jabby jab jab

ahhhhh, in these modern times don't adults love to make pincushions out of us, today was jabs, the first of three in a period of six months and, today was the most stressful day of my life.

First of all was the leaflet,on the front is a pic of someone holding a crappy pink phone from the seventys and on the screen i quote "Had my cervical cancer jab 2day no probs, c u l8r".
I really hope thats not what the NHS think of twelve year old britain, anyway flicking past the lies about how this was all going to be fine of course you go straight to the side-effects, it says "Stinging and soreness in the arm is common and wears off in a couple of days. More serious side effects are extremely rare and the nurse's know how to deal with them".
This didn't fill me with confidence, and sitting in the main hall and watching sixty people who i know getting jabbed over and over again by bored looking nurses. Some throwing up, at least a couple going into wild panics and being held down by the person who was supposed to be comforting us and one or two fainting and being carried to the side of the room in the shade of the raidiators to be gently slapped into conciousness.

And it dident help that we all had to pull down one side of our shirts to show the "fleshy" part of our arms. And our bras to the boys who were sneaking glance through the doors which were mostly made of glass, and being oogled by everyone in the playground thanks, to massive floor to ceiling windows on one wall.

The grand total of casualtys are drumroll please, four people collapsed including a girl in my form who was found on the floor outside our registration room after asking for some fresh air, five people throwing up, general nausia, headaches, an inability to lift your arm, seriouse trauma for those with needle phobia and headaches which go from throbbing to the feeling that a small mole is eating your brain, happy days.

At this very moment i am lying on my bed typing with one hand seeing as the other has been rendered useless, with a feeling like a hampster is running round the inside of my skull, experiencing a tight throat, feeling like im going to throw up, a temperature and never-ending hunger.
One down, two to go.

Sqishy and proud

I think my love of eating comes from rebellion, my mum used to give us (me and my sister) full fat milk, biscuits and chocolate in our lunches. But i suppose that because of the unfortunate side-effect of looking like two space hoppers, all of this stopped, gone were the nice white bread sandwiches and animal biscuits.

In their place for many years were carrot sticks, semi-skimmed milk and shredded cardboard, but when i turned ten everything changed, i walked to school on my own and on the way was the highly prized newsagents christened, the sweetie shop by any passing kid.
First it was just the occasional chewy banana, but as freedom took hold everything i wanted, funded by my pocket money was within reach!
even as i was writing this for lunch i had a bagel but inside it is hard to distinguish between slices and slabs of cheese, a new freedom.
Chocolate is my guilty pleasure and i don't know how i would do without it, great slabs are available around the corner and i do take advantage of that fact.

-Amber :{) and yes that smiley face has a mostache

The doctor's burst my bubbly bubble

I'm still in a bed of pain, however instead of supplying me with crutches, sympathy and a note for my PE teacher i have in fact been given a splint (which looks ridiculus) and keeps my left leg straight. Which on one hand does keep me off PE, but on the other makes obstacles like stairs sitting down, walking and standing up impossible! As well as making all my "friends" laugh at me. And in my depression i consumed two cans of diet coke and a big'ish chocolate bar, so now i'm temporarily disabled and chubby. 

          Never mind, my motto in life is squishy and proud
          -Amber
         

I'm in bed with a dislocated knee, again

 These past few weeks haven't been going well for me, so far iv dislocated my knee joint thing three times in the last month!.
Now my tendons are officially wacked, which means, drumroll please no more PE next week!
We're going to the doctors and im probably going to get crutches which also means that people will carry my bag and il get to go to the front of the lunch queue at school yey!, happy and slightly ouchfull days!!!

Amber, wearing spotty pj's in a bed of pain

Today in "food tec" i think my class learnt a valuable life skill, we made popcorn.

 It was all normal as we shuffled through the door (it doesn't open very far), put our aprons on, tied up our hair with our ties, (a trend i started) and washed our hands.We went up to receive a small plastic and yellow bowl of corn, and poured it in our saucepan.
And we stood by our saucepans because if we left their sides it would be on the pain of death, but watching popcorn pop is second only to watching paint dry.

I mean im not saying that we cook gourmet, its usually cupcakes or pizza swirls, but seriously, we pay two pounds a lesson for the ingredients and all i got was a splash of oil on some corn!.

But, the last straw came when a couple of lessons ago they made us put the raisins in our biscuits, and once they were cooked i picked out every one out and piled them up on the desk as a statement.

I hope the two people who might read this enjoy it
amber (in a depressed mood)

The official llama song and actions!

Today at nazi camp there was a breakthrough, the official llama song and actions was created!

Basically, this is a song that goes,

Happy llama, sad llama,
really really really bad llama,
super llama, drama llama,
big fat marma llama,
baby llama, crazy llama,
don't forget Obama llama,
fish, fish more fish,
turtle, unicorn, peacock!

I personally think that we should replace the four C's, a chant in our school commonly used in thursday assembly and lessons that goes like this,

Courtesy, Contribution, Consideration and cooperation
with the llama song, it would cheer up my day.

But finally i would like to say that i am very, deeply sorry to my old maths and english teachers for using their names in my earlier post, please don't exclude me.

-Amber

The zoo i call my home

In the past, a small and crazy part of me said, "Me need Hampster" and thats what opened the door to a floodgate of furry and feathery creatures who seemed to fill up my room without me quite realising it.

First of all was Hammy the hampster, creatively named by my six year old and mad self. Then there we're the gerbils, Sammy and Chedder, and the goldfish, fluffy and nemo. But a few months ago i started to get ambitiouse and invested my twelfth birthday present in two lovebirds(miniture parrots) who i named banana and kiwi and every morning decide to have long conversations with pigeons at about six thirty, and you have no idea what that is like.
But onto my final pet, a sweet little watersnail that i named Usain bolt who laid a few hundred eggs and than kicked the bucket. Leaving me to care for his poor orphaned children........ selfish little twat.

Bonjour

Bonjour,

Its raining. Pitter patter ect.

Anyway, my name's Amber Paterson, yes, with one 't'. I live in north London, aka: the rain. I go to a creul Nazi camp, oh sorry, a "school", every day. But today is a sad sad day. We're back, and it's year 8! This means that we're not the munchkins with no expectations to live up to, the ones with Irish Mr. Howely, or grumpy Ms. Emery, the "teachers". I quote "Year eight, we now have even higher expectations. You've moved up a year, which means nearly in year nine, and then, its GCSE's. Be scared be very scared, because then you will hold a bit of paper with your marks on it and you WILL be disappointed because if you don't listen and wear you tie with five stripes you will have failed!". And all this was done with an Irish accent by Mr Howely, who is also our head of year.

Well i can think of nothing else to blog about right now, so, in the words of old Arnie Swarzenegger: I'll be back

-Amber