Primary School Memories!

It’s funny how fast I have grown up and how fast time has flown by. It feels like yesterday I was blowing out candles, wishing to be best friends with Selena Gomez. Now, I’m wishing for good credit score. Both of which will never come true.

I finally aged up last week, on the 16th of October, like I do every year. And now I’m big fat 19 years old! I literally don’t feel different! I don’t think I’ve felt different since I turned twelve. My face also hasn’t changed since I was twelve. Or my height. BUT, one thing that has changed are my experiences and memories.

I went out on Sunday with a few friends, one of which was my best friend in primary school, who I’ll name Fizz. Since we got to catch up, I went on a little journey down memory lane, which evidently gave me a stomach ache from laughing so hard. I thought it would be fun to share some of the crazy and wacky memories that I have of primary school.


Troublemakers on Bikes

Like in It, The Goonies, Super 8, Stranger Things, E.T, basically any 80s film where the kids ride bikes 70% of the time, me and my friends were the Kidz On Bikes in my area. And by ‘area’, I mean our road and the few roads that branched off it. We live in the city, it’s hard to go bike riding for fun when you’re nine.

Kool Kidz

There were five of us (including Fizz), who lived about a minute away from each other (basically on the same road). We would meet up after school and even on day offs and ride our bikes around. I remember brining out as little as £3 and having the time of our lives, negotiating with the corner shop man for lower prices. Business people in the making! I remember the corner shop man emptying Haribo’s onto a plate and selling each Haribo for 1p. We really manipulated him.

We used to play Knock Down Ginger, which is a game where you knock on someone’s door and then run away and hide. I feel like most kids have done this but we were way too brave. There were a few sketchy houses on my road and the roads near us, like this old man who lived in this really run down house. The windows were boarded off, the door was half blocked, the paint was peeling, garden overgrown. It was straight out of a horror film but we tried to knock on his door. We also knocked on the door of this house, which the police always came to. Not really sure why…

We honestly had the time of our lives. We would go out in the dark, in the pouring rain, in super cold temperatures. Now that I think about it, I’m wondering why my parents let me do all that.


The Man in the Bushes

In my primary school, there was this field that the big kids (year four and above) were allowed to play on. There were a bunch of bushes at the very back, right in front of the fence. And right behind the fence was a block of flats overlooking the field. One day, at lunch, all the kids were playing on the field and all of a sudden, there was a random man standing in the bushes. We were never allowed to play in the bushes again. There were theories that the man was the dad of a kid that went to the school, who lived in the flats, and he wasn’t allowed to be with his child. I don’t know. Once, he jumped over the fence into the school and we were all made to go and stay inside. After that incident, we all took the piss since we would stand in front of the flats and call out for the man to come back.


Cloakroom Ghost

The cloakroom was where we would keep out coats, bags and stuff. It was always dark in there and this one time, we went inside and saw a dark shadow move. Ever since it happened, we would always go into the cloakroom together or be really scared and we would claim to hear creepy sounds. Little did our dumbasses know the dark shadow was our shadow from the light coming in from the classroom. We were very silly.



Another silly situation was something that happened between me and Fizz. I think it’s a fact that young people experience déjà vu more often than other people so me and Fizz were experiencing it A LOT. Because we were geniuses, we jumped to the conclusion that we were psychic. We wrote it secretly in our diaries. Fizz told me recently that she wrote ‘I am psychic’ backwards in her diary so no one would suspect it. I even remember going downstairs quietly and telling my mum privately about my secret. I genuinely believed that I had some sort of psychic ability.


Biggest Scams of my Childhood

In my lifetime, I have met a lot of pathological liars (they’re more common than you think) but I still can’t get over two lies that I was told in my childhood.

  1. Lie 1: In reception, when I was about five, this girl told me and this other girl she was going to the jungle after school. I asked her how she was going there and she told me she gets picked up and goes to stay the night. Even more curious, little me asked her how she could stay there since it was so dangerous and she responded by telling me that there’s a monkey, lion and some other animal that talk and take care of her. Excited, the other girl and I asked if we could come with her. Enthusiastic about the idea, jungle girl told us we could come but we had to ask our mums. I told the teacher I was going to be going with the girl to the jungle after school. I can’t imagine what the teacher must have thought. After school, I asked my mum if I could go to a freaking jungle with flipping Dora the lying explorer and my mum obviously said “no, she’s lying” and I don’t really know at what point in my life I actually accepted that there was no jungle and was no friendly talking animals and that it was all a lie.
  2. Lie 2: There was this boy, who I was fairly close friends with and so trusted, who came in with a little clump of ‘gold’. We asked the boy where he got it and he told us that he got it from the

    what I was expecting

    pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. So I stupidly asked where the end of the rainbow was and he told us by the reception of the school. To get to the reception, you could either take this narrow dark pathway outside or walk to it from the inside but when my dad came to pick me up, we had to take the dark pathway. I told my dad, who already looked fed-up, to take a detour to the reception to get the gold. Tired and done, he told me the boy was lying but I went to look anyway. Spoiler alert: there was no pot of gold. Fizz and I were annoyed so the next day, we asked the boy and he told us it moved to the alleyway near my house. I don’t know what I must have done to this boy but he was really trying to get me and my friend, two young weak girls, kidnapped or god knows what.


Top Table

I don’t know if this was just my primary school but we had this ‘top table’ thing where every week a child from each year would get picked to sit at the TOP TABLE for lunch, with the deputy head teacher. They made it seem like such a privilege but I don’t remember a single kid that yelled “YESS! IT’S MY TURN TO SIT AT THE TOP TABLE!” I used to dread the moment I would get picked. Sadly, I did and it was the most awkward thing in my life. You just sit with a bunch of children, you’ve never spoken to before, and with this teacher, and you just eat in front of the rest of the non-top table children, who get to sit with their friends for lunch.


Activity Club

this is exactly what the parachute looked like

After school, on Tuedays, we had Activity Club. It lasted until 5/5:30, which meant it was only two hours but it seemed like forever when I was a child. Activity club was just  where you could do whatever you wanted. You could paint, make masks, play sports, run around, etc. They always gave us drinks and sandwiches at the beginning and sometimes, they brought Gogos (these tiny plastic monster figures you could collect) for us. Anyway, for some reason, every week, me and my friends would play with the giant rainbow parachute on the field. Every week. I can confirm that my claustrophobia was initiated at this stupid club, or at least made it worse. We would throw the parachute up in the air and then run inside before it could hit the floor and then keep running around until we were all trapped and lost and wrapped up in the parachute. And then we had to find a way out of the parachute. There was very little air and everything was dark and smelt like sweat. I swear we were stuck for a good ten minutes at one point. I honestly felt like I was trapped in the Twin Towers on 9/11.

The same boy who told us about the pot of gold would sometimes come over and push us while we were trapped and trying to get out. There was also this really big boy, who was kinda violent, who would come over and bash into us.

We still did this every week, though, so I don’t think we ever learnt our lesson. We were not okay in the head.


Education? Where?

I don’t actually remember ever doing proper learning for most of the year. Of course, we were taught shapes, literacy, our times tables, etc, but for most of the year, we were practising and performing plays, doing art and D.T. (just making stuff) or just anything that wasn’t really to do with conventional school.

We had a supply teacher once called Mr. Stone, who wouldn’t teach us a thing but would just sing songs with us all day. He taught us this Boa Constrictor song about how the snake kills. Our usual teacher, who was quite new, came back the next day, asking what we learnt and we told her that we just learnt the Boa Constrictor song. Mr. Stone ended up getting fired and never came back. We’re pretty sure our teacher got him fired. Jokes on her cause I’m pretty sure we got her fired, too.

The school, education wise, was pretty bad. They re-did the whole place after I left and the head teacher even got replaced. The head teacher before honestly looked like modern Miss Havisham.

my head teacher


Those were just a few funny primary school memories I remembered with Fizz. Do you have any funny school/childhood stories?




During my time in year nine and ten, Maths lessons were a time to really and truly reflect on how much of a failure I had become. I used to sit at the back of the class with a diligent friend, let’s call Celestia (inside joke), who sat to my right and a careless boy, H, who sat to my left.

It seemed pretty cool to sit in the middle of them, seeing as though I was already friends with them, right?

No, my friend. You and I both thought wrong.


Celestia and H were like oil and water. They fought all the time. I knew I had to be their emulsifier so I tried once. It was a time when H decided to steal Celestia’s ruler so he stretched over and grabbed it but Celestia snatched it by the end. They were pulling back and forth like tug of war, constantly forcing me to lean back against my chair so I wouldn’t be in the way. It got to a point where I couldn’t lean back anymore and this was no longer a game of Who-Can-Get-Celestia’s-Ruler-To-Themselves-First but it was war and potential death.

They were careless and tugging at this blue poor ruler, moving closer and closer to me, as I tried desperately to not get involved. And it was in that moment that I knew I. Had. Done. Goofed. by leaning back. I tried to grip onto the wall not far behind me and stop myself from falling back but the force between the two fighters were too strong and there I was, lying on my back, the chair’s legs horizontal, my legs vertical.

They both stopped and stared, laughing so hard. What made it worse was the fact that we were so cramped in that corner of the room that I couldn’t even find the space to get back up. I was stuck, possibly flashing people.

At that point, my dignity wasn’t a priority, getting up was.

To this day, however, I believe I was the emulsifier to the oil and water that was Celestia and H so call me Martin Luther King. But, like, don’t actually.


Later on, I migrated to the front of the class, sadly, for the sake of my education, along with H, and another girl, who I had pretty good banter with. There was a girl in front of us, who holy moly, was just wow. Wow not as in I’m-a-lesbian-and-I-think-she-was-hot kid of ‘Wow’. She was pretty but she was ‘Wow’ as in she was so desperate and overly flirtatious that I have nothing else to say but ‘Wow’ that doesn’t sound like I’m slut shaming. I remembered she dropped her pen on the floor behind her and as she picked it up, she did this sort of hair flip as she rose her head back up and made eye contact with H and then me. It was the sort of hair flip in L’Oréal adverts, where the girl says something like “My hair defines me” at the beginning and has this smoky eye thing going on to make her look more intriguing. Yeah, that hair flip.

Right behind me was a boy, the Andy Bernard of our class. He always sang and when Celestia’s new class next door couldn’t hear us laughing or screaming, they could hear him singing.


There were a lot of different personalities, that stood out, in that class. However, all these personalities in one room was nothing compared to Ebenezer Scrooge himself. My maths teacher was literally a tall, less slouched version of the old man from Monster House, except he never softened to us. He actually looked like him too. He was very closed book and had coffee breath and GIANT hands. He was strict and often unfair and a little sexist and racist, but it was all in good humour…(not really, actually. We had to make statements about witnessing his racist comments…)

One day, the teacher was teaching us (that’s what teachers do, Captain Obvious) but us students were so distracted by the buzzing of this fly as we traced it with our eyes, flying around the sadness of the room. We were like those cats, constantly looking back and forth.

Our teacher didn’t really care but then gradually, our eyes started to follow the fly closer and closer to the board and just like that, the fly landed on his freaking head! His shiny bald head! I couldn’t tell whether he knew it landed on his head or not (very close to his forehead, by the way, although I don’t know if his forehead would have an end).

We sat, eyes fixed on him and I swear, even though I know it lasted for about a second, the time we were in utter silence staring at this fly, plopped on his head, lasted forever. The tidal wave of laughter erupted and someone goes, “Sir, there’s a fly on your head.” And he doesn’t even care. He just carries on teaching like an automated robot. We’re too occupied gaining abs from laughing and alerting him that this disgusting, actual faeces eating, flying creature landed on his head, and he doesn’t even care. After a while, it gets to a point where he can’t teach any of us anymore so he decides to wave his hands about to scare the fly off, like you would do anyway when you felt it landing. On. Your. Bare. Head!

Not long after, the fly actually came back again to land on his head. His shiny egg head was like a landing pad for the fly.


Although, even with these stories put together, it’s definitely not as funny as the time he aggressively shoved my friend of a chair, to encage a huge rat, near her foot, in a transparent box, while we were in a maths test…


Please share your own funny class memories in the comments. 😀

And may the forth be with you.



Christmas Memories!

I miss my past Christmases so much!


I remember when we would get up really early and walk down the stairs together. And then a few hours later, we would start to get ready to have Christmas lunch with my family at a relative’s house.

And the rest of our whole family would come over later in the evening and my cousin, Talisman, and I would show off our presents from Santa. And later in the evening, we would get high on sugar and mix all the drinks together and serve it to all our cousins, who were pretty nervous but decided they actually liked the mix because it somehow tasted like fruity Mentos.

And then after it was about midnight, we would beg our parents if I could stay at her house and when we were eventually too annoying to bare with, they would give in and we would spend yet another day together. With our dolls.

And then a few days later, we would see the whole family again on New Years eve and count down to midnight. Then we, me and my cousins, would scurry over to the glass doors and look up at the sky to see if we could see the bright object that passed by every midnight, every year. We would make up theories like how it could be a UFO or something as simple as a lantern. I would go home, terrified it was an alien, planning on abducting me, but the fear eventually died. The memories didn’t.


And I remember the year my parents decided we weren’t going to go to my relative’s house on Christmas and instead we all met on boxing day, which was still good. And I remember the year we watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and my crazy obsession with it. And the year we ended up watching Pet Cemetery for some strange reason.

I laugh every time whenever I remember when my cat, Milly, used to creep near the wrapping stitchpaper to hide in the piles of it, being careful because she didn’t want us to cuddle her. And when we did notice her and picked her up to put on her new collar or whatever, she would cry to leave. I love the way we laid down a Christmas themed tissue and put her bowl over it, next to us, as we had Christmas lunch and we would give her turkey like we were having. She never understood but she still made a part of my Christmas.

Some things die. But the memories don’t.


Whether they make you cry, laugh, smile, cringe, tremble, they’re still memories.



Memories We Make…

We make memories. All the time.

Very often do we stop and smile or cry or laugh at the present moment. The moment we’re living through the memories, we’ll look back on and wish either never happened or wish could happen over and over again.

memoriesI loved the way we ran down the forbidden stairs, shrieking with terror of getting caught. The way we stood out in the rain together, and walked on the narrow path in a horizontal line because we felt so fantastic.
And I will always remember how we scampered up the stairs and skipped into the dark, empty hall, feeling rebellious and free. And I will always remember how we danced and laughed and attempted to harmonise Christmas songs, even in the middle of November and with tired voices, in the darkness.

They may not remember it.
But I will.

Moments like these deserved to be cherished within the spur of the moment to the very end and beyond.
These are the memories we make.


Milly! <3

Today is a special day because it’s my cat’s birthday. Well, it would’ve been. 🙂

And before you read any further, DO NOT pity me or don’t feel sorry because her death was a two year sadness. It’s over now. 🙂


She was a great cat! I used to think about how I could take her with me, when I’m older and imag0095   move out into a flat or house.

But there were so many things that made her death so devastating. For starters, thinking about moving her out with me when I’m older was one, because that clearly wasn’t going to happen.

Another thing was that, I was already going through a hard situation. I was moving into secondary school and I barely had any friends and everything seemed so gloomy, and I was image2 (4)brought into the harsh reality of rude, annoying, rumour-spreading idiots. And my best friend was basically my cat. I don’t care if that sounds sad because she was a better friend than anyone, even though she couldn’t speak and probably couldn’t understand me and maybe even secretly hated me…nah she loved me! XD

Also, people never understood how hard it felt to lose something so precious to you. I tried to tell my friends and obviously, they didn’t understand how I felt. One friend just kept telling me to get another cat. And another thought it was weird how I was mourning so much.milly xxx


I am not really a supersticious person but back then, I  really wanted magic to be a real thing, that I could witness myself. So, I was just looking through my very organised *sarcasm* draws and found this silver braclet with a small heart hanging from it. I had actually never seen it before and I have no idea where that freaking thing is. So I decided to pretend it was a ‘lucky’ charm bracelet. I wore it for days. Weeks, even. And when I had to go to school, I would take it off. (Because we weren’t allowed jewellery.) One day, I forgot to wear the bracelet for two days! (Gosh, that’s long! XD ) and told myself, “If I don’t wear it for another day, something bad will imag0587happen.” I don’t know why I said that. I was stupid. And ridiculous. I really wanted to believe it was magical, I guess. And guess what, I didn’t wear it for the third day. (Shocker!) About one to two weeks later, my cat died.


I don’t want to believe in superstitions but I mean, that was crazy!

I think I might be the one that is magical because the summer after that, I wished that this horrible girl in my class would just go away because she made me miserable. We never saw her again. I’m not even joking. Maybe it was mean of me to wish her away but she was a bully and she was horrible to imageme no matter what I did. Just to prove it: Once, I promised my friend that I would go get her violin with her from this instrument cupboard. The horrible “friend” got mad at me because I was going with the other friend and not her so she started talking crap about me to people.

I’m getting distracted! XD


So…HAPPY BIRTHDAY MILLY!!! Even though she can’t read and she’s dead! It’s still her birthday!

Funny story before I end this post: When Milly was turning two, I made this cake…it was bread, shaped as a star, with cat food on top. I turned my back for two minutes and she was on the table, licking her lips. She had eaten the cake. XD It was funny then…


I hope you have a cute attack over the pictures of her because I’ve never seen a cuter cat, myself, and I’ve seen a heck load of cats. =^._.^=




Can Money Buy You Happiness?

I used to think money can buy you happiness because I always thought that if you have a lot of money, you can buy whatever you want and be happy because you have it. I didn’t exactly understand the expression but now I do.


My parents were and still are thinking about moving to a different country, far away. They tried to persuade me by explaining all the ‘positives’. The money we have, here, in England would be make us rich in the other country. My dad told me that we would have a big house, a dog, and since we would be rich, I could have a few things I’ve always wanted. I said no. They even explained that we could visit the beach almost every week because of the great weather and how close we would be and trust me, the beaches, there, are beautiful. There would be loads of places to adventure and explore, which is something I’ve always wanted to do and so many places to take pictures.

I still said no.


This has made me realise that I would definitely choose happiness over money. I would be leaving my family behind, places I made memories in, my friends.

IMG_2033My friends are so important to me. Yes, so is my family but I’ll always have contact with them and I can’t lose them because you I’m connected to them by blood. However, I could lose my friends very easily. And even if they don’t know this and I’ve never told them, they are the most important people to me. Particularly a few of them, not meaning to make favourites. XD

Even though England is pretty cool, the other country is a lot more exotic, adventurous and photographic. England is always cloudy. The other country is usually always sunny. England made me miss the solar eclipse. 😦

But I don’t care.

Even if someone offered me the opportunity to live in New York, I would be hesitant but in the end, I know I would say no.

I’ve never lived in any other country and practically all the good memories have been made here.

I am not willing to leave that.

Yeah, I want to go travelling and explore tons of countries but I don’t think I would ever want to live in a completely different country, leaving everything that makes me happy behind.

That’s something my parents just don’t understand.


Have you ever gone through something a little like this?