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I'm in love.

With my Iphone.

Blow My Pipe

Life is good.

A month in and I'm starting to get used to this place. 

Like I thought, good friends have sprouted with time.
I like Edinburgh, a lot.

I do not like essays, lectures or tutorials however.

My mind HATES me for making it focus on philosophy again.

In other news,
I turned 20 on the 30th!
20.......
I feel so sophis
and way less intelligent.

Life so far in the Burgh:

Blow my pipe!

PLEASE BE MY BEST FRIEND

My first week in Edinburgh has officially come to an end
and as it breaks into the early hours of Monday
my mind's ticking through my 10am philosophy lecture
my awkwardly cold feet
the maddening end to Chapter 3 in the novel One Day
(that's right, I'm reading the book before seeing the film)
and that despite my infinite collection of pens
(went a bit crazy at the trades fair)
I have absolutely no paper.

Hmm.

Of course, now that I've sat down and begun thinking
I think about friends.
The friends I've left behind and the friends I'm about to make.
They told me I would meet my 'true' friends at university
and it's that exact phrase that has me concerned.
Obviously it sounds wonderful
to meet people you gel with
who laugh when you laugh
who may also share a slight obsession with buffet food and peanut butter
The thing that's got me though, is WHEN.
When will these 'true' friends pop into existence?
 I thought they already existed.
Are there more hiding on floor 3 of Baird House?
Or are we yet to cross paths?
The pressure of starting up in a new place has put this desperate look on my face,
as though I have
 - PLEASE BE MY BEST FRIEND -
written on my forehead
and it can't be very attractive.

I've got to wipe that look off my face.

Starting tomorrow.

Deal.

Take me there, I'm hungry.

I miss eating abroad.

I miss having food made for me.

I miss the excuse to eat Burger King.

I'm so hungry right now.

Blog Hiatus

Blog hiatus begun when Loz died, I think. Her blog was the secret she shared with me. The ins and outs of her life for me to read. I was closer to her then than I've ever been, just through reading her true thoughts.. and I can't help but feel glum when I come back here.

Then again, she always shouted at me for not regularly posting, haha.

So, hi.

The end of Lauren's life also marked the beginning of my travels,

and the distinction between these two things are pretty hazy.

Leaving Jersey

(and not returning like one would after two weeks on holiday)

was weird and friggin' wonderful.

It was as though my friends and I had escaped the reality

of Loz' death, work, winter, parents, 'To Do' lists, rules,

and without worries,

we did whatever we wanted to, whenever we wanted to.

It was so free, easy and surreal.

But there's still not a day that passes

when the Bear doesn't cross my mind.

She should've been there.

I now have 1 week before I leave for Edinburgh University.

Whoa.

There is a lot to talk about

Write The Truth

It's been a while! Sawasdeekaaaaaaa to you! (hello in thai, I think)

It's about 7am, and I sit here, in Koh Samui with a glass mug of t, tapping away on the laptop as the waves crash and the sun rises. I'm so relaxed. I'm just hoping the sun will stay where it is and the blazing heat and constant sticky face will be delayed for a bit more time.

Lauren passed away on the 16th of February, peacefully, after her mother and sister had just washed her hair. She lay there and went as they dried it. It happened 2 days after we set off for Thailand, as we slept, 7 hours ahead, in our Bangkok hotel rooms. We woke up to a phone call from Tiff's mum and I recall sitting on the edge of my bed, not letting the news hit me. We travelled for 12 hours that day to a small island called Koh Chang, where the 6th member of our travel party awaited our arrival. It wasn't until that first embrace with Daisy that all of us started to cry and hug and then laugh with astonishment. Only then did it sink in, only when all of us were together.

That week was a strange one. A mixture of homesickness and ignorant bliss. The beauty of Thailand numbing every bad feeling. It seemed as though, for the majority of time, we all pushed our best friend's death to the back of our hearts and minds and concentrated only on our trip and the day to day trivialities of food, sun, sea and hammocks. But there were other times. Times when I'd wake up ridiculously early because of the heat, trek to a bench with my book and stare through the black print, thinking about Lauren. I couldn't believe it. I still can't. Every time she trickles into my memory, my chest constricts and my mind shoves the thoughts away. It's so easy to do so in Thailand. But it was something I had to face, something we all had to face.

Before leaving, I worked up the courage to ask Loz what she'd want us to do if she wasn't around by the time we got back. She paused, her mind working out the best way to put something she had been obviously already been thinking about.

'Write something for me. Write the truth, make sure it's the truth.'

I spent that whole week, during the times I could be alone in the glorious cool mornings whilst the rest of the world slept, to write the truth. But all I could muster was the pathetic words of a hurt friend, an angry friend. Everything I wrote, no matter how hard I tried, managed to warp into this morbid, angry letter to some high being that apparently forced illness upon my friend and stole her young, unready life. Eventually, when we all came together, we wrote the truth. The truth about how much we loved Loz. I think I will paste it on here...

Loz once said that she admired the brilliance of the bumble bee. Not just a bumbling creature, but a remarkable one. Science shows that those tiny wings shouldn't be able to lift the bees large body into the air. It's a creature that defies everything that makes sense. Lauren's Cystic Fibrosis may have prevented her from doing certain things but she never allowed it to alter the way she is, the way she wanted to be. She never let her kindness, her goodnes, her generosity change, even when her illness did. She was an unbelievable person and an unbelievable friend. She always gave too much of her precious time to us. Family, friends and even pen pals from around the world were blessed with her thoughtful trinkets and hand made cards. We're sure most of you here have recieved a one of a kind gift from our beautiful best friend. Our beautiful best friend, we miss you so much. Your obsession with magazines and your delight in books. The moments you took off your glasses to reveal the most beautiful blue eyes. Your diet that seemed to consist only of ribena, milky ways, percy pigs, butter out the packet and the regular chinese. Your passion and appreciation for clothing, the way you nursed the treasures around your wrist. Your giggle that warms our hearts and the smile that couldn't help but catch boys attention. All these things we love about you, we will miss. All the memories you have given us, we will cherish. We love you more than tongue can tell.

We don't think you realised it then, Loz, but you are just like bumble bee, you never let your small wings stop you from flying.

On the day of Lauren's funeral, we had our own ceremony. With flowers, candles, music and Sang Som, we chatted about the Bear and we cried about the Bear. We woke up the next day, put letters to Loz into a bottle, and dropped it into the sea.

We said goodbye.

'Because You're A Warrior!'

A picture of Lauren drawn by Hermione

'Because you're a warrior!'

http://iamhermionebenest.blogspot.com/

gotta whole lotta love for this and the Hermit

xx

Too Hopeful A Thought

It's the 1st of February and I'm sitting on my swirly office chair, sipping t and sober.

This was not the plan.

Life is strange, as though everything is at a stand still,

like I've entered a phase that I hadn't planned on entering.

It's disconcerting... I like plans.

I had a plan, work and then travel.

Now it's work...wait..wait.wait....travel?

It's going to happen, but I can't imagine it anymore.

My bag and Malaria tablets sit there looking lost in my room,

the bikinis and vest tops look alien against my many scarfs and leggins.

Lauren hasn't improved but she hasn't deteriorated.

She's up and she's down.

For a week, I wasn't sure she even knew I was there at her bedside,

and it hurt.

But friday changed everything, she moved home, she lay in her bed with a magazine.

She was awake, joking, engaging in casual conversation,

though of course she was exhausted.

It was amazing to see her like that, I immediately cheered up.

I haven't cried since.

It's just... It seems as though I'm the only one.

Every adult, her mum included, speak as if it were a week ago.

But I write this and think 'oh shit, Loz is probably going to read this'

.....is that too hopeful a thought?

Is it wrong to hope?

I'm going to see her at 11am tomorrow for 10 minutes,

I'm worried.

The last time I saw her it seemed as though she was on the road to recovery

but the last few days have been rough

and there's been no visitors

and I don't want hope to disappear.

We've rebooked to fly out on the 14th, Val's Day

and I have no idea what will happen between now and then.

I enjoyed to find my bookmark face in her diary, ehe

Morphine Induced Cloud

This weekend has been like no other. There were no parties, no trips to town, no lie ins, no hang over breakfasts... One of my best friends, Lauren, was sent to hospital last week. Loz has Cystic Fibrosis, a genetic disease that causes defects in the lungs and the digestive system. It wasn't until we were at the hospital, about to enter the Bear's room, when her mum said, 'now, try not to get upset when you see her' with tears in her own eyes, did I take in the seriousness of it all. From being completely optimistic and light hearted, I broke down and was sent to the waiting room where I saw family members I'd never met before, like her uncle who lives in the Caribbean. Suddenly it became clear that this wasn't Loz's usual hospital 'pop in, pop out'.

Over the weekend we've gone through ups and downs. Hearing the words 'days left' is enough to let you plummet into a dark hole you can't scratch your way out of. But hearing the Bear giggle is enough to sit you on a morphine induced cloud for an hour. It's shock, it's regret, it's hope, it's desperation. From friday onwards, we've stayed together. Jordanna flew back from uni, Tiff came back from skiing, we've spent every waking hour in each other's company, too scared to eat or sleep alone. We've pulled out our home-made cards and poems Lauren made for us, wore T shirts she bought for us... recalled those times she got too pissed at so and so's party. Only tonight, Tuesday night, did I take the plunge and drive home to be by myself. And surprisingly, it's quite nice. Other than in the shower, I've not had time to think. In the past 5 days I've seen Lauren, I've sobbed, I've cuddled, I've stared into space, I've drunk T, I've eaten eggs and bacon for dinner. I've needed and enjoyed my friend's company. But it was nice to crash out on my own, have a cry and sort my mind out.

I am looking forward to sleep.