giddy

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.

tomorrow

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.

outrage outrage outrage

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*

our visitor

I had forgotten to post about the familiar face I saw on Northumberland Street on Friday.

It was extraordinary. I cried, of course. She had come to officially open the Great North Museum, and I think she visited Princess Eugenie too.

It was honestly so strange, she's such a familiar face but seeing her in person was quite surreal - and very unexpected!

little brother

Came to visit this weekend. Completely marvellous couple of days, cannee wait til Christmas now.

the big date

last night

I fell in love with Newcastle again. Me and a couple of friends wandered through Chinatown to get some spring rolls, then down to the quayside to The Red House - my favourite pub ever.

Newcastle at night, I just love it all: Grey Street with its curved buildings and the Theatre Royal, the cobbly streets as you get closer to the quayside, the Geordies dressed to the nines on their way out, the little lights along the river, the queues by Monument to get into the clubs, the nine-things-to-do-in-Newcastle benches.

What a place - what a home.

and some for all the running folks

OK, so my boyfriend is into running. In, it has to be said, a fairly big way. So much so that he is willing to put himself through - from my perspective at least - the annual torture of the Great North Run.

This year, being the supportive and loving type, I went along to watch, cheer, and wave enthusiastically from safely behind the sidelines.

I tell you, it was a sight to be seen.

And what a buzz! It felt like the whole athletic world had rolled into Newcastle (which, to be fair, it very nearly had) and was just pouring through the streets and over the Tyne Bridge. Such colours! Never had I thought that Lycra could be so supremely beautiful, but I stand corrected. When you've got over 54,000 people all running in the brightest (albeit tightest) outfits imaginable, it makes for a pretty impressive sight.

Now, I hasten to add (if you hadn't already gathered), that running categorically isn't my thing. But by the end of it, I could quite see the appeal. An event like that is incredibly spectacular, and I found myself secretly wishing I could join in. My blokey told me that, often, when they run past roundabouts and street corners, local brass bands are out playing for them as they run by. Now that, surely, is a precious moment. When else does something so wonderfully nostalgic as that happen in our busy and urbanised lives?

I watched as he ran over the bridge, then jumped on the Metro and raced him to South Shields, and the finish line. When I eventually found him amidst the crowds of literally thousands of people, all wrapped up like a jacket potato in his foil blanket freebie and grinning from ear to ear, I was so immensely proud. I realised that it was more than just running to him. This was an event that he anticipates all year long, which - for a couple of hours at least - allows him to be more than just one little person, but instead a member of a huge, surging, dazzling, and determined team. Surely a year's worth of training is worth that one perfect moment?

I was very proud of you, bird.

(Having said that, I didn't tell him that the Red Arrows were my favourite bit)

thoughts, albeit outdated, from halls of residence