As first days of summer go it couldnt really have been better than this

Actually after some thought and consideration, the above statement is a lie and I retract it. The first day of summer last year purely involved me sleeping and eating after Prom. Nevertheless, this year's first day of summer pars it, because, of course, it involved London and celeb stalking. What else? Yes, I thought I was over it too. I've relapsed.

Disclaimer: The following post may seem exaggerative (word? i like it anyway) but in my eyes and memories, IT HAPPENED.

The first TV recording I ever went to was All Star Family Fortunes in 2009. I was only 15. Back in the days where mum refused to let me go to London on my own. The embarrassing part is that 2 years on when I go again, I'm wearing exactly the same outfit. Unintentionally. It's also raining, like last time, and we're given the same coloured wristbands, like last time. Which is annoying, because I've always wanted the blue wristbands and they keep giving me yellow. IT'S NOT TOO MUCH TO ASK.

One difference this time was that I was with 3 friends, instead of my mum. Genna had never been to a TV recording before, Kiera had only been to *shudder* Push The...*gag*...Button, and Ellie...well...you'll see. So each of us were excited for different reasons; me because Russell Kane was on. Every time someone mentioned his name I had to grab the nearest person's shoulder and take a deep breath. Oosh. Before we'd even started queuing I was on a high because he'd tweeted me "Cacking my pants" after I said we were in the audience. SO CUTE. Favourited, natch.

Little did I know that things were going to get a lot amazinger. Firstly, we were FRONT ROW. I'd never been front row before. This was the good stuff. This was where you got picked on. This was where you'd chat with the stars. We weren't MEANT to get front row, though. We only got front row because of...Ellie. You know when people say "OMG if I ever met *insert famous person here* I wouldn't be able to contain myself. I'd freak out! I'd have to be escorted out hahaha!" etc etc, but you know, and they know, they wouldn't. They'd woooooo a bit and 'go a bit funny' but their sanity would remain intact. Even last week when I was metres away from Matt Smith I managed to stay in my seat and keep my fangirling emotions to a suitable level.

This was me on the outside:

This was me on the inside:

So apart from the hugging my legs and rocking, I think I covered it up well. But with Ellie? When she says she can't contain herself....she can't bloody contain herself. I applaud her confidence, I really do, but JESUS CHRIST SHE'S AN EMBARRASSMENT TO BE WITH. She won't mind me saying because she knows it's true, and I told her enough times. However I can't complain because she was the one who stirred up a fuss and lied to get us front row seats. "MARTIN SAID WE GET  FRONT ROW SEATS." "Oh, er, okay, just go round the other side, yeah, fine." She then tweeted Russell Kane telling him exactly where we sitting and how excited we were. I thought nothing of it. He won't be looking at his phone, would he? WELL...

Now I don't know whether it was just coincidence, or whether we were just in his eye line, but I am CONVINCED he knew who we were when his show was recording. The amount of times he looked, smiled, mouthed, COPIED KIERA'S HEART GESTURE (don't ask), and laughed at us made me cry. Literally. No joke. I had to be held I was so emotionally unstable. Even when he got a question wrong, he turned around and looked apologetic AT US. Definitely. Us. Me, even. My eyes. Apology. To me. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT. Have you stopped reading yet? Is this getting too stalkerish? I haven't even begun, love...

The show ended at 10:15pm. It was raining. It was cold. I REALLY needed a wee. But we wanted to try and meet Russell after. Which is fine, right, because people go to the stage door all the time after comedy shows for autographs and photos? We were the only ones waiting. We waited for 45 minutes, and in that 45 minutes we saw the Loose Women gang hilariously drunk getting into taxis, and saw Vernon Kay come out. Ellie went "Hi Vernon!". Completely fine. Nice hello. No screaming. But, er, he actually came over. We sat on the wall and had a conversation with Vernon Kay. In the rain. About ketchup. (We'd already had a conversation about sauces with him during the recording, so he knew who we were. If that makes the show I'll go mental.) He also offered us tickets for the following night, but that didn't happen. Probably because Ellie was tweeting him every 5 seconds. She has no shame. Surprised she didn't get blocked, the mentalist. 

I'd made the call at 10:45pm saying if RK hadn't come out by 11pm then we'd have to go. I wasn't going to miss the last tubes again. I didn't think he was going to, but miraculously, five minutes later, a woman emerged and spoke to a taxi driver. 

"Are you waiting for Russell Kane?" 

"Yeah I am, where is he?" 

"He's waiting round the front, can you drive round?"

Ellie: "ALL SYSTEMS GO. RUN RUN RUN. SPRINT. FAST GENNA FFS. MOVE MOVE MOVE." And there he was. Round the front. Just there. Waiting. I'd like to think for us, but he wasn't. (but I'll tell everyone he was, obv) I froze, but Ellie ran up to him. Gen, bless her, just shuffled towards him with her arms outstretched, and Kiera, not giving a fuck, joined us ages after. She wasn't running for anyone. I love Kiera. After seeing Gen get a hug (and a back rub, may I add), I got one too. I got a hug from Russell Kane. Haha. Then we got a photo. And he told us to come and see him in Southend. Haha. Then we went home, and I didn't even get the 'post-gig blues' the next day, because it was genuinely the most perfect evening. Just lovely, and overwhelming. This has been me ever since:

Only problem is now I love Russell Kane a million times more than I did before. My fangirl levels are peaking again. Oops. X

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Becoming domesticated by Louise Emily Jones aged 19 years minus a few days

Turns out you can't live on beans and cheese.

Bit of a problem.

A quandry.

Such a good word.

Mum took me to Asda the other day and made me shop for myself, because I'm moving to Bournemouth in three weeks. I actually did alright in my A Levels (asterisks turned up out of the blue, uninvited. they couldn't stay away, couldn't fight it wait hold on) and UCAS said I could go to Oxbridge instead. I thought about it, but the only plus point I could conjure up was being on the rowing team, and therefore improving my chances of being in Rio 2016. Because I WILL be in Rio, 2016, winning Gold. Okay? OKAY? Good. As you were...oh right no I'm still talking. AS I WERE....

So I'm moving to Bournemouth and therefore need to learn how to be an autonomous individual, without frantically tweeting, "THE OVEN'S MAKING A NOISE HELP WHAT."

or, "AM I MEANT TO BE INSIDE THE DUVET COVER, OR IS THAT NOT PART OF THE PROCESS?"

or, "IT SAID 1-2 MINUTES BUT I THOUGHT IT WAS A TYPO AND PUT IT IN FOR 12 AND NOW EVERYONE'S DEAD AND OH DEAR." etc etc.

I would happily have bought just a week's worth of Quavers in my Asda shop, and maybe a banana, but mum said no. Then I suggested perhaps a Quavers multipack to vary the flavour. She said no. So I had to buy proper meat and put some broccoli in a bag. But I couldn't buy any meat, oh no. APPARENTLY some meat doesn't have a lot of meat in it so you have to check. .... .................... I don't get it either. So I wasn't allowed any chicken nuggets. Pff.

"You could buy a whole chicken and do a roast for your flat!!1!!!1" Yep or we can go to the Harvester. I think mum's really overestimating my culinary skills. After our shop, mum dropped the bombshell that as well as having a go at doing my own food shop, I in fact was also cooking ALL OF MY MEALS. All of them. Along with the washing, ironing, cleaning, LOVING, I had to do all my own cooking too from now on. Haha. Oh.

Oh.

No really, when I say I cannot do my own cooking, I really can't. This was meal 1...

and this was meal 2...

Mum's developing a very nasty rash that seems to intensify every evening at about 7pm (time depending on how hard I've tried to escape to a friend's for dinner). To clam her rash (can we just all agree to change 'calm' to 'clam', because my fingers really don't like putting the 'a' before the 'l', and it'll save so much hassle, thanks), my family came down from Birmingham and we ate out a lot. My mum told me to watch how the chefs present food (like really), but I was too busy watching my cousin. She's a vegan, and demolished a tomato so impressively that I was almost jealous. 'Almost' because I demolished a pollo mariano so impressively that I fell back in my chair going, "LIKE A PRO." when I finished. 

Cooking I will learn. The washing I can do. The only thing I have to get over with washing is feeling racist when I say, "I'M PUTTING A COLOURED WASH ON." I'm just too up for equality, y'know. LET WHITES AND COLOURS BE TOGETHER, MAN. No, no let's not let that happen, Louise. Stand down.

By 11am today I had put a load of light washing on, emptied the tumble dryer, hung out clothes on the line, sorted out my ironing, and cleaned up the kitchen after baking flapjacks and cookies, which varied in success. The cookies? I was so proud of them I did the cha cha slide, then I stopped doing the cha cha slide, sat down, and had a think. 

The flapjacks?

Well they look alright from this angle, if you want to eat them from this angle...eat them from this angle...

So baking I can do. Washing I can do. Ironing I can do. Look at me holding this iron with such vigour and determination. Like an Iron Warrior.

The putting stuff on the line bit WOULD have been successful, if this didn't happen (it was raining, okay, but the camera didn't catch the rain so i did this editing thing and LOOK IT LOOKS LIKE RAIN or something good okay).

I'll get there. Tonight I'm cooking lasagne. Nothing could go wrong. In the meantime, while I become a domestic goddess, let ME teach YOU something. FlatFace. You're oh so very welcome.