Helen has tagged me. I am obediently obeying the tagging imperative. Did you all want to know seven more weird (in my opinion) things about me? That I haven’t mentioned before?
Ah well. It’s NaBloPoMo. I need blog fodder. Up with me we all shall put.
- I am so, so scared of singing in public it isn’t even funny. It’s not even that I can’t sing, because I keep a tune fairly well and can hit the high notes and everything. I was once in choir. I think, even, I could sing in a choir now without dying. Just as long as no one listens to me. At all. Ever. I blame my family for this. Having been in the choir, I used to trundle round the house warbling like a song-bird, and was gradually ground into a heap of frantic splinters by being told to shut up that ungodly row every single time. When I wasn’t being mocked mercilessly for my pretentions to tunefulness. You see, in my family, you can either Do, and Do beautifully, or you Do Not Do. There is no try.
- I like maps. When I am rich [When, she says, poor little eejit - Ed], I shall decorate the walls of my library with antique maps. Is that weird? Not very. Bother.
- I do not like Darjeeling tea. Not even expensive and glamorous Darjeeling served in fine bone-china cups, not even seriously brewed Darjeeling in a mug with plenty of milk and sugar. Don’t like it. Sorry. Prefer china tea. Apparantly this makes me odd. Jolly good.
- To me, Baileys tastes of defeat. I simply can’t stomach it. The very last election that Labour lost, I was a few weeks short of my 18th birthday and unable to vote. My older sister and I sat up all night, watching the exceedingly depressing results come in, and drinking Baileys. Went to bed glumly plastered, woke up with a head like a brass band drum, and the Tories had still won. Ah, but we had faith in the left, once.
- Have I mentioned that I am terrified of slugs? Yes? Oh well.
- I loathe discos, night clubs, general loud music, overpriced booze, and the expectation that I get up and boogie in a sea of migraine-inducing flashing lights and other people’s sweat. For a student, that is now deeply weird. Heh heh.
- I’d love a pet Pterodactylus elegans.
I think I’m supposed to tag seven people. Err. Right. Seven of you, consider yourselves tagged.
