Saturday, 14 June 2014

Ella's Diary Entry no.1: Night with The Strypes?

15 is such a dead end age.

When one end (school) are telling me new doors were opening, numerous restaurants, cafes and shops are promptly slamming their doors in my face. “We don’t hire under 16’s”.

I just want to kick something cute and fluffy and strangle every 16 year old around. How am I meant to start my life when I can’t even get some measly job in a crappy sandwich bar? How am I meant to explore my personal style when I can’t buy any of my personal style? 15 is one of those limbo ages where you’ve come a long way but your still not quite there yet. Whoever came up with the logic of not letting someone who is halfway to 30 have a go at fending for themselves is a right twat if you ask me. I feel like my last year of school, my preparation for GCSE’s has all been a humungous anti-climax.

But. (Yes I have a but)

This was before I left school and got through the main body of my exams – only Jesus knows how. Leaving that tedious hole has put me in a different frame of mind, I would like a go at life please. Preferably whilst getting paid. I’ve bought myself a pair of gorgeous bright red patent brogues and taken my first step into my exciting new life (pun totally intended).

This didn’t go as smoothly as I’d thought, I stepped straight out of my last exam promptly into coming down with a manky cold, which did not agree with my fresh nose piercing (of course I was going to pierce my face, what else do you do when you leave school?). And a day later was whisked away on a family camping trip. Aren’t family such a burden? I can honestly say I have never been so numb for so long, so clap clap to the British weather, my faulty tent and my deflating airbed which made it necessary to sleep with a towel to soak up excess moisture.

Despite this minor hiccup I powered on, ending up at a house party with a load of people from our year.  It started out like the average party, then the lead guitarist from The Strypes walked in.
I mean how often do you end up at a house party with a member of a well-known band who are supporting the fucking Arctic Monkeys?

Not a lot methinks.

So obviously, being a fan of their music, I started internally fan-girling him (I literally detest the squealing girl act so my appearance was entirely cool, much like an aloof ice cube – it’s been typed I will not backspace what I just wrote) but did turn to my friends and excitedly announced that I planned to get with him. I mean wouldn’t that be great to tell the grandkids? I remember Lily, who was sitting there not giving a fuck, giving me her “you’re an idiot” look, before giving me a dismissive hand gesture as if there was nothing to be done and turned her attention elsewhere. Looking back she was in the right frame of mind. I moved over and started chatting with him, he seemed genuinely pleased to meet everyone and was easy to talk to.
 I was still totally up for plan A until he started choosing girls and taking them upstairs. Of course a lot of this goes on at parties, but 4 girls in an hour? All the boys started getting protective and asked him to leave when a couple of the girls claimed they found him quite forceful.  After a LOT of persuasion he went outside to wait for a cab and I remembered that I’d put my key in a friend’s bag that’d just left and ran back out to get it.

Now just to let you know in normal life I am probably the least confrontational person, but at the time I was stoned and had taken multiple trips down to the cellar where the house owners stored their alcohol (classy yes?).

So this Strypes guy, I think he was called Josh or something? Was getting very upset that a bunch of 16 year olds didn’t like him, he was particularly angry that the girls had been “chatting shit about him” and, being the only girl there he started directing his anger towards me.

Now this is the moment ladies and gentlemen, when we take off our hats and praise me, because I had my first ever argument and I had it with someone from THE STRYPES.  Holding my hands up, I said “Hang on” before launching into an angry paragraph about how, if he wanted to make friends he shouldn’t have got with all the girls and started arguments with all the guys. To top it all, I stormed off and slammed the door (side gate leading into the garden rather) behind me.

Good riddance.

The rest of the night went pretty smoothly I danced until 3am before needing to sleep and went upstairs where one of my friends made room for me. Now I surprised myself here because I’ve always dreaded the time when a relationship becomes serious enough for you to move in together. I thought I’d have to invest in an emperor sized bed with a sign saying “NO HEAT TRANSFERRAL ALLOWED”. But I was happily tucked under his arm and slept for a good hour before someone came round with a bloody megaphone. I did a little thumbs up to myself as that is one future worry resolved.  At around 6:30 someone started cooking sausages as I sat bleary eyed on the roof watching the sun come up. It was a little moment to reflect and I thought,

You idiot.

You still have two exams next week.

And as the reggae version of “live and let die” came on, I took my sausage and left.

Ella x

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