Queen of Peace

I have written here in over month and for that I sincerely apologise. Obviously during exams I had a legitimate excuse, but they finished on the 18th of June and I don't really have a reason to explain by absence other than apathy.

Leaving school and exams ending have left in a weird place. Although year 13 itself was 12 months of weird. Everything became very real, very quickly, but by the time I felt I was beginning to get the hang of things it all ended.

So much of my identity has been built around school, which is why I guess I feel like I'm drifting in some vacuum and a bit out of touch with who I thought I was. School has just always been something I could do. Not just lessons, but the other stuff. I was always that girl on the student council, or in house drama, or being picked for this or that. Actual life, on the other hand, is a system that's not so easy to play. Who am I kidding? I've only been out of school two weeks. This hardly counts as real life. But when your oldest friend is getting engaged and being offered jobs based in Swindon, it can be hard to remember.

I'm not really sure what it is that I'm feeling. Cha, adolescence summed up in ten words. It doesn't help that any emotional responses feel rather delayed. It takes a good few days before I will feel pissed off at whoever for doing what they did, or happy for someone's achievement, or to enjoy whatever book I've been reading. I could just be tired. I turns out doing nothing is very tiring.

Gwendolen

 Photos taking by me during a walk at the Epsom Racecourse 

An email to Cecily

My slightly edited email to Cecily. NB She is having a Latino National Evening the Sunday that I leave after my visit to her (GAHHHH)

Damn. I do like my Latinos. Gutted to be missing this event.

But at least I get to spend a weekend with my favorite Latino of them all.

And no, I don't mean you.

Eek. I am becoming a fan of short syntaxes standing as isolated paragraphs. I think it's a pretty good representation of how I'm thinking at the moment. I'm so fricking tired. Everybody is; in one music lesson, the teacher said to her class ten minutes in "You can't be bothered to do this lesson, I can't be bothered to teach. Just go and relax. You guys can have a free, and I can have one too". The last two days at school, I have attempted to do work, but always have just seem to find myself sitting on a chair in the common room attempting to sleep. It's like I've been on the verge of tears all week. Not because I'm finding in particularly hard or stressful, but (why can't the English language have a word like 'sondern') rather I'm just so exhausted. Yesterday I felt so down in away I haven't felt before since coming to my new school (but I realised with horror how much I remember feeling it at our old school) and lots of people commented on it. But I bought myself some chocolate buttons and discussed feminism and sex (in an unsexual way) with J-- for half an hour. And then G-- and his girlfriend joined us and discussed how fun sex is. Which was a bit awkward. Because. Well. It's G-- and his girlfriend, and although we are all exposed to their semi dry-humping in the common room everyday, the thought of them actually being naked with their gentiles stuck together is just not that appealing. And going back to the tears thing, there's some other stuff (shitty teenage crushes*) that I've been thinking about too much.

I just want to come to Wales and see you. I am very very very much missing you. R-- I have really been drifting apart lately and so it can sometime feel like my only really good friend at school is F--. Sure, I have loads of friends and people that I get on really well with, and I never technically need to be alone in a free (if I wish it to be so). I guess I just miss having a good few people that I can have a range of conversations with. For each person, I only seem to be able to have one kind of conversation; for some it's deeply intellectual, for others the standard banter. I miss being able to have someone where I can have a whole range of conversations with. I do have that with F--, but as we were both saying, it's nice when you have that history with person, which neither of us (although I at least should) have what with being at new school.

 We've got our exam timetables, and a planner for the rest of the year, which is about the same size of a timetable, that has one decent sized box for everyday between now and the beginning of the summer holidays, and it fits on one size of A4. It's made me realise how close we are to leaving school. I really don't want to. I really love education. And. Oh shit. I don't want to be ready to leave school. I think that's the scariest thought. For my entire life school has been this safety blanket, a place which I know I will enjoy and excel at. But over the next year, school will cease to be the lovely warm duvet just after you have woken up, but rather the duvet you have after you have lain in until after midday, and it's hot, sweaty and uncomfortable. I don't want to experience that.

A hail storm has broken out with the odd bit of thunder and lightening. Talk about over dramatized pathetic fallacy.   

Sorry for the length/angstyness of this email.

I don't know why I apologised because I know it's the type of thing you love.

xxx

*Whose only remedy is Girls' Aloud

I think I should be Education Secretary.

Hey Readers!

 As you may have been aware from my last post, or if you live in England and have any exposure to the news/facebook, you will know that on Thursday many teenagers got there GCSE results. I'm pretty happy with mine.

Stereotypical happy, smiling, pretty blonde girl receiving results. [source]

 But of course, the Government isn't happy. Which isn't surprising considering that the GCSE curriculum is often mind-numbingly dull and patronising, filled with exam technique and little room for learning really great and interesting things for the sake of learning. It really is time for a re-think in regards to what we're learning. But hold up – this is the Government. They don't care that school is a place for learning and exploring knowledge, they're obviously exam factories where the only mark of how good they are is the number of A*s  achieved, and if this number isn't at some target imposed by people who left school long, long ago and don't what it's like to be a teenager in the 21st Century, then clearly something is very wrong. Naturally, the only way to deal with this catastrophe is a continual fiddling with exam system and grade boundaries.

 I'm not saying that grades aren't important – they definitely are. But how much does that A* I achieved in Drama really tell you? Does it tell you about my passion for the subject? All the hours I put in reading drama books and plays? Does it tell you about how my political beliefs and understanding of world was slightly altered? At the end of the day, does it even tell you if act or do lighting? The majority of the population will have no idea about what is involved in doing GCSE drama and so realistically an A* will mean nothing, other than that I reasonably good at the subject; a subject which most people don't take seriously, nor understand the sheer amount of hardwork and commitment involved.

 Contrastingly, my "useful" A* in ICT will tell them almost nothing about what I actually know about computers. Does that A* say that I can write a line of code, or design a half decent looking page on a website, or do an IF statement in excel? I would love it if I could. Instead that A* means that I am fully qualified in taking screenshots. I can honestly hardly remember anything I learned, meaning that I realistically I am no better a candidate than somebody without GCSE IT in applying for a job. And what if I could remember something? How about I put it like this: if science is supposed to inspire us to become astrophysicists or chemical engineers, then the ICT course is clearly designed for us to spend our lives in an office doing admin.

 I'll admit that in the sciences we do usually learn useful things. However when you look closer and compare to other subjects you begin to realise that there is a political agenda at play. We have to learn almost continuously about the environment. I understand and completely agree that the environment is one of the most important issues we face as a species, but by the time we have had it shoved down our throats in Biology, Chemistry, Physics, Geography, Languages and even Religious Studies (all of which are compulsory or highly popular subjects), it just becomes boring, and my mind switches off the moment it is mentioned. We're just going to loose interest. It will loose it's power to shock. And while I sit there writing about how a Muslim would feel about recycling, I look towards our politicians and see very little action being taken. It's time we stop learning the theory, and start implementing it.

  When students are still leaving school without achieving "5 A*-Cs including Maths and English" it is clear that the priority should not be on how hard it is to gain certain grades, but creating a curriculum that is more engaging than mobile phones or bunking off school. One which can engage teenagers no matter what their background is. One that can challenge and stretch every pupil, top and bottom. One which is worth more than an A*.

Gwendolen

Diary of a Socially Inept Hermit: Part 3

Hey Readers!

 Ok, I admit this is dragging on a bit now, but I think I might only have one more post after this one! The problem I'm finding now is I'm having to confront the ethical side of blogging and having to self-censor what I am posting due to the real life knock on effects it might have. So in reality these days were far more amusing and dramatic than may come across on the web, but hey ho.

Day 3

 For the first time the public transport actually worked for us! Woo! In other words, we actually went to the right platform. On the train over Arawyn and I had a massive hit of nostalgia when we started listening to a group of year 8 on the table opposite us. It's quite scary to realise that we are about to become those scary sixth formers who looked about 27 and seemed so much more mature and in no way could you ever make eye contact with them in the corridor*.

 Despite having two days to try a socialise, my tutor group was as divided as ever, with the external students on firmly on one side of the room, while the internal tribe sat on the other. We had all be given one of those sheets were you have to right down interesting skills that you could 'bring to the sixth form'. I appeared to be the only one who was actually brave enough to shed the society-imposed chains of modesty and claim that yes, I am the Queen of Chicken Keeping (which is a slightly lie as actually my Mum is the prime carer of Bertha).  But everyone else just sat there awkwardly claiming they had no skills for just long enough so that they could escape to their first lesson without having to admit that they do enjoy the odd game of football.

 My first lesson was physics. In a nice warm lab, which for the majority of the lesson was in the dark as we were doing wave-particle duality and needed to play about with lasers. However there was a slight problem in that I was very very very tired, the conditions were perfect for sleeping (Physics lab comes with a conveniently placed arm next to you that can double as a perfect pillow, absolutely free!) and quantum physics, no matter how cool, does rather stretch the brain. So I was reguarly having to scream at myself inside my brain to stop me from falling asleep. When the lesson finished I asked N if he had English next too he sort of nodded then ran off looking slightly terrified. I was left feeling rather confused.

 But yes, we both did have English next, in a room that was rather poorly sign posted to so I was almost late to. The English lesson was rather uneventful. Actually that's a lie, one of the most interesting and talked about events happened there but due to issues outlined in the introduction I think it would be very unwise and rather horrendous of me to discuss them in this post. But what I will say is that it put me in a rather awkward position and has had a knock on effect with my relationships and could influence sixth form choices for one of my friends. However that may not actually be the worst thing that happened in that lesson as our teacher revealed something shocking: he does not like Harry Potter. WHAT. I know. It's terrible. On a more educational note, we were introduced to one of the books we would be studying - A Clockwork Orange - and started discussing the morality of readers. Which after having a sleep-inducing lesson on wave-particle duality, became very hard.

 After break we had our second 'others' session where we had a tour of the school's sixth form facilities. That school is made up entirely of sixth form facilities. Every other room is a frickin sixth form study area. It is unnatural. Great, but unnatural.

 Then we lunch which proved to be much like my English lesson (stuff happened, but I can't talk about it). This lunch was very confusing for someone with limited brain power like myself as it was dived into two half an hour blocks with a talk from NCS in the middle.

 In our second tutor period something amazing happened - another external girl and I managed to infiltrate the internal students! This did admittedly result in three days worth of introductions etc being forced into one twenty-five minute session. Which was no problem for me as I can speak at a rather fast pace that I have a feeling slightly terrified everyone else. However it transpired that merely my having actual breasts terrified them. Talking of inappropriate things to say, the other external girl started passing around a piece of paper to get all the boys' names to add them on facebook. When it got to one of the girls, she was told she doesn't need to put her name down. It was a rather amusing event so everyone started to laugh at the awkwardness of it all, then I had to say "Oh it's like, 'I want your name, but wait... You have a vagina? NOOOO!'" Then all of the boys sort of sniggered, but then looked guilty at laughing at the word vagina, but then I confirmed to them that I did say vagina a lot and that it is fine to laugh at it. And they did and I got that nice feeling you get when you make someone laugh. Who needs to drugs when you can say inappropriate things and then cover it up by explaining you're a feminist who claims ownership of your body through unashamed speech, just to make everyone slightly happier?

Of course that's what I do. It's nothing to do with the fact I have no social skills.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful (I can't actually remember it) so I shan't be writing about it. However we had an early finish and I went around my friends house as I was going to go up to London that evening with my Mum and Brother to go and watch "Mission Drift" at the National Theatre. That show was the best piece of theatre I think I have ever seen and I shall hopefully do a review of it, despite seeing it about three weeks ago.

 On the train up I had plenty of time to reflect on the previous three days. It was then a realised how much fun I had had (hehehe "had had"). And that I had felt more able to be myself there, then I had been at the school I had been at for the last five years. I thought particularly about the last thing I had said to one of guys in my tutor group when we were leaving and he said "Well then, see you in two months?" and I replied "I don't know if I'm coming, so you might never see me again." It was true; I might never see some of these people again. That was a genuinely sad thought. These people were friendly, funny and intelligent. I admit that arrogance and mild sexism were two common characteristics, but that didn't stop me wanting to go back to Wednesday just so I can have another three days with these people.

Gwendolen   

*Unfortunately the current year 7s seem to have pigeon syndrome, as they now have no fear of the older years. The amount of times I have had a year 7 mock me as I ask them to move out the way of my locker. Luckily, the idea of having height still hasn't occurred to them, so I am still able to play the bongos on the heads of two unsuspecting children as I walk down the corridors. 

Diary of a Socially Inept Hermit: Part 2

Hey Readers!

 Before we begin: It's the Wimbledon finals weekend! Although I'm not a massive sports fan, this weekend has to be one of my favourite weekends of the summer. It's just a giant excuse to get together with friends and family, eat strawberries and cream and watch one the most simple of sports, tennis. However things aren't going away this year. Firstly, one of my friends does not like tennis and is refusing to let me watch it if we gathered at her house, therefore I have decided that Wimbledon is worth more than friends so I am stuck watching it with my family. Secondly, I am rather ill. It's not just hayfever (which is happening simultaneously) but it feels like beavers have climbed into my nose whilst sleeping, built a damn causing my nose to be permanently blocked, as well as a throat that feels like it has been torn to pieces by a bear. Thirdly, the likelihood that anyone will actually buy strawberries and cream is minimal.

 Now that's out of the way: back to the awkwardness that is my life!

Day 2

 After the traumatic experience of the trains the day before, Arawyn and I decided it would be best if we tried the bus. We found one that went via another school, about 5-10 minutes walk from the boys' school. Therefore I tottered up to the bus stop to meet her, only to be greeted with the news "The bus doesn't stop here." My heart sunk. Public transport has failed yet again. But then, a miracle! Two boys who went to the other school walked past our bus stop so we asked them where they got it, only to be told that the public cannot get that bus. Poo. There was a bus that was coming in five minutes that would take us in to the city where the school is, and after a couple of unsuccessful phone calls to parents, we decided we would have to get it and be late.

 Little known to us, that bus didn't stop at any of the villages on the way, so we managed to get to the city centre about twenty minutes before school starts. It was a miracle! And then right next to us was a bus going to the boys' school! Yet another miracle! With something finally going our way in regards to public transport, we walked over to the bus and it pulled away. Without us. We were a second too late and it had already started reversing. I hope you feel my pain. In a panic, we managed to get on the girls' school equivalent and thanks to some very helpful year 9s, we did managed to get into school fifteen minutes late.     

 Neither of us had a subject in Block E of our timetable, therefore we had to gather in the hall and embark on some 'bonding activities'. What fun. We had to do the standard activities of getting yourself in date of birth order without talking, and the human knot. The second one failed in a painful muddle of hilarity and swearing. The latter of which mainly came from me.

 Now we all bonded and chummy (I couldn't even remember people's names) we skipped off to our next lesson, which for me was English. We were doing the beginning of Othello, and after GCSE English, it was such a relief to finally have a good English lesson. The lesson started, as all good lessons do, with a conspiracy connecting Shakespeare and the King James Bible. Shakespeare was 46 when the King James Bible was published. And in the 46th Psalm, the 46th word in is 'Shake' and the 46th word from the end in is 'Spear'. Coincidence? Then we moved on the actual text, which I was not aware of was full of so many sex jokes. Now I read a lot of Shakespeare, I know the type of things that come up. But really. The enjoyment of this was added to by one of the guys in my class, N, was German and completely missed the references.

  Then I had my second and final maths lesson, which was the one of the dullest things I have had to sit through in my life. We were doing the mechanics component of the maths A-level, the SUVAT Equations to be specific. The maths itself was actually very interesting but oh dear Lord it was dull. Like people almost falling asleep dull. However it was rather easy, and although I could have answered most of the questions, as a general rule I don't as to not to annoy people, but I in one instance I had looked on ahead, and after a bit of thinking realised that the difference of two squares was going to come up, so when that stage had been reached I said "v squared minus u squared". Clearly this had impressed my teacher who asked for my name and told me how fantastic I was for being able to recognise that instantly. Yes... That is what I had done. But then, one of the boys in the back row said "That's the girl I was telling you about", then there was more sniggering/muttering, finished with the phrase "She's going to be a challenge." Oh Lord in heaven I was angry. Not least because I felt I had been labeled as a conquest but also I HAD NEVER SEEN THESE PEOPLE IN MY LIFE. HOW THE HELL CAN THEY BE TALKING ABOUT ME? Ok, they probably were in some other classes of mine, but I hadn't noticed them, and if I wasn't so polite and not entirely sure if they had actually said that, I would have given them something to talk about. In that I would be angry. Not anything else you cheeky monkeys ;)

 Before lunch all the external students had a meeting in the common room about life as an external student in the school, which was pretty standard. But then *insert baby voice* the boys girls had to be in different rooms so we don't hear about the secrets of the opposite sex. It was as you would imagine: if you're on your period, you're just going to have to get on with it (which I was rather dismayed at after reading this), don't wear short skirts (year 8s learn to gather at the bottom of the stairs) and don't be put off by how guys eat. Despite the patronising undertones of sexism, it was a rather amusing talk.

 The boys then filed back in and we all started on lunch. I was in a group with Arawyn, A, F and N, however we were next to a group of internal guys. One of these boys, by the looks of it, did want to sit with some of the mystical creatures that we are as girls, however was too nervous to leave the safety and comfort of the manly men, so ended up with his body facing us, and his neck twisted around to talk to his friends. It all looked rather awkward and painful.

 I finished with yet another awkward tutor group (externals clearly to manly [terrified] to mix with us vagina holders), and a very dull chemistry lesson.

 Going home, we once again became victim of the public transport, but you don't want to hear about that again. 

Gwendolen

   

Diary of a Socially Inept Hermit: Part 1

Hey readers!

 So from Wednesday 26th June to Wednesday 3rd July I'm having a huge new-person overload. Scary I know. This is due to the fact I will most likely be leaving my current school in September in order to join a new Sixth Form in September. I have applied to two schools, which last week I thought where very different, but I have know realised are incredibly similar, apart from one thing: IB vs A-level. Apart from that they are both mixed gender (although one is a boys' school in years 7-11, the other a girls'), both super-selective grammar schools, both very University drive, and both very successful at that. In the first school, the sixth form is about 500, and the other 200, so there is also a bit of a size difference.

 On Monday I was 65% for going to the girls' school and doing the IB. However I've got a feeling that may not be my final decision.

 From Wednesday 26th to Friday 28th I had a three day taster course at the boys' school. Which was amazing. I'm not sure how much I will get through in this post as I have only just woken up but I will try and at least do the first day... I hope you enjoy the awkwardness that is my life.

Day 1

 6:15 am start. Not very nice after not getting up until well after nine for the last two weeks. However I had been a very good girl and packed my bag the night before and I had careful selected my outfit (grey/green dress, black tights and boots with red nail and red lips).

 My train came at 7:53 so we left, picked up my friend (the lovely Arawyn) and got down the station and it was all fine and dandy. Until we missed our train because it did not appear at the usual platform. But in that moment it appeared no train actually existed and I was crapping myself.  After a few calls we managed to enlist the help of her Mum who was about to go up to London, but instead sped us up to the school to get us in there exactly on time. I will actually build her a house, I've never felt so relieved in my life.

 We both had to rush to registration in our new tutor group, which were both in the same block so we were both taken there by a sixth former who may have or may not have been attractive. My tutor, Mrs W, had already started the register so I just snuck in, without having the chance to really have a look around at the people there. There was still another student missing who came in about a minute after me. The boys who had previously been at the school laughed as he came in as he was wearing a blue tie. How do I know this? I heard this voice going "Oh here he is! And he is wearing his blue tie!". It's at that point I realised that I had L in form. L is a friend of mine, and well, he is one of those people who has to be seen to be believed. He is, well L. He is posh, a snob, hilarious, who does a killer slut drop and is absolutely nothing like his parents. Once I got over that amusing fact, we were given our timetables, headed down to the hall for a speech, before going to our first lesson.

 I had physics first with Dr P who is mental - fantastic - but mental. However that's not what I remember. I remember walking in (baring in mind I've been at a girls' school for the last five years and hardly ventured outside to actually meet people) and seeing out of a class of almost thirty, only three other girls. This was then proceeded by going a bit weak at the knees and my brain screaming "OH MY DEAR LORD THEY ACTUALLY EXIST. I MEAN I HEARD THE STORIES BUT I DIDN'T THINK I WOULD ACTUALLY EVER SEE ONE." I then proceeded to awkwardly take a seat on a table of guys and not make eye contact for the rest of the lesson. This led to terrible neck ache.

 At break my friend A introduced to me to a girl she met in her tutor called F who it soon turned out is my soul sister.

 Then I had Chemistry. Which was pretty boring if I'm honest, and I've now decided to drop it and do German instead. However at one point he said my group was fantastic and praised us heavily, but at the end of the lesson we were the one group who when everyone had to give their answers were just like "Yeah... Er.. We're just... Y'know... Numbers...." 

 We sat in the caffe at lunch and I repeatedly said vagina.

It's a nervous thing ok?

 My final lesson was maths. Which I freeeaaakiiiinnnn looooooovvvvvvvveeeeeee. We were doing logarithms and it was really great because I could sit there and work through it methodically which made me very happy. Because I'm cool like that.

No really.

I am the coolest of the cool cats.

I don't even like cats.

I'm a dog person through and through.

In year 6 I claimed I was part dog.

No lie.

 Speaking of cool things. I can speak about the guy I sat next to. Who is not cool in the slightest. In fact, he's rather creepy. I feel horrid saying this online but it's rather amusing. We both know this girl it turned out so I asked him how they met and they had met at party (not a massive surprise). There was then this awkward five second pause. 

*Insert creepy voice here* "She's really pretty."

Bit weird but hey. "Oh yeah I know, I wish I could look like her..."

Extra awkward pause lasting in the vicinity of twenty seconds.

"It's like she's been taken from the 1920's."

OK I'M RATHER CREEPED OUT NOW LET'S NOT SPEAK.

So we just sat there awkwardly for the rest of the lesson and I sort of ran out to get my train and it was all fine.

Until I realised I didn't have my phone.

 As of yet it has not been returned and I have come to the conclusion it was stolen.

Oh, and my bus was almost an hour late.  

Freaking disasters ruining fairly fantabulous days. 


Well this post has taken me long enough and it is waaaaayyyyyy too wordy so I shall write about the rest tomorrow maybe?

I hope you have enjoyed the awkward thing that is my life. Trust me it gets worse.

Gwendolen

P.S. Sorry about the font. 

Why I have become an Organ Donor

  On Tuesday of this week a letter was posted through my door confirming I had been added to the NHS Organ Donor Register.

 An organ donor is somebody who has decided and given their permission to have their organs removed after their death if said organs are in a suitable condition, in order to be transplanted into somebody else who would be critically ill without them. So no – people aren't going to wrench out my entire left lung while I'm still living to give to somebody else. In fact in all likelihood, I won't donate any organs at all, as there are very few ways you can actually die and have organs that won't kill someone else.

 I've known for the last few years that when I became sixteen that I would become an organ donor, however when my birthday rolled around last January I just kind of, well, forgot. I would remember every now and then but the thought of actually having to put in the effort to search on Google 'NHS Organ Donor' was just far too much. Luckily, for the potential (but lazy) donors like myself, there is the NHS had this wonderful idea: we could just tick a box. Here is a list of the partners that allow you to tick a box and become an organ donor, notably the DVLA (Driving and Vehicle Licensing Agency), the Passport Agency and Boots, where I ticked my box. I was just signing up for my Boots Advantage Card (which is really worth it for anyone who hasn't in the UK) when I saw "Would you like to be added to the NHS Organ Donor Register?" I though "Yes. Yes indeed I would." So now not only do I have a boots Advantage card which meant I could get £1 worth of points when I bought my new lipstick, it also meant I got a lovely Organ Donor card a few weeks later in the post (both of which are in the picture)!

 However donating your organs should not be a decision to make quickly - I have known for years it was something I wanted to do and was  not a spur of the moment decision. Organ donation may have an impact on when you die, although this is only speculation. It is said that if you are an organ donor doctors are more likely to turn off your life support, but this is very very very unlikely (doctors should do whatever they can to keep you alive) and you may not even be on life support when you die. My decision to become an organ donor has probably been helped by my religious views as a humanist (for those who read my earlier post about being an atheist, they are not mutually exclusive beliefs), and therefore I don't believe in an afterlife and if there is one, we dig up people's bones so clearly (in my opinion) you don't need a body to get there. So why let my organs go to waste rotting in the ground when they could be saving somebodies life. Or maybe not even their life- I could be given somebody vision. Yes, I can donate my frickin eyes. Ew. Or so I thought. My entire eye shall not be ripped out of my head the second I kick the bucket, instead my cornea, or another layer, would be carefully removed and through the wonders of modern medicine given to somebody and restoring their sight. It's all rather wonderful.

 For anyone who is interested click here. If you live outside the UK then just do a quick search online to find where you can donate- every country should have one. I would strongly encourage anyone to sign up due to the huge shortages of organs. We hear about waiting lists all the time- this is due to lack of suitable organs. Of course people die all the time, and many of them will be organ donors, but they didn't have suitable organs, for whatever reason. Quite frankly, the fact that our roads have become safer has led to a massive reduction in suitable organs. Now I'm suggesting we all go out and die in car crashes, but if I were to die in that horrendous way, then I want to save to somebodies life and make sure that my death is able to make somebodies life just a little bit better.

Next year- blood donation.

Gwendolen