gosh, kate

"tell us lots of stories"

2012-02-17T20:50:00.001Z

Last weekend my brother and his mate came to stay, and we made a couple of trips to a couple of pubs with my friends. Now, anyone that knows us (and, to be honest, some who don't) knows that my family is into telling stories, and that my brother is a remarkably good storyteller.

We all sat round a table in this quirky little pub that I love in Newcastle, watching him as he told endless stories about what it's like to be a 17 year-old in high school -- what it's like being a 17 year-old full stop, something that my friends and myself have to look increasingly far back in time to remember.

My brother isn't a quiet bloke at the best of times, but he really comes alive when he's telling a story -- he tells it with his whole face, his accent, his hands. It's an absolute treat to watch and, needless to say, I was beaming with pride.

Storytelling isn't something that we think about all that much. If someone says 'story', you tend to think of a child's story in a book, or something generally made-up.

This is how Google defines a story:

sto·ry
noun
account of imaginary or real people and events told for entertainment

'Real people' -- that's the key. We forget that the day-to-day way we relate to each other is made up almost entirely of stories of one form or another. Often it's as much about the way we tell a story as the story itself. I know first hand -- I might try and tell one of my friends one of my brother's stories, keen that they experience it for themselves, but find that I don't tell it in half as entertaining a way as he can.

The other week a group of mates and I got together and we ended up sharing bits of our life stories with each other. We just went round the circle really, everyone sharing something. I tell you, you could have heard a pin drop whenever anyone was speaking.

The stories themselves were amazing, but no less interesting was the way people told them. Some said a lot, some said only a little; some blushed, some didn't; some punctuated with hand gestures, others kept their eyes down. I don't think anyone would have called it that, but we were storytelling.

My housemate is hosting a girls' youth group in our living room this evening -- I can hear them in there, hooting and shrieking away. My housemate recently came back from a 3 week trip to Australia, she was glowing and brown and bursting with new tales to tell. When her girls arrived this evening, they all piled into the living room, sat down and said:

"How was Australia? Tell us lots of stories!"

The Bard -- John Martin

I suspect she still is, with those teenaged girls all gathered round, enthralled.

Storytelling used to be much more engrained into culture, far more formalised and recognised for its deep, deep importance. Troubadour. Bard. Minstrel. Poet.

This painting is one of my most favourites. It's by John Martin and is called The Bard. It illustrates a time in Welsh history when Edward I attempted to kill Welsh culture by murdering any bards he could find. Back then, storytelling was a truly crucial part of society -- word of mouth was the only record of life that ordinary people had.

Google it to see it in full size and look at the way the bard is drawn -- he's like a piece of the landscape, clinging to a craggy rock face, muscle-bound and grey-bearded, steeped in history, looking Zeus-like, godlike on the cliff face. So much bigger than the tiny soldiers below -- the proportions of the painting are blown by his bigness, his absurdly huge form. But what a figure! He beams power and force and defiance. Storytelling more powerful, even, than an army.

Storytelling is a huge part of our society still, but often the telling of our own histories rather than the collective. Blogging itself is storytelling. We're all obsessed with telling our stories, chronicling our lives -- Facebook, MySpace, diaries, journals.

Facebook is now encouraging us to create a visual story of our lives, omitting no detail. Personal stories are so laughably readily available to us, so eagerly broadcasted.

We think so little of sharing our stories with literally thousands of people that we often don't realise we're doing it. I don't necessarily think it's a bad thing to be so overwhelmingly connected to people, but it is good to know that there are some things that just can't be communicated as well as face-to-face. Watching my brother tell his stories will never, can never, be rivalled by a blog post or status update.

No particular conclusion to this one, just -- tell stories! Revel in them! Write them down! It feels good to know that we're doing just the same as we've been doing since people began.

the best thing

2012-01-29T18:31:00.000Z

So I've been listening to an album by Port Isaac's Fisherman's Friends fairly solidly for the last week -- I'm still not tired of it. I love sea shanties. I really love them.

I understand that they might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I think they're bloomin marvellous. Wikipedia defines a sea shanty as follows:

A shanty (also spelled "chantey," "chanty") is a type of work song that was once commonly sung to accompany labour on board large merchant sailing vessels

Basically, they were songs sung by men who spent months at a time on the sea in huge old ships -- crashing through the waves, hauling the anchor and climbing the rigging. Tempting as it is to romanticise the kind of life they might have led, in reality it must have been an exhilarating, gut-wrenching, back-breaking, rollicking, superstition-ridden, stinking and intensely communal way of life.

Yet despite all this, the songs they sang -- passed down over hundreds of years through oral tradition and memory -- speak so candidly of love, loneliness, brotherhood, insobriety, women, work, and hope. I love their simplicity and honesty, and there's something about a group of male voices (often with little or no instrumental accompaniment) that I find irresistible.

As well as all that, I have some very very fond memories of sea shanty weekends in Whitby with my Granny. These weekends were held annually (I'm not sure if they happen still -- I hope they do) and drew dozens of sea shanty groups into the various pubs and taverns of the town for many many performances over the weekend -- some less formal than others.

My Granny and I went together for several years (starting, I think, when I was about 6) and they were very formative experiences for me. I remember the delicious sense of naughtiness as she would take me into a pub full of beer, smoke and old grey-bearded sea dogs to listen to the sea shanties. I'd sit there, utterly enthralled at the bare brazen singing, raw and somehow deeply important.

Whitby, North Yorkshire

The audience sat around me on rickety wooden stools and threadbare armchairs would be roused and join in the exuberant music. Surrounded by the tapping of feet, banging of tables and clapping of hands, I was desperate to learn the words so that I could join in. It's amazing how quickly you can pick them up. Other songs would be more melancholy -- singing of longing after months on the sea -- and the singing would become a general hum hanging over the room, acapella and tipping over some invisible boundary into the profoundly spiritual. I would hold my breath as I saw grown men cry and the atmosphere became electric.

After nights of shanties fit to burst, my Granny and I would wind our way in the dark back to the cottage we were staying in, stopping off at a fish and chip shop for a cone of chips on the way back. Even now, listening to shanties brings a distinct taste of hot vinegary chips to my tongue.

revue de l'artiste

2012-01-22T15:50:00.001Z

The Artist - 2012, dir. Michel Hazanavicius

I wasn't sure what to expect from this film -- I vaguely knew that it might be a silent film, I'd seen an intriguing trailer for it, but basically thought that any film released in 2012 in black and white and possibly silent must be worth a watch, if only to see if they could pull it off.

Put simply, they did.

It's set in the late 1920s, and the main character is an old-school melodrama film star called George Valentin, who is basking in the heyday of his fame and success. Not giving anything away, time passes and the film industry progresses to the stage of pioneering the first 'talkie' films -- something Valentin thinks will never catch on.

The film as a whole -- while having plenty of genuinely funny moments -- is actually a lot more melancholy than I imagined. It's directed and shot beautifully, and I was surprised at just how little I missed any speech (there were some dialogue subtitles, but mainly you were left to work it out for yourself). It's to the credit of the actors that you just didn't really feel that you needed any dialogue.

I suppose it was out of such necessity that melodrama was born, but for The Artist to be able to distinguish between the over-acting of the movie-within-the-movie and the film itself is impressive. The film itself is subject to the same constraints as the silent films of the twenties, but I wasn't left with the feeling that any of it was unnecessarily over-acted.

I enjoyed the elements of the film that mirror characteristics of the original silents (like the characterisation of the little jack russell side-kick), and in a sense I think those sometimes blurred boundaries were reflected in George Valentin's life -- he expected the same reaction from people in real-life as those in his movies, and was eventually left behind in a world that made him increasingly irrelevant.

Overall, I was left with the urge to watch some of the old originals (my knowledge of them is lacking to say the least), after being given a new appreciation of their artistry.

And that, I suppose, was the point.

goodwill

2011-12-25T12:42:00.000Z

I'm sat at the dining room table at my mum's house, in that gorgeous lull after presents have been opened and before (long before) Christmas dinner is ready.

So, as usual, I'm starting to have that lovely, slightly nostalgic, Christmassy feeling -- thinking about Christmases gone by, and how much things have changed.

This is the first Christmas when I have really, properly, been living away from home. Of course, at uni I was living away from home for the majority of the year, but now I don't have the great long prescriptive holidays -- I now have 'annual leave' to contend with.

I think having only a limited number of allocated days when I can come home home makes me appreciate it all the more. When I first started uni, Dad said "You'll come back from uni after all that excitement and change and be amazed when you see everything at home is completely the same -- your life will be going at such a fast pace, it'll seem strange when you come back and nothing here will have changed!"

In many ways, he was right. Life at uni (and now working life) did, and does, seem to go very quickly. But I think Dad might have been worried that when I came back for holidays, home would seem a bit dull and predictable in comparison. In actual fact, 'predictable' or, rather, 'comfortable' is exactly what I want when I come home! When everything else feels a little overwhelming and grown-up, coming home and feeling utterly at home and comfy is perfection!

At no other time is this feeling felt stronger than at Christmas. As a Christian, Christmas has a very special significance to me anyway, but it's also a time of year that is embraced by everyone. If not the historic and theological importance, the cultural feeling of familiarity and cosiness is something that everyone can appreciate -- and we love it!

So, thank God for Christmas. Thank God for family, friends, and for the wafts of Christmas dinner floating through our houses.

finally (it's an epic one...)

2011-12-18T21:16:00.000Z

So, Facebook Timeline has finally arrived! Given that making the most of social media is part of my job description, I now have the perfect excuse to be truly nosy and geek-ish about the inner workings of Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and the like.

After what seemed an interminable wait, I’ve finally been able to test out Timeline for myself. In my opinion, it was entirely worth the wait. It is by far the best update we’ve had from Facebook yet, and I stand by my previous opinions to say that I think they’ve finally cracked it -- Facebook has changed forever and, I think, changed for the better.

Users’ profiles are now centred around a vertical line running the length of their browser page, with the individual posts, photos and status updates appearing in boxes either side of the line. Boxes containing content about significant events (e.g. graduation from university, marriage, new job) are automatically detected by Facebook and made larger -- taking up the entire width of the page -- to ‘feature’, or highlight, the event. Other, undetected events can also be enlarged by clicking the star icon in the corner of each box. Equally, events can be un-featured by clicking the star icon again.

The new Timeline profiles are much more app-driven, giving people real-time updates about what their friends are listening to, watching, reading, cooking. Mark Zuckerberg's aim is for Facebook to become a natural extension to real-life relationships, with users taking advantage of Facebook’s new capabilities and using it as a primary means of sharing life with friends, not just ‘Friends’.

At the top of the timeline, above your profile picture, there is space for a ‘cover picture’ -- a large, widescreen image of your choosing. Currently, mine is the teacup from my blog header above, but it can be anything. I’ve seen some interesting and imaginative examples online, which I have scattered through this post.

To the right of the timeline is a list of years, starting at your year of birth and ending with the current year, allowing users to click to a particular year (and even a specific month) to view the content added at that time. Basically this all means is that the events, photos and statuses from years gone by that have previously been confined to the depths of Facebook’s memory, virtually irretrievable, are now very easily accessed and viewed.

It’s this feature of Timeline that people seem to have the most issue with. Many users seem mortified at the prospect of early posts now resurfacing, often years later, to be inspected by their Facebook friends. Now, to me, this just prompts the question: if their previous content is so private -- why post it in the first place?!

I understand that people that are now adults, with jobs and responsibilities, will be reluctant to let any posy, emo pictures and such emerge from the vaults to be mocked by their Facebook 'Friends' but, again, it all comes down to personal responsibility. For me, I like to keep Facebook for actual friends and family, not colleagues (LinkedIn) and vague acquaintances (vague recesses of memory). In fact, the news that Timeline was slowly being rolled out in the past few weeks has caused me to review my Friends list (as I do fairly frequently anyway) and delete people that I haven’t spoken to online for ages -- if ever. My rule of thumb? If you haven’t seen or spoken to someone in over a year, or ever, they’re off the list.

After all, deleting someone from Facebook doesn’t mean that you then can’t speak to them in real life! Or, indeed, that you can’t re-add them at some point in the future (unless, of course, they delete you in a moment of outrage at your un-friending, but that in itself tells a story...). There always seems to be a strange finality to deleting someone from Facebook, as though you are rejecting them as a person and as a part of your life. Nonsense! Facebook needs to remain what it was always intended to be -- a means of communication with people that we already communicate with, not the only means! Anyway, back to Timeline...

In general, the interface is much more user-friendly and (in my opinion) beautifully designed. The timelines are image-driven, clean, uncluttered, and generally much more engaging. Despite what detractors say -- that Timeline is a stalker’s paradise, with endless streams of personal information ripe for the picking -- I actually think that Timeline will force Facebook users to think much more carefully about the information that they share online. Or so it should.

People become enraged and irate about Facebook’s now fairly regular updates and the apparently endless scope for identity theft, but they leave almost no room for people’s common sense. Yes, of course it would be easy for unsavoury types to find out more about you, your history and your habits if you broadcast your life for all the world to see -- but Facebook offers a plethora of privacy options that can mean you don’t even have to appear in name searches if you don’t want to!

Having said that, I imagine that there will be a fair few people modifying their timelines for the benefit of people that they have added since the early days of their Facebook life, who don’t particularly want the photographic evidence of ill-advised nights out displayed on their timeline resplendent in their sordid glory. Facebook allows you to either hide (which means only you can see them) or delete posts altogether, by clicking the pencil icon in each box.

Perhaps, though, the most interesting feature of all, is the ability to add events onto your timeline. This can be an event from any point of your life. Taken to its extreme, this means that users could (if they had the time and inclination) chronicle literally every significant (or perhaps not so significant) event of their life, all on their timeline.

It’s this feature that got Mark Zuckerberg choked up at the f8 conference this year, at Timeline’s grand unveiling. The idea that Timeline might be the facilitator of the recording of people’s life history, allowing them to look back with ease at every event of their existence -- having history just a mouse click away, accessible forever. His vision for Facebook is: ‘We don't want you to spend more time on Facebook; we want the time you spend on Facebook to be so valuable you come back every day'.

Has the new Timeline layout added value to Facebook? I think so. Whether Facebook will ever reach the dizzying heights of near-real-life sharing remains to be seen. Either way -- hats off to you, Facebook. Job well done.

magazine

2011-12-10T14:13:00.001Z

So, the other day, this arrived on my doorstep...

I'm a subscriber to Oh Comely magazine and it is, quite simply, perfection. It's full of just the kind of lovely stuff that I'm a sucker for -- beautiful pictures, interesting witty articles about interesting quirky people (one such article is about a man who lives in the countryside and makes his money by building coracles), recipes... Just general good stuff.

If you're interested in remotely the same kind of thing as any of those -- buy a copy. You won't regret it.

uke

2011-12-09T09:22:00.001Z

Result of a practise session with my mate Andy's camera. I'm privileged to be filming his wedding later this month and he's lending me his dishy 7D to do it. So I let him play on my uke - fair's fair...

hum

2011-11-23T19:09:00.001Z

So, I was on the train today (on my way to a Tweet Meet, as it happens - oh yes, a conference about Twitter. I love my job), and it reminded me of something I've been thinking about for a little while.

It first occurred to me when I blithely downloaded an album from iTunes the other day (the How To Train Your Dragon soundtrack actually...). This is fast becoming a bit of a habit, but the truth is I much prefer going to music shops and buying the physical CD (you know, IRL). I've always been a bit of an advocate of supporting record shops and not giving in to the undeniable convenience of downloading music, but recently - with a real and distinct lack of spare time on my hands - I've fallen for iTunes' charms.

I think part of the reason I was initially (and still am, to be honest) concerned about the proliferation of downloadable music, is its instant availability. And while this is obviously one of its great advantages, it also inevitably means that we start taking music more for granted. Going to a record shop, browsing the aisles, feeling the CD case in your hand, is a lot more of an experience than the 30 seconds it takes to locate and download something from iTunes.

Back to the train journey this afternoon. The carriage was humming with electronic music. A chino-clad girl sat across from me - iPod on, earphones in - looked completely unmoved by the music she was listening to. I'm guilty of this too - I listen to the same music over and over and, like anything else, I guess you do sort of become used to it. Whatever the reason, few could deny that music has become far more the background noise to our lives than the event and luxury it used to be.

But then I started thinking about it another way. Take food as an alternative example - anything other than what could be grown in Britain was once a precious commodity, available only at great expense and taking months to travel the hundreds of miles required to sell it in our shops. Now, thanks to the changes to the way the world works, we have access to different types of food from pretty much anywhere accessible to man. Sure, these foods have become less of a novelty, but think of all the enriching experiences and tastes we would have missed out on if we'd refused to change the old way of doing things, or to embrace new ways of living.

Now, I know I'm not saying anything new here. It's just something I've been thinking about - how we adapt to the advances made in the way we live our lives, and how we continue to value the things that really matter. Also, the How To Train Your Dragon soundtrack is amazing. Go ~~download it~~ buy the CD.

boots

2011-10-16T19:44:00.000+01:00

I just got back from one of the best - and most unexpected - cinema trips I've had in a long while. After much scepticism, sighing, huffing and puffing, I allowed myself to be dragged to see the new Footloose film. I know, it's a remake. And, I know, remakes are generally crap. But trust me when I say, this one's worth seeing.

I think what I loved about it was the fact that, unlike most other remakes I've seen, it didn't try to change things for the sake of being different from the original - it let you enjoy getting all excited and nostalgic when you saw bits you recognised. This film was, pretty much, exactly the same as the 1984 version, but with new actors and a (very unobtrusively) few modern updates (Wren has an iPod. That's pretty much it).

In many cases the characters were better than the original cast, I thought, and the music was a really nice blend of country, modern, and the original songs (one of which was a gorgeous acoustic arrangement). I was initially worried that all the songs would end up being "modernised" into hip hop and the whole thing would end up being a hideous Step Up/Save The Last Dance wannabe within the frame of Footloose. But it wasn't - I think they got the balance just right (she says, while listening to the soundtrack, freshly iTuned).

Beautifully shot, good music, loads of fun. Do yourself a favour - go see it.

Daisy

2011-10-14T19:43:00.002+01:00

I'll miss my cat.

tech

2011-09-24T12:35:00.000+01:00

So, firstly, a couple of cringey graduation pictures (as promised):

Secondly, technology. So excited with recent updates to Facebook and Google(+). Facebook in particular actually (surprisingly) - if you haven't seen the plans for Facebook Timeline, you should. I literally clapped my hands with glee when I watched the respective videos - it feels like Facebook has finally got its act together in terms of design and being imaginative with its own possibilities. It's kind of felt like Facebook has been this massive half-tapped source of mint internet interactivity for a long time, but has been resting on its laurels as the dominator of social networks.

I guess it's kind of unsurprising that they haven't made any huge changes to their layout, as any time they make any kind of tweak there are floods of thousands of people going "WTF??!! Whys fb keep changeing evrything?!?!" It must be pretty wearing if each time they try and be innovative they come up against a wall of people keep clinging to the old, less user-friendly version, as though Facebook's effectively trampling over their rights as users.

It seems as though Facebook are making a very clear choice in their marketing for this new Timeline layout, which I find interesting. The advertising video is framed around a married, middle-aged man with kids: very middle-class, very conventional. Markedly absent in the "apps" video were the likes of Farmville and Mafia Wars - replaced with cooking apps, running schedules, and The Guardian.

Are Facebook trying to phase out of their post-MySpace and -Bebo status as, like, the only social network worth using? What started as a clean, simply-designed, self-consciously middle-class alternative to MySpace and Bebo and the like has since (inevitably) become littered with "vampire requests", poorly-made and corrupted Pages linking to third-party websites, and PoStS TyPeD LiKe ThIs. Is this Facebook reclaiming their original concept of simplicity and connectivity? Are they (finally) branching out into user-directed design that was previously the realm of MySpace, and which I feel has been lacking in Facebook until now? Exciting times, people!

finale

2011-07-26T15:38:00.026+01:00

I had to do the inevitable thing. Come on, "end of an era", "we've grown up with him", "proper end of our childhood [apparently Toy Story 3 wasn't it after all]". It's all pretty true.

So, here is my (very) wee debrief: I loved it. Truly. It wasn't perfect, and - naturally - it wasn't completely like the book, but man I loved this film. I started crying fairly promptly after McGonagall said: "Hogwarts is threatened! Man the boundaries, protect us! Do your duty to our school!" Even just typing that quote gave me goosebumps.

The thing is, I did grow up with Harry Potter. I remember when I bought the first book. I was on holiday and visiting this teeny little village somewhere in Shropshire, and we went into a little bookshop called the Red Balloon Bookshop, and I was looking for something to read. My mum said, "Oh look, I've heard this Harry Potter book is good – why don't you try that?" So I did. A few months later, Harry Potter exploded across the country – everyone, apparently, had "heard this Harry Potter book is good."

And from there it was just kind of woven into the background of our lives. We were always living in pre-book-release or post-release-aftermath. I don't pretend to be a die-hard Harry fan – I don't know all the intricate details of the Black family tree, I don't know the names of all the Deatheaters, but, man, I loved those books. So much so that I refused to see the first film for the first few months, because I was worried it would spoil the books for me.

Eventually I did watch the films, of course. And, of course, they were a little bit of a disappointment. Not because they were particularly bad films – on the contrary, I enjoyed them all – but because no films would ever be able to live up to the way we imagined it, and it wasn't fair for us to expect them to. But, best of all, they allowed us to live in the world of Hogwarts a little bit longer – even after the books were all finished.

It's because of this, I think, that I cried pretty much from McGonagall's quote all the way to the end. Because it really is the end this time, no more books, no more films. Of course I'll re-read them and re-watch them, but we all know it isn't quite the same. I also cried because, for many of us, it really does mark the end of our childhood. Not just because the films have finished, but because they've finished at a time when a lot of other things have finished too.

I've finished university, I've moved away from home, and a lot of my friends are moving away from my new home. I now have to start dealing with council tax, housing benefits, and temporary unemployment. This would all have happened regardless of a lad with glasses and a lightning scar, but somehow the end of the films seemed to mark the real end of something.

So that's why I cried. Not just because it's over, but because I've loved it.

search

2011-07-06T14:18:00.003+01:00

So, it's been an age since the last post. Well, almost a month - not quite an age. Still, it's been an eon in my imaginings, so it's high time for an update.

It's been a pretty big upheaval-y kind of few weeks, I have done the following:

Moved house (new house is delish).
Been to London. Twice.
Worked at two of the Great Swim series.
Stayed at two lovely hotels (neither of which I could afford but gratefully was able to stay there courtesy of the company I was working with at the above).
Officially finished uni with a 2:1 in English Literature (graduation set for 14th July - cringe-worthy pictures will no doubt follow, fear not...).
Applied for jobs. A lot of jobs. Kind of running out of ways to say "hire me". But very excited at the opportunities.

I've spent most of this morning doing those little niggly jobs that have needed doing a while - like divvying up the remaining money in the secondary bank account I set up for the bills for my house last year. Kind of feel like a fiscal Father Christmas, telling my ex-housemates "Here, have 94 quid". Quite nice really :)

Also, have to renew my passport (this one's of a fairly urgent nature, given I'm meant to be going to Italy avec la famille - or however you say it in Italian - at the end of July...) - to get the fast-track service I have to go to Durham to specifically ask for it, so will make a day of it with the chap. Huzzah for that!

Right, lunch break over. The job hunt continues...

love

2011-06-10T23:18:00.000+01:00

kit

2011-06-06T00:26:00.005+01:00

So, I'm typing this post on my Mum's brand new shiny iPad. "What?! Such extravagance and frippery!" I hear you say. Well, yes. HOWEVER, after much scoffing and huffing and puffing at the seemingly pointless frivolousness of iPads, I have actually warmed to them. I've been playing on Mum's for all of 45 minutes and already I'm pretty much sold.

The thing is, most people (myself included until the last half hour) just see iPads as a fairly needless luxury. And, in a sense, they kind of are. BUT, I don't think it's until you've had a proper go with one (longer than 10 minutes in an Apple shop can afford) that you start to see their real potential. Basically, I've got this (very tentative) theory about a problem with the advertising we've seen for the iPad (not that I, a mere mortal, could ever really criticise Apple marketing which is, on the whole, perfection).

My theory is that they tried too hard to make it seem a viable piece of technology for everyone, all at once. Their determination to demonstrate how universal it is has, I think, actually weakened their campaign. They've focused so much on how it can be used for gaming, photography, presentations, Internet, books - businessmen, artists, young families - that it's made it feel kind of confused.

Instead of demonstrating how the iPad can be perfect for, say, a photographer in every aspect of their work, they tried to show how perfect it is for EVERYONE all at the same time. I reckon a series of adverts targeted at specific people (business people using them for presentations and easy transportation of files, artists using them as portfolios, commuters using them as libraries and games consoles, etc.) would help people better imagine how an iPad would slot seamlessly into their lives. Instead, I think the current adverts leave you thinking, "We-ell, I think I'd maybe use it for one of those things..."

Anyway, just a thought. My experience using one this afternoon has left me thinking, "Ah yeah, it'd be really useful for this and that". Also, typing on it is surprisingly easy ;)

film

2011-05-26T16:18:00.003+01:00

Do you vaguely remember me mentioning a documentary module that I was taking this semester at uni?

Well, the deadline for handing in the documentary (and an essay about it) is tomorrow. So, I thought it only fair to give it its premier on these fair pages.

So, with no further gilding the lily and with no more ado, I give you: my film.

stitched

2011-05-19T16:32:00.002+01:00

So, I’ve just sent my dissertation to be bound. Everyone’s been telling me how I’ll feel when I give it in – relieved, panicked, ill. But honestly, I just feel sad.

Sad because I’ve loved uni, and because, to me, this feels like the culmination of three years’ work and life and tears and hysterical laughter.

I had my last seminar this morning too, with one of my favourite tutors, and I can’t beat away the feeling that it’s all, well, ending.

It is, I know it is, it’s exam period and I knew it was coming to an end. I just didn’t feel like it was. But somehow, giving in that little pile of paper to be stitched together felt a bit like saying goodbye.

And I’m not ready for that yet.

Monday's Faces

2011-05-09T11:20:00.001+01:00

Quite a formidable-looking woman isn't she? Something very kind about her face though. She looks quite matronly, as though she'd know what to do in a crisis, and her hair and clothes are very practical, as though she's used to scooping up any number of children and generally keeping order.

This is quite an unusual picture compared to the others, I think, because she doesn't appear to know that it's being taken – or, at least, hasn't been given much time to prepare for it, as she seems to be still walking out of the building. Maybe someone told her that she was having her picture taken that day, and she was grumblingly on her way out, thinking that she "didn't have enough time for such nonsense."

Superman

2011-05-07T10:45:00.001+01:00

So, watching Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman (new favourite, utterly hooked) last night with my chap:

Lois: You read my work?
Superman: All the time.

Me: Awwww!
Him: [quiet voice] I read your blog...

Mint :)

cossie

2011-05-03T17:04:00.003+01:00

So, all the Wedding shenanigans and seeing the sylph-like Middleton lasses sashaying down the aisle has made me seriously reconsider my (non-existent) health regime. I am monumentally unfit given the fairly inevitable fizzling-out of my "jogging phase", and I'm more than a fair amount heftier than when I started uni. SO, I've decided to invest in the only real form of exercise that I a) can endure, and b) actually enjoy: swimming.

This decision, however, comes with its own set of problems – namely, I have to wear a swimming costume. In public. As in, around people. Hideous.

Given that this particular aspect of the whole swimming experience is somewhat difficult to avoid, today I grabbed the bull by the not-inconsiderable horns and went to buy a new cossie. Deciding that a venture into TopShop or New Look – wading my way through size 6 nothings – would be intolerable, I opted to stick with good ol' M&S.

So, armed with a new lippy from Boots to build confidence, in I went, jaw set in determination. I snaffled a few modest all-in-ones from the rails and headed to the changing rooms to try them on. A few torturous minutes later, I had managed to shoehorn myself into the first one. The look I was going for was "20s French chic" to go with my hair (and the gorgeous lippy). Difficult to achieve when you look like a sow in an elastic band.

The first four (okay, five) looked hideous beyond all belief, but the last one was marginally tolerable (black and kind of ruched down the front – nicer than it sounds) with "tummy control", apparently. Unfortunately it's rather more difficult to find a costume with "thigh, bum, and upper-arm control", but I've done my best...

So "huzzah" for that, all that remains is to research opening times and prices of my local pool and away we go – I shall slip through the water like a minnow and be a size 10 in no time. Hopefully.

bells

2011-04-30T12:26:00.006+01:00

Ah man, the wedding. That's right, The Wedding. It was, needless to say, sublime. There's nay point gilding the lilly, so here's my summary:

Pippa's a beaut, Harry's a dish, Beatrice's antlers a huge mistake, maple trees an excellent idea, the dress perfection, the homily lovely, and "Wings Travel" received the best global advertisement one could wish for...

My favourite bit? Probably when William and Harry walked into Westminster Abbey, just the two lads together. Lovely beyond words.

BBQ

2011-04-24T13:43:00.011+01:00

Man, I love Easter. All the new flowers, sunshine, warm breezes, chocolate eggs, barbecues, family and every good thing. Marvellous. And today is particularly warm-breezy, barbecue-y and blissful.

All these things I love. But mostly, of course, the fact that:

His love is never, never, never based on our performance, never conditioned by our moods–of elation or depression. The furious love of God knows no shadow of alteration or change. It is reliable. And always tender.
-- Brennan Manning

Amen.

Monday's Faces (somewhat belated)

2011-04-24T13:33:00.001+01:00

What a sweet chap. I love his cap – and pipe for that matter. I accidentally (yes, really) had a puff of a pipe when I was about 7 – the foulest thing I've ever tasted (except for beetroot). Still, they do look dapper.

I'm trying to work out why he was having his picture taken there – it almost looks like someone caught him walking down the street and asked him to smile. Maybe he just wanted his picture taken outside his house? Who knows? Looks like he's fairly dressed up though – maybe the morning of his wedding? Capturing his last moments as a free man? I kind of hope that's the case, I like the thought of him being so happy at the thought that his single days are over.

lemonade

2011-04-11T22:50:00.000+01:00

So today I went here with a rather lovely chap. Was a rather lovely day, too.

Monday's Faces

2011-04-11T22:19:00.016+01:00

I love this one (realised I say that about all of them, but doesn't make it less true). She really really reminds me of Marilla Cuthbert from Anne of Green Gables – who is, needless to say, a legend.

I wonder why she's wearing black, maybe she's a widow? And, more mysteriously, I wonder what the paper is that she's holding. She looks pretty pleased, whatever it is. I love her smile, she looks very grandmotherly I think. Trying to work out where she's from is also pretty tricky. Something makes me feel like it could be somewhere in America or Canada, not sure why. Something about the combination of that curtain and the wallpaper. Can't put my finger on it though.

So, pretty much a real-life Marilla Cuthbert. Not a bad accolade.

j'adore

2011-04-04T17:47:00.003+01:00

Monday's Faces

2011-04-04T12:17:00.018+01:00

She's gorgeous, isn't she? I love her hair and clothes, she looks so stylish. I love that she's called Dorothy, I reckon her friends called her Dot.

I think it's so interesting that so many of these old portraits are postcards - I wonder how that worked? Did people get a batch made, or just one-offs? I wonder how much it cost - was it just for special occasions or did everyone get them done?

I love her smile, just a hint. Mona Lisa's got nothing on this lass.

pep

2011-04-03T16:18:00.004+01:00

So, I'm really rather excited for three reasons.

Last week I availed myself of one of these. This has revolutionised my coffee-consumption. Coffee-making now feels like more of an event - crack out the ol' percolator and away we go.
Seriously considering the future and what I want to do after uni has led me to the possibility of a job so exciting that I'm still trying to convince myself that it's within my reach. So I'm sat here giving my CV a wash and scrub-up and pondering thoughts for a cover letter. More on this when there's more to tell.
Purchased the soundtrack to this film that I went to see a week or so ago (twice, actually). Well worth a watch/listen:

Élévation

2011-04-02T16:53:00.036+01:00

Au-dessus des étangs, au-dessus des vallées,
Des montagnes, des bois, des nuages, des mers,
Par delà le soleil, par delà les éthers,
Par delà les confins des sphères étoilées,

Mon esprit, tu te meus avec agilité,
Et, comme un bon nageur qui se pâme dans l'onde,
Tu sillonnes gaiement l'immensité profonde
Avec un indicible et mâle volupté.

Envole-toi bien loin de ces miasmes morbides;
Va te purifier dans l'air supérieur,
Et bois, comme une pure et divine liqueur,
Le feu clair qui remplit les espaces limpides.

Derrière les ennuis et les vastes chagrins
Qui chargent de leur poids l'existence brumeuse,
Heureux celui qui peut d'une aile vigoureuse
S'élancer vers les champs lumineux et sereins;

Celui dont les pensers, comme des alouettes,
Vers les cieux le matin prennent un libre essor,
—Qui plane sur la vie, et comprend sans effort
Le langage des fleurs et des chose muettes!

________

Above the valleys, over rills and meres,
Above the mountains, woods, the oceans, clouds,
Beyond the sun, past all ethereal bounds,
Beyond the borders of the starry spheres,

My agile spirit, how you take your flight!
Like a strong swimmer swooning on the sea
You gaily plough the vast immensity
With manly, inexpressible delight.

Fly far above this morbid, vapourous place;
Go cleanse yourself in higher, finer air,
And drink up, like a pure, divine liqueur,
Bright fire, out of clear and limpid space.

Beyond ennui, past troubles and ordeals
That load our dim existence with their weight,
Happy the strong-winged man, who makes the great
Leap upward to the bright and peaceful fields!

The man whose thoughts, like larks, take to their wings
Each morning, freely speeding through the air,
—Who soars above this life, interpreter
Of flowers' speech, the voice of silent things!

-- C. Baudelaire

Monday's Faces

2011-03-28T15:28:00.009+01:00

Just look at this lovely little lad - what a poppet! Thought I'd post this one today seeing as it's such gorgeous weather outside; makes me feel summery. It's quite tricky trying to guess where he might be, but I reckon he's just visiting the seaside for the day. Looks like a city lad to me. And look at his little face, "glee" personified.

My favourite bit of this picture, though, is his little boat on a string. It makes me wonder where he got it. Did he buy it in a little seaside shop? Something makes me doubt it. I reckon he brought it with him specially, and had it in his lap all the way to the seaside on the train. You know when you see something so beautiful, or so lovely, it kind of makes you feel like your heart might break? Well, that little boat is a heart-clencher.

snobs continued...

2011-03-26T15:19:00.005Z

So, I'm reading the letters of John Keats for my dissertation and have come across conclusive evidence for my hypothesis that English students and their ilk are indeed incorrigible snobs.

Keats hadn't written to the love of his life as much as much as she would have liked one particular week. What was his excuse?

I have been writing with a vile old pen the whole week, which is excessively ungallant. The fault is in the Quill: I have mended it and still it is very much inclin'd to make blind 'e's.

See, happens to the best of us.

Monday's Faces

2011-03-21T23:58:00.005Z

This one's so lovely. Even though neither of them look like either of us, it reminds me of my dad and I. It makes me wonder where they were going when they stopped for their picnic. Me and Dad used to go to the Lake District for the occasional weekend when I was younger, and we used make stops for what became affectionately known as "car picnics".

In fact, I used to kind of hope that it'd rain so that we could have a car picnic instead of one outside because, somehow, sitting in the car all cosy while the rain battered down on the roof and windows seemed much more of an adventure. It was a comforting, warm space with just me and Dad out in the middle of nowhere with our Scotch eggs and apple turnovers. Perfect. I like to think that the girl in this picture was feeling something of the happiness I felt at those times.

Monday's Faces

2011-03-14T18:47:00.007Z

I bloomin love this one. I've had to up the contrast a wee bit because it was so faded - so faded, in fact, that the guy on the stall gave me it for free. It was just too good to miss.

I didn't think much of it until I read what it said on the back:

The bear and I.

I flicked back to the picture and realised that, indeed, it was a bloke with a gun and a dead bear. What I want to know is, where on earth was this picture taken? I'm assuming, perhaps wrongly, that it was taken in the UK given the unlikelihood of a picture from elsewhere finding its way onto a market stall in Tynemouth, but maybe I'm wrong?

My favourite thing about this picture is the caption on the back. Dead simple, no explanation, no beating around the bush, grammar-perfect. What a lad.

drawer

2011-03-12T00:13:00.009Z

OK, so here's the thing. I cannot wait to have a house. Not in a I-must-have-a-house-and-make-homemade-bread-and-lentil-soup-in-order-to-be-a-real-woman kind of way. Just in a I-can't-wait-to-decorate-and-fill-it-with-random-and-cosy-stuff-and-have-a-cat-and-a-bedroom-bigger-than-a-shoebox kind of way.

To that end, for the last little while I've been collecting odds and ends for my Bottom Drawer. This wondrous concept was introduced to me by my ma a couple of years ago when we were in some shop and I happened to say something like: "Ooh, those plates are nice." Then she said, oh fateful words, "You should buy them for your Bottom Drawer." Turns out there's this whole world of pre-marital hoarding that I didn't know about - apparently it's a tradition so antiquated that even blessed Wiki doesn't have a definition for it. However, I did find one that described this concept as:

n (Brit) a young woman's collection of clothes,
linen, cutlery, etc., in anticipation of marriage.

Now, tragic as this inevitably makes me sound, I do in fact now possess a Bottom Drawer. Well, more a Sprawling Collection, but still.

To be honest it's less in anticipation of marriage than the more-comfortingly-imminent hope of owning a house. Or, at least, long-term renting one. So, in anticipation of said house-ownership I now have a delightful array of, well, mostly mugs, plates and bowls actually (for the aforementioned mismatched-chic). The last two trips I made to buy birthday presents for friends may have just happened to lead me into the home and kitchen section of Fenwick's and might possibly have lead me to the latest handful of really very reasonable culinary appendages.

So, say what you like, I shall continue this wee collection with which I can festoon my humble abode. And, if nothing else, I can live in the vain hope that perhaps it'll make me vaguely more marriage-material: "It's alright chaps, at least she comes with her own crockery."

objets

2011-03-08T19:04:00.004Z

So, yesterday I had to give The Bombshell back (it was quite a wrench, can't lie...) but not before I took a few pretty pictures.

A wee taste of what's to come in my documentary - I set up these shots and couldn't resist taking a photo, tee hee.

Had my seminar for the documentary module today and my tutor was explaining the basics of Final Cut Pro - well, that was it. Paroxysms of delight inevitably ensued, and I cannot wait to get my eager little hands on those computers (oh, hang on, those Macs, should I say...). SO excited! Promptly called Dad to eulogise the utter wonder that is Final Cut. Suffice it to say, everything that I wish my software could do, Final Cut does.

Of course, my one-to-one tutorial isn't until next week so my tutor may yet hurl my idea out of the proverbial window and send me back to the drawing board. But I hope not.

Monday's Faces

2011-03-07T13:35:00.001Z

So, haven't done a Monday's Faces post in about oh, I don't know, a billion years.

So after a quick meander in Tynemouth Market and a quick browse of the ol' photo stall I came across a few new beauties and, making the most of the Canon bombshell while I can, I took pictures of the lot of them so that I can blog them over the next few weeks.

Well, how could I resist this lovely little lad? By the looks of it, it seems that he's on a farm somewhere (I reckon those buildings behind him are barns of some sort) - I love his dungarees and the way he's got his hands in his pockets, like he's copying his dad. Such a serious little face, and he looks so adult. Except for his little sandals. Cute!

More mysterious, though, is the writing on the back of the picture. If who can guess? And who's giving the picture away? The handwriting looks fairly old, and it's written in fountain pen by the looks. It reminds me of that game you play at school, where you all bring in a baby picture and you try to guess who's in each picture. Maybe it was something like that? Seems unlikely.

I love the mystery of it though, just that little note on the back: no name, no date - looks like something from a film. Love it!

glorious

2011-03-05T18:54:00.009Z

So today I had my hands on this tasty SLR, courtesy of the aforementioned documentary module I'm studying, and went off to the also aforementioned Tynemouth Market to film my first few shots "on location".

Needless to say, I am now utterly in love. I've never used an SLR before so after a quick peruse of the "quick and dirty guide to shooting" we were given I just went for it, twirling various dials and flicking switches to my heart's delight. And, well, it's a revelation. Such good quality, such a good zoom. It's fab. And, tragically, well out of my price range... A quick recce on Amazon revealed that to own this beautiful piece of kit I'd have to fork out something in the region of £600. I weep.

However, I fully intend to make the most of this little beauty while I have the chance. I've got it until Monday evening then I'll have to book another slot. It's making me want to go out taking pictures too - it's a photographical dream! Ah man. One day.

snobs

2011-03-02T21:25:00.006Z

This is something I have learned during my time at uni: English Literature students are the most inimitable snobs. That is, when it comes to pen and paper.

Writing materials, granted, are something of a necessity when attending any course at university, but never have I seen such a glorious array of handmade, embossed, and leather-bound notebooks and fluidly elegant pens than when scanning a lecture theatre full of English Lit students.

You can tell when someone has forgotten their pen - they heave their shoulders in a great sigh of consternation and begrudgingly enquire if their neighbour has a spare. The trouble is that it is not a question of merely borrowing another pen, it is the dismay at having forgotten your own hand-picked implement of perfect weight, nib-size and ink type; the pen which, after trawling through and trialling endless others, you finally rested on as the perfect vehicle for transferring your flourishing ideas to paper. The ink which does not blot, spread or seep through your page, but skates uninhibitingly across its surface.

The page which, naturally, is the perfect size, thickness, and hue to complement your pen of choice. The page bound within the book which you weighed in your hand before making the decision between lined or unlined, and thereby constraint or liberty.

Then there is the thin margin between quality and ostentation, refinement and frivolity. There is an unspoken principle of vanity which dictates that one's writing is worth reading, and therefore the writing materials should display these luminary ideas in a manner befitting their worth. It is not mere scribbling, it is a masterpiece. We are not mere students, we are Writers.

Honestly, we'd use quills and parchment if we could.

gifts

2011-03-01T17:06:00.004Z

This is utterly sublime. That is all.

cordon bleu

2011-02-28T17:58:00.003Z

Ah man, I love cooking. The best is when I've got the house to myself; I can crunk up Radio 3 and really go for it.

I love experimenting with new recipes (to which end this little gem has been abundantly helpful). In fact, I love the whole process of cooking. I went food shopping today and somehow it never feels like a chore - in fact, in a bit of a geekish way it makes me feel like a proper grown-up.

I love the feel of all the different types of food - all the different textures and smells. How they feel in your hands and how occasionally wretchedly awkward things are to chop and peel. I love standing by the hob and stirring as though I'm making some marvellous concoction that no one else has ever made; as though I'm the first person to ever experience that particular flavour.

I love that all the hard work and heat and the not infrequent stress is all for a purpose, and you can see and taste the result. I began to take a real pride in the finished product, it becomes a labour of true love and dedication - a work of art.

How hateful it must be to be afraid or begrudging of food. I think about how blessed I am each time I take a teaspoonful to taste as I go along, or breathe in deeply the formative flavourful smell.

Food is glorious, and I try not to take it for granted.

finished

2011-02-27T19:43:00.011Z

So, the aforementioned Events Week finished last week and it was bloomin amazing! Here is a video summarising all that went on:

Well, suffice it to say it was all marvellous and I was pooped to the highest degree when it was all over - so so much organisation and so many early mornings and late nights. All wholly worth it though!

So, in a quick sum-up of all that's been happening in the last few weeks, given my blog posts have been scanty to say the least:

I presented a few ideas for my documentary for my Contemporary Documentary module (which I'm loving). The only fly in the ointment is that my tutor hasn't been over-enamoured with any of my ideas so far. However, I've storyboarded the one I like best and I'm just going to run with it - hopefully I'll be able to prove that I'm not a total non-entity, haha. SO eager to get my hands on the SLRs that we're using to film the documentaries - I've booked one out for this coming Wednesday and also the weekend. Cannee wait!
I've seen the following films at the cinema:

Hereafter (6/10 could have cut half an hour out of it without breaking a sweat)
Black Swan (8/10 gripping throughout and beautifully shot)
The Fighter (8/10 Christian Bale was fantastic - didn't really like him as an actor until this film)
True Grit (8/10 a little slow at times but beautiful and some clever funny lines)

I've read the following books (excluding uni-related):

Never Let Me Go (I was determined to read it before seeing the film - which hopefully I'll be seeing tomorrow. It's well worth a read, very compelling)
The Screwtape Letters (a re-read, still a definite favourite - typical glorious C. S. Lewis eloquence and wit)
Searching for God Knows What (technically still reading this one, but it's brilliant so far)

Got a couple of offers for work experience in a couple of marketing agencies in London (I know right?!) - so so excited about them! Can't imagine little ol' me commuting into the Big Smoke for work!
Started knitted the long-awaited iPod sock. It's my first time using a proper pattern and involved me learning to purl (a tad harder than anticipated...) but lovely Ellie has been on hand with counselling and lightning-fast knitting-reflexes, haha.

Can't think of anything else in particular, but it's seemed like a really busy few weeks - with more social gatherings and cups of coffee than I care to remember. Jolly good stuff.

latest

2011-01-27T21:48:00.002Z

So, coming up scarily soon is our CU's annual Events Week. It's the biggest thing in our CU calendar, and it's basically a week packed full of events for people to invite their mates to - there are talks with a free lunch on every day of the week, and events in the evenings like acoustic nights, curry nights, and sports matches. Great stuff! The whole idea is that people come along and find out what it means to be a Christian.

This year our chosen theme is "The God Delusions" (a clever take on the title of Richard Dawkin's book The God Delusion) - basically we're focusing the daily talks around common misconceptions people have about God (e.g. "if there's a God, why is there suffering in the world?").

Anyway, I made a quick promotional film about it that we'll be littering Facebook with in the week before it all kicks off - here it is!

camera

2011-01-05T21:47:00.001Z

This post is making me feel like the hugest underachiever. To my shame, I haven't picked up my digital camera with anything resembling intent for bloomin' months.

My attraction to hulaseventy's gorgeous blog is somewhat bittersweet. In fact, the blogging world in general is at once beautiful and nigglingly irksome. Scrolling through endless pages of talented, creative people committed to whichever art form they have dedicated themselves to - photography, writing, film - is bound to provoke some twinge of unease.

Somehow they all find time to be gloriously creative! Good grief. I need to sally forth into this next term with a much more determined focus - a focus on taking pictures in particular.

Time to dust off the Nikon and look at the world with new eyes.

Mary

2011-01-03T21:43:00.006Z

So, first of all, happy new year one and all! Here's to 2011 - it'll be a good 'un, I can tell.

Secondly. I am currently writing my dissertation (as I'm in my third, and final, year of uni), and I've chosen to write about John Keats and Mary Shelley. I'm focusing on their personal letters rather than their literary works per se, and am discussing their desire to be remembered and their work to be recognised, as well as the huge struggles they came up against despite being incredible writers/poets.

Well, it's a blast if you're into Romantic poetry.

Anyway, I was reading some of Mary Shelley's letters today and came across this passage written after the death of her husband, Percy Bysshe Shelley. It's so stunning that it actually made me cry. This lady knows how to write grief. I've kept her spellings:

...I can at those moments forget myself - until some idea, which I think I would communicate to him, occurs & then the yawning & dark gulph again displays itself unshaded by the rainbows which the imagination had formed. Despair, energy, love, despondency & excessive affliction are like clouds, driven across my mind, one by one, until tears blot the scene, & weariness of spirit consign me to temporary repose...

The world will surely one day feel what it has lost when this bright child of song deserted her - Is not Adonais his own Elegy - & there does he truly depict the universal woe which should overspread all good minds since he has ceased to be their fellow labourer in this worldly scene...

Thus may I also say - The eight years I passed with him was spun out beyond the usual length of a man's life - And what I have suffered since will write years on my brow & intrench them in my heart...

Wow.

Don't worry, I'll post something perkier next time.

foxed

2010-12-28T22:19:00.007Z

So I haven't written a post in, oh, a decade. I shall give you an ~~excuse~~ explanation. Well, you see, it's been Christmas, and as you know from previous posts I've been more than a tad excitable of late, and I have allowed preparations for the festive season to pretty much commandeer my life for the past few weeks.

Also, I've started a new notebook (journal, of sorts) after finishing my latest one a few weeks ago. It is, needless to say, a thing of utter and complete beauty and I'm pretty attached. It always takes a little while to get used to a new notebook and to get over initial excitement about binding, paper quality, and to decide whether a .5 or .7 nib would be best, etc. (yes, I know...).

However! the preliminary zeal has somewhat subsided so I've now begun to think of my poor neglected blog once again.

Well, that was until I discovered this. Or, rather, my excellent mum bought me a year's subscription to it as a Christmas present. It is difficult - nay, impossible - to convey the sheer beauty and perfection of 'the real reader's quarterly'. Suffice it to say, it came tied in a green ribbon and asked me to put aside 'the challenge of the e-book and other similar worries' in the note from the editors. Need I go on?

I spent much of this afternoon curled up in front of the fire, gliding my way through my first issue (no. 28) and dreaming of working for such a gorgeous company. If you're remotely interested in reading, I beseech you - try it.

So, in short, all these things have led to the neglect of ol' goshkate.blogspot. So, in the next few days and weeks I shall address this injustice (as well as the hideously lingering guilt of the inexcusable abandonment of the goshkate presence on YouTube), and cast aside my new glittering literary appendages in favour of the old dependable blog.

Huzzah for that!

English

2010-12-08T15:29:00.001Z

Ok, so Facebook has - once again - changed its layout. Or, rather, the layout of our profiles. Now, I think Facebook is great (despite the somewhat sinister The Social Network...) and I've been a relatively avid user since I was persuaded to join when I was 17 (ish).

I do actually quite like the new profile layout, although I don't like the fact that the "education and work" section comes before the "about me" section (it smacks a little of LinkedIn and smug middle class-ness. But anyway...), but I do like the little row of pictures and details under our names (because, in my smug middle class-ness, I rather like having my university course and languages that I speak under there...).

But it was when I was filling in my "languages" section that I came across that ubiquitous linguistic loophole: "English English." That's right. I was able to choose between speaking "American English" or "English English." Is this really what it's come to?!

Now, I do concede that there are some inevitable (if incorrect... *gasp* that's right, I said it) differences in the spellings of perfectly commonplace words such as "colour" and "recognise" that Americans seem to have adopted, but surely - surely - we're still speaking the same language?!

Granted, at times, the Americans may seem mumbling and lolling in their speech, but surely we can sweep those differences aside and say, definitively, that "Yes, brothers, we are united in our speech of one common and glorious language."

Either that, or I'll just refuse to put "English English" under my name on my profile.

Disclaimer: You Americans are lovely really. I love your trilling, honeyed voices.

giddy

2010-12-07T12:55:00.003Z

So, that festive spirit I was talking about? Well, it's well and truly hit. Seriously, thinking about Christmas-related joys has had me scrunching my toes with glee for days.

So, we decorated our (somewhat bijoux) Christmas tree the other day - in a much similar vein to last year, but with the promise of additions - and we've got a house Secret Santa on the go. Tonight is the English Department Christmas Party, and one of my tutors said she'd be bringing mince pies to our seminar next week (softening the potential blow of getting our marked essays back...). I am literally so excited!

I had my first mince pie of the year on Sunday night at my church's first carol service of the season - there was a brass quintet! I have truly regressed back to the mentality of a child; all thought of social etiquette went hurtling out of the window at the sound of "Hark The Herald" and I whooped and clapped at their instrumental encores as we were munching mince pies. And there's more.

The snow. Oh, the snow.

We've had pretty much continual snow for over a week - I'm talking icicles over a metre long, snow drifts up to my thighs, -17 degrees C, the whole caboodle. It's bloomin mint! Even in my little studenty house where I can see my breath in my bedroom, I'm loving the snow. And that in turn has made me fall in love with the North East even more. When the snow hits London, virtually everything stops. When the snow hits the North East, they send men out with shovels in front of the buses to keep them running. Well, almost.

I just love the hardiness of the North Easterners - and I think it's catching. I find myself going out without a coat, going barefoot in the snow to take the bins out, and climbing over next door's wall to get out of my house because my gate is blocked with snow. There's a spirit of "let's just get on with it", and man it's refreshing.

So, here I am in our little winter wonderland - with numb toes but aching for Christmas.

wedding

2010-11-18T19:44:00.009Z

First of all - a pair of police officers just rode by my window on horseback. How weird! I love that, policemen on horses - such a quaint gesture to a bygone age. Maybe that's all we'll be seeing, what with the new budget cuts: policemen having to give up their comfy Vauxhall Astras and strapping on their saddles instead, shrieking "yee ha" as they gallop down the streets after the local teenage scallies. I quite like that image.

Secondly, congrats to William and Kate! About time too. I watched the post-announcement interview when I heard, and it made for an interesting watch. They seem happy enough so I'm pleased for them, but I do feel sorry for that poor girl. All the Diana-related questioning will be endless, what with the ring and all.

The interviewer himself hardly held back, saying stuff like: "Obviously Lady Diana was a real icon and an inspirational figure; does that intimidate you at all? Is that something you think about?" What on earth is the poor lass supposed to say to that?! "Erm, no, actually, I never think about my future husband's dead mother, and I'm a heartless bint." Or, alternatively, "Yes, I think about it all the time. In fact, I cower and tremble at her very name and fear I'll never be the style icon and philanthropist that everyone persists in reminding me that she was."

Good grief. So the little thing was left floundering around knee-deep in "erm"s and "obviously"s, until looking helplessly at her chap before he, jedi-like, raised a hand and said: "There's no pressure there."

Still, everyone loves a royal wedding, eh? And it didn't go unnoticed that this wedding has been announced right in the midst of the recession, remarkably similarly to Charles and Diana's in the last big economic crisis. What with that and the Olympics in two successive years and the inevitable tourist inundation which will ensue, ol' Wills might drag us out of the drudge of the credit crunch yet. Bravo to that!

chilled

2010-11-16T12:42:00.004Z

First frost this morning! Had me slipping and sliding all the way to the Metro station... Felt incontrovertibly twee in my tweed coat with a little thermos in my leather satchel, but hey, I'm a third year.

I'm getting so genuinely excited about Christmas now - Fenwicks has unveiled its Christmas window display (an annual festive event) and Starbucks have started playing their Christmas mix. Now, I did have a moment - lasting all of about five minutes - during which I bemoaned the commercialisation of Christmas and how outrageous it is that the Halloween sweets were, for a surreal week or so, displayed alongside the Advent calendars. But, needless to say, it didn't last. I'm as giddy as a kipper wearing a Rudolph nose, and am biding my time before I put Christmas music on my iPod (1st December is reasonable, isn't it?).

We leave uni for the Christmas holidays on 17th December so I reckon we'll put our decorations up on the 1st-ish. So exciting! My new housemates seem well up for the festivities, so I reckon we'll be increasing our supplies of Christmas decks and spreading the joy throughout more of the house.

Eee! It's actually making my heart beat faster.

protest

2010-11-12T17:26:00.005Z

Well, here it is - this is footage I took during the day. Slightly over-theatrical perhaps, but it conveys the mood.

Regardless of how the media reported the day, I think this is a fair representation of the experience of 95% of the people that were there. A tiny minority of the 50,000 people that were there caused trouble - the rest of us had an incredible time.

Yes we were loud. Yes we shouted. Yes there were thousands of us. Yes we were passionate. Man, so glad that I went!

tomorrow

2010-11-09T11:48:00.019Z

Firstly, I love this:

Secondly, man I'm excited!

Basically, tomorrow I'm off to London at 4:00 in the morning to attend this protest. I. Am. So. Excited.

Coming to uni, I was expecting there to be loads of protests - students up in arms at the injustices of the world, in an idealistically Les Miserables kind of way. It was something I was really looking forward to: joining the ranks of thousands of other students in an attempt to shake things up.

Yet, amidst the sea of seemingly apathetic rahs and disillusioned socialists there seemed to be a distinct lack of passion about, well, anything really. But now, in my last year at uni, I have my opportunity! In a final hurrah for my university experience, I'm going to join thousands of other students in an attempt to defend the right for my little brother to have the same opportunities I did.

For those unacquainted with the changes to be made to higher education funding in England, here's a (very) brief summary:

Our government has taken the cap off university tuition fees - basically meaning universities can now charge anything up to £9000 a year for the benefit of attending their institution. A levy (tax) will be put in place for fees of over £6000 (last I heard), but to be honest I don't think that'll put the higher-end unis off.
Funding for those courses which the government deems not "essential" (mainly humanities courses, like mine, such as English, History, languages that are not "strategically economically advantageous", Geography - all that kind of thing) will be cut the most severely - with government money being focused more on courses such as medicine and engineering.

Basically, the whole thing is a sham. It's outrageous. Now, I do know that compared with places like the States we still pay relatively little for university, but to suggest that students in a couple of years' time (my little brother included) will have to leave university with debts of up to £30, 000 (when our parents could attend for nothing) is scandalous.

Rant over.

So, that is why I'm off to London with a few of my coursemates and hundreds of other Newcastle students (and thousands of others from across the country) to march in front of Parliament and through central London.

Will it make a difference? Probably not. But, man, I'm buzzing for it.

aghast

2010-11-02T12:28:00.001Z

Just come out of a seminar and now have an hour before my next lecture, so thought I would slump into the nearest computer cluster to do some online offloading.

Turns out I am not the English Literature proficient that I previously hoped I might be, as the vast majority of that seminar went straight over my head. Dreadful. I sat there nodding banally and taking notes furiously as people with a far vaster intellect than I can ever hope to accumulate made inciteful, probing, and - to me at least - almost incomprehensibly intelligent points about a critical essay which may as well have been written in Swahili for all I understood it.

So I'm now sat here, squatting behind an LCD monitor glancing furtively about, fearful of being exposed for the cerebral fraud that I am.

Still, I've got a children's literature lecture up next - we're studying Five Children and It this week. Much more on my level, evidently.

X Factor

2010-10-31T20:49:00.009Z

OK, I'm sat here with the housemates watching the inevitable X Factor, chocolate mug cake in hand, and decided I should give my current lowdown:

Groups

One Direction - not fussed. Sweet lads but I think the boy band thing (as much as Simon says they're not a boy band...) is a tad passé.
Belle Amie - pretty, nice styling, not singers. Sorry, they're just not.

Over 28s

Mary - absolutely adore that woman. She's the kind of woman that I reckon if you were having a crisis you could go round to her house and she'd put on a brew and give you something warming to eat. But they need to give her a new genre to sing.
Wagner - oh no. Please, no.

Boys

Aiden - nice unusual voice, good singer, pretty beautiful. I think they're playing up the "intensity" thing too much; he's becoming almost a caricature, which is a shame. Pretty sure he's on the autistic spectrum.
Paije - mint lad, lovely personality. Mint voice. Makes me feel like sunshine.
Matt - love love love him. Amazing voice, lovely bloke. Bad song choice for him last night (the Leona Lewis one). Kind of hoping he wins.

Girls

Katie - beautiful, cool style, but she is not that bloomin' original. She's styled herself somewhere between Madonna and Lady Gaga, but people keep harking on about how original she is. I also get the feeling that singing is just a means to an end for her too, she wants to be an icon come what may, I think. Beautiful voice, but find her too annoying to really enjoy it.
TreyC - I find that spelling of her name quite annoying, but she's got a superb voice. It's a shame that she keeps being so overlooked. I think her personality hasn't come across that much on the show, and so much of it seems to based on that (perhaps unfairly).
Rebecca - same as TreyC really. Fantastic voice, and she's very beautiful and sweet, but I don't feel as though we know her as much as the others.
Cher - very quirky and distinctive voice. She's a fab singer, but I feel as though the judges don't really know what to do with her. Cheryl's so conventionally pop (and inferior in the way of talent) that I don't think she does her justice with song choice. Cher's kind of become a parody of herself. But, I think she's still mint.

So there you have it, here endeth my judgement. As I speak Belle Amie are singing for survival against Katie. And, as much as she irritates me, I'm hoping Katie stays. It's only fair really.

briefly

2010-10-19T12:52:00.002+01:00

I've got about 10 minutes before my next lecture, and I've darted into the nearest computer cluster to write a quick post about something I find exciting.

Autumn is here! Somewhere between my last post and now, the world has decided that summer is officially over. The temperature has dropped a good few degrees and the trees are shivering off the first layer of their leaves. As I'm walking home I regress to young childhood as I march determinedly, crunching all in my wake.

I've dug out my collection of scarves (which, at the moment, totals a disappointing 2) from the bottom of my pyjama drawer and the other night I had to sleep in a jumper, not for the last time this year I reckon.

So, we're battening down the hatches in our little student house, bracing ourselves for the frosty freezing weather that is soon to come and stocking up on thick socks and hot chocolate.

I love this time of year :)

Wednesdays

2010-10-13T12:35:00.009+01:00

(I was listening to this at the time)

Oh happy day!

For those of you who don't know, at uni (in the UK at least) no one has lectures or seminars on Wednesday afternoons because it's set aside for the sports teams to be able to practise or play matches.

Now, I have a lecture at 10:00 on Wednesday mornings, which incidentally is just in time to walk through the crowds of sports teams as they congregate outside the Union waiting to go to their practices and stuff. This is indeed a highlight of my day.

I go all high school and giggly and feel overwhelmed by all the 6-foot-plus lads milling about in their team tracksuits.

Now, ordinarily I don't go for the "jock" type, but all those self-confident lads milling about and preening themselves in their apparent overt masculinity is evidently too much for my primitive little mind. I've even caught myself looking at the initials on their trackies and putting them into some puerile hierarchy - these are the shameful not-so-subconscious judgements that go through my mind:

rugby/hockey/rowing - yum.
football - not too bad.
lacrosse/volleyball - pshh.

Good grief. I'm so basic.

grinning

2010-10-12T12:16:00.003+01:00

I just had a seminar ("Atlantic Renaissance" if you really want to know), and I got told that a point I made was "excellent" - eeee! It got me grinning and preening like a primary school kid - happy days.

Gold star

mystery

2010-10-09T20:39:00.009+01:00

There's a house at the end of my street that's always been a bit of a mystery to me.

Now, my area admittedly isn't the most upmarket neighbourhood, but there's a particular house that catches my attention every time I walk past. Its window frames are old and wooden, painted black and slightly rotting away. The curtains (yellowing and moth-eaten) are always drawn, and there's bubble wrap lining all the windows. Strange.

Well, stranger still is if you look up to the upstairs window the bubble wrap stops about halfway up the window, and through the gap you can see a huge rhododendron bush growing inside the house. Seriously. It's there growing in the upstairs bedroom with huge purple flowers.

Now, I've never seen anyone go in or out of that house, nor any evidence that anyone even lives there at all, but someone must go in there to water the plant.

Whenever I walk past I'm always hopeful that I'll see something. A face peering out of the upstairs window, a light on inside, or even a twitch of the curtains. So far, nothing.

For now, at least, it remains a mystery. I'll keep my eyes peeled.

moments

2010-10-06T22:28:00.002+01:00

I still love it.

books

2010-10-06T15:41:00.009+01:00

I took a trip to Blackwells today to buy another couple of books for my modules this semester (yeah, I know it's more expensive that way, but I'm one of those people who likes to - you know - have the smell of a bookshop in my nose as I browse). The first was this little delight:

Not exactly a saucy riot, but actually surprisingly interesting. Now, I know you're not supposed to judge a book etc., but this isn't exactly a cover to set your heart pounding. But I must admit that I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would - it's got some interesting (and some barmy) ideas.

The second (for my children's lit module) was much more appealing:

Now, any book with a Quentin Blake on the cover is enough for me, but more than that I love its shape. Tricky to tell from the picture, but it's actually shorter (height-wise) than a standard-sized book. It's stocky and cuddly enough to make losers like me salivate on sight. It set my fingers a-trembling, let me tell you.

Puffin Classics have obviously done a bit of a revamp, and I would love to have been there when they decided what to change. How do they come up with these things? I imagine the meeting: "Hey, guys, I've got an idea - why don't we just make them shorter?" Genius.

Anyway, enough of that geekishness.

secret obsession

2010-10-05T15:59:00.006+01:00

So, I just got back from my first lecture of the year (and, incidentally, my only lecture of the day...) and I'm now parked comfortably in my living room, contemplatively polishing my shoes.

I love polishing shoes. Have I ever mentioned that? It's actually become a strange compulsion. Well, the thing is, I bought some new winter shoes with some birthday money that I got particularly for the purpose. They are, if I do say so myself, completely gorgeous, and it's been bothering me that I can't find my shoe polish from last year.

So, this afternoon I decided to kill two birds with one stone (that's such an awful expression) and took a trip to Morrisons to buy some new shoe polish, and also to pick up my brolly from the lost property. I'd stupidly left it hooked onto my shopping trolley last week after being distracted by battling with the Newcastle wind and attempting to cling to any remaining scrap of dignity as my skirt flew up with gay abandon.

After heaving myself back through Byker I was bloomin' boiling (it appears that 3 layers and a scarf was slight overkill for early October) so settled down for a good ol' polish.

In other news - I WENT RUNNING THIS MORNING! Yes, you heard me right. I am in fact training for the Great North Run (aw man, see, now I've said it on here it makes it official). I've signed up on this website and it has sorted out a training schedule for me. For those of you who remember the list a wee while ago you'll know that jogging was one of my aims for this year. I did go a few times earlier this year but now I've got a training buddy, and an actual aim. So here goes!

I'll let you know how I get on...

happy drizzly days

2010-09-29T15:09:00.006+01:00

Well, I'm back at uni. And, as expected, I now can't imagine ever having been away. I've had all manner of introductory talks today, designed to "induct" us back into uni life, and to impress on us the great importance of working hard.

Honestly though, this year is my last at uni - and this is the one when I really really will be organised. I will start (or, at least, start planning) essays as soon as they are set, I will become attached to my diary (which, to be fair, I did most of last year and as of becoming a member of Committee for CU it became somewhat of a necessity).

I love the beginnings of new academic years. When I think back to all the starts of new years I've had - all the pencil cases bought, all the pencils sharpened and diaries purchased and then abandoned, all the new umbrellas and ill-advised winter hats - it's really incredible to think that this is the last time (at least for the time being) that I'll be doing it all.

For the last 15 years of my life, September has come around, my birthday's been celebrated, then I've gone back to school, then uni, and this is the last time!

Surrounded by all the new freshers, grinning and brandishing flyers and maps and freshers wristbands, while I trundle from one building to another sorting out module changes and handing in dissertation ideas, I can't help but feel... Well, old.

Last year I had a sense of at-home-ness, as though I knew the score and could join in with everything without the pressure of having to put myself out there and hope against hope that I would find someone who wouldn't mind hanging out with me and would find my idiosyncrases endearing.

This year I kind of feel more like I'm facilitating other people's start-of-year. And this has it's own set of charms: I can scan the crowds of people and see the familiar nervous furtive glances, and recognise the relief they feel when you go and chat and ask the familiar Big 3 ("where are you from?", "what are you studying?", "which Halls are you in?") - a breath of comforting air during probably the scariest and most exciting start-of-year that people will ever experience.

As a uni veteran I'm able to breeze around feeling confident and at home, and can enjoy being a chilled-out fish in a pretty big pond, before next year when I'll be the nervous newcomer again - trying to swim alongside even bigger fish.

angst

2010-09-17T20:38:00.006+01:00

Well, I am in the foulest mood conceivable, and I'm not sure why really. 21 year-old blues? Who knows. I've got Fawlty Towers on in the background and even that isn't coaxing me out of my thunderous stupor.
Here are probable reasons for my ongoing outrage:

I inadvertently upset my mum this evening (a misunderstanding and has been rectified), and I hate upsetting my parents so that's left me feeling all cross with myself.
I suspect that I've had more than a few hormones blasting through my body for the past couple of days and they've finally reared their heads to bite me on the bum.
I'm going back to uni on Sunday - which I love and am really looking forward to - but leaving home is always a bit of a wrench, no matter how many times I do it.
There are still some things outstanding to be organised for Freshers' Week and they're weighing on my mind.

It's a pretty feeble list really now I look at it. Yet still the mood rages on. I'll wait until I'm in a better mood before I blog again - even I can't bear this whinging. Here is my advice to myself:

Sorry Mum.
Get a grip.
Bite the bullet.
So get on with it!

I think I need an early night.

sarnie of your dreams

2010-09-16T13:35:00.013+01:00

I literally cannot get enough of this.

It's making me salivate just looking at that picture. I've just had two sarnies using that bread, and I am seriously considering a third. Ach, no, I can't. I apologise profusely that I have nothing interesting to say - this bread has single-handedly removed any sensible thought from my head.

More from me once I've hidden the bread bin.

20 frivolous memories

2010-09-13T14:33:00.015+01:00

So, most of this morning has been spent - productively, naturally - watching Trinny and Susannah Undress the Nation. For the uninitiated, this programme's basic premise is snatching women with shattered self-esteem off the street, locking them in a fluorescent, mirrored cube of horror, crushing their spirits and reducing them to tears, before whizzing them off on a dazzling shopping trip and single-handedly restoring their confidence and repairing their marriages. Excellent stuff.

Aside from that, it's my birthday coming up and, predictably, it's got me feeling all cheesy and retrospective. I'll be 21 in two days, an adult in the eyes of all the oldies, officially able to drink in America and, well, I'm a good couple of years away from my teenage era. So, in typical blogger fashion, here are a few of the things I've done in the last year:

I entered the real, adult world of online banking. Not only that, but I started paying bills. Real bills. And when I call my electricity suppliers, they don't ask if my mum's at home.
I voted in the general election. I woke up after hours of trying to stay up to watch the whole thing unfold, to a text from Lou saying: "You are waking up to a Tory government." Then, a few minutes later: "Ok, forget that. I read it wrong."
I opened a Twitter account. And a Flickr. And a Dailybooth. And I shamefully neglect all but one.
I cut my hair short, dyed it black (because there wasn't any brown dye in the shop), ignoring all sensible advice to the contrary. And I've stuck with it.
I read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, and in so doing discovered my fictional home-from-home.
I received a brand new laptop. Which eventually broke. Which I was then conned out of 17o quid to get fixed (which it wasn't). But it was through this circuitous route that I became acquainted with the unadulterated technological love affair of my life (my MacBook), and shouted at the crook in the repair shop with all manner of spectacular righteous anger and dissatisfaction.
I managed to gradually acquire 100 YouTube subscribers - one of whom managed to find me on Facebook and left me such a sweet "I'm a fan from YouTube" comment on my wall (which sufficiently impressed my housemates and made me go all giggly).
I was about 2 feet away from the Queen for about 30 seconds, which was enough to make me burst into tears.
On 15th September 2009, I was genuinely in love. The relationship ended in the months that followed, and it's taken much of the rest of this year to reach the point where I don't operate under a constant state of pain. But now I can say I'm glad it ended - because on 15th September 2010 I will have re-learned to be comfortable on my own, and hopefully won't make the same mistakes again.
I pierced my ear, again.
I seriously considered getting a tattoo, and still think I might. Perhaps it'll be something I do when I'm 21 - a delicious age when I really should know better.
I started the year in the black, then slipped into the red, then crawled back into the black.
I went into Boots looking for a pair of glasses, telling the lady: "Basically, I want to look like Jim Royle from The Royle Family", which she found highly amusing.
I went into the local brand new Hollister shop. Twice. Yet despite scoffing and sniggering my way through the entire experience, there was a little bit of me that was disappointed that the topless male models weren't there.
I mastered the art of a truly beautiful red velvet cake. Then planned my future wedding around it.
I went from being a Hallgroup Leader, to a Committee Member, and wondered how it all happened so fast.
I bought a ukulele, and am 2 songs through the 5 that I swore I'd learn.
I bought more bunches of flowers, cinema tickets, and packets of fizzy Haribo than I'd care to remember.
I sold out and gave in to the pull of the iPod, which I guess after my ongoing romance with the MacBook was fairly inevitable really.
I started thinking seriously about what I'll be doing this time next year after realising that - as much as I'd like to - I can't stay in uni forever. But I also realised that maybe it'll all be ok, and the big scary world isn't too scary after all.

It's been a full, dazzling, heartbreaking, thrilling, hilarious and magnificent year. I hope I've done it justice.

recap

2010-09-11T10:03:00.015+01:00

Oh hello blog, you lovely thing. It's been a while.

Well, now that I'm back home after almost 3 weeks without internet I thought I'd tell you just what I've been doing in the mean time. It has been a good 3 weeks!

Ok, first week I was on a barge on the Oxfordshire canal, which was bea-utiful. We became expert storm-dodgers and, if I do say so myself, I was soon steering the boat like a pro, even in the pouring rain:

An amusing incident on the barge: I was steering fairly early in the morning and looking like a real bargee, when I looked to my feet and saw the hatch down to the engine, and noticed a small brass sign next to it explaining what it was. Now, for my somewhat immature mind, this sign turned out to be more than I could bear to keep to myself. I called to my brother at the front of the barge: "Oi Tom, there's a funny sign on the barge!" He asked me what it said, and I bellowed out over the noise of the engine: "It says FUEL COCK BELOW!" Then fell about in helpless hysterics. It wasn't until cruel coincidence caused me to turn round that I saw the old bloke on the tow path that was out walking his dog, looking at me in surprised amusement and pity as I rolled about the deck cackling like a schoolgirl. I was so embarrassed that, naturally, I went and hid in the toilet for the next half hour.

So, the week after the barge we went to stay in a cottage in Dorset (in Lulworth Cove, if you're interested). The weather was much better that week, and we went on plenty of day trips to explore everything around. One of the highlights of the week was when we went sea kayaking - it was incredible! I would so recommend it if you haven't done it before. Tom and I shared a kayak, and we were crashing through waves and dodging in and out of rocks and caves - whistling the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack, naturally.

Another highlight was our trip to Lulworth Castle for the annual jousting festival - where I learned that not only do I need a boyfriend, but he must be of the armour-wearing "I-shall-win-this-tournament-for-your-honour" type.

Needless to say, the baddie knight ("Lord Odious", as it happened) was my favourite, and - I am ashamed to say - without any other appropriate favour to give him (women used to give knights handkerchiefs and things to show their favour during the jousts) I was seriously considering removing my bra to give him in a moment of madness, but it seems a young girl beat me to the underwear offering:

She was on her dad's shoulders next to us and told him she wanted to give him her spare pair of knickers. On ascertaining that it was in fact the baddie that she wanted to favour, he said amusingly: "I'm not sure if I approve of this!"

The final highlight, was the Anniversary of the Battle of Britain Air Show in Duxford. Man, I have never seen anything like it. So many World War II planes - they had sixteen Spitfires flying together! And I'm no fighter plane expert but I'm told that's rather a big deal. Of course, the Red Arrows are always a big hit with me.

So, this brings us on to this week, where I have been at Forum 2010, organised by UCCF (the national organisation of Christian Unions in universities). It was one of the most incredible weeks ever, honestly. The teaching was fantastic (click here to listen to any of them - Graham Daniels' talk was particularly brilliant) and we all learned to much and got really fired up for going back to uni and organising our CU freshers events. I nearly lost my voice from all the singing we did! Picture it: pitch black outside - no clouds but loads of stars, a huge marquee and a thousand students belting it out so that you can hardly hear your own voice. So good. So so good!

So, here I am - complete with a host of new books from Forum, a miniature model of a Red Arrow plane, and flip flop tan lines. It's been a mint few weeks!

new love

2010-08-18T22:56:00.005+01:00

So today, after much excitement and anticipation, my iPod nano arrived. My first iPod - after swearing I would never get one because everyone had one - I am in love.

I have loved and adored my Sony Bean for 5 whole years, and I adore it still. Battery life is incredible, charging time is second to none, and it was quirky enough to be satisfactorily different. Beautiful. I bought it with my first ever wages when I was 16. Aww, nostalgia.

However, since Apple have hooked me in with the technological love of my life (MacBook), my conversion to iPods was fairly inevitable. And, oh, it's a sweet thing. So, as much as I'll miss the Bean (although, inevitably I'm keeping it so I can show the grandkids - "look children, hop off your hovercrafts for a moment and behold my first ever mp3 player. Mp3? You know, it's how we listened to music before LaserPods"), I am now very very in love.

Plugging it into my laptop became the perfect marriage of dazzling technology and it was a sight to behold. Yum.

Marilyn

2010-08-17T22:41:00.006+01:00

Listen to this as you read, it'll convey the mood.

So, this is what I was listening to as I was walking down the street today. Or, rather, what I was listening to as I did my best Tyra-esque hips-swinging foot-stomping model walk down the road. It was, may I say, sublime.

Or that's what I thought. It happened to be quite a windy day today and I was wearing a dress, which meant that I had more than a slight Marilyn Monroe situation going on and had to keep hold of it to maintain any scrap of dignity. Given my generally jubilant mood I was grinning away and sashaying my way down the street without a care in the world - I giggled coquettishly as I struggled to keep my dress in place and my hair was windswept and sexy.

Or that's what I thought. I happened to catch a look at myself in an office window as I swept by. What looked - in my head - like a fresh young thing flirting with life, looking chic and waltzing her way to work, actually resembled some deranged and bedraggled dowager clutching at her petticoats and chortling madly at some imagined lover and leering wildly at passing traffic.

Of course, then I imagined how I'd blog about this tonight, so then I got the giggles even more and ended up literally cackling my way down the street to the utter bewilderment of the surrounding businessmen. Women with children were actually backing away from me.

Other than that, nothing much else to report. Bon Jovi tomorrow morning I think.

pinstripes

2010-08-16T22:14:00.013+01:00

So, for the last almost-5 weeks I've been working in an office in the business district of the city (in a very beautiful building, if I do say so myself), and I've come to a somewhat surprising realisation. I like the whole "business person" thing. Weird, eh.

Like, walking from my bus stop to the building with all the other suits in the city (not that I've been wearing anything particularly close to a business suit - hey, I'm an English student, I'm doing my best). Dunno, I just like it. I have to walk through this tunnel under a railway overpass (it's nicknamed the "Dark Arches") to get to the building, and there's just something quite nice about walking in a big line with other people - feeling kind of... Important.

And the bizarre thing is that it's not something I've ever imagined myself doing. The image of my future life in my head involves graduating uni, stumbling into some delightfully creative and bohemian job - probably through sheer chance - then meeting a nice chap who finds me charming and my love of old tobacco tins and teacups endearing, he'll propose to me in a creative way using an unusual and interesting engagement ring, we'll have a wedding with a red velvet cake then live together in a house with mismatching crockery and shelves and shelves of space for our books and films. We'll scrape together enough money to live on and we'll have flowers in milk bottles on our mantlepiece. And that's my plan so far really.

So this is why I was surprised to find that I liked feeling all businessy. It's not what I want to do for the rest of my life, but just for this short while it's felt good to feel that I can do something. All the worries about the recession, and lack of graduate jobs, and student debt, and my non-vocational degree, have made me worry a little that maybe it doesn't happen that way. Maybe I won't just fall into something I can imagine doing for the rest of my life. Maybe I won't meet a bloke who loves Withnail and I as much as me. Maybe we really will have to scrape enough money together to live on, and perhaps there won't be as many books and films as I imagine. Maybe.

This sounds miserable, but really it's been reassuring these past few weeks. It's made me think, yeah, even if it doesn't go exactly as planned, even if all these things don't fall into place, even if we have to build our bookshelves one year at a time, maybe it'll be ok. Because here I am, working in the last job in the world I could ever have imagined myself doing (hopeless with numbers as I am), and I've enjoyed it.

It's made me feel hopeful. As though as much as I think I know my plans, and as much as I imagine it all out in my head, maybe things won't work out as I thought. They might even be better.

al fresco pet pedicures

2010-08-15T22:42:00.008+01:00

Good grief, 3 posts in the last two days - the lass must be serious. Yes indeed, dear readers, I am sallying forth as I mean to go on. After my shockingly disparate blog presence I consider it a matter of duty and pride to up the ante on the ol' literary input. It always takes a little while to get back into blog-mode after being away, but I genuinely love it and want to get back in the habit.

Ok, so today started with my usual awakening - not from the infamous Mickey Mouse - but from my pet cat, Daisy. Every morning she considers it her duty to sandpaper-lick my face/fingers/elbow with her oh-so-cute-but-not-at-4:30-in-the-morning tongue, and maows pathetically (not a misspelling - that is exactly the disgruntled noise that she makes. Every morning...). I then heave myself out of bed, and semi-consciously stumble downstairs to let her out.

A few hours later I got up feeling slightly more human (slightly) and went to the kitchen for my restorative Weetabix. Today I was helping my Mum with the kids at church; one of our planned activities (and I'm now not sure how we came up with this idea) was to make chocolate bugs with the children - in a gesture towards cooking but without having to brave the hazardous e. coli-zone that is the kitchen at my church. My church, I should explain, is held in a local community centre, so we don't actually own the building. It's a nice set-up, but it does mean that we have to share the building with all the youth offender/ASBO kids/behavioural disorder groups that meet there during the week. All great stuff, but inevitably the kitchen has now begun to resemble what I imagine the scene a few minutes after the events at Chernobyl. You get a general feel for the building when you take a moment to more closely examine the posters and notices that adorn its walls - among them the bomb discovery protocol, a how-to-avoid-loan-sharks warning, and a text-this-number-if-you-know-someone-carrying-a-knife police appeal. Mhm, you get the idea.

So, basically, these chocolate bugs that we were preparing were made out of milk chocolate and white chocolate with a few good dollops of golden syrup to make them stick into a kind of chocolate dough. The picture in the Usborne children's recipe book looked pretty and simple enough, but turns out that what is essentially solid glucose turns children not into angelic darlings joyfully forming wings for their confectionary bugs using the helpful cocktail sticks provided for the purpose, but into minions of the apocalypse bent on wreaking havoc and destruction amidst much shrieking and chaos.

The afternoon was decidedly more relaxing, involving little more that sitting out in the sun in the garden and making my way through almost the entirety of hayleyghoover's blog. That's right kids, the girl is a legend. This blissful occupation was interrupted (it just took me about three attempts to spell ~~interuppted~~ ~~interruppted~~ interrupted. Shocking.) momentarily for a brief interlude where I had to help my Mum cut the cats' claws. Straightforward as this may sound, let me tell you - hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? No fury like a cat cajoled, more like.

Needless to say they didn't take kindly to being accosted in their casual promenade around the garden, and were even less impressed when they saw we were wielding a pair of nail clippers. Ye-es. Not impressed. I was the designated cat-restrainer for the proceedings, and I was cooing and chirping in all manner of soothing and encouraging ways, but to little avail. When we'd finished they flounced off disgustedly, appalled that we could ever subject them to such indignity.

Anyway, bedtime now - need to be up early to make my sarnies for work tomorrow. Off to take Mickey's battery out.

Mickey stupid Mouse

2010-08-14T23:23:00.014+01:00

I think I'm becoming an obsessive. Honestly. I'm sat here quite innocently reading some of Blogger's most excellent material, and all I can hear is tick tick tick tick tick.

My clocks are driving me crazy.

OK, I just re-read over that and realised how utterly bizarre that sounded. Thing is, I have two clocks in my room - the clock on my wall (which is a loud clicker anyway), and the Mickey Mouse alarm clock circa 1993 that I now no longer use but don't have the heart to throw out. Basically, somehow between 1993 and now, the second hand of the alarm clock has bended slightly, which means that whenever it gets to the minute hand it has to work harder to push past it, so suddenly clicks really LOUDLY.

It gets itself all worked up into an irritating little crescendo once every minute, and it's driving me insane. Thing is, I know how stupid it is to get annoyed at something so pointless and - let's face it - not that intrusive, but I can't help it. Once I hear it click, I know it's there, and I can't think of anything else - not even the brilliance that is the aforementioned hayleyghoover. And that's annoying.

So I find myself gradually getting more and more annoyed at the stupid wretched mouse and his stupid clicking second hand that I end up taking a herculean leap from my bed over to the alarm clock, wrenching open it's little door and flinging the battery away.

Peace at last. That is until the morning, when I go over to the alarm clock looking so tragic and pillaged and lying on its side that I feel sorry for it and inevitably put its battery back in. I need to get a grip.

les laveurs de vitres

2010-08-14T18:26:00.010+01:00

As I speak, I'm sat cowering in the corner of my bedroom with the blinds drawn as tight as they'll go lest the window cleaner cops an eyefull of me in my Primark pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt from Prague that says "Czech me out!". There aren't many things that make me jumpy in my own house, but the unmistakable and unsolicited rattle and clang of the dreaded ladders being propped up against my wall is sure to do it - it has me scuttling away from all sources of daylight like a startled earwig.

Seriously though, they hold our privacy in the palm of their hand. All our weird little when-no-one-else-is-in-the-house habits (mine's singing along - loudly, with actions - to karaoke songs from YouTube...) and little quirks are laid out utterly bare for them to see.

You suddenly feel on show, like you have to look busy, interesting and attractive - quite habitually living out your trendy and exciting little life. You give your bedroom a quick once-over, make sure there is nothing incriminating or embarrassing lying about. No knickers that didn't quite make it to the laundry basket, or Twilight soundtracks piled next to your CD player (who, me?).

It's the fact that you don't know when they're coming! You could, quite innocently, be making a quick post-shower naked dash from the bathroom to your bedroom (you might even be stomping an America's Next Top Model-esque "signature walk"... Maybe...) when, suddenly, there's Dave on the ladders, sheepishly waving outside the window.

Anyway, a quick look out of my window has assured me that he has, in fact, gone. So, I can retreat back onto my bed - in full and proud view of the window. Until next time, when we'll go through the whole rigmarole again.

You know what I'm talking about, right? Maybe it's just me...

excuses excuses

2010-08-05T13:30:00.003+01:00

OK, yes yes, I know. Utterly feeble blog-presence of late. OK fine, virtually nil presence. Yeah I know, trying to fob you off with little YouTube video summaries was a fail.

HOWEVER! I do have a fairly (fairly...) reasonable excuse. Drumroll please...

I have a job! Oh yes, that's right - job search was not completely fruitless after all! For the last 2-and-a-bit weeks I've been working at a chartered accountant's. Oh yes, it is exactly as grown up as it sounds.

Of course, truth is I know zilch about bloomin accounting, but thankfully they're all very friendly and sympathetic towards the numerically-illiterate and have given me nice wordy things to do. AND they're wanting to do pretty much a full corporate re-brand and hopefully I'm going to be involved in that. Which is, needless to say, excessively exciting :)

So, in short, everything's rather sunny at the moment. And as if things weren't going well enough, I'm off to see Eclipse tomorrow night (*cough*...). Perhaps won't be the visual feast that was Inception, but... well, you know.

Johnny Depp, Quid, and Crumpets

2010-07-06T22:49:00.001+01:00

Third episode of Ask a British Girl - a selection of questions I've been asked recently by the lovely people of YouTube :)

SO EXCITED!

2010-07-03T16:28:00.001+01:00

Eeeeeeeeeee! Emailed the lady in charge of subscriptions over at Uppercase and she gave me a link to a couple of websites that stock their magazines for people in the UK - woop woop!

That's made my little day :)

ach ach ach

2010-07-01T21:21:00.001+01:00

Update on the job thing. No go. The place I was hoping I could work called me today saying that a guy that used to work for them has come back so they're taking him on instead. Blllleeeeeeeuuuuuugh. Back to the drawing board.

The Most Annoying Movie Moments

2010-06-30T22:41:00.002+01:00

What, pray, is this? "A YouTube frenzy!" I hear you say. Well, yes. That's what comes from having summer holiday and currently no job.

(Emphasis on the hopefully-not-too-lengthy "currently"...)

hay fever

2010-06-29T13:08:00.001+01:00

As aforementioned, summer is finally here! Weather is still beautiful and everywhere looks lovely. For some of us, however, it does come with minor drawbacks. So, here's my latest video - bemoaning hay fever and all its loathsome appendages...

why do we have a queen?

2010-06-23T18:34:00.003+01:00

As you know from previous posts I'm a fan of our Queen, so here's the second instalment of Ask a British Girl :)

summer

2010-06-23T10:19:00.004+01:00

is well and truly here - huzzah! The past week or so has been an endless stream of beautiful blue skies, and warm breezes. Yum.

Now, normally I'm a definite autumn-gal, but I think I've been thoroughly seduced by summer this year. After a good few months of drizzly grey this good weather is much appreciated. You don't realise what a huge difference the weather makes to your mood until it's gorgeous - it's mint! Wandering round in flip flops, flowy (is that a word?) skirts and cropped leggings does wonders for the ol' grin.

We did a special summery teepee thing for the kids at church on Sunday and it went down a treat. Here is a record of our efforts :)

the Queen

2010-05-25T21:21:00.009+01:00

So, I'm the only single in the house, and I have a bowl of berry yoghurt to keep that niggly I-know-I-have-Haribo-in-my-cupboard-but-will-feel-guilty-if-I-eat-them feeling at bay, so I thought I'd write something here.

Nothing too exciting has happened today - I've been revising for my exam on Saturday (yes, Saturday - the ultimate in exam cruelty...), and in the afternoon I watched the Queen's speech.

I adore that woman. She is eighty-four years old - an age when, frankly, most people settle down to some well-earned knitted socks and a footstool. But not the Queen. Oh no, she soldiers on like a stoic matriarch, untiring and unflinching.

Watching her speech today became a strange mingling of old and new. All the gilt and pomp and circumstance and strange traditions (like slamming the door of the House of Commons in the face of the poor chap known as the Black Rod) are there alongside all the film cameras and yobbish MPs. Seeing the Queen sitting on her huge gold throne wearing the Imperial State Crown and talking about carbon emissions and super-fast broadband made for an interesting picture I thought.

And I get fed up of people going on about how stupid and unnecessary the monarchy is. I think having the monarchy - and all associated ceremony - is a brilliant part of our heritage and history, and makes me feel so proud to be British. I love that no matter how fast politics and technology might progress we still have those centuries-old traditions woven into the background. It's one of the things that other countries admire us for. As a nation we know how to put on a good formal show (marching bands and the like), and they're often imitated by other countries - though without the same pizzazz, although I do say so myself.

People complain about how much money we pay in taxes to fund the monarchy, but it actually costs only 50p per person, per year. Now, to me, that seems a small price to pay. I have far more issue with the money our government seems to be spewing into developing nuclear weapons than the little we contribute towards huge events like today.

Literally, for less than the cost of a first class stamp we can have little slices of history delivered right to our doorsteps, in HD surround sound, and a dose of national pride to boot. Surely that's a bargain worth shouting about?

un autre

2010-05-19T22:52:00.022+01:00

Did another vlog, this time about the new Robin Hood film. Two vlogs in three days? I'm just enjoying my new editing software too much :)
Also wanted to share this tasty picture:

This is my red velvet cake no. 2 in the making. I didn't have my cake tins here in Newcastle so I split the mixture between a couple of loaf tins - our red velvet loaves were demolished in about two days between four hungry housemates. A job well done :)

seduced by a big, shiny, Apple

2010-05-17T15:27:00.001+01:00

New vlog - finally! Woot woot. Me waxing lyrical about the glorious Apple shop in Newcastle. Have a look-sie if you have a minute.

in the milk bottle

2010-05-13T11:24:00.001+01:00

on my desk. Something pretty to look at amidst essay-writing.

poor lad

2010-05-12T11:25:00.006+01:00

To counter the hideous hideousness of seeing Gordon Brown walking his family out of 10 Downing Street, I made a cheesecake last night.

And it took the edge off.

British people.

2010-05-08T16:13:00.009+01:00

We're hilarious.

As a race, a rule seems to have emerged among us over time that means we're not allowed to talk on public transport. Even when you're not in the quiet carriage on the train, you find yourself giving foul glares to the bloke on his phone at the end of the carriage going on and on and on about what he's having for tea that night. Mate, we don't care that you're having peas with it. Honestly.

It's the one time we're even close to being rude, in our thoroughly British way of course. Lot's of huffing and puffing and bustling around.

But I do think the silence rule has gone a bit too far. It means that if you ever are sat next to anyone and you attempt to start conversation in a friendly and neighbourly way, the recipient looks at you as though you are: a) a stalker, or b) about to axe them.

I mean, I was on the train yesterday on the way back to Newcastle and I was at a table seat with two other people (which is difficult enough, what with the under-the-table foot-placement politics and all...), but then the train jolted forwards and someone's lunch from the overhead locker came flying out and hurtled down on top of us. And even as I made a timid "ooh" as a bottle of Sprite came plummeting down and cracked me soundly on the head, not a word. The bloke next to me calmly retrieved the sandwich from his crotch and put it on the table. Not a single word.

Good grief.

I can't vote.

2010-05-05T16:37:00.003+01:00

Well, that would be the case if I wasn't going home this evening.

Turns out that, even though I sent my form off on time, I'm not registered here in Newcastle as well as in Leeds. Ach! So, after a brief conversation with a severely brusque woman on the phone at Newcastle Council, it became apparent that there was "nothing we can do two days before the election" (i.e. "what do you expect me to do, you stupid, disorganised girl"). So, I've decided to go home today so I can vote tomorrow.

Why bother? Well because, cheesy as it sounds, women in the past went through a tad more than an inconvenient train journey in order to give me the privilege. So, off I shall go back to Leeds - which actually will be lovely because I can see my family - and off to the polling booth tomorrow to put a big fat cross in the box. And I shall relish the thought of women in 18th century outfits grinning as I take the pen in my hand.

the joy of enchiladas

2010-05-04T23:13:00.006+01:00

Who knew?! How have I lived this long without trying them?!

Sure, I've had fajitas, but these are like fajitas and then some. They're like juiced-up fajitas drizzled in sunshine. I think they may become a regular in the goshkate household. Cannot fail to be a winner.

here comes the sun (please)

2010-05-02T23:19:00.010+01:00

I am waiting for the summer, patiently. Despite being a self-confessed autumn-girl, I have to admit summer seems to be holding back a little this year.

I find myself looking wistfully out of the window, and holding my breath as I open the curtain every morning. Will there be blue skies? We've had some sunny days of late, and it's been gorgeous.

It's just one of those things - you don't realise what a difference the weather makes, until the sun is blazing and you're walking along with an inexplicable grin on your face.

It's in that in-between stage - too cool to wear flip flops, too warm to wear tights. That first brave day when I decide that it's time to bare my legs to the world is yet to come. I'll keep you posted.

sunny grass

2010-04-30T10:59:00.002+01:00

New header - what do we think? Slightly bigger than the last one. The grass on the other one seemed to look more yellow-tinged the more I looked at it so I've changed it to a healthier green alternative...

magic tricks, wave-chasing, and welly-whanging champions

2010-04-29T20:01:00.000+01:00

I have finally finally done the video for the Easter holiday and it's up and running on YouTube. It was so nice going back and looking at all the clips I'd taken during the week - spring-like and cheerful. Mint :)

the best thing?

2010-04-29T00:16:00.001+01:00

Literally, can there be anything more perfect and delicious than getting into a bed with freshly washed sheets dried out in the sun? No, indeed there cannot.

I believe I have found my own little corner of perfection in my shoebox of a bedroom. The whole room smells of fresh air and spring, and I'm here grinning propped up on my pillows.

Cleaning your sheets is one of those things that makes you feel entirely in control of your life. It's akin to shaving your legs, dividing your folders, or cleaning the bathroom. For the price of half an hour's washing machine time, you can attain utter inner peace and satisfaction. Worth a washing tablet or two, surely?

also, a mild concern

2010-04-27T23:39:00.004+01:00

Those headband things never fit on my head. Seriously.

Do you know the ones I mean? The fabric ones with an elasticated bit that make the wearer look slightly hippy-ish and delightfully bohemian.

Thing is, in the evenings my fringe starts to annoy me so I like to hold it back out of my eyes. My tool of choice used to be a black plastic headband (or Alice band, fine), but after the death of it and its many successors I resorted to a red paisley neckerchief thing which used to belong to my Granny and made me look like Rambo.

So, after endless mockery and scorn from the housemates (and partly because I left it at home), today I decided to invest in a new one. I found one in Boots, and it's quite nice - silky and patterny. That'll do the trick, thought I.

But, it was not to be. Either it is made for people with heads the size of peanuts, or I have a malformed skull. While I'm hoping it's not the latter, I have a horrible feeling that it might be the case. Whenever I put the headband on it sits there looking sullen, then pings off my head. It's infuriating, everyone else manages to make it look so effortless - an elegant knot over a perfectly dishevelled chignon, or tied delicately at the side leaving trailing floaty material. I, on the other hand, am rapidly resembling some kind of human elastic band launcher.

What's a girl to do? Is there anything that can be done to tame ungainly heads? Probably not. Until then, I'll have to submit to fringey eyes, or else invest in some sort of latex swimming cap.

Just another one of life's lesser delights.

planning planning

2010-04-27T23:11:00.002+01:00

So, tomorrow is module selection. At 9:00 tomorrow morning I'm picking my modules for next year. This is what I'm thinking:

Semester 1

Beyond Wonderland (a module on the origins and development of children's literature)
an Extended Study (5000 words on anything I've been taught so far - basically a mini-dissertation)

Semester 2

Contemporary Documentary (learning about the theory and practice of making documentaries. We'll be taught how to use editing software and stuff, and part of the assessment is a 4 minute film we have to make about ourselves. Eek!)
Career Development (70 hours volunteering at a placement. This is where I'm hoping to go - it looks amazing!)
another Extended Study

So, all in all, it looks pretty mint. Not huge amounts of taught modules this time, but there are always less in third year because of dissertation/extended studies. Eee, I'm really excited!

I've wanted to do the documentary module since the beginning of uni, but have always chickened out. It's taught by Tina Ghavari and I think there's a fair amount of practical work involved and I've got no idea what to expect, which is pretty intimidating. Thing is though, I'm thinking when else am I going to get an opportunity like this? I love film and documentaries and it's a real chance to learn to do something I love better. So I told myself to get a grip :)

I'll have to start thinking of ideas for my 4 minute film...

back on track

2010-04-23T12:06:00.002+01:00

Well thank goodness for that.

Laptop issue sorted at last after final showdown in the repair shop. So yesterday I went and bought another one, as mine was apparently dead as a doornail.

So now that I have a fully-functioning beauty of a laptop I can crack on with some uni work that really pretty desperately needs doing (8000 words in 3 weeks? No problem... *cough*).

Leunig on Sunday and Monday's Faces shall start again with fresh vigour and excitement, and a film of Easter at Othona (see last year's) soon to follow. Huzzah for that!

and a lovely Easter

2010-04-07T21:13:00.005+01:00

This Easter I went to my favourite place in the world, with some of my favourite people and - as expected - it was lovely.

Video to follow on YouTube but won't be until my laptop's working again.

red velvet cake

2010-04-07T17:09:00.014+01:00

'Twas a lovely tasty success. Taken me a while to upload the pictures but better late than never. An amazing amazing cake, so thank you girlhula for the inspiration :)

After initial struggle to find buttermilk (to be found in what look like tall yoghurt pots, just so you know...) I donned an apron, rolled up my sleeves and got cracking.

About an hour and an ocean of red food colouring later - voila!

stupid wretched hideous

2010-03-23T20:08:00.000Z

laptop has broken AGAIN. Hence the lack of blog entries of late. ACH.

Took it back to the same place again and they are a BUNCH OF CROOKS. They are the single most unprofessional "business" I've ever has the misfortune of coming across: completely unreliable and utterly useless. Grr.

AND, they've made me have to be all assertive and no-nonsense and I hate doing that but have had to get good at it pretty quickly. So so annoying.

However, I am going to make a red velvet cake tomorrow so all will be well :)

number 5

2010-03-01T00:08:00.002Z

Reet, I've had a couple of rolls developed now so I reckon I can legitimately cross number 5 off the list (although it's definitely going to be continued throughout the year).

First film wasn't too fruitful, but to be fair I was just getting to grips with using an analogue camera again (and without a flash!) so I think it was more of a trial run:

[click on the pictures to see larger versions if you fancy a closer look]

Roll #1

Roll #2

So yes, not too bad - getting better. It'll take practice but I'm slowly progressing.

outrage outrage outrage

2010-02-28T22:53:00.004Z

So, the aforementioned Belle and Herb's (utterly spectacular. No, really.) café has closed. Cannee believe it. It's the most utterly ludicrous thing. The café was clearly so popular, always heaving with people and often with queues out in the street.

So, OK, in the grand scheme of things a closed café isn't so headline-worthy, but honestly it was such a genuinely cool and quirky place that it's heartbreaking to see such a one-off be shut down with so little explanation. Ach ach ach.

It's being renamed "Butterfly Cabinet" and, to be fair, it might still be mint. Apparently the original owner isn't involved with the new café, so I don't know how similar it'll be or if it'll look the same as it originally did. I'll try it out and see.

Sorry, I just realised how banal this would be to read if you've never been. It's just made me really sad so I thought I'd write about it. Imagine the coolest café you've ever been to, then times by ten. That was it.

*sniff*

so basically...

2010-02-23T17:10:00.001Z

I have been absolutely useless for the past couple of weeks. I have only blogged 4 times so far this month (not including this one) with, I have to admit, not even very much interesting in those.

I could jump on the whole "my life is really busy at the moment, guys" wagon, but the truth is it isn't. Or at least it hasn't been until this week, as it is our CU's Events Week, which certainly takes some organising. It's basically a whole week full of events and lunch talks, and it's the culmination of the CU's year and we try to reach as many people as possible on campus.

It's a bloomin' mint week as there is a lo-ot going on and it means you pretty much don't have an hour to spare - but we love it :)

Aside from that I am hopelessly behind on my reading for my course, with no excuse at all - something which I plan to rectify in the next couple of days when there is the occasional lull in events. Determination is, admittedly, low but it will be done. Oh yes.