BEDA 4: The (Not So) Little Girl I've Known A Long Time

We've all had the same treatment from a distant family friend, or an old primary school teacher, who hasn't seen you in years. You've grown up as time has gone on but the last time they saw you, you were 'only as big as [my] knee!' You get the typical 'My, how you've grown' and you just look at the person with a puzzled expression, silently thinking 'Well of course I have, that's how time works!'

I'm sure its something we've all experienced from one end, the other, or both. And it's not until you do experience it from both ends that the puzzled expression fades and you empathise with how they feel.

Picture this: it's 2002, I'm 10 years old and all of the year 6's have taken a course to become 'buddies' for the reception students - although only a certain few get to do it everyday. Although you're supposed to look after a group of a few students, we all tended to take one under our wing.

My 4 year old was the cutest little girl with a blonde bob who was oh-so-quiet but knew how to run. The best part of a year was spent trying to catch her, making sure she spoke up to integrate with the other children and just generally being her friend.

Fast forward to the present day. A couple of weeks ago I saw her in her high school uniform. She's 13. It's been 9 years, but it feels like no more than 9 weeks. I saw her a couple of times and actually played Wii boxing with her on one occasion (she got stroppy because I beat her; some things don't change) but for the most part of 9 years we've just been living on the same street, not the friends we used to be. She's a young woman now, with friends she has to get a bus to see and her GCSE exams coming up in the next two years. But in my head she's still 4, and I can't believe how quickly she's grown up.

I finally understood it. And 5 days after I saw her I ran an old family friend of my mother's; who I hadn't seen for years. She couldn't believe I had already been away and done a year at uni, because to her I was only about 7... And I didn't roll my eyes, I didn't act confused, I totally got how she felt; how old I must make her feel just for having lived as long as I have.

I know that if I told my teenaged 4 year old that I still think of her as being so little from back when I was her 'buddy' and can't believe how she's grown; she'd look at me funny and just shrug it off as something adults say. But one day she'll understand; one day it'll be her.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 3: Oldest Song You Love (I really struggled with this, as I don't know what came out when! So I went with the oldest Beatles song in my iTunes)

Love Me Do - The Beatles

On the train home...

I hate trains.

I mean we all have some sort of disdain for public transport, a lot of the time you would rather be driving than having to share your locomotive with a bunch of strangers who would be weirdoes and there always seems to be at least one that is. But I actually hate trains.

I'm currently typing on the train. This isn't all that weird but there are people who are looking at me funny with my widescreen laptop (I get the same look in lectures, but it's the most beautiful thing I own so it doesn't bother me) perched on my knee typing away like my life depends on it. The train to Preston was hell, delayed for half an hour and nowhere to sit; worried I was running over peoples toes with my suitcase and almost not able to get off. It wouldn't have been a disaster to not be able to get off, I could have just gone straight to Wigan but I didn't pay to Wigan so I may have got in some trouble there.

I don't know what makes trains any more scary than buses. I got 4 buses a day almost every weekday for 2 years and although the thought of leaving the house to start my 1 hour commute to college filled me with dread almost every morning – it wasn't the bus part of the experience that was the negative part. Buses and trains are not that much different. Trains are actually more reliable and if they are going to be delayed you know about it in advance and usually know approximately by how much as well, something you don't get with buses. At some point I've had to run for both. They both follow pretty strict routes and trains are faster. Train drivers can't just choose to change their route and not take you where they are supposed to take you because of snow or traffic (I'm talking to you Number 3 bus driver who decided not to go to New Look and dropped us at the side of the road instead). All in all you'd think that trains would be the preferred mode of public transport.

And yet I hate them.

Maybe it has to do with the fact that 95% of the train journeys I have made have been carrying a significant amount of luggage. I did nearly run over several pairs of feet on the train from Lancaster to Preston and trying to carry a laptop in its bag along with a suitcase and a bag of stuff that wouldn't fit in the suitcase is not the easiest thing for a 5"2' woman to achieve. But I carried the same luggage from my room to the bus to get to town centre, and this wasn't as stressful. It was still stressful mind, just not as stressful. So that doesn't seem to be it either.

I was thinking about this, and all of my previous experiences with trains. If you look at my family you'd expect me to have a fear of buses rather than a fear of trains – my mother can't stand buses. But I couldn't think what it could be that induced this emotional response when it came to the thought of having to get a train on my own. In fact the first time I ever did get a train on my own I broke down crying because I didn't want to do it.

And then I remembered. I can't remember how old I was at the time, but my mum was really into cross stitch and she would go to a cross stitch and craft fair with her friend every year. And I had gotten really into cross stitch as well so I was going to the same fair. On the train. But, because I was so young I had been stupid enough not to go to the loo before we left. Needless to say, we were on the train and I was really desperate for a wee. The train toilet was out of order. We were stopping at another station before we got to Manchester but there wouldn't be enough time to get me off and into the loo. So my mum did what you could do back then with young children, took me to the train doors so I could have a wee on the platform while the train was stopped (obviously this gives you a clue as to how young I really was). The train doors closed (on my Godmother's arm if I remember rightly, because she had tried to stop them) and we were still on the platform. Our tickets, my mum's bag, all of the other stuff we had brought with us were on the train with my mum's friend. Naturally, being a young child I started to cry, I had no idea what it was that we were going to do. I was young, I didn't understand trains; I didn’t know what to do. It worked out fine; we just got on the next train and were lucky enough that nobody asked us for our tickets.

Maybe this one event has had an effect on me for the rest of my life. I do manage to get trains; I'm on one now. In fact this is my 6th in the last 6 days. But I still get a sinking feeling when I know that I have to leave the house to go and get a train somewhere. Maybe next time I get the train I'll try going somewhere where I don't need any luggage and we'll see how stressful that is. But maybe I will just be scared of trains for a while to come, but often my life is about facing fears (such as leaving my room and walking around a very slippy campus to a lecture).

Anyway, I'll be home by 5, which is when this will probably be posted because you're not actually here with me at this point. My dad is picking me up from the station but will be a bit late because he has to work, but a lift greatly reduces the stress of the journey overall because buses in Skem are much more stressful than their counterparts anywhere else I will tell you that now.

Another thing that really annoyed me was when I was on my train from Lancaster to Preston it rushed past campus. An hour after I left campus. Seems like such a waste of time and energy to be doubling back on myself, but that's just the way the world is built!

Songs

I'm crying and homesick so I thought I'd blog before I go to bed. I was watching BlogTV and Tom Milsom (http://www.youtube.com/hexachordal) and Eddplant (http://www.youtube.com/eddplant) were singing beautifully but they ended on three songs which made me blub like a little girl. Three songs that remind me of my family. They would have only needed to whack out a bit of Eminem and Rihanna to get the big 4 and send me into a spiral.

1. Time of Your Life - Green Day

I don't know why this reminds me of my mum, but it does. Its most likely the memories of us listening to it after I left high school and what a happy time in my life it was.

2. Book of Love - Peter Gabriel

I know this song from Scrubs - JD's last episode. And I always used to watch Scrubs with my dad on my free afternoons in college before he went back to work. So naturally my brain makes the link between this and my dad. Plus I blubbed like a baby at the last episode of Scrubs, so you know, classical conditioning.

3. Hey There Delilah - Plain White T's

I thought I was going to explode when I saw someone suggest this in the comments. This one reminds me of my brother. When I was doing my GCSE music in high school I sang this song for my practice performance exam in the December of my final year. My brother was supposed to play the guitar for it but he left because of serious bullying. This one made me cry the most. It always reminds me of Chris and of home and of a bad time in my life so I pretty much started crying the second the first two notes were played on the guitar.

This isn't particularly articulate. Its almost half 2 and I promised myself an early night for Tash coming up tomorrow. But this is something that happened tonight, and I wanted to remember this moment - after all, that's why I started doing this.

People in the chat said they were recording the BlogTV as well. I really hope I can find Tom and Edd's versions of these songs tomorrow morning on YouTube.

Smelly facts

I own 20 bottles of perfume.

I can't always look good. I have been ill recently and have used an extortionate amount of foundation to cover up my blotchy skin tone.

I can't always wear nice shoes. I have a knee condition meaning sensible shoes are a must from 9 to 5 with heels ONLY for special occasions.

I'm limited in the clothes I can pull off. My body shape is an awkward one. Trying to maximise my breasts while minimising my stomach is rarely easy to do.

I don't have good luck with handbags. I carry a lot of stuff, so it has to be big.

But I can always smell nice.

The best trigger of memory is olfactory sensations. You can remember what a scene looked like, you can remember the noises that you could hear; you could even remember how you were feeling at the time to try and piece together a memory with varying degrees of success.

But the thing that will trigger all of these memories the most is smell. If you smell the same thing that you could smell at the time of the thing you are trying to remember; the memories will be stronger than with any other sensation.

For my 18th birthday party I was wearing Velvet Hour by Kate Moss and I am reminded of this wonderful time with friends and family everytime I wear the same perfume.

My favourite bottle is Little White Dress by Avon. It's half empty because it used to belong to my mother. The scent always reminds me of her because I bought it for her as a birthday present a few years ago. If I'm feeling homesick I will simply take it out of the box and smell it and will instantly be flooded with memories of her.

She gave it to me the day I left for university - just over 1 week ago. I wore it that day. So it also reminds me of the difficulties that I faced in leaving home and the euphoria I felt when I realised that I could, in fact, do it and everything was going to be okay.

I also have shower gel that smells like food. As well as several shower gels, moisturisers and body sprays that came in sets with the aforementioned perfumes. Some people call it an obsession and say that there is no reason that I would need to smell differently everyday for nearly three weeks, but I think they misunderstand why I have so many bottles. If I borrow a bottle from a friend when I have forgotten my own, I will usually end up buying a version of that same bottle for myself - for the memories.

I am, by no stretch of the imagination, done with buying different bottles of perfume and when the ones I have run out they will also have to be replaced; which is fine as well. It's a fairly expensive habit, but its better than some expensive habits that I could have.