The Science behind opening the boot of a car

My Dearest friend Paige recently had a car accident and whilst her beloved Mini is being repaired, she has been given a wonderful Citroen DS3:

     Citroen Ds3 Racing

Up to this stage, you would think there seems to be no reason why she wouldn't like this car, you would be wrong in thinking that.

Paige had been driving the car for a whole TWO DAYS without knowing how to open up the boot. In fact she even said she couldn't go and do her weekly shopping because the bags would not fit in the back seats.

So when she came into uni the other day and told me about her dilemma, we both walked to her car, and i was expecting the boot to be equipped with a brand new unlocking system which would not be immediately evident.

So when I got there, and it was a boot like any other, i knew immediately i had to video this moment and share Paiges' comic moment with the rest of you!

Well...the video does all the talking for me really...

Don't let Paige's ignorance put you off from purchasing a Citroen, they are not as difficult as some make it seem!


(Some words in the video may be of an abusive nature, we do apologize)
Au revoir!

Forget Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo, Zinedine Zidane was The Greatest

Some like Messi, Some like Ronaldo, Everyone Loves Zidane.

Having spent my childhood in France, i may be slightly biased, however, in my eyes there is no doubt that 'Zizou' is by far the Greatest Player I have had the pleasure of watching grace a football pitch. 

I remember as a 9 year old watching the now set in history events of the 1998 World Cup unfold in France. Even though it is so long ago now, i still remember the unbelievable atmosphere which gripped the country during the tournament, and the success of the French team multiplied the air of happiness in my hometown.

The Final of the 1998 World Cup which pitted hosts France against the legendary Brazilian team which included  the then World Player of the Year Ronaldo, was the match Zizou decided to engrave his name in football history.

He single handedly defeated the Brazilians, and elevated himself to Godlike status, with a two goal cameo on that wonderful night in the Stade de France.

After that his career had its ups and downs, mostly however he will be remembered for his gracefulness both on and off the pitch, and of course, who can forget the goal he scored in the Final of the Champions League.

He may have retired in a conspicuous manner. However in my eyes, Zizou will forever be regarded as a hero in France, and as one of the Greatest in the eyes of any football fan.

Are road signs becoming more threatening?

Whilst travelling on the M25 and the M1 from Enfield to Buckingham this Monday, i came across the following roadsign/instruction/command/threat:

"BIN YOUR LITTER, OTHER PEOPLE DO"

The GREEN Party have obviously come across a large bag of cash to be able to pull this sort of advertising stunt!

I would also like to know who these other people are, and why on earth they have been calling up the M25 Road Maintenance Head Office to inform them that they dispose of their litter in bins.

Do they want a medal or something? 

Now the above picture is more my cup of tea.

The poor motorists continuing on the M25 are being told to drive with CAUTION whereas I am part of the lucky ones who are escaping onto the M1 and onto the not so lovely 50mph restriction zone!

How long will it be until the huge companies like Nike, L'Oreal start advertising on our motorway roadsigns?

Picture the following:

• You've been driving for an hour and a half, boredom has gotten the better of you, and you've finally reached the exit you are supposed to take, the road-sign reads, The next left for Enfield, Just Do It.
• It's early morning, you woke up late and had to rush out of the house, no breakfast, odd socks on, beard untrimmed. The only thing that could make you forget about this morning's mayhem  is a nice hot coffee at Costa at the next service station on the motorway. So when you see the road-sign "For Services, take the next exit, Because Your Worth It"...you know for a fact you'll be stopping for a sip of perfectly ground coffee beans.

Au revoir!

"Oh so your a geek, thats why you never come out, your too busy typing numbers into your calculator."

Today, was officially the 'mildest' day of the year so far, and to be frank, it was a rather pleasant surprise to have blue skies and sunshine for a whole day.

As British tradition dictates, at the slightest sign of sunshine, people flock outdoors, laying on the grass in the parks, having ice cream, wearing flip flops in March...

We were no different, after my French exam in the morning, i met up with Paige, Camilo and Ingrid to film a scene for their 'Online dating' Film Making project:

It was after the filming that we decided to converge at the OTM and enjoy our meals on the outdoor table in the splendid sun. Before long, the social butterfly that is Ingrid, attracted the attention of the guy on the right of the top picture, Tim, a final year Accountancy student.

Now, it rapidly became clear that Mr.Tim wasn't as socially adapted to the rigours of Buckingham social life as we are, as he proclaimed himself, "I never go out, i just sit at home and watch movies". Fair enough thought Paige, Camilo and me...

Ingrid on the other hand came out with a line that made for an extremely awkward second, closely followed by hysterical laughter.

"Ohhh, so your a geek then? That's why you never come out, your too busy typing numbers into your calculator."

We saved the awkward situation by putting Ingrids abruptness down to her gypsy attitudes and turned it into a joke, although, whether Tim will be as inclined to sit on our table next time he walks past the OTM is up for debate.

Au revoir!

Harlem Shake craze reaches quiet and gentle Buckingham

Whether you love it or hate it, it seems nothing can stop the Harlem Shake from sweeping the world!

I mean, if a small town like Buckingham can be infiltrated, then the rest of the world has no hope!

Above is the video of Buckingham University Journalism students taking part in the latest craze, and below is a compilation of some of the best attempts from across the globe, enjoy!

Au revoir!

Note to self: Do not watch Fast and the Furious before getting behind the wheel

I have come to the conclusion that watching an action packed driving film full of high speed chases and daring manoeuvres isn't the ideal preparation for a 65mile trip to London.

I am a big fan of the Fast and the Furious series, in fact, i have lost count of the amount of times i have seen the latest edition 'Fast Five'.

Don Omar provided the soundtrack for that film, so as i am a big fan of reggaeton, this elevated the film to greatness status. For a quick recap of the film click here.

Its fair to say i was engulfed by the 'hero vibe' after watching the film, and this transferred onto my driving style.

'Hero vibe' is the description my friend gave to the feeling of invincibility you have running through your veins after watching an action film. We had just seen the new Die Hard film and as we exited the screen, Mo said to us "we're all going to be on the hero vibe now'. 

Right on cue, we took the cinema lift downstairs to the car park, to find the door to the car park locked, so as i tried numerous combinations, first turning left, then turning right with no avail, Armando just came up and pulled the door open, completely ruined the hero vibe. 

I still remain convinced that the door was locked and was it not for my combination Armando would have not been able to open it. 

Begs the question, how much do films influence our behaviour?

Greatly in my opinion, i turned on the ignition, reved louder than usual, put on my Don Omar CD and reversed out of my porch.

What followed was one of the most exciting drives of my life, even though you'd think i'd be bored of this journey by now...

50mph restriction zone on the M1? Erm, 80 feels better.

"Slow down now" , you mean speed up?

Over take the slow guy on the fast lane by going on the left lane? sure.

Every overtaking i would make was done with Formula 1 precision, stay in the slipstream until the very last moment and swerve out and in. 

By the time i parked my car up in front of my house in Enfield, i had burnt 10 litres more than usual and my car was making the noises indicating it wanted a well deserved rest.

Kids, driving fast is illegal and please do not try the 'hero vibe' at home.

New Fast and the Furious 6 trailer is out, see it here

Au revoir!

TGI Friday review...

Last night i went out to TGI Fridays for a meal.

At first, the decor and the ambiance appealed to me as i had never really been to an 'American themed' restaurant before.

The menu was somewhat diverse, with a wide range of cuisine available, ranging from 16oz Sirloin steaks to a rack of ribs drenched in Jack Daniels sauce.

We settled on the mexican option and ordered a Quesadilla along with a 'sizzling meat combo Fajita'.

When our meals arrived, my onion hating girlfriend was in for a shock...

Her plate was engulfed in, and i quote, "undercooked onion". Seeing her pick off the bits of onion one by one was the highlight of the evening.

My plate was a major disappointment too.

The 'meat combo' consisted of one piece of sliced chicken breast and 4 chunks of over cooked steak!

What kind of restaurant serves you steak without asking you how you want it cooked?

Shocking!

The positive vibes i got from the ambiance as i entered started fading, when every 5 minutes the noise levels become excruciating when the group of kids at the table across the restaurant start singing the 'Happy Birthday' song in their screechy voices!

By the end of the night, i couldn't wait to get the bill and get out of there, and even then our waiter 'Tom' who sneakily highlighted the tip section on the receipt, took forever to bring us the bill.

Safe to say i won't be visiting TGI's anytime soon, unless armed with a pair of earplugs and a regular sized steak knife.

Au revoir!

Spaghetti Bolognese with Horse infused mince?

So it seems the food industry is at the centre of the latest scandal to engulf the European Union.

Now, if any of you guys have tried the pack of Tesco Everyday Value spaghetti bolognese (as shown above), then from what i can gather, it is extremely likely that you have consumed horsemeat.

60% horsemeat!

Just makes you wonder, how similar is horsemeat to beef mince? None of the consumers noticed the difference in taste, nobody would have had it not been for these 'tests' being undertaken.

Who decided to test our food for traces of horsemeat?
Were they tipped off?

If you thought the bolognese was bad, the above pack of Findus BEEF lasagne contained 100% horsemeat!

Now, millions of people would have consumed this ready meal over the years it has been on sale, they never noticed the difference in taste, which begs the question:

IS HORSEMEAT BAD FOR YOU?

No cases of illnesses or deaths have been reported due to the consumption of these products, in fact, some argue that horsemeat is good for you.

Pretty hard hitting facts there, so, if Tesco started selling 'Findus Horse Lasagne' , WOULD YOU BUY IT?


Au revoir!

Remembering my grandfather, R.B.M Sumanadasa

Not being able to spend more time with my grandfather will always be one of my biggest regrets.


The memories i have of him will remain with me forever, for he was a man, who definitely had an 'aura' about him. Walking next to him along Air Force Road, Katunayake, seeing the way the other people on our street greeted him and respected him, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.

I was 10 years old, back then, i never appreciated how special it was to have a dedicated journalist as a grandfather. Taking into account the heavily regulated society we live in currently, some of the things my grandfather was capable of doing, gives an intriguing insight into the world of a trusted journalist.

My family home in Sri Lanka is located a stone's throw away from the International Airport, thus making it an ideal location for my grandfather to be based at whilst he worked for The Times as their Airport correspondent.

                                                                           R.B.M Sumanadasa (left) Neil Armstrong (right)

One of the fondest memories i recall, was when i travelled to Sri Lanka with my family for our summer holidays. Now, when the plane lands and comes to a halt, the standard procedure would consist of the airline hostess opening the door from the outside. However, my grandfathers press pass, or in all likelihood his ability to charm his way past anything, ensured that he was standing outside the plane door to greet us.

The V.I.P treatment didn't stop there. Customs? Passport Control? Taking off your belt and shoes and walking through the metal detectors? Not a chance.

Walking alongside my grandfather basically meant the red carpet treatment, we would simply walk past the painstakingly long queues, trying all the way to ignore the puzzled looks from the other passengers. In fact, as mentioned in one of the articles above, my grandfather was such a well known figure in the airport that everywhere we walked, people would greet him by his first name, ranging from the custom officers and security, to the cleaners.

I remember clearly this one instance when a customs officer opened my mothers suitcase and began searching it and messing up her meticulously folded clothes. All it took was one nod of the head from my grandfather, for the officer  to rapidly close the suitcase. He almost seemed to bow his head in embarrassment.

Aside from all the cool, V.I.P perks, what i remember the most about my grandfather are his human qualities and values.
To date, people approach my father to thank him for services that my grandfather had done to them whilst he was alive.

He struck me as an extremely driven and determined man, qualities which i hope to develop if i am to become at least half the journalist he was. He would always have breakfast on the table fresh from the shop each morning when we were in Sri Lanka, and would always put the needs of others before his.
As a 10 year old boy, i remember him telling me as we sat on the beach to look after my parents, and especially my father, those were his exact words. That sums him up perfectly in my eyes, a beautifully eloquent, diplomatic and valued grandfather, no matter who he was addressing.

Proud to be your grandson.


Au Revoir!

R.I.P Hilda Wood, World War II survivor and hero

                                Hilda Wood (1924-2012)

In life, you don't often come across a complete stranger who leaves a mark on your life which will last a lifetime, fortunately for me, Hilda Wood, or 'Lizzy' as we called her, was one such person.

Liz and Ted were the elderly couple neighbours i had the pleasure to live next to for around 10 years since my emigration to England. Ted was a World War II veteran who was sent to serve Britain in countries such as India, South Africa and France. In 1939, the war broke out and at the tender age of 15, Lizzy started working as a nurse at Chase Farm Hospital and walked  the 2 and a half miles to and from her  house to the hospital everyday for six years, till the war ended in 1945.

In my eyes, Ted and Liz were a perfect example of a 'British couple'. The kind of Brits that were respected throughout the Commonwealth even during the British Empire. They were a couple with strong values, spoke the English language like it is supposed to be spoken, unlike the slang and street language it has deteriorated to now, innit?

Until Ted passed away, Liz was the quiet one, i had very rarely had a proper conversation with her.
Ted was the main character, always poking his head over the back fence when i'd be fixing cars with my dad and often saying that "British cars were better" and calling me a frog!

Ted was a wonderful character, who obviously was a Playboy in his heyday, i've lost count of the amount of times i heard him make comments about women half his age, it was hilarious! Every time he'd catch me either going out, or coming home late, he would accuse of me going 'courting'.

Following his death, Lizzy was left home alone, as all her kids had moved out and had their own families and troubles. In fact, she had an extremely wealthy daughter who lived in Jersey, another who lived in Hastings and a son (who came to visit her the most) who lived in Hitchin.

At the beginning, i started to simply visit her as often as i could, once a day if i had the chance, just to keep her company, as although she was 89 and had trouble walking, i admired her for her strength and strong will, she still managed to cook for herself, wash herself and dress herself until her last breath.

It was at these visits that i started to learn a lot more about her character, and her life story. She worked full time from the age of 15 until she was forced to retire at the age of 81. She brought up her kids wonderfully, giving them everything she had, in fact she often mentioned that the only reason she never got her driving license was because "everytime i saved enough for lessons, the kids needed something so i gave them my savings".

That's the kind of character she was, bubbly, sweet and very determined. She told me stories about how soldiers hurt in the hospital would often flirt with her whilst she was nursing them, but she was too polite and innocent to take them seriously.

We grew closer and closer during Ted's final days as he was in hospital for 2 weeks, and i would drive her up to Chase Farm everyday to go visit Ted, she'd always take him the same thing, a bottle of apple Lucozade and his newspaper, without fail. On the odd occasion, she would make him a sandwich, but Ted would always shout at her, "Are you trying to make me fat Liz?!".

On weekends, following Ted's death, she would look forward to our shopping trips to Morrissons, i would take push her in her wheelchair up and down each aisle, she appreciated being out of "the 4 walls" of her living room. We'd always go for lunch at the cafe in the store, where she would always order the same thing, a Kids meal of fish fingers and chips, with peas. She was only 4 foot something, so the kids meal suited her perfectly!

By the time she passed away, we had grown so close that she would call me her son, and i in return considered her as a grandmother to me, as unfortunately i lost my actual grandparents at a very early age. Everytime i park my car outside my house, and see the new tenants in her house, i only imagine what Liz and Ted would think, i mean Ted loved his front lawn and patio, the new tenants have completely destroyed it.

I guess to draw a line under this post, all i really wanted to say is, we should appreciate the good people in our lives, the ones with the good hearts and the ones who leave a mark on us. Lizzy certainly did so with me, she taught me a lot about appreciating the things i have in life instead of complaining about the things i don't have.

So thank you Lizzy, Rest In Peace.

Au revoir!



89 JUNE 6TH 1924

Start of the Six Nations today!

Today marks the start of the 6 nations rugby tournament! I'll be supporting my French team as per usual so if i dont give you as much details about the rest of the nations its because i dont really care about the them!

If your interested France are facing Italy tomorrow, Sunday 3rd of February at 3pm GMT so tune in for some free flowing rugby, instead of kick and rush! If you want an idea of what to expect, heres a little preview.

I have a few assignments to get through tonight, but i am shattered after work, so although procrastination is frowned upon, I may have to call it a day early tonight and go place myself firmly into my bed as i have to be up for work at 6am again.

I will be talking about vegetarianism tomorrow, and my vegetarian friend Ingrid will be the center of attention, so tune in for that!

Au revoir!

How to get out of paying a parking fine in the ghetto.

I had only been back in North London for a short while, this was the scene as i walked out my barbershop. At first all i saw was the parking ticket officer, i decided to take a snap of him taking £60 out of another member of the public as i thought it would make a perfect discussion topic for my blog. 

Little did i know that the story would unfold in front of my eyes when the owner of the vehicle arrived on the scene. < Make sure you check out the link for the video, apologies for the loss of visuals at one point, i need to work on my cameraman skills in pressure situations!

I have been driving since i was 17, and i can totally understand where the father in the video is coming from. It has to be one of the worst feelings in the world when you return to your car and find the dreaded yellow pochet on your windscreen. 

I know the law abiding citizens reading this blog will disagree with me and they may feel no compassion towards the man, but i honestly feel parking tickets are just another tool for the government to punish the vulnerable members of the public and a way of asserting their authority on the poorer communities. 

Supposedly, the money accumulated from the fines are reinvested into the roads in Britain, who are they kidding? 

Having driven around our neighbouring european countries including France, Germany and Italy one thing is clear, England lags behind when it comes to the quality of its roads. 

What you don't see in the video are the mans 2 young daughters who were standing to the right of the camera shot, one of them couldn't have been older than 7 and the other looked 12 or 13. 

Now, some readers may be more privileged than others, but in a community like Enfield, i would say 90% of the habitants work long hours and many days, just to make ends meet. £60 is an average days earnings for most public sector workers, so can anyone really afford to see a days wages vanish into thin air?

Here are a few things a family man could buy his family or kids with £60:

• School uniform
• Majority of weekly shopping
• School shoes
• Books
• Payment for school trips (my barbers 3 children came into the barbershop and told him they needed £22 each for a school trip next week) 

Human compassion is disappearing. I remember the tales my grandfather used to tell me when i visited Sri Lanka, of strangers helping each other out without expecting anything in return. People are drifting further and further away from each other, people are becoming more and more selfish, but maybe this is what the leaders of the world want? 

The more people focus on individual gain and ignore collective spirit, the less likely people are to gather together and voice their opinion, only when people come together will the voice of the communities really be heard.

Au revoir!

Bigoted. Single minded. Pr*ck

Ignore the heading for a moment and let me begin by correcting a mistake i made on my last post. The name of the pub i went to last night is the The Wool Pack, not the Wolf Pack, i guess this shows i need to get out more!

As you may recall, me and Camilo intended to watch the Arsenal vs Liverpool match at the WOOL Pack, so you can imagine our disbelief when upon entering the pub we soon realised that in fact this was the one pub in England without a television. Thankfully, on our way to the pub we picked up the happiest Albanian in Buckingham, and probably the world, Ingrid, so we had another source of entertainment to brighten up the evening with her gypsy attitudes.

The night called for some Rum so we had a few glasses of Captain Morgan's Spiced and Coca-Cola(other spirits and mixers are available at your local supermarket), whilst Ingrid had a pint of Stella, classy!

On the subject of buying drinks, i want to raise an issue, why is it that us men feel obliged to offer to buy drinks for women? Is it simply manners? What if the woman is simply your friend? Shouldn't friends reciprocate?

I only mention this because i had the unfortunate experience last night of being expected to buy drinks just because i'm a man. Having being brought up in Paris for the first eleven years of my life, and originating from Sri Lanka, i am no stranger when it comes to alcohol, in fact if any of you out there consider yourselves to be able to handle your drink, i advice you to take a trip to Sri Lanka and have 'a' drink with the locals, Sri Lankans deal in bottles, not glasses.

The way i have been brought up, i have always been told, if your going out, you go out properly and not with your wallet zipped shut into your pocket. So i am always the one offering to buy drinks to ensure everyone has a good time, but the key word in this sentence is OFFERING.

What i gathered from last night is that certain individuals of the female sex take advantage of a mans generosity and misunderstand it to believe that it means that i will be buying her drinks every time.

Imagine this:

I enter the pub with Ingrid and Camilo and after saying hello to the crowd and Miss.X, i didn't even have time to settle into the new surroundings when i hear:

"So Jay, now your here are you going to finance my drinks for the night?"

Erm, NO?

Ideally, that should have been my response but after Camilo Ingrid and I managed to wipe the look of surprises off our faces, we decided to sit down until we finished our drinks and make a swift exit.

Ingrid being Ingrid, took over 2 hours to finish her pint, so Camilo and I were left in the uncomfortable position of having 2 empty glasses in front of us with the prospect of having to wait over an hour before Ingrid manages to gulp her last drop of Stella. So when Miss.X received a phone call, we planned our escape to the bar, we asked the polite, well mannered girl sitting next to Ingrid what she would like and got up to make a swift exit; however, as soon as we got up all i heard was:

Miss.X: "Okay bye, bye, bye, erm JAY, JAY, JAY!!"

Jay: "One minute"

And i just continued walking, before she had the chance to place her order. She obviously must have me mistaken for some sort of waiter!

The tension in the room was palpable as we returned with our drinks, and as i gave the polite girl her drink, Miss.X had the cheek to say "You didn't get me my drink". Remind me where it states that i am obliged to buy you a drink? You know where the bar is, God gave you legs, so use them and go buy yourself a drink!

Anyway, rant over! I've spent enough time complaining about ill mannered members of this otherwise rather pleasant community in Buckingham!

Quick mention of the title. Whilst having a civil conversation over the phone with my girlfriend last night, we started talking about a certain individual(whom we will call Mr.XY) we both know who has recently gone through a sex change. Now, this individual recently started working at the same place we work at so we have witnessed his sex change quite directly. Only two weeks ago, Mr.XY was using the female toilets, so it was a big surprise to my male colleagues at work when he was spotted in the male toilets the other day, and a few of my colleagues complained that they felt really uncomfortable.

Now, let me make this clear, I feel nobody has the right to judge any individual on his or hers decisions.  In fact, i used to be quite homophobic when i was younger, but fortunately after maturing and actually meeting my sisters best friend who is gay, i realised he was just like any other person with an individual taste. I mean, if I am allowed to be attracted to Brunettes or Blondes or Caucasian or Mediterranean or French women, who am i to criticise his preferences?

On the subject of Mr.XY all i said was that i doubted how much actual change a sex change can actually have on a person. Scientifically, a surgeon can transform your genitalia, but does this resolve the problem? Does this resolve the mental indecisiveness of the individual?

Well anyway, casting doubt on whether someone having a sex change actually changes them, apparently deserves me being called a "Bigoted. Single minded. Pr*ck".

So go figure, whatever happened to freedom of speech?


Au revoir!

Grey and wet, Blue and sunny. Welcome to England!

The start of the week has been pretty miserable and slow. The world famous British weather has played a huge part, however both 2 hour lectures i attended on Tuesday were the main reason behind the misery.

This may sound like me complaining about such trivial subjects, considering millions of children across the world are dying of hunger and poverty, who am i to complain when i have a roof under my head and clothes on my back?

I just thought i would mention the extreme boredom i experienced in my lecture because that is what you do on blogs, you share your views on topics which may or may not be interesting.

Incidentally, the 'citizen journalist' side of me managed to video a fellow student falling asleep in the aforementioned class. I have deliberated uploading it but i fear for his academic future if the lecturer was to come across my blog or  the video online, as i assure you the content of the video is pure comedy and would go viral!

Tuesday night was the first night of football training at the Swan Pool leisure center in Buckingham. Colombian maestro Camilo joined me for a kick about which was played in the rain and in extremely windy conditions. Safe to say it wasn't a night for me to produce my best football with the ball slipping and sliding everywhere. It wasn't so bad in the end, met new people and enjoyed the feeling of caressing a football across the pitch again after the fractured knee injury.

I'll be heading to the Wolf pack tonight for drinks with a few other journalism students and of course to enjoy the Arsenal vs Liverpool match with Camilo, hopefully the Reds from North London can produce a performance which will brighten up my week. 

On a side note, the missus is thinking about buying a rabbit and asked me for ideas with names...the best she has come up with are:

• Professor Carrot
• Cotton Wool
• Wolfs bane

As you can probably gather, her imagination knows no boundaries, so any suggestions are welcome!

Au Revoir!

It begins

For the next few months i will be regularly posting on this blog as part of my journalism course at Buckingham university. This terms module is Introduction to reporting and by the end of the module, whatever comes of this foray into the blogging world will be marked by the feared external examiner and will contribute to my eventual degree, so fingers crossed!

What a day its been, arrive back home in Enfield at 7am, off to work in the warehouse at 9am, home at 6pm, to say im tired is an understatement.

After a long tiring day, all i fantasised about at work as i watched those final minutes tick by, was collapsing on my bed and sleeping for a minimum of 12 hours, but of course, the world has other plans.

I arrive home to find both my parents going to town in the kitchen, visitors, visitors, visitors, Sri Lankan houses never sleep!

Fortunately, i am no more the 14 year old who had to follow my parents everywhere, so i have managed to disappear upstairs into my room and after watching a few episodes of Prison Break i remembered this assignment so i thought i'd use my time more effectively and create this blog!

Plus i am working both sunday and monday so the good side of my brain advised me to get this over and done with, as forgetting to do so would mean feeling the wrath of Mr.Perkins.

Believe me, having experienced first hand the 'Perkins stare' following my time as Newsgroup leader last term, i wouldn't wish it upon anyone.

Wrapping this up here, the only positive about having visitors is the delicious food which awaits me downstairs.

Au Revoir!