Actually I would probably make a terrible builder.

17 Dec

Originally posted at Three Blog Night.

I’m going to write about the last few days because if I don’t write about the last few days then I probably won’t write about anything for months again. The last few days were significant because I, like, went outside. A long way away from my house. For ages. And didn’t even take my laptop with me. I felt naked.

Mostly because I also did not wear any clothes.

On Tuesday I went to London for another Talkfest – a festive edition of the science blogging thingy that I went to in July. It was a last minute decision. I mean, really last minute… I live in Derbyshire, the thing started at 6.30pm and I decided at 2pm that actually I’d quite like to go. If deciding at fairly short notice that you might like to attend an event where people talk about science blogging for 2 hours and then go to the pub isn’t living on the edge, I really don’t know what is. I got there over an hour later than planned because public transport systems are universally run by gigantacunts that hate me, and also because although I made sure that I knew that the event was definitely taking place in London, I forgot that actually London is quite big and there are a lot of buildings in which the event could conceivably have been hosted. But I did find it, all on my own. Well, all on my own with help from people on twitter and also Google but they are The Internet so do not count. Talkfest was brilliant and interesting and terrifying. I always find myself feeling simultaneously inspired, over-awed and inadequate at these sort of events because all of the people that attend are, like, scary-clever. I’d quite like to do what they do, but I’m an idiot so I don’t expect that I ever will. There’s a massive disparity between what I really want to do after I’ve left university and what I’m realistically capable of. I said in my last blog post that I was thinking about becoming a builder but bricks are quite heavy so I might have to reassess.

After Talkfest my friend Della, one of the scary-clever people, let me sleep on her sofa and fed me toast. I’ve made it sound like she was grooming me now. She wasn’t. She’s very nice. And now that I’m 20 I don’t think that it’s really called grooming anymore. I spent most of Wednesday pissing about with my friend Pria and complaining about things, and then we met up with a couple of others, Tom and Lee, to go and see Nine Lessons and Carols for Godless People. I really, really love these gigs. I went last year and I hope that Robin Ince puts them on again next year. I won’t be able to do them justice if I try to write about them here, but they are an absolute joy and if you ever get chance then you should definitely go to one. It’s heartening that such an unusual, brilliant and unashamedly nerdy gig can attract such large audiences, and Robin Ince should be lauded for these shows. Or canonised. Or both.

On the way out of the theatre, whilst debating whether or not to go to the pub, we bumped into showbiz uber-nerd Matt Parker who was going to the pub. So we decided to go to the pub. I have met Matt on 4 occasions and each time I have either been in a pub, or on my way to a pub, or not initially on my way to a pub but subsequently persuaded to go to a pub. He thinks that I am an alcoholic. But he has been publicly, willingly and enthusiastically touching another man’s groin in 25% of the instances that I have been in his company. Everyone has their crutches.

I am not going to provide any context to the groin thing.

Oh, and before Godless I bought wine in a pub for the first time. I’ve had wine in pubs a couple of times before, but someone else always bought it for me because I’m a freeloading student and sometimes people buy drinks for me out of pity. The stuff that I bought was cheap wine in a cheap student pub. But still. I bought wine in a pub like what the posh do. So the next day I ate in McDonald’s twice to add credence my continued and increasingly desperate assertions that I’m not becoming middle-class.

I’m fucking not.

Speaking of which, I stayed at Pria’s house after Godless and when her mum offered me tea I almost had a panic attack because she asked what sort of tea I wanted. I mean, brown? I couldn’t just ask for brown tea, could I? I don’t know. I’ve heard of green tea, and then there’s the brown stuff what milk goes in. I like the brown tea. But she didn’t just say, “do you want the green tea or the brown stuff what the milk goes in?” I think she saw how terrified I was because then she just asked whether English breakfast was okay and I was a bit confused because it was 12pm which seemed a bit late for breakfast but I said yes anyway and it was okay because I think it was just a posh name for the normal brown tea what milk goes in.

Being middle-class must be so confusing. So many decisions about which beverages to spend all of your millions of pounds on.

Did I mention that I have absolutely no knowledge or understanding of the class system?


3 Responses to “Actually I would probably make a terrible builder.”

  1. em_lysk December 19, 2010 at 6:52 pm #

    I have also had such an experience with tea. I just said normal, as opposed to all the other abnormal types of tea that exist. I mean earl grey? What even is that?



  1. The prize-winning writer Heather Stevens. « Three Blog Night - April 15, 2011

    […] I tell you what, I have done one thing of note since my last blog post. I went to London again for another Talkfest. I’m not going to write about Talkfest because at this stage I don’t think that Alice […]


  2. The prize-winning writer Heather Stevens. « I have no idea what I'm doing. - December 30, 2011

    […] I tell you what, I have done one thing of note since my last blog post. I went to London again for another Talkfest. I’m not going to write about Talkfest because at this stage I don’t think that Alice […]


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