ENTRY N°18: Thursday 23rd May 2012

Sorry I haven't updated for a bit. I've still got my cold but I had to go back to school, which means I have to do stupid things like getting up in the morning and wearing normal clothes.

I want Sparrow's vocabulary.

So, it's 6:45 and I need to leave at twenty past eight (one of my rare nine o clock starts) so I'm blogging this now because I'm bored and germs are using my body as an intergalactic playground. I hate being human sometimes. Do Timelords get colds? I will kick myself in a minute and chastise myself for not knowing this. Season 7 will be out soon!

ENTRY N°17: Friday 17th May 2012

Day two of immune system-tiny chickens war. I'm not at school, which is a pro, and the chickens are winning, which is a con. Through some unnatural fluke I've gone off tea. This is psychological warfare and (possibly) against the Geneva convention - I will have those bastards in court.
So, I feel massively sick and I've watched all four episodes of North and South, all four looooooooong episodes of Wives and Daughters, and the BBC four hour long mini-series of Emma TWICE -
it's still only three minutes past three in the afternoon. For some mad reason, I don't feel much better. It's almost like you can have TOO MUCH costume drama. I will research this bizarre and
disloyal observation by watching all of them again - then I will get back to you. I'm sure that there's a perfectly natural explanation.

DREAMS: WIN THIS WAR WITH MINIMUM CIVILIAN CASUALTIES.

P.S Johnny Lee Miller is a sodding brilliant Mr. Knightley.

P.P.S Through some bizarre fluke my cat has got a cold at the same time as me - we occasionally sneeze in synchronization.

ENTRY N°16: Thursday 16th May 2012

TINY CHICKENS HAVE INVADED. EXPECT NO LONG UPDATES FOR SOME DAYS. WILL HOWEVER TRY AND KEEP YOU ABREAST ON ALL SIGNIFICANT ADVANCEMENTS IN THE CAMPAIGN TO REGAIN MY ANATOMY.
DAY 1 OF ENEMY OCCUPATION: Civilian population is in shock - Ibuprofen despatched.

ENTRY N°14: Tuesday 14th May 2012

It's the day of my DELF exam! ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Actually, I didn't really mean that ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! because for some reason I'm not that nervous. It's not because I think I'm going to pass no problem or anything similarly arrogant, in fact I have no idea what it is. Yesterday I had a full blown argument with my parents about my GCSE options for next year, so I'm not in a fabulous exam killing mood.
Actually, that argument was really odd. I think it was about my being demotivated (POSSESSIVE GERUND! YES!!!) See, I'm not demotivated. I just looked up whether that was a possessive gerund or not.
Grammar is one of those really nice things that have clear rules and nice meanings. It's like a frame network of cleanliness and comfort. It also makes much more sense than a human ever did.
Anyway, it was something to do with my language options - we were filling in a form and I said that I wouldn't MIND doing Ancient Greek and my Dad then told me that if he'd been given the option of doing Latin or similar when he was my age, he would have jumped for it. I'm not quite sure how that ended with my mother calling Nerdfighteria "THE TWILIGHT SAGA!" and me trying to tell her to stick something quite rude where the sun doesn't shine through my facial expressions - but there you go. I'm not sure if I'll be able to spend much time in this wonderful land anymore as my father is threatening to teach me additional maths.
I should have known this would happen. I haven't even started my GCSE year yet and I'm doing extra work.
Yours quite crossly,

SM

MOTORHOME FUND: Whatever it was before plus a tenner! Oh yes!

DREAMS: Pass DELF well. Find the courage to use permanent marker on parent's faces. Don't die horribly.

ENTRY N°13: Thursday 10th May 2012 - Why Maupassant is a Fucking Genius -

I don't know why I felt the need to add an expletive to the title. Yes, pedantic little brain man, I do know that only people who don't have the words for something swear. And in this case, you'd be right.
I have no idea how to talk about Maupassant - maybe I'm so blown away because I read it as it was written, in French (Yes, I know enough to read nineteenth century great literature in French! FISTPUNCH! I don't even know how to do a fistpunch!) or maybe just because it is extremely brilliant. Because the odd thing is, I was reading it to improve my language - and now I'm not. Now I'm reading it because it's the best thing I've read since A Tale Of Two Cities, although probably with less crying.
I think the thing about him is that although his short stories are about different things, everyday things - they're also, in a strange way, brilliantly profound.
It's about kindness and cruelty - and how sometimes they're almost the same thing. Sudden bursts of human passion, love, despair, envy; and how a secret can kill you. The sudden, blind, random randomness of passion - an encounter on a bus leads to an illegitmate child; in a jealous fury a twelve year old girl murders her sister's fiancé. It's all so insane. And believeable.
I'm going to stop ranting about this now. I advise you to learn French just so you can read Le Pére De Simon.

DREAMS: Save poor Coco the horse from that brute - punch said brute in the face, and then beat him in a boxing match in style of Sherlock Holmes "The Solitary Cyclist".

ENTRY N°11: Tuesday 8th May 2012

It's 9:59 on a Tuesday, and I'm not having my socks bored off by teachers who don't know what they're talking about. This calls for celebration.

-A cup of tea and a digestive later-

Is it wrong to drink Baileys in the morning?

The reason that I'm not having my socks bored off is because I'm not actually in school. I'm at home, and soon to be in a Cathar (not even sure if that's spelt right) castle. What an exciting life I lead...
Catharism was a Christian religious movement that appeared in the eleventh century (becoming more widely spread in the twelth and thirteenth)
Here it is according to wiki:

Cathars, in general, formed an anti-sacerdotal party in opposition to the Catholic Church, protesting against what they perceived to be the moral, spiritual and political corruption of the Church.

"...they usually say of themselves that they are good Christians, ...hold the faith of the Lord Jesus Christ and his gospel as the apostles taught... occupy the place of the apostles. ...they talk to the laity of the evil lives of the clerks and prelates of the Roman Church... ...they attack and vituperate, in turn, all the sacraments of the Church, especially the sacrament of the eucharist, saying that it cannot contain the body of Christ... Of baptism, they assert that the water is material and corruptible... and cannot sanctify the soul... ...they claim that confession made to the priests of the Roman Church is useless... They assert, moreover, that the cross
of Christ should not be adored or venerated... Moreover they read from the Gospels and the Epistles in the vulgar tongue, applying and expounding them in their favour and against the condition of the Roman Church..."
— Bernard Gui, On the Albigensians

This castle is supposed to be incredible, dear non-existant readers. I'll give you an account of that later.

DREAMS: Meet Harry Potter. Be given an Xbox by Ginny Weasley. Why does everyone hate her?

ENTRY N°10: Sunday 6th 2012

Last day of the weekend. Strange, depressing feeling similar to when you've just eaten an entire packet of biscuits in less than forty minutes. Stomach hurts. Generally depressing "vibe". Had a "bust up" (I will never get over that phrase) with parental departments. You know what, I'm just going to go back and re do that sentence. I had a row with the parental departments.
Small comforts - I am alone in the house with my laptop, many mugs of tea and a red blanket. I am watching Groundhog Day. For some reason I feel strangely happy.
Note to self, somehow work the words "bing" and "heckfire" into daily conversation.

Fucking. Tired. Is 10:03 AM and my eyes already ache from staring at the computer screen. My weekends are not healthy and I love them.

I have to sleep. Goodnight.

DREAMS: Go to sleep. Remember what I want to do with my life.

P.S I'm a god. I'm not *the* God... I don't think.

P.P.S It's election day where I live. That's France for those of you non-existent people who don't pay attention to me. Marine Le Pen got knocked out last month so we won't be kicked out of the country for at least another four years, hard luck...?

P.P.S No sign of Martin Freeman yet. I want Martin Freeman's face! SODDING. T SHIRT. COME. NOW.

ENTRY N°9: Saturday 5th 2012

So it's Saturday - the weekend! I have been suffering a little now that we have finished Downton Abbey, but I think I have managed to get the craving under control. It's
been a pretty good day, although only two really note worthy things to say - first, Mother has finally ordered me a BBC Sherlock T Shirt. It is a picture of Martin Freeman's face - I pray that that pleasant, tea-loving countenance will tide me through what is to come. Secondly, I have been thinking a good lot about The Diogenes Club, a place in Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes (most notably featured in 'The Greek Interpreter') where Mycroft goes often. I will let my good friend Sherlock describe it for you.

"There are many men in London, you know, who, some from shyness, some from misanthropy, have no wish for the company of their fellows. Yet they are not averse to comfortable chairs and the latest periodicals. It is for the convenience of these that the Diogenes Club was started, and it now contains the most unsociable and unclubable men in town. No member is permitted to take the least notice of any other one. Save in the Stranger's Room, no talking is, under any circumstances, allowed, and three offences, if brought to the notice of the committee, render the talker liable to expulsion. My brother was one of the founders, and I have myself found it a very soothing atmosphere."

Well, I've been thinking and thinking about it recently, and I think it's a brilliant idea. Did you see that episode on Sherlock where John goes to see Mycroft and he's
chucked out by the bouncers for talking? I would like it to look - and be - like that.
Apparently it's based on the Athenaeum Club, London (picture: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Athenaeum_Club,_London_-_Nov_2006.jpg) of which Conan Doyle was a member.
Although, apparently you're allowed to talk, there. Future me, if you're rich, please create the Diogenes club. I want it. I want one. Make one.

DREAMS: Be allowed in to the Athenaeum Club.

ENTRY N°8: Friday 4th May 2012

The Way. Such a moving film.
Thomas - older, jealous-making brother (At about two in the morning I will remember the correct adjective for jealous-making) is back at the house, visiting for a fortnight. He comes with tales of his adventures and general life plans. I know it's hard to make ends meet and all, but I can't wait until I'm a post-teen screw up.
At least then you have the luxury of choice. Thomas upped and left and walked across France, and then the Camino, because he could and I am so fucking jealous that I can hardly breathe.
I will do it. I will.

DREAMS: I don't know. Oxford would work, it's just I want something more.

ENTRY N°7: Wednesday 2nd May 2012

I didn't fall asleep in class, but it was a near thing.
Brothers are annoying, also a waste of space. I won't get all angsty but let's just say that I had an argument with the dick-who-has-the-same-second-name-as-me that makes me think we should use them as fuel. Say goodbye to climate change, say hello to a world where no one tries to break you jaw bone with a mobile phone.

ENTRY N°6: Tuesday 1st May 2012

It's 22:37 PM (why do I always feel so military when I see the time in digital?) and my mini weekend is almost over. I spent it very productively, doing things like eating spoonfuls of nutella and promising myself that I will go to bed at half ten and get at least seven and a half hours of sleep. I am not a morning person.
At least, I am, because I have to be. I just really enjoy saying 'I'm not a morning person.' It makes me feel like I'm in an episode of 'Miranda' (Miranda Hart, yay!).
It is a magical phrase, like 'Fuck this.' or 'UNIVERSITY, DAMN IT ALL.' that makes you feel instantly better about having to do something ludicrous.
Fuck this is generally used in everyday life such as when the sports teacher (sadistic bastard) is making us run laps around the field. Dick. Anyway, it's nice having something to say in your head as you dream up stories.
UNIVERSITY DAMN IT ALL is only used when I am having a career crisis (which means that I have suddenly realized that I can't take anymore strain about test results) or making a momentous, life changing decision that will be reversed the next day.

MOTORHOME/PILGRIM STICK FUND: 6,86€ (I am beginning to hate those three digits.)

DREAMS: God knows. I'm far too tired. I'd still quite like to walk the camino though. Soy peregrino! That is spanish for 'I am pilgrim!' I knew those interminable spanish
lessons were paying off.

NOTES: I should really stop writing these so late at night. One day I will fall asleep in class. Well, it's not like that hasn't happened before.

ENTRY N°5: Monday 30th April 2012 (But only for another 19 minutes.)

It's late because it's a bank holiday tomorrow so I can afford to be. Fuck you coherent thought! Also because I've just finished watching 'The Way' with parents and brother. It is making me want to walk from Saint-Jean-Pied-De-Port (yes?) to Santiago de Compostella again - I only gave up on that dream because I was scared shitless by the idea of walking hundreds of miles by myself.
Thomas did it though (with Jethro,  admittedly), and it sounds like you make as many friends and form as many bonds as in the film. I hope that I can do it one day, hopefully without my son dying first. Not that I will have children. Children might get in the way of my adventurous lifestyle...

MOTORHOME FUND CURRENTLY CONTAINS: 6,86€ (Pay up already, damn it!)

DREAMS: Walk the camino. Meet an extraordinarily attractive irish writer with writer's block (God, I know the feeling.), a sarcastic blond woman, a brilliant individual
who eats too much, and stuffy golf playing american who transforms from...that *shudders* and becomes a peregrino (pilgrim!)

MOTORHOME OF THE DAY: Fuck this, I'll buy a pilgrim's stick instead. Come bear witness to my fickleness!

NOTES: I was reading back some earlier entries and the last one caught my eye. Past Me, here is Future/Tired-It's-The-Same-Thing Me's advice: Shut up, stop worrying about
it and get some shut-eye.
There now remains only four minutes more of my day - so I am going to do exactly that.

ENTRY N°4: Sunday 29th April 2012

I will be fourteen in exactly three months. Heheh.
Although I have to say I've only just got used to being thirteen. School again tomorrow. Too depressing to write more.
Sometimes, growing up feels like a battle for your soul. There's fangirl-nerdfighter-kind-comforted-clever-motorhome me, and it's her that I'm trying so hard to keep safe, and it's her that I am when I'm typing this. But there's also sharp-pretentious-intelligent-irreverent-unkind-guilt-tripping-detestable-passionate me, and I see
her everyday.

MOTORHOME FUND CURRENTLY CONTAINS: 6,86€ (Soon to be 16,86€! Mum owes me a tenner!)

DREAMS: Travel Europe in a motorhome. Be different. Do something that I can look back on and smile about when I'm old.

MOTORHOME OF THE DAY: Holdsworth Romance HT2 (1989)
BERTHS: 2
ENGINE SIZE: 1721
FUEL: PETROL
PRICE: £2,795

ENTRY N°3: Friday 27th April 2012

Well, the weekend again! Thank fuck for that. It's Downton Abbey day! Downton has become a big family occasion - we congregate from our many bedrooms and activities, cross the endless rugs, avoid the kittens intent on tripping us up... It's like an episode of Doctor Who (The Family Who Waited... For Downton Abbey.)
I hope that Mum has bought me chocolate.


MOTORHOME FUND CURRENTLY CONTAINS: 6,86€ (This may change, it's Saturday tomorrow.)

DREAMS: Travel the world in a motor home. Fuck higher education - I can't take the strain...
NOTE: Botched maths test. I haven't mentioned this to the parental departments and they don't need to know. But seriously, who cares? When do I do anything OTHER than
botch maths?

MOTORHOME OF THE DAY: MAZDA CAMPERVAN/MOTORHOME
http://www.preloved.co.uk/adverts/show/105539256/mazda-campervanmotorhome.html
BERTHS: 2 (YESS! YESSS! They do exist, they do!)
ENGINE SIZE: 2.0 cc
FUEL: PETROL
PRICE: £3,250 ono (Oh shit. And that advert started out so well...)

ENTRY N°2: Wednesday 25th April 2012

I've been back at school for three days including today, and I have dragged myself up out of the immediate depression. School is becoming hazier and not in a bad way - it is a welcome relief from the monotony. Oh god, I sound like Bella Swan. It is the end.
Today, I also started my third notebook, the first proper one I've had in 4éme. It is The Blue Book, and I haven't really started much writing in it yet. I think I might pick back up my WW2 story.


MOTORHOME FUND CURRENTLY CONTAINS: 6,86€

DREAMS: I don't know anymore. Slay vampires and meet Merlin Emrys from the BBC show? God, I hope I'm still watching that in 2020 or whenever the hell I'm grown up.
NOTE: MATHS HAS NOT IMPROVED.

MOTORHOME OF THE DAY: Ford Transit Campervan/Motorhome
http://www.preloved.co.uk/adverts/show/105561067/ford-transit-campervanmotorhome.html
BERTHS: 4
ENGINE SIZE: 2000 cc
FUEL: PETROL
PRICE: £1,950 ono

ENTRY N°1: Sunday, 22nd April 2012

Well girl, today is Sunday and the last day before you go back to school. Although I refuse to let that torpid boring indisciplined excuse for an education center waste my time, it does mean that I will be away from my computer a lot more often - in light of this, I've decided to start this, a control center for everything
and anything that is important to The Grand Plan. Unfortunately, I don't quite know what The Grand Plan is yet.
Up to now, all my dreams have been contained in three books - one yellow tatty mini school cahier (The Yellow Book), one red tatty mini school cahier. (The Red Book)
I am currently using a tiny black notebook in which is glued memorabilia, writing extracts, general notes, and coping methods.

MOTORHOME FUND CURRENTLY CONTAINS: 6,86€

DREAMS: Go to Oxford University and study English Literature. Travel the world in a motorhome. NOTE: These dreams are conflicting - although I can get a loan and
lodgings for Oxford, I will still be in debt for food, clothes, household items etc. How will I afford a motorhome, driving lessons, petrol, and activities?

MOTORHOME OF THE DAY: SECOND HAND HYMER B655 MERCEDES STARLINE 2006
http://www.preloved.co.uk/adverts/show/105516092/hymer-b655-mercedes-starline-2006.html
BERTHS: 3
ENGINE SIZE: 2.7cc
FUEL: DIESEL
PRICE: £43 000 ovno

REALISTIC MOTORHOME OF THE DAY: SECOND HAND 1979 FORD TRANSIT MK2 MOTORHOME WITH FUNKY MODERN INTERIOR
http://www.preloved.co.uk/adverts/show/105523526/1979-ford-transit-mk2-motorhome-with-funky-modern-interior.html
BERTHS: 4
ENGINE SIZE: 2296 cc
FUEL: DIESEL
PRICE: £2,500 ono

Quick introduction...

It's all in the title, really. My name's Sophie, I occasionally go by Tegan Ganmore, usually when I'm ashamed of whatever I'm doing *see my fan fiction account*.
I live in France with my two generally angsty parents and my generally clot-poled brother, Theo. I update my blog at unearthly hours and moan enough to befit my heritage (I'm a Swindon girl originally, but I came to France two years ago when I was twelve.)
These first entries weren't intended as a blog, so excuse the confusing dates as opposed to the dates that they were uploaded. Excuse the generally boring subject matter, too. You'd think that moving to France would give you something to write about but it usually just makes me moan a lot.

Regards to you, non existent reader,

Tegan (I mean Sophie. I'm definitely not ashamed of this at all.)