A decree from the Royal House of Green Sky, the Outside Realm:

“This blog will no longer be updated.”

It only took me half a year (or to be more specific, just five months and a bit), but I’ve finally gotten back to blogging again. Life has been hectic, with school and exams and oh, my kid brother hijacked my holiday to the Philippines and came back to England with me. Hurrah!

I am so sorry for neglecting A Green Sky Outside this past few months… I hope I didn’t disappoint anyone too much. On the plus side, I did start writing again — only, I didn’t really want to pick up on where I left of here and so I created a new WP blog. The address is apartment8b.wordpress.com and I’ve christened it “The Mind Palace”, which is a direct reference from BBC’s Sherlock and a nod to the memory palace in psychology.

Again, so sorry but I hope you guys can follow me in this new adventure! Here’s an ice cream sundae as a parting gift:


Work Experience (or Internships, as I believe they are also called)

Gimme that tub of ice cream, I need a treat.

And while we’re on the topic of food (if you can count delicious, delicious ice cream coated with chocolate syrup as “food”), let me tell you about what my week was made of.

  • a dash of early mornings
  • a dollop of forgotten meetings
  • four cups of way-too-much-walking
  • one hundred and eleven pages of Tess of the D’Urbervilles, and finally
  • countless of awkward conversations and smiles

Marry Poppins once said that a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down… but you know what? I’ve consumed way too much sugar over the past week, I can never look at another Cadbury miniroll again. (It still won’t stop me from snacking on them, though.)

So basically, my regular schedule of going to school, doing homework and whiling away the hours on the Internet has been turned topsy-turvy by this thing called WORK EXPERIENCE. Yes, all the students in my year at school were assigned two weeks’ worth of Work Experience at any place we chose to apply to.

I wanted to work for a publishing company somewhere in London (cough*RandomHouseGroup*cough), but for some reason that didn’t work out. Instead, a primary school accepted me, which sounded like a good idea at the time, mainly because I was so relieved to have been able to find a placement. Don’t get me wrong — I absolutely adore my placement. I’m learning a lot and I quite enjoy having “colleagues” even though they’re more than twice my age. I enjoy eating lunch in a staff room, reading either Tess of the D’Urbervilles or The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, depending on my mood. But honestly, does the school have to be so. damn. far. away?!

The distance from the school to where I live is approximately two miles. And guess what — I don’t drive, nor do I even have a bike. Having roughly timed myself for the past five days (yes, I do things like that), I’ve worked out that I spend forty five minutes walking endlessly from home to workplace at seven thirty in the morning, and three in the afternoon. By the time I get home, I’m just about ready to collapse on the bed and just die.

I mean, come onTwo miles. Coming from the girl who takes the odd staircase instead of the escalator and considers that as exercise, that it quite a lot.

But quite enough whining. I’ve signed up for this and I’m seeing it through. I’ve got one more week to go. I can do this, right? Who knows, maybe I just might go into teaching. Both my grandparents were teachers once, and both were quite successful in their careers. They both served their own terms as principals at the same school, which is very idyllic now that I think about it.


Over and out.