We'd do it better than Hollyoaks.

Sat on the beach, it came up in conversation that our regular day lives are more dramatic, more scandalous, and generally more interesting than those girls out of Living on the Edge.
I decided to write this blog, in a similar fashion to my recently created summer diary, so that perhaps someone around the world will read it - and make a Sex and the City-esque programme about the lives of the not-so-rich kids from outside of Alderly Edge, outside of the city, and outside of the soap-operas..

Where to begin?

Summer 2009 has been a drunken blur. Not so exotic, or fabulous - yet full of fantastic memories, fun times, and a lot of similar antics from 2008, 2007, and probably most adolescent summers past. The trio of myself, HB & LB - an unbeatable combination, have become better friends that i could ever imagine. I don't know what this summer would have been without them in my life - to think about it, without them it would be all work and no play. All work and too much alone time.. I dread to think.

For the first time in my life I've been working full time. My work ethic, thanks namely to my mother, is appalling- and the fact that I've stuck it out in my 8-6 office job is something of a miracle. I just keep thinking about the dollar I'm earning when I'm at my most depressed, unmotivated point each day (which always occurs during the hour or so that follows lunch time.) It's so demoralising that I'll never really see the fruits of my labour - what with student debts haunting my financial situation, an unhealthy obsession with M&S and a social calendar that requires money, money, money on tap raping my limited funds. Whoever invented Monday AND Thursday nights out, as well as the Friday- Saturday weekender needs punishing - my liver and bank balance has suffered enough for that cause I think. I probably should count myself lucky though actually, i could have been a lot worse off this summer. A couple of the girls that went to school with me are in far worse situations than i am - putting lids on lipsticks in factories is hardly the glamorous occupation for anyone to have - let alone girls fantasising over the fabulous lifestyles of the Sex and the City women. Unlucky ladies!

Anyway -

To kick off the summer, a night at the solstice in Stonehenge. A stoned blur of people-watching, hippy-raves and illegal activity - all very peaceful, very chilled, and very much about AT and I. After a whole year of university flirting and a kind of almost relationship - it came to both of our attentions that we should just be friends, and that's it. Full stop. He's far too nice a boy to be with a girl like me. I'm far too indecisive to ever be someones girl. The life of a promiscuous teen really is the life of a kid from our town - anyone that says differently is a liar. So, after a night of no sleep, a trek across the Wiltshire hillside, and it was time to prepare ourselves for Glastonbury Festival.

The best thing about festival-ing is the meeting new people, and this year, we met some great ones. It was so long ago that i feel like I've forgotten a lot of what happened. As I went with friends from University, it seems a little disjointed from the story of our town anyway, so I'll blog reminiscently about Glastonbury at a later date.

Returning home was surreal. Having not spent a decent amount of time at home since Christmas it seemed - everything about town and home life had changed. Not only was my home transforming, but almost everyone and all the normals from my adolescence were different from how I'd left them last summer. No doubt old friends would say the same about me though. Looking back, i am unrecognisable from the girl I used to be.

AE and HB for the first holiday i think since puberty were not rekindling their sexploits! Unfortnate, definately. I had always been rooting for them. HB is definately a better version of his new, younger piece of skirt, without a doubt. Just goes to show, rugby boys are not the way forward. Saying this, one member of the trio definately disagrees... LB and MJ - after months of almosts were finally getting it on - and up! They do say third times a charm..

Myself - found myself very much without the boy I'd left behind last summer. After a year of drunken 'I love you's it was hard to see myself replaced by the queen beE. E for ET - the pretty, petite girl- at the forefront of most rugby boys' fantasies. Jealous - yes, but realistically, it was my ridiculous behaviour last summer that resulted in OJ and I being virtual strangers - i've no one but myself to blame.

I can't help but fuck things up. Without playing the martyr - I'm actually a rubbish person. I drink too much, and mess people around terribly. This year, AJ (MJ's brother) and new-kid-on-the-block AS have bore the brunt of my shit behaviour. Sorry, sorry. Bright side - I'm casually chillaxing chez Premier footballer, no longer have to divide my limited free time between a dillusional boy and the rest of my friends - and i can pretty much do what I want now my parents basically hate me. I'll still never be as black a sheep as the elder sister. Result!

Back to the story anyway..

After Glastonbury - Wakestock. Arriving late - post-work, having not properly seen any of the crowd that were there (the crowd consising of the rugby boys and the younger girls - all of those mentioned above plus a few extra characters) and having drank two bottles of rough wine on the car journey down - obviously when I got there things were a little wierd. The younger girls full of judgement- the rugby boys full of resent, the only thing to do was drink myself silly, find some old friends and let the good times roll. HB, LB and I entered the field, and after far too much Jager - the youthful boys seemed far too attractive... Then my memory get's a little blurry. Old friends, new friends, old habits, new drugs.

Passed out before dark - Wakestock is always the same.

LB (naturally) ended up in tent J brother's, HB in with DMJ, begging for sex, and only getting herself to 2nd base - correction (apparently) *3rd. OJ heartbreakingly shacked up with Queen E, MH and AJ (H for Homewrecker) and faux-friend BL (B for Bonjour) and her beau (and old sexploit of HB) Dr.BM. Probably a million more pairs surrounded me, but they were clearly not as rememberable looking back. Jealous, cold and alone - i awoke to the 'wahh, wahh, wahhhhing' of the general camp. God - i sound like OP. Fat Platt. He spent the entire Wakestock in that same boat as I ironically - jealous, cold and very much alone, trying his hardest to convince LB they were indefinately sexing. I think not! I, unlike Fat Platt quickly set to abandon the sinking loner ship - and found myself lusting the 8-pack, blue eyed stoner London boy in the camp next door... Pretty boys FTW.

( For anyone that's reading this - a quick reminder - Quiche really is the worst food to take to a festival. )

To be continued..