For want of a better title

 It's been recommended to me that I restart this blog again. Though in truth, dear readers, I haven't a clue what I am going to write about. Though, from personal experience, I've found that staring at the screen doesn't generally conjure up a winning combination of words.
Despite how much Harry Potter I read.  

 I think it's more the fact that life has, yet again, settled back into the headless chicken routine that I have so easily become accustomed to. Generally if I haven't run anywhere in a mad dash to get something done on-time I'm not working hard enough.

 Sometimes I feel like I'm juggling various objects in a wonderful little circle of madness and people keep coming up to me, tapping me lightly on the shoulder and going "excuse me, can you just hold this for a sec?"

 This may sound like I'm complaining, actually I'm not.

 The lifestyle that I myself have chosen is the one that most appeals to me. I love being busy. I like waking up in the morning and figuring out in my head all the stuff I have to do today, all the people I'll meet and the insanity that will usually ensue with events that spiral so wonderfully out my control.

 However, in this life, it's the little things that my subconscious notices and revisits later on that amuse me. Things like the fact that I hate button flies on Jeans. Simply because of the fact that I'm standing at the urinal at a club, with a massive queue of guys slipping and sliding behind me, and I can't get the bloody button undone! I'm bursting for a wee and I'm stuck in the awkward situation where the little bastard won't come apart! I swear my jeans want to kick back at me at any opportunity. If it's not the stubbornness in clubs it's the sliding down my backside no matter how tight my belt is. I'd probably be suffocating and they'd still be sliding down.

 An interesting little nugget of information for you all is that low jeans, or so I've been told, originate from what was described to me as "the ghetto prisons" which, I'm pretty sure, is probably not the official, 100% not going to get you sued, version of putting it but there we go. Anyway, the idea is that the lower your jeans are, the more up for getting intimate with your fellow inmates you were. A bit of (probably true) history for you there.

 Everyday is a school day because, lets face it, life likes to call you names, make you stay longer and push you face first into some lockers.

 I think that'll do. Hope to speak to you soon!

 Adam

If 4 out of 5 people SUFFER from diarrhea... does that mean that one enjoys it?

The stranger returns... with all new first world problems...

Kay so maybe I've been away a while... (try nearly two months you ungrateful son of a... you never called, you don't answer me, YOU DIDN'T REPLY TO MY Letter!)

Alright, alright, I promise things will be different... we'll hang out more, go see a film... I'll write more...

(Good... well then go on...)

Right well that was basically my introduction sorted...

A smooth an entrance as any, I hope you'll agree!

To address our first topic today... if this gets 3 views I'll have hit 3000. Not bad really *high fives all round*

High fives all round are all well and good... until you realize you're in your room... on your own.

I'M SO LONELYYYYYYYYYYYYY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Turns out high fiving yourself is effectively clapping, though you have to get the vertical issue sorted out... so you're effectively slapping the other hand in a manner not dissimilar to that of an overly enthusiastic sea lion, impressing an audience of imaginary people in order to get the fish you so rightly deserve.

Enough about flashbacks into an inevitably troubled childhood... surrounded by seals... and imaginary friends...

Back on topic: if two hands clap together in a deserted room which probably nobody (hopefully) heard... does it make a sound?

I have plenty of friends, people like me, I'm a nice person...
I have plenty of friends, people like me, I'm a nice person...
I have plenty of friends, people like me, I'm a nice person...
I have plenty of friends, people like me, I'm a nice person...
I have plenty of friends, people like me, I'm a nice person...

Perhaps there are things I really shouldn't put into a blog. Should be interesting to see if that's one of them.

Anyhow, I've been considering the possibility of perhaps changing my style of clothing. The only problem is that I think I'm getting old.

Today I was looking at V neck cardigans/jumpers/pull overs.

You know it's bad when the guy modelling the thing you're wearing looks retired.

Even worse when you can still see yourself in that jumper... playing golf... eating Worthers Original...

The problem is, dear readers, is that I want a style that suits my personality.

Cool... calm... collected... civilized... sophisticated...

And I'm sure many other things that I look at myself in the mirror; panicking that the £1 hair gel I bought from the newsagents makes my hair look greasy...

Maybe I haven't quite found my own style yet. Google, I'm sure, will provide me with the answers in time.

Sometimes I wonder what society labels me...

I mean I'm a student so most of society sees me as a massive money blackhole: the rich watching as what taxes they couldn't avoid paying are spent on booze and drugs.

Okay maybe I don't fit that particular stereotype...

I don't have pink hair, makeup or an obsession with vampires that like to roll in glitter before setting foot into sunlight...

Maybe that's what they really think happens to teenagers... SO THAT'S WHY THEY NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY!

Ladies and Gentlemen: Dr. Adam Legg, expert on all things teenage.

Problem is though, I won't be a teenager soon.

It's true, next year I'll be 20 years of age. The decade I promised myself I'd go travelling, see the world, be young, have fun... no pressure then. These are the years I want to get right...

Anyway lifting up from that deep moment I feel like I should say something witty and intelligent while you all sit there and go "oh yes that's rather impressive... how witty and intelligent you are."

Yeh thanks for laughing.

Maybe I should start a dedicated 1st world problems blog... as this is effectively what this blog has become!

Anyway erm... (say something witty to end)

I feel I should impart some of my vast knowledge and life experience with you... (stalling, think of something!)


Erm... (oh for goodness sake! You're not the messiah, just say something that toes the line of "good kidizenship" something that your teacher would tell you...)


So remember kids! (good start, but you're not counselling David Cameron, you'll need to end that one...)


So yeh kids! (covered that) ...Skip school and do drugs!


(...f***ing nailed it)

Adam x

I am a cool, calm, sophisticated human being,
I am a cool, calm, sophisticated human being,
I am a cool, calm, sophisticated human being,
I am a cool, calm, sophisticated human being,
I am a cool, calm, sophisticated human being,
I just want to be loved.

Adam's adventures in Pottermore.

Recently my feed on Facebook has been overflowing with comments about Pottermore. 

Pottermore is effectively JK Rowling's way of making sure that we are all definitely throwing as many hatchets as we can at the grave of one of the worlds most successful book series. 

This will be my step by step analysis of the website on my first go at it... right let's sign up!

"First we need to check if you are magical." I don't remember in Harry Potter a bit where someone is rejected because of their age, where they live or what language they speak. Evidently there are darker sides to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and general prejudice that I never knew before.  

 Yes I am over 18. No I don't want any spam from you. Right when do I start killing muggles?

Oh I can't go killing muggles? I have to give a password? So this wand that I bought from that crazy man behind the moving wall is pretty useless at the moment then...

Well apparently my password is weak. Hack me if you like. I'm sure I'll be devastated. 

Oh good. I can create a password. Tell them what my name is. I've read all the books and seen the films. And now they tell me I'm bloody magical. Great. Nice one. Bloody muggle technology. 

Been put on a list. Just above Harry Potter. From here it looks like Voldemort's hit list. 

Right now to choose a username.

ChestnutCloak10991, SunNettle25579, AshFloo19832 nor ScarletWave23701 really appealed to me and I was annoyed that I couldn't make up my own username as I had already thought up a couple of good ones:

- Seveninchesnothingspecial101

- Mywandisbiggerthanyourwand202

- ImthereasontheycallherMoaningMyrtle303

They were all pretty valid ones in my opinion. In the end I went for the only one that didn't make me feel like a total idiot. So SnitchWombat12746 it was then. Catchy as. 

So I've done all that. Now for the magical part. Reading the computer generated words to prove your a "real person". I've typed them in. So far so good then!

Tense moment when I'm waiting for my validation email... I can imagine the countdown clock in my head.

Shit. I've forgotten my password. Oh well. That'll teach me to have some crude reference anyway... 

Email in. Over the moon. 

My link is valid for 7 days. I think I'd have to have some serious issues not to have clicked the link in seven days after reading the message. 

Right password.... password, password, password... 

*sigh* forgotten password time. Magical reading of the letters. Depressing. 

Got my password. Clicked "keep me signed in". Not having that problem again. 

Right. Chapter 1, here we go. 

I don't have the books to hand at the moment. Sorry Pottermore I guess this experience won't be as rewarding...

 Right so I'm reading through the chapters. What I'm reminded of is the books you were read as a kid with your mum/dad/guardian pointing out things to you and explaining what they mean. Similar concept. 

 Couple of chapters in and I'm slowly growing to like the concept. After wandering round some of the scenes in the book and collecting thing like some crazed kleptomaniac, I have finally arrived to the part with the letters. 

 The parts written by JK Rowling are fascinating. Although I started this with a really cynical outlook of what was to follow I have genuinely grown to be quite fond of this website.

 For now though I am off to bed! Goodnight wizards and witches everywhere!

Adam.

The only guy in the cinema to laugh at "7 inches, nothing special."

Pluto on tour.

 After a longer than expected break I'm back... tell a friend.

(guess who back, guess who back guess, who back.... denene dundehdundehdundehdun denene dun)

I haven't quite created a monster and I still think people want to see me rather than the alter ego I don't have.


 Anyway I thought today would be a good day to restart the old blog and get back to where we were dear readers. I know we've been through a phase of not really speaking but I do like what we had. You, me, the blog... that sort of thing.

 So I thought I'd inject some enthusiasm back into the relationship by talking about my trip to London.

 A 5.30am start and a shower led me to making one of the hard decisions of the day. What exactly was I going to wear?

 I'd like to say that I was really organised and had everything ready...I'd like to say that.

 I'd also like to say that I'm exactly the sort of guy you'd like to have at your back in a fight. We all know that would be a lie.

 I don't lie to you, dear audience, so I will say that I had bugger all idea of what I was going to wear.

 A reasonably creased shirt, tie and, "I'm pretty sure they're clean" socks later and I looked ready to rock and roll.

 (I'd like to mention that I was wearing underwear and trousers. Just in case you were worried at any point).

 Sleeping on the train was nice. It was a virgin train so standard class is pretty similar to first class in most trains.

 The journey (thankfully) was absent of screaming children, people playing loud music or "Lads on tour" which meant that I slept for a large proportion of the journey there.

 Upon arrival at London we boldly ventured down some escalators in need of a slide option, to the tube.

 It was failing to manage to get onto it that was my first indicator that I was actually too nice for London and while my friends and colleagues were sped away I was left to wait for the next one.

 The tube, although an effective way of traversing the depths of the capital, proved to be jammed with people of all walks of life. Veteran tubers were  obvious by the fact that they didn't seem to need to hold on to the rail and, while I stumbled all over the carriage, they seemed to stay completely still the whole time.

 A superpower if I ever saw one.

 I fell off the tube about two stops later and met up with the group and proceeded to traverse the winding streets of London.

 Crossing the roads in London is kind of like that moment in Dodgeball where he goes; "If you can dodge traffic, you can dodge a ball." As it turns out, this is harder than you think.

 Harder than you think turned out to be 25 tonnes of red bus coming at you from all angles, while cyclists and various motorists competed for your bit of road while you were still standing on it. The pedestrian is not welcome on the roads of London. This point was hammered home when a bus decided it would wait in traffic over a pedestrian crossing. A final kick in the teeth proving the superiority of the bus driver.

 When we eventually made it to the conference in one piece we were actually sat in the same room as Jon Snow... who told us about contracting Hepatitis B on one of his first assignments and not really drinking much since. Still the guy was a bit of a legend and I loved his triple rainbow tie.

 After the conference (which for those who are interested was called "so you want to be a journalist?" and was actually rather good and definitely one to look out for) we headed over to Kings cross area to find somewhere to eat.

 Now, I'd never actually been in a Nando's before. I've had many people tell me that they like Nando's more than my mum does. This is probably true, my mum, to my knowledge, has never been to Nando's and therefore is very impartial to the restaurant.

 Today I thought, you know what, YOLO. So I ventured in with the group and before long it was like I'd been there millions of times.

 When ordering my veggie burger I was asked what kind of spicy I'd like it. I'd been pre-warned about such an occurance by Emily Childs, so the question did not catch me totally off guard. Being the Nando's noob I decided to go for a reasonably mild one and see how I got on.

 I'm ashamed to say it was still pretty spicy for me.

 Back to the till and I was asked that whether I'd like a loyalty card. Knowing that I probably would never set foot in another Nando's again and would likely have lost it before I even got home... I naturally said yes.

 Those of you who have a Nando's loyalty card may have already spotted a bit of a flaw in the logistics of me having one. The clue isn't that I'd never be back, or that I might lose it. No, no dear readers!

 The problem is that the reward that I get for collecting my stamps is free chicken. With my vegetarian meal.

 I was over the moon.

 I decided to opt out of cutlery for the meal, not just because I was bullied for picking the wooden cutlery over the metal cutlery at lunch, but because it encourages you on the menu to use your fingers. I thought when in Nandos...

(...do what the Nandonians do?)

 Anyways that is where I will leave it for tonight!

 I bid thee farewell till our next meeting!

Adam x

I can now safely say I love Nandos more than your mum does. 

Two blogs in 3 days?

I must be ill.

Two blogs in such a small amount of time? Sometimes I'm just far too generous...

Friday I bought myself Smallville season 2 and Scrubs season 1, planning on spending the weekend in bed after  coming home unusually tired after a short stint in lectures during the morning. 

... this has nothing to do with today's post. I put it in anyway. Sue me. 

I realised that I didn't actually know how to spell sue as in the law term. I looked it up.

Many sites on the internet spelled it sew.

Because you're going to trust a legal team who can't even spell what they do. 

Mind you, coming from a country that apparently finds the word "accommodation" the hardest word to spell, that's not that hard to imagine really is it?

... off topic again. 

The truth is that today I've found it pretty hard to concentrate on anything in particular. 

I mean I am well aware I have the attention span of a 5 year old in a sweet shop at the best of times but today has seemed a bit more... erm... more... 

 Daydreamy? I don't know. I know I totally made that word up. Shakespeare did it. 

 Damn right I rate myself along with Shakespeare. 

I'm sitting here attempting to compact my thoughts into words. It's not going very well. 

At the moment my heads a bit "sunshine lollypops and rainbows..." as I dance with a small luminous raccoon on the set of singing in the rain. 

 Yeh let's twist again. Like we did last summer. Oh let's twist again. Like we did last year.

 Do you remember when...

 In my head I am currently twisting with Aslan and the tin man. This has been my day. 

 On the other hand it's been quite a useful mood for me to write my book in. As much as I enjoy the surreal thoughts my head gives me when I get in this mood it's also been enjoyable to focus it into something creative. 

  Timings of today have been a bit off as well. I have spent a lot of today convincing myself that it is actually Saturday. 

 As opposed to Sunday. I'm not that far off. 

 My Ipod hasn't helped. It's been telling me it's 1974 all week. 

Despite my "life on mars" syndrome that seems to be effecting my general state of being I have had a rather good weekend so far. 

 Today I went for a driving lesson again. There were no ninjas/old people in trees this time though. I proved yet again that I should just get out the car to a celebration ceremony, complete with confetti, photographers and random smiling people, where they declare my driving godness and just give me a full driver's licence. 

 Maybe it's just my subconscious telling me that I prefer green over pink. 

 I will keep telling myself that.

Or maybe they can't just find some random smiling people. 

 Tomorrow I have convinced myself that I will go get some exercise and tidy my room.

I must be worse than I thought! Someone call me an ambulance! 

Adam xx

Some days you're the bug,
and other days you're the windshield!

... and others I'm dancing the hula with the red power ranger. 

Where does that leave me again?

 

I take thee Maria... through sickness and mic problems

 Afternoon all!

I realise the problems in putting specific time frame in place when I write these blogs simply due to the fact that I may write this in the afternoon, but you may not read it until the evening.

"Afternoon? Is he mad? It's dark outside... what a weirdo..."

Anyway last night, (again another time frame; I'm sorry about these I really am) I went back to my old secondary school to watch my brother in the musical production of West Side Story.

 It was strange because it was the first production I haven't actually helped out at in any shape or form. So I had the luxury of sitting in the audience while the technical team had their traditional last performance panic.

 All the cast put on great performances as usual despite the technical problems that are inevitable at the production which is well known by any veteran of them.

 This is not actually the fault of the techies (usually faulty equipment) however I enjoyed the show nonetheless.

Well done to everyone involved. Robin you made a great Jet.


Moving on...

Usually my blogs have a couple of topics that I talk about... sometimes to great length, other-times not so.

Something I have never really touched upon are my flatmates.

Don't think this is going to be some massive bitchfest now. It isn't.

My flatmate, Jenny Hill, has been wanting a mention since before christmas.

So I thought I'd give you a round up of what each are like within the flat. Maybe a few mentions on what's gone on the fuck up wall.


First off we might as well start with Jenny as she's the one that wants the mention.


Jenny is the token lass from the valleys. As she gets more drunk she turns more welsh.

Preston doesn't have many sheep... if it did...

Jenny is a massive fan of Katy Perry and Jessie J and puts on a sterling performance at Karaoke when drunk. Her rendition of "who's laughing now?" I thought was really good until I realised the DJ had caught on how drunk she was at the time and had subtley turned the actual lyrics up a bit.

 She keeps us all laughing with a running joke she has about her seven boyfriends, one for every day of the week, with their big boats, fancy cars and enough money to make Bill Gates ask for a loan.

 One thing I noticed about when I was back home was how quiet it was at night. This is because my usual method of sleeping (closing my eyes and hoping for the best really) is accompanied by either a full album of her favourite females coming from her room.

 I personally don't think I'll ever be able to sleep again without "Do it like a dude" playing in the background.

Overall Jenny is very funny with the current record of fuck ups on the fuck up board.


Jade. The mother of the flat.

Jade is kind of the go-to person of the flat. If your upset about something or just in need of some company Jade is usually in her room with the TV on and barely moves from her bed.

3pm is an early morning for the party queen who, despite sometimes having the most to shout about, I've never heard raise her voice against anyone yet.

I don't plan to either. I'd probably run and hide in a corner.

I'd like to say she could easily drink me under the table. However me being the lightweight that I am; my six year old sister could probably do that and then still drive home...

... if she could reach the pedals. It would probably be a toy story moment with her on the wheel shouting orders and several of her friends operating the car.

That would probably take some explaining.


Beth. Masterchef.

Beth is perhaps the only one out of us with proper kitchen experience after working in a pub on her gap yar tarquin.

 She evidently did something bad in a past life to draw the short straw of getting one of two rooms next to mine. As such she has to put up with me playing the guitar and organising stuff to play on the show each week.

 Hailing from somewhere in the middle of nowhere Beth is a Cumbrian girl who I have often had funny times talking about the seconds I would last over there.

 From what it sounds like I could probably walk into a bar over there and be instantly hated  by everyone in it. Turns out I have more readers than I thought.


 Christos. Futsal god.

Futsal is a variation on football, it's played indoors with a smaller ball.

Christos is apparently pretty good at this sport as he's up and down the country at trails etc.

When he's not he's practicing his skills in the middle of the kitchen when the rest of us are working around him.

 For some reason seems to be an attractive target for fists of various kinds, his heart is in the right place and is a genuinely nice guy.

 I have my suspicions that he drank my fruitjuice though. I'm watching you Christos ;)

Recently we found where all of our missing bits of cutlery go.

Christos, like a magpie of kitchen utensils, hoards them in his room. Might be worth a raid at some point.


Megan. Single-handedly keeping the bleach industry alive since 1993.

The only reason this flat hasn't been completely taken over by the gods of unclean pottery is because of Megan's ceaseless battle to keep the place looking reasonably clean.

A creative writer as her chosen profession she is soon to be taking up blogging so I might have some competition on that front!

Often seen around the flat with a glass of wine in her hand. Megan doesn't seem to miss an opportunity to let her hair down and have fun. Usually with her boyfriend Richard. (not like that) they often go down to source for drinks or are at the karaoke on tuesday nights.


Last, but not least, the newbie, Kieron.

 Bit of a kindred spirit. Moved in just after christmas when his parents moved out of Preston to the Forest of Dean.

 18 years of age and currently managing the post office the family own but are attempting to sell.

Moving in with this guy next year. Very similar sense of humor which usually involved taking the mick out of Andy, a flat friend.

Xbox fan and avid tea drinker, me and him are often found in the kitchen bashing Halo 2 and taking it a little too seriously.


 So yeh that's my flat. Hope they like what they see here!

Adam xx

We never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public.

The fish... there's more?

Hi all :) Hope you've all had a great weekend :)

My keyboard isn't working very well at times so I'll have to be extra careful with spelling etc.!

Apologies in advance if there are letters missing. C'est la vie. (Damn right I can speak French)

Anywhooo onto today's main topic!

... Well there isn't really one to be honest.

I thought I'd better write a blog talking through some of the improvements I've made to it for those who are easily...

...10 minutes later and I've stopped feeding my fish, sorry I got distract...

...

...

...

...

...

Hehehe the fish follow my cursor and everything...

*Ahem* sorry about that.

So far I think I'm doing rather well on the old spelling front.

...wonder how long that will last...

I have had a letter in from a reader



Dear Adam

I have been reading your blogs since day one and have been unable to comment due to the awful commenting system. Please can you do something about it?

Love from,

Completely Fictitious Reader



Ask and it will be provided :) there is now a comment thingymebob at the side. Say hi or whatever :)


Have a nice week :)

Adam

Light travels faster than sound.
That's why some people seem relatively bright until they start talking.