What are these mistakes I've been making? Well, let's see.
Tuesday
I bought a Bonsai tree.
Ok, so that doesn't seem like such a huge mistake, at least in theory. Every year, there's a houseplant sale outside my student union. For the last two years, I have walked past, admired some of the plants, and then moved on. Each time, I have resolved that, while I don't really have the space/time/energy to look after a houseplant this year, I will next year. Well, there is no more 'next year'. I'm in my final year of university. So no more union plant sales, no more deferring.
I chose a bonsai tree because I've always found them quite entertaining. Here is a tree that can literally be held in the palm of my hand. I've always had a penchant for things that are the wrong size, as evidenced by the giant key-shaped clock on my bedroom wall. So I picked one that looked reasonably healthy, parted with roughly £13 of my hard-earned student loan, and happily carried the little fella home. I proudly showed it off to my housemates, and placed it on top of a chest of drawers where it would get plenty of light.
And then I realised my mistake. I can't care for another living being. I can barely care for myself. And this isn't just any plant, mind, where you can maybe leave it for a couple of days without watering, and it will be fine. No. According to my research (google), bonsai trees need to be kept in bright areas, but away from direct sunlight. Well, there's little in the way of direct sunlight in Cardiff, but there's also a distinct lack of anything that could be called 'bright', either. They also have to be watered daily. So far, I've been using my left-over water from the night before, but there's a fine line between 'soaking' (the word used on the pot's little tag) the plant, and covering my cupboard in water. Third, they must be trimmed regularly to maintain their shape. Honestly, who has the time? So far, I've only given it a little haircut, using my nail clippers. I may have to invest in some mini scissors, if this is going to be a regular thing.
The only other plant I have ever had was a cacti that was given to me as a seventh birthday present. It was about ten centimetres high, and covered in white fur. Admittedly, it lasted for over a decade, but that was because cacti are, at least compared to most plants, virtually indestructible. I believe that the family dog finally brought about the cacti's demise; larger and braver members of the botanic world have faced off against our German Shepherd and failed.
So, the bonsai tree, who I have started calling Tyler (Bonsai Tyler, see what I did there?), may well have been a disastrous decision. To be honest, I'd be surprised if it made it to the end of the term. And if it does, I have no idea how I'll get it back to West Sussex for the Christmas holidays.
Wednesday
Stomach-shrivelling mistake number two involves improper use of post it notes on the 4th floor of the university's Arts and Social Sciences Library. Having taken out my limit of library books, I was faced with a conundrum. In order to get more books out, I would have to return some of the ones already in my possession. This would mean, in some cases, actually reading the books I've had on loan since the start of the summer. In order to further delay this inevitable and traumatic event, I decided to return one of the books I actually had read. But arouse another problem.
I hate underlining passages in books. To me, it is one of the greatest acts of vandalism possible. However, I am also often too lazy to make notes of page numbers, or to write interesting points up as I read them. My solution over the summer holidays was to cover the inside of one particular book with torn-up bits of post-it notes. A sound idea, although they do tend to slip and slide a bit.
So on Wednesday I sat in the library, removing bits of post-it note from the book and copying down the relevant passages. All of this took about an hour and a half. By the time I was finished I was tired and hungry, and desperate to go home.
I started to gather up my things, but stopped when it came to the little pile of yellow post-it bits. 'Wouldn't it be better,' my study-addled brain suggested, 'to do something useful with the paper, rather than just throw it away?'
'Alright,' another part of my mind answered, 'but what? What can I do, that would be useful and creative and uplifting, within the confines of the library, with some torn-up post-it notes?'
'Well, sometimes the library can be a hard and depressing place. Sometimes you need a little cheering up, after hours of studying. How about some pleasant messages?'
So I wrote down some nice thoughts on the paper. They included things like 'I will always love you' and 'Smile!'
So far so good.
And then I did the stupid thing.
I went round the 4th floor of the library, picking up books at random, and placing the notes inside them. I didn't really pay attention to the books themselves. One was on Greek architecture, I think, and I'm pretty sure another was written in German. Some were old, and may not be read again before the library deems them obsolete and throws them away. Others were new, and my yellow post-it could well have been the first act of the same literary vandalism that I hate so much.
In my mind, I had grand visions of struggling students coming across these messages of hope and love in their darkest hours of pre-deadline research, and being comforted by them. In reality, it was kind of a prat thing to do. No one wants to be bothered by other people's notes in library books, unless they can be useful to their own work. People will wonder what kind of an idiot leaves those kinds of notes in a library book. There's a good chance that people will dismiss them off-hand, and chuck them in the bin.
So, if you're a Cardiff Uni student and you come across evidence of my little act of anarchist-peppiness, you're welcome/I'm sorry. I did it out of love.
Friday
Next week, my choir are having a social. Because one of the pieces we're doing this term is the Lion King, it is naturally a Lion King-themed party. There will be fancy dress, and booze, and prizes.
Now, the obvious choice would be to pop down to somewhere like Primarni and pick up an animal print onesie. But everyone will do that, and I want my prize.
Instead, I am creating a costume by tie-dyeing some old clothing and a white sheet. More on the costume later; it's not finished yet, and I don't want to give away the surprise. But here's a little taster. Intriguing, no?
The results were predictable. As I type this, the fingers and palm of one hand are stained a lovely shade of green-blue. In a desperate attempt to rectify the problem, I turned to soaps, shampoo, sugar, washing-up liquid, and, finally, white spirit to clean myself off. Considering that I have pretty bad eczema at the moment, none of these were terribly pleasant. None of them worked terribly well, either, although they did remove some of the colour. Together with about two layers of skin.
Saturday
Today, finally, I did something good. Or, not so much good, as enjoyable. What I should have been doing today was reading for my degree (I still have over 300 pages of the 670 page Mysteries of Udolpho to read for Tuesday). Instead, I was at the old BBC studio in Cardiff, filming for a top-secret tv project with my friend Esther. And Sue Perkins.
To be honest, I don't even feel guilty about this one. Ok, so today I've only read 25 pages for one of my modules. Ok, so I had to get up at the crack of dawn. Ok, so I couldn't identify a picture of Ernie Wise. But I got £40 out of it, and a free meal.
And I. Met. Sue Perkins.
She's a lovely woman, is Sue Perkins (I seem to be incapable of referring to her solely by her first name; it just doesn't seem right). She was charming and funny, and very camp. She made a joke about my enjoyment of wearing a blindfold. There was laughter.
I also managed to get a photograph with her. That's Esther on her left, but she's not really important to this story.
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