"I am Sarah, and I bid you welcome ..... "
OK, just to start off by saying (because I am sick of saying 'I know!' to friends and family) I don't actually look anything like that picture over there. That picture is about 18 months old, I'm drunk and I was at the Whitby Goth Weekend. So yes, I know it doesn't really look like me at all. But most of the time I am not drunk, nor am I wearing a long dark wig. But it reminds me of a good night out, so it stays. I do enjoy WGW (except for having to walk up and down steps and hills wearing a corset, which is not an easy thing to do).
Oh, and just to clear up a few ridiculous stereotypes, despite the music I listen to and the places I go out to and the books I read and the clothes I wear (big black skirts with hoops and petticoats and corsets), I don't want to kill myself under some deluded notion that death is somehow romantic, I don't worship the devil, I'm not depressed, I'm not in a cult, I don't hang around in graveyards and I don't think I'm a vampire. I'm actually a useful member of society - I teach Psychology in the local sixth form college. And I do love my job. I do something I enjoy plus I get long holidays. Excellent. Oh, and on the off chance that any of the parents of the kids I teach read this (unlikely, I know) I just want to quote from School of Rock - your kids have all really touched me, and I'm pretty sure that I have touched them. (Now let's hope I don't get sacked.)
Random things that make me me include a complete inability to keep goldfish or plants alive (except for one plant that I have had for about 3 years and is the one plant I have tried to kill because it is getting too big, but it is made of stern stuff and refuses to die), a hatred of London, a love of flying - but strangely, a fear of heights - and a slight obsession with the number 5. I also have the bad habit of looking up any ache or pain I get on Google and then deciding that I have some terrible illness.
I'm also quite accident prone. I have hurt my left hand by falling upstairs and downstairs more times than I can remember. Most memorably, I once broke it on the morning OFSTED was coming in to observe me, when I got up in the dark, smacked it off the bedroom door frame, flung it up and above me in pain and hit it off the bathroom door which was behind me. I also once chipped my coccyx on a funfair ride in Belfast. If I want to impress people who are telling me about horrendous injuries they have had, I like to say that I once broke my back. And once I fell backwards out of the living room window at a party at a friend's house and landed in a rose bush. There were no broken bones that time, just dented pride and some squashed flowers. (See what I mean about being unable to keep plants alive?) Oh, and once I burnt my arse on a pair of hair straighteners.
I wish I could speak another language fluently. But I have had to come to the conclusion that there just isn't enough room in my brain for two langauges. However, I have managed to learn 'Zovem se Crvenkapica', which I believe is Croatian for 'I am called Little Red Riding Hood'. I look forward to the day that I can use that sentence.
I talk to myself a lot. In the house, in the garden, in the car, in the office - I can have whole conversations quite happily. I have also been told that I talk in my sleep. Obviously I don't know to what extent, but I do know that I once woke myself up in the middle of night saying 'button mushrooms' in quite an urgent tone of voice.
I like to think that virtually all people are good people. I'm not naive, I know that there are some evil fuckers out there, but surely the vast majority of us must have at least one good quality??
I don't believe in the idea of soulmates. I don't believe in the death penalty. I don't believe that we can be the only intelligent life in the universe, but I also don't believe that we can ever find that out for certain.
Sarah xxxxx
You scored as A Tramp. You've done it all. And twice. You make a good imitation lady but know when to take off your high heeled boots and club a man in the eye. You make an awful lot of money, but somehow it all vanishes down you gullet or up your dress.Test by www.MollyCrabapple.com
A Tramp
46%
The Artiste
42%
The Lady
29%
The Cad
21%
Which Victorian Stereotype are you?
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