Poking resulted in bruising.

You didn’t have 367 friends you never talk to.

No one knew, or cared what you ate for lunch. They still don’t care. 

If someone wrote on your wall, you’d report them for vandalism. Now you actively encourage friends to do so. 

Unless you wore a ring on your finger or your heart on your sleeve, then your relationship status was often a mystery to others.

You were only tagged in the playground by friends, not when eating chicken wings at Nando’s.

Your mother merely suspected you made a complete twit of yourself on Friday night. Now she has photographic evidence. 

ON A POSITIVE NOTE:

Nobody forgets your birthday anymore. Facebook won’t let them. 

You have a captive audience* to promote your latest business venture / charitable event / blog post / boyfriend / kitten.  *Until they get bored and unfriend you.

There’s always detagging. Phew.  

The power of networking. Presidents have been elected, Dictators fallen and Simon Cowell undermined, all thanks to Facebook. God bless it.

You learn new things. Like the medicinal power of peas, courtesy of your cousin’s constipated goldfish. 

Think of your Profile as the coolest autobiographical scrapbook ever. Absolutely no need to faff with glue, scissors, glitter, pretty paper, or not-so pretty paper cuts:

She is a lifelong supporter of Brighton and Hove Albion, though is yet to attend any football matches at their home ground due to mobility issues.

At three years old, Goldie likes nothing more than chewing her siblings’ tails, watching SpongeBob SquarePants and listening to Lady Gaga.

Come Dine with Me was her favourite television programme – until they showed her great-aunt being deep fried and served as an entrée. That kind of took the magic out of it.

Two days ago Goldie took a turn for the worse. Those of a nervous disposition should look away now: 

It is fair to say that everyone apart from Goldie’s owner (my cousin Sarah) had given up on her. A patch of lawn at the back of the garden was earmarked for her grave and a discarded tube of Bisto gravy granules was set aside for her coffin.

All was not lost though, as rumour had it that when fish swim upside down – they are not necessarily on their death bed, just somewhat constipated. (Who knew?) Not only that, but frozen peas (yes, peas) aid their digestion.

So Sarah fed Goldie peas accordingly – and look what happened overnight:

"My mama told me when I was young, We are all born superstars"

It’s a fishy miracle!

I feel there are two morals to this story:

1. Never give up on someone you love.
2. Give peas a chance. 

• The karaoke judges at Haven Holidays failed to appreciate my flawless rendition of ‘The Shoop Shoop Song’. (When I say “flawless”, I may have exaggerated a little – there were a few tuning issues, I forgot the words and my performance was lacking in melody, harmony and rhythm).
• I once came third in a Michael Jackson lookalike competition.
• Despite 3,792 submissions, none of my artwork ever made it onto Blue Peter.
• Simon Cowell was not amused by my recorder symphony of ‘Three Blind Mice’ – despite playing it through my nose.
• I missed out on the best costume prize at a friend’s Halloween party in 1991. The winner incidentally wore a white bed sheet with two eyeholes cut out of it. Even at eight years old – I could spot a fix at fifty paces.

Having spent so many years being overlooked, underappreciated and totally misunderstood (that’s my defence and I’m sticking with it) imagine my surprise and delight when this humble blog of mine was actually nominated for something fabulous. It was just so unexpected! So I danced like a rock star to celebrate. 

Now picture my response when I received four further nominations for other awards – within ten days. (I might have self-combusted a little bit). 

Okay, so given my misspent youth, I’m no expert on acceptance speeches – but I think I have a reasonable grasp of the etiquette:

DO

• Thank all the people who made this possible.
• Say something heartfelt.
• Recognise those you believe to be brilliant.

DON’T

• Blub. 
• Have a major wardrobe malfunction. Bras and Knickers are strictly off limits.
• Forget anyone really important. Like your mother/father/border collie.
• Offend people.
• Get intoxicated.
• Bring along a superfluous handbag, or lose a shoe en-route. Thank you Meryl Streep:

SO HERE GOES:

* Thank all the people who made this possible* I wish to express my gratitude and undying love to the following thoroughly upstanding individuals for seeing something in me that Simon Cowell clearly did not. Here they are, along with the awards they bestowed upon me:

Suburban Enlightenment

April Hawks

Twyste

TaylaAC

Arizona Girl

*Here’s the heartfelt bit* It means a lot to me; really. Thank you.

*Recognise those you believe to be brilliant* Having spent literally minutes on PowerPoint creating a totally made up, brand new, fancy schmancy award, I would like to present it to the following outstanding blogs for being ruddy marvellous. I highly recommend them to anyone:  

The Life and Times of Nathan Badley

Prawn and Quartered

Childhood Relived

Project 1979

Globe Tracer 

Life Outside the Wall 

I believe this is the point in proceedings when the producer goes to commercials, so before I forget – I’d like to thank my mother, father, lucky pants and dog Yoko – who also made me smile all over my face. (Apart from the time she ate my favourite scrunchie).

At eight years old, my extensive list of achievements included:

• Playing a Daffodil in my school’s production of Alice in Wonderland.
• Learning all of the words to Disney’s Beauty and the Beast.
• Mastering my three times table.                             
• Drawing a Viking, whose immense moustache protruded from his nostrils.

When Oliver was eight – he started programming computers. By nine – he moved on to assembler programming (whatever that is). I just thought he was showing off.

Some people are simply destined for greatness. Oliver is one of them. Though don’t feel too bad – he can’t cook:  

Rumour has it Victoria Beckham has twelve toes, Brad Pitt is actually bald, Adele’s breath smells of cabbage, Dame Judi Dench once had an illicit affair with Billy Connolly and Sylvester Stallone can’t sleep without his comfort blanket.

Okay, so none of the above statements are strictly true, but for a brief moment, when you thought they might have been – weren’t you uplifted, just a little? By learning the flaws and mistakes of others – we feel a little better about ourselves (and sometimes a teeny bit smug). 

If it helps – Lily Allen really does have a nubbin.

As I face the formidable task of job hunting in this uncertain financial climate, I am comforted by the fact I don’t actually need to be perfect. Excellent news, given that I have the hand-eye coordination of a Muppet, coupled with the athletic dexterity of Moby Dick. I may not be made for waitressing, cheerleading or fire-juggling, but I can string a sentence together. I even know what an apostrophe is and I’m not afraid to use one. So somewhere out there in the job hunting abyss is an occupation with my name on it, something I am meant to do – that doesn’t involve spilling hot drinks, dropping people, or setting myself ablaze.    

I hear there might be a few openings at The Sun…

Admittedly, I hadn’t really removed any of the dirt, merely repositioned it. Considering the fact I had worked my way through a thousand gallons of water, two giant sponges, six bottles of washing-up liquid and 32 rolls of kitchen towel – this was something of a disappointment.

My parents were very keen to teach my brothers and I the value of money at a young age, and it is fair to say – they succeeded. Having persevered with the car for a further two hours, I was dutifully rewarded for my hard work, determination, blood, sweat and tears (so many tears) with what my father considered to be the going rate: fifty pence. I also caught a cold from being sopping wet all day, developed a rash from the industrial cleaning products and lost all feeling in my fingertips for three days.

Needless to say – that was the last time I ever worked for 7.6 pence an hour. It also marked the end of my short-lived car valeting career.

I was made redundant today, a scary prospect to say the least. To mark the occasion (aside from the obligatory job hunting) I thought I’d take stock of what I’ve learnt so far in my fourteen years of employment. Please remember, I was young and needed the money:

AS A WAITRESS – ONCE YOU’VE TAKEN A FOOD ORDER – MAKE SURE YOU PASS IT ON TO THE KITCHEN STAFF. They’ll cook it so much quicker that way.

CUSTOMERS DON’T TEND TO LIKE IT WHEN YOU SPILL HOT COFFEE DOWN THEM.

WHEN CARRYING 72 EMPTY PINT GLASSES STACKED ON TOP OF ONE ANOTHER, BE CAREFUL NOT TO TRIP OVER YOUR OWN FEET.

IF AN INTOXICATED CUSTOMER LOOKS LIKE HE’S ABOUT TO THROW TWO BEER BOTTLES AT YOUR HEAD – IT’S BECAUSE HE IS ABOUT TO THROW TWO BEER BOTTLES AT YOUR HEAD. That’s your cue to move.

DON’T BE A DOORMAT. If your obsequious boss frequently guilt-trips you into coming in early (unpaid), finishing late (also unpaid), cancelling your social life and mopping the floor with your tongue: leave.     

NEVER DATE THE BOSS. Especially when he looks like Phil Mitchell.

WHEN YOU EVENTUALLY GET A PROPER GROWNUP JOB – ALWAYS CHECK YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR BEFORE LEAVING THE HOUSE FOR WORK. You can just about get away with odd socks, but wearing your top inside out in the boardroom will start rumours.

IF YOU FALL ASLEEP AT YOUR DESK/CRY IN THE LADIES TOILETS/VOMIT IN THE WASTEPAPER BASKET, JUST ONCE – DON’T EXPECT YOUR COLLEAGUES TO FORGET IT. EVER. 

ANNOY PEOPLE LESS AND THEREFORE AVOID GETTING STABBED WITH A BIRO.

MINIMISE THE WEB BROWSER WHEN YOUR BOSS COMES OVER. Not everyone shares your appreciation of David Beckham in his underpants. (I am yet to establish why).

THE NIGHT BEFORE YOUR INTERVIEW IS NOT THE TIME TO EXPERIMENT WITH FAKE TAN.

BEWARE: “REPLY ALL”.

FOR SOME LIGHT ENTERTAINMENT – REPLACE YOUR BOSS’ MOTIVATIONAL POSTER “PLAN, PREPARE, PERFORM” WITH ONE FAR MORE CONSTRUCTIVE, LIKE “PLAN, PREPARE, POTATO”. I give it 3 weeks before he notices.

DO SOMETHING YOU ENJOY.

HAVE A PLAN E! This is mine.

I feel that I’ve learnt a lot about train etiquette on this brief four and a half hour journey. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it goes a little something like this:

BEFORE YOU PURCHASE YOUR TICKET – ENSURE YOU SMELL OF FEET.

WHEN BOARDING YOUR TRAIN – IGNORE ALL INSTINCTS TO BE POLITE AND/OR CONSIDERATE IN ANY WAY. It’s every man (and woman) for themselves. Pushing and shoving are actively encouraged. A swift elbow to the face should render any assailant unconscious. Where possible – arm yourself with a large umbrella / bicycle / Rottweiler.

IF YOU FEEL THE NEED TO HOLD A PRIVATE CONVERSATION ON YOUR MOBILE PHONE (REALLY LOUDLY) HEAD TO THE QUIET ZONE. They’ll love you.

MAKE SURE YOU DRINK LOTS OF FLUIDS BEFORE EMBARKING ON YOUR JOURNEY. You’ll get to experience the delightful facilities that your train network provider has to offer: A door that does not lock, loo roll as soft as sandpaper and a flush powerful enough to evacuate your colon.

BE OVERTLY RUDE TO THE TICKET INSPECTOR. He’s a lesser human being than you after all and therefore doesn’t warrant any courtesy or respect.

MID-MORNING – EAT SOMETHING INTOXICATING, LIKE AN EGG MAYONNAISE SANDWICH. The wondrous odour will engulf your entire carriage and everyone will think you are wonderful for sharing.

IF YOU NEGLECTED TO BRING A SNACK WITH YOU – FEAR NOT. So long as you’re willing to remortgage your house, then the onboard catering staff will happily sell you a Mars bar.

HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS? THEN COUGH, SNEEZE AND SPLUTTER. Do so with wild abandon and without tissues – preferably in the face of someone who is eight foot tall, extremely hairy, adorned with piercings and has “HATE” tattooed across her knuckles.

DON’T HOG YOUR MUSIC COLLECTION. Set your MP3 player’s default setting to maximum volume. If you haven’t perforated an eardrum, then it’s too quiet.  Of course the world will share your love of Van Halen / Mozart / Westlife / Justin Bieber.

WHEN ACCOMPANIED BY YOUNG CHILDREN, ENSURE THEY HAVE NOTHING WHATSOEVER TO KEEP THEMSELVES OCCUPIED. For goodness sake – don’t give them a colouring book, or feed them slices of mango – you’ll only show all of the other parents up. Feed them a giant sausage roll, family sized bag of Haribo, some Monster Munch and a gallon of full fat Coke. That’ll keep them happy. By kicking, screaming and pulling the hair of innocent bystanders they are merely “testing the boundaries” and such behaviour should be commended. Reward them with more sweets. If they do misbehave – also give them sweets.

BE NICE TO THE CRAZY WOMAN ON HER LAPTOP, WITH THE RIPPED JEANS, PRIMANI SNOW BOOTS AND DAVID BECKHAM SCREENSAVER. She’s probably writing about you.

I got a splinter the size of a llama in my left pinky.

My brother Chris drew freckles on my hobby horse in indelible ink.

I once forgot to wear cycling shorts under my summer dress at school, so when practising handstands – inadvertently flashed my knickers at all the boys.

My Tracy Island looked nothing like the one they made earlier on Blue Peter.

A giant Stay Puft Marshmallow Man romped through New York City and I thought we were all going to die (so hid behind the sofa).

My parents banned me from:

1. Riding a motorcycle.
2. Having a pet tiger.
3. Getting a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tattoo.
4. Helping myself to any more of the grown-ups’ fruit punch.
5. Microwaving any of my brothers’ toy soldiers (again). Especially the metal ones.

Okay, with hindsight – not having Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo and Donatello permanently imprinted on my back may have been a good move – but I still want a pet tiger.

Children are a lot more intelligent than we give them credit for. I decided at 7 years old that I never wanted to be self-employed like my father, as he worked roughly 87 hours a week and we rarely got any quality time with him. I stand by this decision. Here are my top 10 equally insightful things that children know and adults have forgotten:

1. ANYTHING TASTES BETTER WHEN COATED WITH BREADCRUMBS AND SHAPED LIKE A DINOSAUR.

2. NOTHING HEALS A GRAZED KNEE FASTER THAN A REALLY AWESOME PLASTER…EVEN WHEN YOU DON’T ACTUALLY NEED ONE.

3. FOR A HANDY SNACK ON THE MOVE – INSPECT THE CONTENTS OF YOUR NOSE.

4. MONSTERS LIVE IN CUPBOARDS, UNDER BEDS AND BENEATH THE STAIRS.

5. ALL BODILY FUNCTIONS, WITHOUT EXCEPTION ARE HILARIOUS.

6. SANTA IS OMNISCIENT AND OMNIPOTENT. BE AFRAID.

7. SNOW IS ALWAYS A GOOD THING.

8. PLANES, TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES ROCK.

9. YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO BUY WITH THE 37 PENCE AND 2 CHOCOLATE BUTTONS IN YOUR PIGGY BANK: A PONY.

10. ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE. JUST BELIEVE. (PLEASE SEE POINT 9). 

• Henry VIII put it about a bit. (Quite a lot actually).
• Guy Fawkes was a pyromaniac.
• “When in an exam situation – if you can’t remember the year something happened, just put 1962. Lots of things happened in 1962”. (John Keenan, Media Studies teacher; legend).

I was fortunate enough to benefit from a decent education. That said, I did once spend an entire term in Metal Work making a pooper scooper, so arguably my time could have been better utilised elsewhere.

There are several things that with hindsight, I wish they had taught me in school. Here’s my top ten:

1. BULLIES NEVER PROSPER. Those evil witches who pick on you now, throw pencil shavings in your hair and spit in your pencil case? Get the popcorn ready – they’ll soon be regular guests on the Jeremy Kyle show.

2. DON’T BE A SHEEP. You’ll waste the first 16 years of your life desperately trying to follow the herd and fit in, then the rest of forever trying to stand out.

3. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW GORGEOUS YOU ARE RIGHT NOW. I don’t expect you to understand – you’ll only realise this in 15 years time, when you’re older, fatter and less firm.

4. FAILURE IS AN OPTION. You are not destined to be a Tomato, win The X Factor or marry Ronan Keating. Once fully disillusioned – you’ll learn a valuable lesson and go on to succeed in something you never expected – like Rubik’s Cube solving. A key life skill.

5. “BE NICE TO NERDS. CHANCES ARE YOU‘LL END UP WORKING FOR ONE”. Listen to that Bill Gates chap; he’s something of an authority on the matter.

6. UNIVERSITY IS NOT THE ONLY OPTION. Without it – you are likely to be just as successful, without sclerosis of the liver or a debt problem.

7. IF YOU DOWN 2 SAMBUCAS, 3 VODKAS AND 5 AFTERSHOCKS IN CLOSE SUCCESSION, YOU WILL BE SICK AND IT WILL GLOW IN THE DARK.   

8. NO, YOU CANNOT HOOVER UP PAPERCLIPS. DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TRYING. The warranty will not cover damage caused by miscellaneous stationery items, Christmas ornaments or pet gerbils. House spiders however are permitted.

9. WHITE FOOTBALL SHIRTS DO NOT RESPOND WELL TO SHARING A WASHING MACHINE WITH RED SOCKS. Your husband and his team will not thank you either.

10. CAREER-WISE: HAVE A PLAN E. You are likely to need one.

Then, at 15 years old – something changed. As an A* student, it was most out of character for me to fall asleep in my GCSE History exam. I ate iced buns by the dozen and endeavoured to satisfy my unquenchable thirst by downing roughly 396 gallons of water a day. It became an effort to walk 100 yards to the bus-stop, at 5’6″ my weight plummeted to 6 stone, I had constant halitosis and to add insult to injury – my hair started falling out. This was not the look I was going for to bag myself a hottie.

Being a teenager – I would rather have stuck a fork in my eye than talked to my parents about this – as it was, like sooo embarrassing. So I didn’t. I took the sensible approach of suffering in silence, sleeping 14 hours a day and almost failing my GCSEs. Genius, I know.

Despite my best attempts to hide the fact that by 16 – I had developed the get up and go of a 98 year old and the body of an 8 year old – my parents noticed. Damn them. One trip to the GP and a pee in a cup later and I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.

Admittedly, upon diagnosis, my life fell apart a little bit, but I soon moved on. 12 and a half years later – happy, healthy, energetic and mad as a box of frogs once more – I am able to share 3 key pieces of diabetic wisdomery with the world:

1. Never ask a diabetic “Should you be eating that?” They will punch you in the face.
2. Life is frickin’ awesome. Be grateful for it and enjoy every minute.
3. Smile every single day.