The introduction to my autobiography...

I hate to say it but that fringe has only recently gone. I should've ditched it sooner

Now that I think about it, it’s actually really difficult to introduce my autobiography. I mean, how am I supposed to start - “Thanks for wanting to read about my life, but bear in mind it’s not very interesting”? I thought about starting it like one of those soppy videos, ‘a message to my 16 year old self’ and proceed from there, but bearing in mind I am only just 17, my advice would be less along the lines of ‘follow your heart’ and more along the lines of ‘don’t forget to take your toothbrush on holiday when you go to Turkey’. So here goes – I was born on a battlefield on the South of the Serbian border, whilst the enemy was shooting from both sides and my father was recovering from a nasty blow to the head; my birth was truly a miracle. Nah, just kidding. To be honest, my birth was pretty normal I think. When my mum went into labour with my older sister, Eleanor, my dad was late to the hospital because he had just scored 100 runs in an important cricket game. I don’t have an interesting story like that. I think that was the closest that Eleanor and I had ever been to succeeding in sport, much to our father’s dismay. The rise and fall of my football career came when, in year 5, I tried to impress a boy on the playground by kicking a runaway ball back to him, but it ended up plummeting straight for a wall and bouncing right back to me. Anyway, all my mum has really ever told me about when I was born was that the midwife on call was ‘fat, sweaty and grumpy’ and my timing meant that mum missed ‘Coronation Street’. It doesn’t get much more interesting; the majority of my childhood was spent sitting, alone, in our spare bedroom, waiting for somebody to come and buy a stamp from my makeshift post office. Nobody ever did. In fact, the biggest profit I made from it was when we sold it for £2 at a car boot sale last year. 

Use a line from a Shakespeare play as the title for your own piece of writing

"All that glitters is not gold"

As I stood on the platform, I reminisced about what I was leaving behind. I envisioned the look on my husband’s face as he woke up in the morning and realised that I was absent. I could almost feel his touch, every morning since we married he would, without fail, give me a peck on the cheek and play with my hair to gently wake me up. Standing amongst the city crowds, a tear trickled down my cheeks. It suddenly occurred to me that I was leaving everything. This was the first time I had a chance to consider my feelings, and for just a glimpse of a second, I wondered whether I was making a mistake. But I wasn’t, I didn’t deserve a family, not after what I had done.

I was brought up in the vast city of London. From a baby, I was surrounded by bright city lights and the madness of industry everywhere I went. My parents had brought me up as a city girl, they were a working couple. When I met my husband, I realised a busy life wasn’t for me. We settled for a peaceful life that focused on family values. I loved that about my husband; we wanted the same.

The happiest moment of my life was the birth of my son. Holding him in my hands, I saw him as a jewel- beautiful and precious. I couldn’t believe the intensity of the love I suddenly felt for something so small. Since that day, I have maintained a strong relationship with him. Family is important and I wanted to give him the gift of love and stability, which meant a lot to me.

A train whizzed past me, making the tail of my coat float up into the air. My memory flickered back to the long summer days we spent as a family. The endless glasses of lemonade we would devour during a picnic by the lake. This was undoubtedly bliss. I remember a dog running up to us, escaping from its owner. As a reflex, my son grabbed the bottom of my skirt, I guess he thought I could always protect him. I knew that, had my son been with me on the platform, he would have clutched on to the bottom of my coat every time a train rushed past, or a crowd flooded out of the ticket booth.

Anybody would wonder what could be so dreadful that would make me be at the platform, heading miles away on my own. You see, all that glitters is not gold; despite outward appearances, my life was not perfect. Throughout my life with my husband, I have always had a cloud above my ray of happiness. It has always loomed over me. That day. What I did. I will never forget it. And that’s why I have to go.

I couldn’t leave my husband and son without an explanation, I owed them a letter at least. It took me several attempts, trying to find the right words, trying to jot down my feelings amongst the sea of tears that kept splattering onto my note. It was finally done. The breakdown of my life was there on a page, and nobody would ever forgive me.  I got up in the middle of the night, lightly pecked my sleeping husband on the cheek and whispered my love for him. I then went to see my son, who was also sound asleep. A salty tear ran down my cheek as I kissed his head. When I went downstairs, I took a last glance around my home, the place that shared my fondest memories. I balanced my letter against the fruit bowl on the kitchen table and went into the black darkness. 

I sighed as my train came in and people started to pick up their luggage, barging to the front to ensure they got a seat. I glanced at the wedding ring on my finger before taking it off and hiding it in my pocket; I prepared to board. A ticket man ushered me onto the train and as I took a step forward I heard someone calling me. A familiar voice. I look around and saw a figure running towards me. I watched his slender body push his way forward. His feet tripping as he weaved between the busy crowds.  His hands were poised in a determined fist clench and his eyes, shining with the moisture of his tears, narrowed as his gaze met mine. He finally reached where I was standing and looked up at me with that face I knew too well. There he was. My son.

A school task - 'Write A Rant About Anything'

The first cinema was built in 1919 and people used to go in their fineries to watch and marvel at this unique exhibition. Oh how times have changed. Cinema etiquette has rapidly decreased.

Don’t get me started on the people 4 rows down who can not watch a 2 hour film without having to go to the loo- why can’t they go beforehand? Or what about the people behind me who resort to kicking the back of my seat throughout the entire duration. How about the group of girls sitting at the front who, admittedly have their phones on silent, but do not consider that whenever they check their messages, the glow on their phone lights up the 4 rows behind them and distracts the whole audience. Can’t they wait 2 hours without outside communication? Honestly. The cinema used to be an extremely fashionable and grand night out. Now it is nothing more than a play school for bad habits and utter rudeness and disrespect for fellow cinema goers.

I’ll start with the latecomers. The average cinema ticket is already overpriced at £8 for an adult ticket. If somebody is willing to pay that amount of money to watch a film, they could at least be on time for the start of it. I am sick of settling down to watch the movie, lights are off and everybody is silent in the anticipation of what the film will be like and then…*shuffle shuffle shuffle* Late. Not only do they whisper to their friends as they awkwardly try to find their seat amongst the already crowded cinema, they can never find their seat in the dark. This results in having to get an attendant with a torch to show them to their designated place. Annoyingly, the latecomer will almost certainly find their way to your row and you will have to let them past as they clumsily block your view, they mutter ‘sorry, sorry, excuse me, sorry, thanks, sorry’ as they edge themselves past each person in the row, distracting others further and creating more of a nuisance of themselves.

Next, we have sniffers. I would like to watch this film without the risk of being seriously infected by what most be the sickest person in the world. The women next to you spends the whole 2 hours of the film routinely sniffing in a fashion that distracts you from the happenings of the movie every time. After about 45 minutes of the film, you glare at her and she realises that she is being annoying. First, she blows her nose which grabs the attention of the whole theatre. However after about 5 minutes, the sniffing starts again. She realises her dilemma and resorts to even more annoying and frequent staccato sniffs. This frustrates me so much that I feel inclined to call a doctor or tell her to go home and rest until she is better. For everybody’s sake.

I do not for the life of me understand why cinemas sell popcorn and other such disgusting foods. The boy in front of me sits there with a jumbo sized box of salty popcorn, which probably cost him £5, almost the amount of a child’s ticket. Despite this high price, at the end of the movie, I peer over my row and see that he has left half of it on the floor. Throughout the film, I have seen him constantly flicking popcorn at his mate, dropping handfuls of it onto his lap as he tries to eat too much at one time and wriggling about in his seat so much that he spills his tub onto the sticky, greasy floor. Of course, the boy waltzes out at the end of the film, oblivious to the mess below his seat, and taking it for granted that somebody else will clear it up. Would he do that at home? Nope. May I also add, why did the family sat behind me choose to bring a family size pack of chocolate éclairs to munch their way through? I am sick of hearing the rustle, crackle and crunch of the noisy sweet wrappers throughout every piece of dialogue in the film. Back to the popcorn, to be honest, it is as much as the cinema’s fault as it is the audience’s fault; cinemas are already greedy with ticket prices which cost almost the amount of a DVD anyway. Yet they still think of other ways to rip us off. They sell cheap popcorn and impractical sweets which are distracting to everybody around its consumers. It would take the cleaners half the time it takes to clear a cinema, if they didn’t sell such ridiculous, messy food.

I also want to mention the incredibly selfish people who choose to occupy more than their allocated amount of seating by draping their coats and bags over them. If they want an extra seat to use as a coat hanger, they should pay for one! Not to mention the common obscurity of people resting their feet over the seat in front, that is just plain rude- nobody wants dirty, greasy shoes in their face as they snuggle down to watch the over priced film. It shouldn’t have to be mentioned- it is common decency that people should know to keep their feet on the floor! And not only that, why do people leave a gap in between each group whilst choosing where to sit? It means that, come the start of the movie, the last few people coming in dribs and drabs can not sit together.

If I owned a cinema, I would force all late-comers, toilet-goers, nose-sniffers, popcorn- throwers and seat-stealers to eat every single one of the smelly, greasy jumbo hotdogs in the cinema, and then single handedly mop up the floor with a toothbrush until the floor is clean enough to project a film onto. 

A monologue from the point of view of one of the four seasons

I hate him. He just does it to spite me. I have my time and he has his. He just chose to do things differently. (shrug) I try my very best to brighten up the country, I don’t hide away the sun, I know how she hates that, (whisper) she’s sensitive. He, of course, loves to cause trouble and routinely hides her away, gets his colony of clouds to stand in front of her and spoil the elegant atmosphere she has helped me to create.

It was Mother Nature who elected me for the summer holidays, best time of the year because everybody can enjoy the goodness I spread. Well, he hated this! But, I mean, its not like he just got half term like Autumn, (sniggers) he was given the Christmas holidays. Though if you ask me he has ruined them- I could do a much better job! What’s the fun in sprinkling a hint of snow and making the public expect more? Getting their hopes up, only for them to receive a weeks worth of splattering raindrops replacing the delicate snowflakes they were expecting. He’s selfish. He saves it all for himself.

Look at him! (points) All high and mighty sitting on a chair of snow over there, who does he think he is? And then to steal the leaves off the trees…well that is pure evil, how would he feel if I went over there and stole his earmuffs?

When Mother Nature briefed us about our jobs, me, Spring and Autumn all understood. But as soon as she leaves us to control her children, those monstrous little tornados, all hell breaks loose and Winter decides to freeze the whole place. Now why would you do that?!

He’ll get what’s coming to him. Take Spring for example, she is always late, leaving Winter to conduct even more gloominess around the UK but, boy did she suffer from that! Mother Nature was furious when she realised how late Spring always was. She banished Spring to under the ground and now all she can do is push flowers up from under the soil. Not a good life if you ask me!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I am needed to go and persuade the sun to heat up the country. Ha! That will get on Winters nerves!