? But classic… so a solid choice overall. Well done sister 🙂 ) done, and as I was standing there, I felt this tiny little tap on my leg. So I look down, and there is this little Asian girl and she says to me in the sweetest voice, “Are you waiting in the queue?”

Suddenly, this intense feeling of guilt strikes me, like, ‘Rianna, uhm… You’re 15. Why are you gonna be stopping a little girl from getting her face painted?’ So I smiled at her and responded, “Yes, but you can go in front of me if you like.” At which point, she looked up at me terrified and shook her head. I said, “Are you sure? It’s OK if you want to go before me.” So she looked at her dad, and I smiled at him and said, “Seriously, it’s fine. She can go before me.” But he shook his head and gave his gratitude. They stood behind me for a while, but the girl’s sister was asleep in the pram, so I think they decided it would be best if they left. And then they left.

At which point I felt even worse, because I was worried that I had just scared away a lovely little girl.

All she wanted to do was get her face painted.

Anyway. I also painted a ceramic plant pot in red and white stripes, though my white stripes looked more tinged with blue, because this silly little boy couldn’t grasp the concept of NOT mixing brushes in with other colours; he mangled every single colour and also managed to splash blue paint all over my hands. What made it even worse was the fact that he was probably about 7 years old, maybe even 8. He KNEW he was being irritating. The lady told him to stop mixing the colours THREE times. THREE. That’s a big number for someone who can’t listen to instructions.

Nonetheless, it’s kind of getting late now, and I haven’t wiped my makeup off (my FABTASTIC face paint) so I’m going to love you and leave you all. (Does anyone know if you can re-use face gems? Because I have three????? What do I do with three????? Any advice?!)

Big shoutout to my Crew (I think I’ll use this word as a substitute for Squad) from TGS who I miss dearly. Will see you all on Sports Day (wink) when we will be supporting… *drum roll* NOBODY. We will support ourselves to be honest. That sounds like a great idea. Anyway. Miss you Crew. Miss you Astellia. Miss you Baes.

Take care and goodnight. (And I’m really sorry but I WILL do that Blogger Award tomorrow… I will. You have my word.)

Queen Rianna


I Did NOT Lose

In case you couldn’t figure it out from the title, this is not the Queen. In fact, this is her sister. Also her Monopoly opponent, and I’d just like say: “I did NOT lose. I simply lacked the ability to throw a ten whilst on the just visiting jail square.”


Certain people who read this blog, NOT NAMING ANY NAMES, think that they are so funny. They think that they know the whole story of yesterday’s Monopoly game, and so they think they can mock me. Mock me during my PE lesson. Yes, I’m talking about you, ChaChaSqauPe*.

So there I am, at the far end of the field playing rounders. Now, I know that I can’t bat very well at all, so I don’t really try because there’s no point in looking stupid. So I miss the ball, and begin to jog (NOTE: Not run, jog) towards first base. There’s no way I’m getting to second base, so I wait at first. The next batter is up, so I start walking towards second base, (at this point, I can’t score any more points so I’m not too bothered about running) as I’m walking (I’m not too sure exactly what happened here, I wiped the trauma from my memory as much as possible) I hear “She’s just upset because she lost at Monopoly.” No. Just NO. So in my anger and frustration, I just have to throw my bat on the ground and stomp away as far as possible but close enough as to not disturb the other game. Now, no one in the lesson knows what happened. All they saw was me stomp away. But I was so taken aback that all I could do was sit cross-legged on the grass and contemplate life.

So it’s time to change, and I think that it’s over. That the maximum mock limit was reached.

I was wrong.

“Bestnuts go to bat, Cheeches fielding, pass Go and collect £200, try to land on Free Parking. *smirk*” No. How DARE you insult me like that. Don’t even, I was so ready to lose it, but I didn’t. I would’ve landed on Free Parking, if it wasn’t for you meddling kids (Scooby Doo reference. Don’t ask). So for the second time, you mock me. You are NOT funny. Monopoly is MY game. I win. ME. So I have a little scream (“Shut up, no, don’t even,” sort of thing) and sit down in the batting line.

I’m sat down, reluctant to bat, because there really is no point, I don’t get my team any points. He comes up to me, and suggests another job I can do. I can be a mascot. Now, I genuinely thought about this. Maybe I’d make a good mascot. No.

“You can be any mascot you want… you can be a boot, a top hat…”

Get out. Please, just leave right now.

*p.s. – I totally agree with you. Pocahontas is better than Mulan. But I still don’t like you.