Put Your Arms Around the World

In recent weeks I've been told off several times for "throwing [my]self at fully grown men." Despite this making me sound like some sort of seductive temptress who lures married men away from their innocent, loving wives, the reality is simpler, and less sordid. Far from being cast as the femme fatale in this little skit I am, in fact, being described as childish. But, never one to take criticism too seriously (haha, yeah right) I've not let this deter me, and I'm carrying on doing my thing. Haters gonna hate and all that.

Everyone who knows me is aware that I am, when appropriate, a very tactile person. In fact, I've even written about it on this blog. It's no big secret, I like hugs. It's how I make and greet friends, how I say goodbye; it's how I show thanks, or apologise; it's how I show sympathy or tell someone that I'm sorry they're having a bad time. I even hug people to put my magical healing properties into action.

At work over the summer I made many new friends and renewed some old acquaintances. I also found in Other Dan (Fleabag Monkeyboy) someone who is as tactile and friendly as I am. Which was amazing. And, after some discussion about friends and handling interpersonal relationships, hugging became part of our daily communication. (The same can be said for Dan, who also willingly jumped on the hug wagon - often taking it a little too far...)

Seeing old friends after a long time apart has also led to much encircling of people in arms recently, as I have returned to my "spiritual home" (intellectual home? part-time home? who knows?!) in Nottingham after more than a year away. Seeing Declan and Tom led to more grasping of fully grown men into welcoming and friendly death grips/embraces in the kitchen, the street, the cinema, and the bus stop. Even Lewis, who I saw in March on a fleeting trip round Braun Town, was (willingly) subjected to a cuddle in the middle of the Clive Granger Building. Not that I had much choice; his arms are so long he'd have hugged me from the end of the corridor...
Of course, seeing Emily, Chloe and Helen, my former TEAM from Abbey Road (or what normal people call "housemates"), again after so long also called for hugs! Especially after Chloe had actually worked out who I was. However, they are not grown men, so their mention in this blog is only honorary.

Last weekend I also did my share of hugging when I wasn't being the Super Scout Translator. I spent the weekend in Viernheim with my wonderful DPSG friends, and Paul and Nicole from Potters Bar. Seeing Gabi always calls for a hug; ditto Markus, who is about as full grown and male as it gets. Other friends, who I only got to know at the weekend, were not greeted with hugs, but were still cuddled close to my healing chest upon departure, meaning I left with more hugs than I arrived with! In fact, I wasn't even the cuddliest person on the weekend trip; the two young daughters of Paul and Nicole's hosts were far cuddlier than I during my time in Viernheim last week. We were, in the most literal sense, welcomed into the bosom of the family.

There are, naturally, many people I haven't had the chance to hug recently too. The most obvious to me are members of my family, including my grandparents (and Jean, of course. She counts), Auntie Margaret, and various aunts, uncles, cousins, and Victorian swimsuit models. There are lots of friends I haven't seen for a long time, too, including most of my old Owen's pals, who I seemed to always miss seeing over the summer. I'll hug them all soon. Then of course there are the people who are too far away, such as Daniel, Doreen, Sammi, Crowdy... The list is practically endless.

So in conclusion, a good, healthy hug is perfectly OK. There is nothing bad about expressing friendship through physical contact (except in a Scout leader/Explorer context, which is sad. But Teej is 18 now at least!), so the haters can shut up. Bad haters. Don't you have something important to be doing? Like researching Charles Taylor or something? Jeez.
Of course, respecting boundaries is important, and it's a pain when someone gets all up in your grill. But in general, throwing yourself at fully grown men is a perfectly acceptable pastime. And far better than throwing yourself at, for example, brick walls. Or tubas. Or poisonous snakes.

Anyway, Rachel wants dinner, so I'd better stop writing now!

The First Baloo

Hi again guys, you must feel truly blessed to be inundated with so many updates... My pondering this week looks at how great it is to be compared to a beloved childhood character.

One of the perks of being a Cub Leader has been choosing my own name, although it's not been made as public as it eventually will be. For those of you who don't know, the tradition for Cub leaders is for them to take the name of a character from the Jungle Book. There is a long history behind this, but basically it stems from the friendship between Rudyard Kipling (the author of the Jungle Book) and Lord Baden Powell (founder of Scouts.) The idea behind leaders having names is, I think, to create the distance between the leaders and the children which would be suitable in such a situation. This is a similar way of doing things to how teachers are only known by "Mr" or "Mrs" at school, except less formal.

As I think I said on this blog about two years ago, I decided upon Baloo. This is almost entirely because he's good at singing, and is loveable in the Disney film of The Jungle Book. However, when I started my Assistant Leader training about this time last year, I decided that I should read the Jungle Book (as in, the actual book), in order to properly educate myself as to what it was really all about. I'm assuming that most of you haven't actually read the Jungle Book; it's really weird. It's split into shorter stories - some are about Mowgli and his adventures in the jungle, there's one about a mongoose called Rikki Tikki Tavi, and one about a seal called Sea Catch (I think - there's lots of seals.) For a children's book, I wouldn't really recommend it for children, to be honest.

I'm just glad they don't call me Rikki Tikki Tavi.

Having read the book now, I do agree that I made the right choice with Baloo. He's not as fun-loving and easygoing as he is in the Disney film, and I like that. I like that there's two sides of the character which work together or separately. It makes it seem more real, more... Like me. Maybe.

The first time one of my Cubs called me Baloo was at camp the other weekend. It was one of the best feelings I've ever had. Like, for once, I was more than just another person; I had a specific role in this child's life and it made me feel important. It made me feel grown up.

I guess that must be what being a parent feels like.

An A-Z Of Beverages

Hey, OK. Well, stealing an idea from Emily I thought I'd ask for help with this; I wrote this a couple of years ago with help from a couple of friends (and the Crouts). This is an alphabet of drinks; it's not complete and I need help finishing it. But darling, it's fabulous!

A is for Alcohol

B is for Beverage, Booze, Baccardi, Beer, Bloody Mary, Bitter

C is for Champagne, Caraçao, Cocktail, Crystal Meths, Cider

D is for Drinkies

E is for Eggnog

F is for Fruit Juice

G is for Gin and Tonic, Ginger Beer

H is for Harvey Wallbanger

I is for Ice Cream Sundae, (Smirnoff) Ice

J is for Joooouice

K is for Koala?

L is for Lemon, Lime, Lager

M is for Martini, Malibu, Meths, Mulled Wine,

N is for 

O is for Orange Juice

P is for Pinot Noir, Pinot Grigio, Pint, Punch, Perry

Q is for Quocodile?

R is for Red Wine

S is for Sambuca, Sex on the Beach, Sunrise, Slice of Lemon

T is for Tequila

U is for Umbrella (in the top of the drinkie)

V is for Vodka

W is for WKD, Wine, White Wine Spritzer, Whiskey

X is for

Y is for

Z is for

What I Really Do...

This basically covers my ponderings for today...

Scout Group Family BBQ

Howdy folks! As a true Brit, I was hoping to open this blog post with a polite comment about the weather, but it's so changeable at the moment that whatever I write will be wrong. Plus, I'm not sure what I would write anyway, as it is both sunny and cold at the moment. Anyhoo. Today I am pondering the Group Family BBQ on Sunday; it should be fun, if the weather holds up (or at least, doesn't chuck down).

There are several reasons for me pondering this topic. The first is the number of people who appear to be going without their families. Whilst I understand that some people's families are embarrassing (mine more than most), that's no reason not to drag them along to a Scout event. And if you've got a big family, even better! There'll be more people to laugh at/with. It is a FAMILY event and thus you should at least ASK your family if they want to come! (If your brother is hot, you should make him come. Of course, I'm not thinking about anyone in particular... *cough* Pip *cough*)

Secondly, I'm hoping that Gabi and Markus, our German friends (from Germany, because they're just totally awesome like that) will still be in the country on Sunday (I can't remember when they go home) so as to part-take in our "fantastic" British Grillfest. Except that it will be nowhere near as good as a Grillfest, and we're probably more likely to call it a "sausagefest", which gives entirely the wrong idea.

Finally, the Bro Code. I'm not sure how many of my one reader actually know about the Bro Code, so I'll explain. TBC is based on a legen(wait for it)dary tome which is frequently cited in the American Sitcom "How I Met Your Mother" and is (by all accounts except his own) written by Barney Stintson, an infamous (fictional) playboy. I recently bought a copy of this book for myself and one for a friend for her Birthday, and we and the rest of the 'Splorers are planning to live by it for as long as we possibly can (we're all terrible at it, none of us can drive and we all get topless in front of each other sometimes, but only when camping). But we will be upholding this code at Sunday's festivities.

So, that's why I'm excited/pondering the Scout BBQ on Sunday. Not particularly interesting I know, but hey - you didn't have to read it :)

As always, you can follow me on Twitter at @EmPernilla for more random wafflings.
Much love xx

Cubs - An Advancement Of Ponderances

OK, I have thought about this long and hard (yes, I am aware how funny you find the words "long" and "hard" to be when put together. Grow up) about the whole Cub Leader thing and I think I might like to be a Cub leader actually. Think about it; you get super powers (see previous post about Cub Camp), and Cubs always do exactly what you ask them to (unlike Scouts, who are total beaches once they reach about twelve). Plus, you get to do all sorts of awesome crafts and nature walks and schtuff which, if you tried that with Scouts, they'd get bored. But you can still do awesome games and activities such as Wide Games, because they're old enough to understand and appreciate them.

My other plan is to help with Explorers, because (let's face it) Explorers are the reason for living; they're practically adults when they get to that age and they've (normally) got over the argumentative, rude streak (well, OK, no. But they've learnt to control it by that time). Plus, you can be so much more adventurous with their activities, such as Gilwell24 and random nights away, which is awesome. Plus, you can treat them like people and become almost like proper friends with them.

And by that time I'll be living with the rest of the current Splorers, minus Andrew probably - he's not overly liberal - and I'll need something fun to do with them. Somehow I highly doubt that I will ever get married in this hypothetical world; who'd want to live with me when I spend all my free time Scouting, apart from other Scoutists? Unless I marry another Scout/Cub/Splorer/Beaver Leader, which would solve a lot of problems, as I hope that, if I get married, I can have children and raise them in the Scouting religion (I'm pretty sure this is what happened in my family; my parents married and "what happened in the tent (i.e. me) stayed in the tent"). This is a lovely image.

Plus, you know, I don't have a career plan at the moment, so doing something like this will make me feel good. Volunteering makes everyone happy, right?

Ross

Apparently, I have received some complaints from a certain goat-breaker that he was not included in yesterday's blog post. So here is a ponderance all about Ross (selfish person).

There's not really that much to say, Ross is awesome; he likes construction and has some weird obsession with triangles, which did help us win the pioneering challenge at Splorers recently but, apart from that, is just odd. He likes watching weird videos (no, not like that) on YouTube, mostly about crazy french men and llamas, and he likes Lego, because it's like big person bricks, but smaller and eaiser to manipulate.

Ross has become famous throughout the imaginary realm of Cuffley for his immense goat-breaking skillage (just, just don't ask) and for finding sand on the beach. He has affiliations with the wonderful Becky (BT) and Philip (Gorgeous, who doesn't read this, so I can get away with calling him Philip), who are both pretty cool.

When I was younger, we used to visit Ross and his family for Christmas, or they would come to us. This led to such events as "the Tutu Incident", which I don't remember, but Ross's parents have a video of. More recently, he has become one of our Splorers and has been involved in several camps, hikes and teapotting experiences, most of which involve him repeatedly saying "erm..."

So yeah, that's all there is to say about Ross, apart from that really awkward time he invited us to the cinema with his mates and then didn't talk to us for the ENTIRE TIME. But I already wrote about that. (Rude!)

Thanks for reading, guys. If you like my blog (or even if you don't) please try to read this blog:
http://shirleynomates.blogspot.co.uk/
It might be interestring, you never know! (more likely not though, because Emily writes it...)

And, if you feel like it, you can follow me on Twitter at @EmPernilla. Thanks :D

Cub Camp

So, as many of you may know, I have been helping at the District Cub Camp this weekend with a fantastic group of people. Therefore I have been pondering the joys of Cubs, camping and the general topic of Scoutists. So basically, I have decided that I really don't want to be a Cub Leader! I don't know how they do it! The first night, the majority of them were awake until two am chatting and generally being awesome, yet several of them were awake again at four thirty, yelling at the Cubs to shut up and go back to sleep (but more politely, obviously). How do they do it?!?!?! It's amazing. The second night was almost the same, we were up until at least quarter to two, and yet everyone was awake and functioning properly fairly early the next morning. I swear, Cub Leaders have super-human powers.

At this point it may be useful to introduce the leaders, although we didn't actually learn their real names until the last night, as the Cubs tended to call them all by names such as "Akela". We invented our own nicknames, some of which I shall explain. Firstly, there was (of course) Jean (the Cuffley Akela) and Maureen (Hathi). Then there was Rolf Harris, who I think was really called Dave, who appeared to be the Akela-In-Charge, and his sons Beer Guy (Baloo - also Grant) and Steve-the-Two (not sure of his Cub name, but he was really Ian). Finally there was BeardyWeirdy (Miles, we also heard him called "Teenage Mutant Ginger Turtle") and Pencil Guy (Rikki Tikki Tavi - definitely pronounced Tar-vi, not Tay-vi - who was also known as Paul). I shan't go into the whole double-alias thing as it begins to get confusing.

There was also Other Ian, Bagheera (whose real name we don't know), Juan, Julio, GuythatlookslikePip and various people who didn't get nicknames as they didn't do anything awesome enough to warrant one. Or spend enough time with us for us to get to know them.

Anyway, these guys were cool.

Finally, this weekend, I have decided that, in the highly unlikely case that I actually become a Cub Leader, I would like to be Baloo, as he is awesome. Also, I think I would suit Baloo more than, for example, Bagheera or Kaa, and Rikki Tikki Tavi is just really really long...

Shout It To The World!

You peeps! I have a very serious, yet jokey ponderance today.

This evening I found out a very interesting fact about one of my best friends that, really, I should have found out about a year ago. It's nobody's fault, it's just how things happen to have turned out. But it got me thinking. When I asked my other friend (Alice) if she knew she said it was "knowledge" but that there "hadn't been a huge song and dance about it". This gave me an idea.

From now, I am starting a campaign to get people Shouting their news from the rooftops!!! I think that the best thing we can do for our society and for ourselves is to be more open about our lives. So, if anyone had anything they'd like to share, they can comment here or message me and I will make it public (slightly) for them. This blog only reaches about forty people, but it's more than one person can tell at a time without a microphone or a soap box. You don't have to give a name, if you don't want to, but telling people will make you feel so much happier within yourself.

I'll start.

My name is Emma (we all know that) and I play the saxophone. I use the saxophone as a way to stop being sad and be awesome instead. I am a massive grammar nerd. I am a huge geek. I am both massive and huge. I have some friends, but no boyfriend, which is a shame. I study English (which I'm not as keen on as I used to be), German (which I love), Religious Studies (which I also love) and Chemistry (which is difficult, but worth it). I am a Methodist Christian (but not in a "you should all come to church with me" way. It'd be nice if you did, but I respect your right to choose, as long as it's not a danger to anyone else). I have recently discovered that I possess a power which makes people answer "yes" when really they should answer "no". This came back to bite me. I have the most supportive friends in the world!! I am an Explorer Scout and a Ranger (Guide Senior Section). I love playing the saxophone and it is a major part of my life. My saxophone is like the child I have yet to have (don't worry I'm not pregnant). My favourite film is Snow White. My favourite book is The Shell House.

Is there anything else? Ask me questions, I'll answer them. (Keep it clean please)

SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS!
Spread the word! Start telling people things!

You Know You're Sad When...

Shalom, as Phoebe would say, my darlings. My ponderances since I last write have been minimal, although my working-ness has been much. Today I have been pondering how very, very sad I am. I really am very, very sad.

I thought to myself, as I cleaned my saxophone, wearing a shirt with a colourful message about Jesus after finishing playing music nobody had listened to and thinking about Scouts.

Yes, I am about six walking stereotypes.

So, here is a list of things which I, the Queen of Sad, have deemed "You know you're sad when..." If more than half apply to you, then you need to take a serious look at your life.

• You have never looked at a wall and thought "I could run through that!"
• Your one true love is a saxophone named Alfonz
• One of your top goals in life is to achieve the Silver Acorn
• You know what the Silver Acorn is
• Your best friend is a dog called Bertrandt
• You wish you had a dog called Bertrandt
• You are part of a society or organisation in which you have less than three friends and you only turn up for the free food and/or drink.
• You can recite the first chapter of the first Artemis Fowl book
• You read this blog regularly
• You write this blog regularly
• You watch more than 1 hour worth of programmes on "Dave" per day
• You watch more than 1 hour worth of YouTube videos per day
• You are overly pernickety about both spelling and grammar, especially on social network sites and in Greetings cards
• You know all the words to The Garo Song
• You've never been camping. No, PGL doesn't count. I mean PROPER camping
• You don't know what proper camping is
• You broke a goat

Splorers: My Real Homies (Or Something)

'Allo Darleeengs. Today I am pondering the Splorers, who are perhaps my homies, besties, and the coolest people I know who I don't share the Common Room, or the lounge room at Church, with (Sorry guys, I have to put in that disclaimer).

Currently, our Explorer Scout Unit consists of:

• Andrew Wilhem Nigel Marshall
• Elizabeth Gillaaay Concertina Sartori
• Emily Rupertia Alfonz Young
• Me
• Jacktopher Arnold Maria Coleman
• Jessiqua Juan Wendy Kraushaar
• Joshua Irene Callum Roper
• MatThew Icecreamcone Raccoon Weller
• Oliver Nancy Margaret Brossi
• Philip Pippin Gorgeous Collis
• Phoebekins Noel Philanthropist Neal
• Rebecca Jayne (BJ) Tyrannosaurus (BT) Harvey
• Rossington Goatbreaker Toasteroven Staunton III
• Samantha Post Office Theodora Watts

And the Leaders consist of:

• Beardy McBeardson Bedwell
• Special Steve Bicyclist Motorcop Rowsell
• Pete von Petey Pete Pete Slugdance Cracknell
• Lovely Likeable Leedley Leeeeeee 
• Diane and Pam, The Logical errr, Man(?)

They are beautiful, and I very love them much. They should all be awarded with awards and shiz for recognition. And we recently got a reverse TARDIS. It says "Blue Box" on it and it's bigger on the outside. We're gonna put mirrors on the ceiling for Becky and Ross...

The Warped Minds of Children

Hello. These last few days I have been holding a competition of "Who can come up with the most inventive thing to do to a traitor?" with the Splorer girls (minus Sammi who doesn't know the person), therefore I have been pondering this. This is the list so far (Any personal details have been omitted, making them a little less funny, but I can't be seen to be offensive or bullying):

1. Pull out his insides and stuff him with love and rainbows, making a giant teddy (Phoebe)
2. Insert a Bible somewhere... private. (Emily)
3. Shove a Crout inside him (confusingly) (Emily)
4. Shave him. Then he'd completely malfunction. (Phoebe)
5. Stand him up then knock him down. (Phoebe)
6. Break him in half (Phoebe)
7. Drown him in a barrel of water and ferment him, then he'd be beer (Phoebe)
8. Roll him out, cut him out, flavour, bake in the oven at 210 degrees for 20 minutes, then he would be a Ginger Bread. (Phoebe)
9. Mush him up and put him in a bakery oven, then he'd be bread (Emily, somewhat uninventively)
10. Scrub him into your hair, then he'd be shampoo (Emily)
11. Crumble him over apple crumble. (Emily/Miranda)
12. Hollow him out and use him as a canoe (Liz)
13. Fill him with jelly (Liz)
14. Tap him with a wooden mallet (Becky)
15. Lock him in a room with me and Liz. Let's watch what happens (Jess, somewhat rudely)

As you can see, it is quite disturbing how strange my wonderful friends are. Add to this the fact that Maria said she liked rearranging faces (we knew she was a good serial killer) and it is quite horrifying how my friends think. I'd better start keeping a closer eye on them, in case they decide to leave me in a hole to die or something. It has been threatened on many an occasion...

What Am I?

As you can see, my ponderances this week have been mostly philosophical, on a personal level. I have been trying to decide what I am, based on what I know and what had been said about me in the past.

Well, to start with, I'm a girl, although some people say I'm now a woman (hahaha), and Mr Bean (bless 'im) called me a "lady". But I'll stick to girl. According to one person, I'm "a lovely girl with a special personality", but, as someone else said, I'm a "weirdo". They're probably just two ways of saying the same thing...

I'm a rocker, a student, a tea-totalist (shhh, it's a thing...) and a member of a generation which is in the process of ruining the planet for all those who come after us, whilst trying to clear up the mess left behind by the last lot. I've been labelled an anarchist, a communist and fascist (all in the same conversation, by the same person), but only the first two of these are true.

I'm sober, legal, underage, overage, conscientious, stressed, overworked, underworked, tired and confused. I'm a Scout and a Guide (please don't take offence Martha, I did it alphabetically) and I always will be. Apparently, I'm a "musician", but I have very little sense of rhythm, I'm an alto in most of the choirs, I'm the only girl in the school Soul Band who's not a singer and I'm the only person in the school crazy enough to own a barington (baritone) saxophone.

According to recent surveys - or some other unreliable source - I'm broken-hearted, which I suppose answers the question "What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted?"; they write stupid blogs nobody except Oliver cares about. I'm used and abused, forgotten, remembered, lead, followed, thanked, ignored, asked and answered, Armenian (but not really, it just sounded good. I like alliteration) and apparently, I'm opinionated, but I think otherwise...

I'm a daughter, a sister, a niece, a granddaughter and a cousin to name but a few. I'm also - hopefully - a friend, I very love you all much, and a provider of Vegan Cake twice a term for my RS Class ( It's you guys).

I'm many other things too; in the depths of the internet somewhere I'm a little teapot, but the less said about that, the better. Seeing as this post is one of the longest yet, we can also assume I'm quite arrogant, but I promise I'm not usually. I'd write a post about my friends, but I'm sure I'd miss someone out, so I'll play it safe and not... None of this really answers the question, but it's a start. If you feel like if (If anyone's reading this) you can comment with stuff that you are and I can agree / disagree as I see fit.