I know that this is a bit 'behind the times' but I have been meaning to write this for a while. In fact, I actually read the first book ages ago. Long before it hit the papers, the major reviews, and before it became a cult read.
When it comes to cult reads, cult movies, cult whatever, I usually like to have a watch, a read or a listen before I make up my mind and, well, trash it. So, currently I am finally reading 'To Kill a Mockingbird'. A book that is deemed the 'second book to read before you die', second that is to the Bible! So, when I heard about 50 Shades, I decided to have a read.
To be honest, when I first heard about it I didn't even know it was erotic fiction and now that I have read it I, well, I quite frankly don't know what all the fuss was about. The first erotic fiction novel I ever read was when I was quite young. Funny story actually but it was bought by my Irish-Catholic Grandmother who didn't have a clue what she was buying me. It was one of those books that enlightens you, and soon became a hit with my 14 year-old male friends at school.
I digress...back to the cult phenomenon that was, sorry, I mean is, the 50 Shades trilogy. To me it was 50 Shades of pure and utter shite. I hate to say it, as I know it has had such a huge following, but I don't get it. The story isn't believable, the situation is laughable and let's just say, the first few 'erotic pages', totally and utterly unrealistic.
More to the point, the writing was dreadful. After a while I stopped paying attention to the story and was more engrossed at how a book with zero editing ever made it into the hands of readers. Outselling Harry Potter, it has topped more best-seller lists than most books that pre-date it. How I ask?
But what I find bizarre is that E.L James, author of the 50 Shades trilogy, gained her inspiration from the Twilight saga. Books that I have to say, I am a huge fan of. The Twilight books are a guilty pleasure of mine and I was devastated when I reached the last page of Breaking Dawn. Sad but painfully true! But for those of you who haven't read the Twilight books, seen the movies or have been living in a cave for the past three years, they were written by Stephanie Meyer, a mormon. Writing the vampire-based novels Meyer was very careful in how she portrayed teen romance and sex, with Bella and Edward waiting till their wedding night to, well, you know! So how 50 Shades of shite in all its Mummy-porn glory can be based on the true love of Edward and Bella, I have no idea.
I never made it to the other 50 Shades books...I simply couldn't get past the poorly-written-trash-littered-with-British-idioms-in-an-American-novel, that was the first book. Sorry. And don't even get me started on what it does for a post-feminist era. Did Sex and the City teach women nothing? So, as the rest of the 50 Shades fans settle down to find out how Anastasia is 'freed' in the final book I will return to my four trusted friends, Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte, to find out about true female emancipation.
Sunday 18 November 2012
Sunday 28 October 2012
'That' business of show...
On a bleak, damp and rather grey Monday evening I was fortunate enough to head to the theatre. Not my normal haunt, you can usually find me in old man pubs, gig venues and wine bars, but not usually the theatre.
However, tonight I was off to see my mystical and magical friend, Neil. Ever since I have known Neil (around 14 years now, yes Neil, we are getting THAT old) he has been a true magician. I have seen him perform magic at school, college, in plays and even on stage with another crazy friend of mine, Owen. So great are they together that their shows at the Edinburgh Fringe were a sell out!
Tonight's intriguing title was 'Around the world in 80 secrets'. So as I took my seat in the teeny-tiny, intimate venue that was the Chesil Theatre, next to Neil's fab Mum and Dad, I was not quite sure what I was in for. It turned out to be a night of secrets, laughter, tricks and musings. As Neil took us through his love of magic and art, entertainment and showmanship, it was amazing to see how his magical mind worked. At some points even I had to gasp for breath as the fast-chattering one-man show led us through the secrets behind many of the worlds greatest, yet truly under-stated, tricks.
Neil's magic is beyond incredible. Even showing us the simplest of tricks, using nothing but a coin and some cleverly disguised body language, I manage to confuse myself, as well as drop my 50p down the back of my chair. I could go on for ages about Neil's clever magic, including a trick involving several razorblades. This was the point in the show where he proceeded to swallow a number of extremely sharp razorblades and then tie them together in his mouth, yep, that's right. Oh, and then he regurgitated them back as he pulled them out of his mouth tied to a piece of string. Needless to say, and it isn't that I don't have faith in him, but I watched through gritted teeth and with only one eye open.
But to me, what I find far more mystical and magical than the pure magic itself, is the way Neil captures an audience, the way his mind works and his art of telling stories. His anecdotes, narrative and jestings leave me in awe of not only his magic but his sheer intelligence. Neil has always been an incredibly bright chap, but I really could have sat there all night and simply listened.
His art of story telling has always tickled me. Whenever I see him on stage I find myself still laughing after everyone else has gone quiet, laughing out loud, too loud in the past in fact. Neil's passion for what he does is infectious. You leave thinking, 'I want more'. A master gesticulator, watching Neil is like watching a child seeing magic for the first time, even though he is the one creating it.
I love watching really creative people at work. And when you are a spectator in his show you get a sense that he is creating magic purely for you, something he has never done before and something he is simply bursting to share with you.
In years to come, when asked which famous people you would most like to attend your dinner party, you will respond with...Neil Kelso.
So, if you are yet to see Neil then I urge you, go have a gander. And if you want to see some traditional pantomime genie-rubbing-magic-carpet-riding, well, magic, this Christmas, then book your tickets for Aladdin at the Theatre Royal Winchester!
However, tonight I was off to see my mystical and magical friend, Neil. Ever since I have known Neil (around 14 years now, yes Neil, we are getting THAT old) he has been a true magician. I have seen him perform magic at school, college, in plays and even on stage with another crazy friend of mine, Owen. So great are they together that their shows at the Edinburgh Fringe were a sell out!
Tonight's intriguing title was 'Around the world in 80 secrets'. So as I took my seat in the teeny-tiny, intimate venue that was the Chesil Theatre, next to Neil's fab Mum and Dad, I was not quite sure what I was in for. It turned out to be a night of secrets, laughter, tricks and musings. As Neil took us through his love of magic and art, entertainment and showmanship, it was amazing to see how his magical mind worked. At some points even I had to gasp for breath as the fast-chattering one-man show led us through the secrets behind many of the worlds greatest, yet truly under-stated, tricks.
Neil's magic is beyond incredible. Even showing us the simplest of tricks, using nothing but a coin and some cleverly disguised body language, I manage to confuse myself, as well as drop my 50p down the back of my chair. I could go on for ages about Neil's clever magic, including a trick involving several razorblades. This was the point in the show where he proceeded to swallow a number of extremely sharp razorblades and then tie them together in his mouth, yep, that's right. Oh, and then he regurgitated them back as he pulled them out of his mouth tied to a piece of string. Needless to say, and it isn't that I don't have faith in him, but I watched through gritted teeth and with only one eye open.
But to me, what I find far more mystical and magical than the pure magic itself, is the way Neil captures an audience, the way his mind works and his art of telling stories. His anecdotes, narrative and jestings leave me in awe of not only his magic but his sheer intelligence. Neil has always been an incredibly bright chap, but I really could have sat there all night and simply listened.
His art of story telling has always tickled me. Whenever I see him on stage I find myself still laughing after everyone else has gone quiet, laughing out loud, too loud in the past in fact. Neil's passion for what he does is infectious. You leave thinking, 'I want more'. A master gesticulator, watching Neil is like watching a child seeing magic for the first time, even though he is the one creating it.
I love watching really creative people at work. And when you are a spectator in his show you get a sense that he is creating magic purely for you, something he has never done before and something he is simply bursting to share with you.
In years to come, when asked which famous people you would most like to attend your dinner party, you will respond with...Neil Kelso.
So, if you are yet to see Neil then I urge you, go have a gander. And if you want to see some traditional pantomime genie-rubbing-magic-carpet-riding, well, magic, this Christmas, then book your tickets for Aladdin at the Theatre Royal Winchester!
Friday 17 August 2012
I did it MY way!
Having recently read the fab blog my brit-girl-in-melbs is writing I felt it was time to crack the 'working from home' myth. Having always had what I deem a 'proper' job, with previous titles including communications manager at Bacardi-Martini and digital project manager at B&Q, leaving my good wage, private health care and steady income, to go-it-alone, was something that baffled my friends and family. Indeed it baffled me.
Announcing to my family that I was starting up my own business as a freelance copywriter was a shock in itself. I also had to do the obligatory 'explain what the hell it was' first. Having grown up in a household where 'work ethic' was drummed in from an early age, and having a part-time job since the age of 14, it became clear that if I was going to get any kind of accolation, one must first prove ones point. But starting up my own business was always something I had wanted to do.
So, last year, as tea and toast developed in its infancy, I found myself trying to make ends meet. Despite living on my own I had never really had to worry about money as I always had a job that helped me pay the bills. And, as pride would have it, I was not about to go running home to mum and dad, nor was I asking for help!
Knowing that if I was going to succeed I would have to put my back into it I started cleaning houses and nannying kids. It was like being the epitome of a domestic housewife, minus the husband and the fancy house. I cleaned, I cooked, I picked up kids, I helped with homework, I came home, cleaned my own house, cooked for myself and then began my evenings work to study my diploma and set about finding clients. The days were long, and insomnia soon set in. Despite the broken nails and bags under my eyes it did wonders for the figure. A self-employment is a diet I would highly recommend.
The thing about starting your own business is that, what seems like a lot of fun, soon becomes a chore and when that pay check no longer makes it way into your account each month, making money becomes hard. Perhaps it was naivety that has gotten me thus far and had I realised what I was letting myself in for I would have jumped at the chance for a steady salary once more. Still determined, I continued, and soon the cleaning jobs became less, I retired from the nannying (much to my sadness as the kids were fab!) and the writing became more frequent.
A little over a year later I am sat in my office (new premises are being looked for as we speak), working from the comfort of my own home, and over my first initial hurdle. However, working from home, and for yourself, can have its draw backs.
There is the oh-so quiet sound of a pin drop, which after a while can seem deafening. But with much of the work I do, if I had a noisy office I would probably struggle or just fail to do any work at all. The temptation to talk to yourself, especially early in the morning when you are trying to give yourself a pep talk to get up, and get dressed, can be all too much at times. And then there is the vast amount of distractions, the cleaning, ironing, washing, you get the picture.
Once you have finished your day, realising that time actually is money, you have invoices, reports, client chasing and accounts to keep on top of. My boss can be a real cow sometimes too!
Looking back it would seem it takes some real self-motivational antics to work for yourself and from home. Hindsight is a truly wonderful thing! It also requires a lot of concentration, something I would say I lack, I mean severely lack (she says whilst writing a blog and staring out the window). But everyday I am learning.
Working from home and running your own business is yet to truly hit me with perks. But with my first year under my belt and a website on its way, I will stay humble. My advice if you are looking to go it alone, be prepared to work hard and to have many, I mean many, a sleepless night. Don't expect it to happen overnight, be patient and kind. But with a lot of pride and dedication you will get there. Maybe not so much of the pride thing, not one for taking help I may have been a little further ahead. So if kindness comes your way, go for it!
If you have got this far, then thank you and please keep an eye out for my new website coming super soon.
Announcing to my family that I was starting up my own business as a freelance copywriter was a shock in itself. I also had to do the obligatory 'explain what the hell it was' first. Having grown up in a household where 'work ethic' was drummed in from an early age, and having a part-time job since the age of 14, it became clear that if I was going to get any kind of accolation, one must first prove ones point. But starting up my own business was always something I had wanted to do.
So, last year, as tea and toast developed in its infancy, I found myself trying to make ends meet. Despite living on my own I had never really had to worry about money as I always had a job that helped me pay the bills. And, as pride would have it, I was not about to go running home to mum and dad, nor was I asking for help!
Knowing that if I was going to succeed I would have to put my back into it I started cleaning houses and nannying kids. It was like being the epitome of a domestic housewife, minus the husband and the fancy house. I cleaned, I cooked, I picked up kids, I helped with homework, I came home, cleaned my own house, cooked for myself and then began my evenings work to study my diploma and set about finding clients. The days were long, and insomnia soon set in. Despite the broken nails and bags under my eyes it did wonders for the figure. A self-employment is a diet I would highly recommend.
The thing about starting your own business is that, what seems like a lot of fun, soon becomes a chore and when that pay check no longer makes it way into your account each month, making money becomes hard. Perhaps it was naivety that has gotten me thus far and had I realised what I was letting myself in for I would have jumped at the chance for a steady salary once more. Still determined, I continued, and soon the cleaning jobs became less, I retired from the nannying (much to my sadness as the kids were fab!) and the writing became more frequent.
A little over a year later I am sat in my office (new premises are being looked for as we speak), working from the comfort of my own home, and over my first initial hurdle. However, working from home, and for yourself, can have its draw backs.
There is the oh-so quiet sound of a pin drop, which after a while can seem deafening. But with much of the work I do, if I had a noisy office I would probably struggle or just fail to do any work at all. The temptation to talk to yourself, especially early in the morning when you are trying to give yourself a pep talk to get up, and get dressed, can be all too much at times. And then there is the vast amount of distractions, the cleaning, ironing, washing, you get the picture.
Once you have finished your day, realising that time actually is money, you have invoices, reports, client chasing and accounts to keep on top of. My boss can be a real cow sometimes too!
Looking back it would seem it takes some real self-motivational antics to work for yourself and from home. Hindsight is a truly wonderful thing! It also requires a lot of concentration, something I would say I lack, I mean severely lack (she says whilst writing a blog and staring out the window). But everyday I am learning.
Working from home and running your own business is yet to truly hit me with perks. But with my first year under my belt and a website on its way, I will stay humble. My advice if you are looking to go it alone, be prepared to work hard and to have many, I mean many, a sleepless night. Don't expect it to happen overnight, be patient and kind. But with a lot of pride and dedication you will get there. Maybe not so much of the pride thing, not one for taking help I may have been a little further ahead. So if kindness comes your way, go for it!
If you have got this far, then thank you and please keep an eye out for my new website coming super soon.
Friday 29 June 2012
Do you remember tapes?
iremembertapes, too. In fact, I remember tapes so well that I can still remember that feeling when I would make mix-tapes. The kind that you record off the radio and sit with anticipation so as not to get the voice of the DJ stuck on the end. The ones you would take into your mates at school and swap for the mix-tape that they had made you. That was how we used to learn more about the music we now know and love. That was back when a DJ was someone who hit the play button and talked over your favourite songs on the radio. Not the kind now who give it large behind decks at Ibiza...or your local, seedy club!
Anyways, on topic, but off point. iremembertapes is the mastermind of three rather cool, and dashing, young chaps, from my home town, Winchester. Having seen them play live, listened to their records on repeat and recently purchased their latest single (All I know), I felt it was only right I shared the love.
When you first hear a band that 'captures' you, you want to tell the world but, you also want to keep them to yourself. Bands like Two Door Cinema Club, MGMT and Ben Howard spring to mind. You hear them, you fall in love, but when you hear them on Radio 1 you kinda get a bit miffed. It is as if someone has stolen them from you and you want to shout 'I heard them years ago!'
Well, it was the same when I heard iremembertapes for the first time. Usually, when a friend hands you a demo or a CD you kinda think, 'well, I'll give it a go' and then you have to do the oh so nice thing of reporting back your thoughts. As a rather diplomatic, articulate person I tend to do OK here. Yet when front man Tom Ferry (relative of none other than Bryan Ferry of Roxy Music) handed me the latest brainwave from the iremembertapes archive, whilst I was on a rather drunken night out in town, I kindly mentioned I would give it a listen...
Well that was some months ago now and it is still on repeat in my office. From the second Human Architecture started blasting 'Don't touch me there' (my favourite track on the album - not a request to those around me!) from my speakers I couldn't help but think about the influences behind this album. The 80's-esque beat with Ferry's very distinctive vocals immediately gave way to an Alison Moyet kinda vibe in her 'all cried out' phase. As the album swings from one track to the next you can't help but get taken in by the catchy, yet unique, beats. Before you know it you are singing along in a rather angsty way, whilst tapping your foot furiously!
The album screams Duran Duran, with lashings of Joy Division, and an equal measure of some Bloc Party style synths thrown into the mix. All in all it is an eclectic sound that highlights how passionate this band are about what they are doing, and how they treasure the work of some of the greatest bands of all time.
As someone who could listen and talk about music all day long, there seems to be a serious lack of new bands inspired by old raw talent. iremembertapes are most certainly doing their bit to help bring bands, electronica, synths, the 80's vibe and live music up-to-date
My advice to you...well, 'all I know' is that you should get yourself to one of their gigs. You most certainly won't be disappointed. And, if that is not possible right now, head to iTunes and purchase their latest creation. They truly are homegrown talent at its best!
Anyways, on topic, but off point. iremembertapes is the mastermind of three rather cool, and dashing, young chaps, from my home town, Winchester. Having seen them play live, listened to their records on repeat and recently purchased their latest single (All I know), I felt it was only right I shared the love.
When you first hear a band that 'captures' you, you want to tell the world but, you also want to keep them to yourself. Bands like Two Door Cinema Club, MGMT and Ben Howard spring to mind. You hear them, you fall in love, but when you hear them on Radio 1 you kinda get a bit miffed. It is as if someone has stolen them from you and you want to shout 'I heard them years ago!'
Well, it was the same when I heard iremembertapes for the first time. Usually, when a friend hands you a demo or a CD you kinda think, 'well, I'll give it a go' and then you have to do the oh so nice thing of reporting back your thoughts. As a rather diplomatic, articulate person I tend to do OK here. Yet when front man Tom Ferry (relative of none other than Bryan Ferry of Roxy Music) handed me the latest brainwave from the iremembertapes archive, whilst I was on a rather drunken night out in town, I kindly mentioned I would give it a listen...
Well that was some months ago now and it is still on repeat in my office. From the second Human Architecture started blasting 'Don't touch me there' (my favourite track on the album - not a request to those around me!) from my speakers I couldn't help but think about the influences behind this album. The 80's-esque beat with Ferry's very distinctive vocals immediately gave way to an Alison Moyet kinda vibe in her 'all cried out' phase. As the album swings from one track to the next you can't help but get taken in by the catchy, yet unique, beats. Before you know it you are singing along in a rather angsty way, whilst tapping your foot furiously!
The album screams Duran Duran, with lashings of Joy Division, and an equal measure of some Bloc Party style synths thrown into the mix. All in all it is an eclectic sound that highlights how passionate this band are about what they are doing, and how they treasure the work of some of the greatest bands of all time.
As someone who could listen and talk about music all day long, there seems to be a serious lack of new bands inspired by old raw talent. iremembertapes are most certainly doing their bit to help bring bands, electronica, synths, the 80's vibe and live music up-to-date
My advice to you...well, 'all I know' is that you should get yourself to one of their gigs. You most certainly won't be disappointed. And, if that is not possible right now, head to iTunes and purchase their latest creation. They truly are homegrown talent at its best!
Thursday 21 June 2012
This modern love...
...is my modern love. As those who love me, for me, will know, music is my number one passion in life. As an avid 'gig-goer' throughout my teens and early twenties, and only slowing things down in recent years due to no one wanting to come to dingy places with me (and a new found fear for big crowds), I was beyond excited when I read (through trusty Twitter) that my favourite live band, Bloc Party, had not only reunited, but were back on the road with a new album and tour.
Sorry, as I re-read that I can't help but let out a little 'eek' of excitement. Seeing them for the first time at Reading back in 2007 I simply can't describe how I felt. Having never been a fan, and thus not partaking in, hard-core drugs, it was a massive high for me. I can honestly say that, to-date, it is probably THE best moment in my life. For photographic evidence of THE best moment in my life, please see below. It could also have been the copious amount of alcohol I had drunk throughout that day and the 30+ degree sunshine that made it pretty special, but who's taking note, hey!
Over the years I have been lucky enough to see them at Reading, again, Glastonbury, Bournemouth and London (twice - other photographic evidence shows the eagerly awaiting of Bloc Party at Olympia). In total, seven times, not including the time Kele did a solo tour. Yep, went to see that too. My love of Bloc Party baffles my friends and especially my family. Granted, they get my love of music and often share in many of those musical loves. I have even dragged my mum along to many gigs, including Feeder! Whatever they release, through critical eyes, I tend to love it. Despite the negative reviews that 'A weekend in the city' received, I for one was still a fan.
I didn't intend to make this a gush about Bloc Party, but a mere insight into the world of music, sorry, my world of music. The hold it has on me and the constant soundtrack to life that is in my head. Perhaps I will save that for another day. All I wanted to do was to note down the excitement for their forthcoming tour and await 9am tomorrow when, hopefully, I will get my hands on some ruddy tickets.
It has been three years, three years where we have waited, by 'we' I mean us Bloc Party lovers, eagerly anticipating their return. Will it be a return to the more techno-house/new rave style of Silent Alarm or will a more poetic, less Kele-Okereke-takes-over-and-gets-his-way-again studio album take shape?
All I know is that when that album is released in August I will be purchasing, yes, physically purchasing, some things are just meant to be physically held. And as for the tour, well, I will just have to say 'The Prayer' and hope that with enough 'Positive Tension'...sorry, I'll stop, you get the picture!
Sorry, as I re-read that I can't help but let out a little 'eek' of excitement. Seeing them for the first time at Reading back in 2007 I simply can't describe how I felt. Having never been a fan, and thus not partaking in, hard-core drugs, it was a massive high for me. I can honestly say that, to-date, it is probably THE best moment in my life. For photographic evidence of THE best moment in my life, please see below. It could also have been the copious amount of alcohol I had drunk throughout that day and the 30+ degree sunshine that made it pretty special, but who's taking note, hey!
Over the years I have been lucky enough to see them at Reading, again, Glastonbury, Bournemouth and London (twice - other photographic evidence shows the eagerly awaiting of Bloc Party at Olympia). In total, seven times, not including the time Kele did a solo tour. Yep, went to see that too. My love of Bloc Party baffles my friends and especially my family. Granted, they get my love of music and often share in many of those musical loves. I have even dragged my mum along to many gigs, including Feeder! Whatever they release, through critical eyes, I tend to love it. Despite the negative reviews that 'A weekend in the city' received, I for one was still a fan.
I didn't intend to make this a gush about Bloc Party, but a mere insight into the world of music, sorry, my world of music. The hold it has on me and the constant soundtrack to life that is in my head. Perhaps I will save that for another day. All I wanted to do was to note down the excitement for their forthcoming tour and await 9am tomorrow when, hopefully, I will get my hands on some ruddy tickets.
It has been three years, three years where we have waited, by 'we' I mean us Bloc Party lovers, eagerly anticipating their return. Will it be a return to the more techno-house/new rave style of Silent Alarm or will a more poetic, less Kele-Okereke-takes-over-and-gets-his-way-again studio album take shape?
All I know is that when that album is released in August I will be purchasing, yes, physically purchasing, some things are just meant to be physically held. And as for the tour, well, I will just have to say 'The Prayer' and hope that with enough 'Positive Tension'...sorry, I'll stop, you get the picture!
Friday 8 June 2012
Am I a grown up?
As I sit chatting to an old friend about her life and all the things we have to catch up on, it reminded me of my 19th birthday. Getting ready to go out, planning where we were all going to stay that night and needing only to think of, where we were going to drink, and who may be out that night.
Almost nine years on, the conversations we were having were rather different. As I flicked through her wedding photos, discussing her job and my business, it all seemed rather surreal. At what point did we grow up? I read an article in a newspaper the other day that highlighted how you know if you are a grown up or not. Many of the 'life-affirming' things on there were moments I am yet to experience. Buying a house was top of the list, closely followed by having a baby, which was at number six and getting married at number nine. These three are clearly, by society's standards, the epitome of being a grown up. I am not sure what it says for me being close to not even one of these, well maybe the house, it is a daily aspiration of mine, but anyway.
What I did find really interesting was some of the more tenuous links to being deemed a 'grown-up'. As per my last post I find myself in this cross between relishing in drinking my cares away to priding myself on living alone and taking care of myself!
If I am to be judged on this list then the results were quite alarming. Taking the key milestones of ones life away, I was surprised at how 'grown-up' I must be. Number two was 'mum and dad no longer make your financial decisions', well I can't remember the last time they did that. Conducting a weekly shop and being able to cook from scratch were also in the top ten. If I couldn't cook a meal, or several for that matter, from scratch, not only would I probably be a lot thinner and rather hungry, but I think I, personally, would be embarrassed. I love having friends over and feeding them is part of the charm!
Number 11 was recycling. Having lived with housemates who didn't recycle I used to find my blood pressure rise. 'What is wrong with you? Don't you care? Often met with nothing but a shrug and a blank stare, whilst being told I shouldn't sweat the small stuff. Also in the top 20 were, watching the news, taking trips to the tip and knowing how to bleed a radiator. Well, when you live on your own you have to learn these things you know. My radiator key sits close to hand in my kitchen, and I even have a 'man drawer', packed full of essential items such as a flat head, a Phillips screwdriver and even an array of alum keys.
A few of the things did make me laugh, but petrified me also...such as having a 'best' crockery set, enjoying cooking, buying a Sunday paper, filing post, finding a messy house annoying and even, on the odd occasion, listening to Radio 2. That is me, I seemed to sigh out loud.
Firstly, at what point did I turn into my mother, secondly, I have many more to add to the list, such as my collection of blankets, vintage tea sets and buying anti-wrinkle cream, and thirdly, I have just glanced at the paperwork on my desk and realised I have a tax return to file and a stack of papers to file.
So, that is enough from me, as I still need to cook dinner, have a stack of ironing to do and a bottle of wine to drink, yes, there are some much loved pleasures in being a grown up. It really isn't all that bad.
Almost nine years on, the conversations we were having were rather different. As I flicked through her wedding photos, discussing her job and my business, it all seemed rather surreal. At what point did we grow up? I read an article in a newspaper the other day that highlighted how you know if you are a grown up or not. Many of the 'life-affirming' things on there were moments I am yet to experience. Buying a house was top of the list, closely followed by having a baby, which was at number six and getting married at number nine. These three are clearly, by society's standards, the epitome of being a grown up. I am not sure what it says for me being close to not even one of these, well maybe the house, it is a daily aspiration of mine, but anyway.
What I did find really interesting was some of the more tenuous links to being deemed a 'grown-up'. As per my last post I find myself in this cross between relishing in drinking my cares away to priding myself on living alone and taking care of myself!
If I am to be judged on this list then the results were quite alarming. Taking the key milestones of ones life away, I was surprised at how 'grown-up' I must be. Number two was 'mum and dad no longer make your financial decisions', well I can't remember the last time they did that. Conducting a weekly shop and being able to cook from scratch were also in the top ten. If I couldn't cook a meal, or several for that matter, from scratch, not only would I probably be a lot thinner and rather hungry, but I think I, personally, would be embarrassed. I love having friends over and feeding them is part of the charm!
Number 11 was recycling. Having lived with housemates who didn't recycle I used to find my blood pressure rise. 'What is wrong with you? Don't you care? Often met with nothing but a shrug and a blank stare, whilst being told I shouldn't sweat the small stuff. Also in the top 20 were, watching the news, taking trips to the tip and knowing how to bleed a radiator. Well, when you live on your own you have to learn these things you know. My radiator key sits close to hand in my kitchen, and I even have a 'man drawer', packed full of essential items such as a flat head, a Phillips screwdriver and even an array of alum keys.
A few of the things did make me laugh, but petrified me also...such as having a 'best' crockery set, enjoying cooking, buying a Sunday paper, filing post, finding a messy house annoying and even, on the odd occasion, listening to Radio 2. That is me, I seemed to sigh out loud.
Firstly, at what point did I turn into my mother, secondly, I have many more to add to the list, such as my collection of blankets, vintage tea sets and buying anti-wrinkle cream, and thirdly, I have just glanced at the paperwork on my desk and realised I have a tax return to file and a stack of papers to file.
So, that is enough from me, as I still need to cook dinner, have a stack of ironing to do and a bottle of wine to drink, yes, there are some much loved pleasures in being a grown up. It really isn't all that bad.
Tuesday 29 May 2012
The rise of the young fogey
It seems that since the ever decreasing Kate Middleton and her hubby 'Wills' wed almost a year ago to date, there has been much speculation, wonderment and anticipation of what their married life would be. Little did we realise it would be, well, rather a bore!
Don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting public displays of affection and them falling out of Bunga Bunga bar onto Battersea Bridge Road, (unlike the ginger one), but they seemed to have brought a new meaning to the expression 'old before ya time'. She is eloquent, posher than posh and I do admire her fashion sense but, it does seem that they have set a new trend, one I can't decide whether I am in or out of.
Being closer to their age, at a mere 27, I am not quite the 18-year old counting down the days to a Friday night when I can drink my weight in beer, sambuca, tequila, staving firmly away from wine which in my eyes (back then) only tasted of vinegar. Yet nor am I ready to settle in night after night with a cup of tea to catch up on all that Stevie (the TV) has to offer.
On most week nights you can find me sat wishing the week days away, rather like my teenage self, only this time I look forward to good food washed down with plenty of wine. Yes, as my mother always said, my taste buds would change! Granted I can be caught on the odd occasion knitting, I love a good old walk, a nice book and have a penchant for baking. I love cleaning and always aspire to have fresh flowers at home, I recycle and tend to shop for well fitted clothes (despite a figure that would rather I didn't). Yet there are times, usually on a Saturday night, when I just want to pretend I am not closer to my thirties than my twenties. So am I a young fogey, or am I heading more towards a late-twenties crisis?
The majority of my friends are married, engaged, 'living with spouse' or have children. I tick none of those boxes, I don't even tick the 'single' box, but I do live alone. By choice, or maybe not, I haven't figured that one out yet. Either way, I am not ready for either. But do we have to be defined? When I dance my poor, tired feet away till the wee hours of the morning I am hit with a feeling of 'I am too old for this'. I am most certainly too old for the hangover the next morning. But when I sit in on a Saturday evening sipping wine from an over sized glass, watching a dog dance on Britain's Got Talent I feel as if I am wasting my youth!
Why do I have a constant need to define myself according to boxes, categories and what my friends are or are not doing? I blame social media. Despite a career that wouldn't survive without it, it has a lot to answer for.
Why do I have a constant need to define myself according to boxes, categories and what my friends are or are not doing? I blame social media. Despite a career that wouldn't survive without it, it has a lot to answer for.
Wednesday 22 February 2012
A brit of a blur...
Sorry for the title...in fact, I'm not sorry, it is true. The Brit Awards this year have done it to me once again. As a pathetic lover of all music related shows (not musicals er thank you very much) the Brits (as mentioned is previous post last Feb) is a February highlight of mine. Imagine my excitement when this year it fell on Shrove Tuesday, or to those out there who are more fond of the title 'Pancake Day'.
So, feeling all snotty, headachy and generally sorry for myself I made a batch of pancakes and set myself up for two hours of glorified music telly. I have to be honest, I was rather disappointed. The Brits for me has become synonymous with crazy outfits, stupid antics and outlandish collaborations...Dizzee and Florence, Pet Shop Boys, Gaga and Brandon Flowers, Tom Jones and Stereophonics, you know the score. So where was our collaboration last night? OK so we had Chris Martin tinkling on the old piano for Noel Gallagher but was that it? Are you kidding me?
It was a fab night for the gingers...Ed and Adele winning what they deserve. All we needed was a little Florence and her fabulous machine in the mix and it really would have been a ginger takes all evening! I thought the performances were a little dull...the stage antics were a snore and the presenting from James Cordon just a little, well, stiff.
Is this the precedent now? The biggest hype was James cutting off Adele's acceptance speech and it sent Twitter mad...really? Come on. You lot want more for sure? Granted it was rude and I am sure Damon and his handsome chums would have waited a few more seconds, but I feel it was worth it just to see Adele exercise her best 'bitch-face' and flip the producers the bird!
Award winners, were as always, predictable. The usual PJ Harvey announcement, Ed and Adele clearing the Brit Award shelves and the rest in the music industry worth everything being left in the background whilst Facebook and Twitter lit up with 'who the hell is that' and 'am I getting old cos I have never heard of Laura Marling/Fleet Foxes/Bon Iver/Lana Del Ray...come on guys.
As for the final performance...well Blur you have still got it (I know this from personal experience, watching them headline Glasto in 2009, it was an epic point in my life), but it was a real shame that you chose not to exercise it last night.
I wonder whether I will tune in next year...chances are I will. After all, 2012s will remain a Brit of a Blur by then anyways!
So, feeling all snotty, headachy and generally sorry for myself I made a batch of pancakes and set myself up for two hours of glorified music telly. I have to be honest, I was rather disappointed. The Brits for me has become synonymous with crazy outfits, stupid antics and outlandish collaborations...Dizzee and Florence, Pet Shop Boys, Gaga and Brandon Flowers, Tom Jones and Stereophonics, you know the score. So where was our collaboration last night? OK so we had Chris Martin tinkling on the old piano for Noel Gallagher but was that it? Are you kidding me?
It was a fab night for the gingers...Ed and Adele winning what they deserve. All we needed was a little Florence and her fabulous machine in the mix and it really would have been a ginger takes all evening! I thought the performances were a little dull...the stage antics were a snore and the presenting from James Cordon just a little, well, stiff.
Is this the precedent now? The biggest hype was James cutting off Adele's acceptance speech and it sent Twitter mad...really? Come on. You lot want more for sure? Granted it was rude and I am sure Damon and his handsome chums would have waited a few more seconds, but I feel it was worth it just to see Adele exercise her best 'bitch-face' and flip the producers the bird!
Award winners, were as always, predictable. The usual PJ Harvey announcement, Ed and Adele clearing the Brit Award shelves and the rest in the music industry worth everything being left in the background whilst Facebook and Twitter lit up with 'who the hell is that' and 'am I getting old cos I have never heard of Laura Marling/Fleet Foxes/Bon Iver/Lana Del Ray...come on guys.
As for the final performance...well Blur you have still got it (I know this from personal experience, watching them headline Glasto in 2009, it was an epic point in my life), but it was a real shame that you chose not to exercise it last night.
I wonder whether I will tune in next year...chances are I will. After all, 2012s will remain a Brit of a Blur by then anyways!
Friday 17 February 2012
For the love of Facebook...
As I log onto Facebook for my, more than, daily dose I notice something I have felt for a while...I don't like my friends...well that is not entirely true, my close friends I love, very much in fact. It is the people that I am not in constant contact with but who, by a sheer click of a button, have ended up as my Facebook friends.
These are people who I once shared a table with at lunch, a classroom with at school or even a secret or two whilst at uni, but on the whole these people are not my friends. They are however people that have come to irritate me on a daily basis.
On a daily basis there are one or two people who love to shout about how wonderful their lives are. You know, the Facebook status updates that go a little like 'Pat myself on the back for raising 12 kids, cleaning my house and moving it slightly to the right whilst I married the man of my dreams, wrote a book and became a millionaire, I am sooooo blessed.'. They make me hate my own life, and I don't even really hate it (that much). In fact, I can often enter a post-Facebook lull where certain peoples lives sound so fabulous, exciting and as if they are really getting on with their lives that I sit there staring into space, questioning my life choices.
Or the incessant whining about their ex-boyfriends or husbands, such as 'HE didn't even bother to pick up the kids, their own father, he needs to sort his *&@* out or he won't be seeing em again.' Now don't get me wrong, I am one of those people in life who cares, I mean really cares, but I don't need to know about your marital problems whilst eating my lunch, I mean we haven't even said hello to each other in as much as 12 years, I certainly don't need a regular status update on your latest relationship spat.
Or then there are the people who feel the need to update you on their every movement. 'On the way home from work. Gonna get home, shower, eat, watch TV, bed and sleep'. Yeah, we get it, but quite frankly, we don't care.
Oh and how could I forget the errors, the social faux pas that are caused by my Facebook friends who clearly never learnt how to spell. As a writer I do aim for good grammar but, I do fall short...however there are some people who actually manage to create sentences using such bad English that they mean something else entirely.
As a copywriter and social media manager it is part of my job to write, tweet, share, on behalf of many of my clients. So I thought a few condescending tips might go a long way:
1. Share the love (but not too much)
2. Don't get political (no one likes a know-it-all)
3. Tag pictures, but no one wants to see 1300 pictures of you posing in a bathroom mirror taking a snapshot of yourself whilst someone is puking in the loo behind you
4. No one likes a whiner...call a mate, pour a glass or wine, but leave it off Facebook
5. Stop incessant attention seeking...it is not becoming for a woman!
It begs the question, what must MY friends think of my Facebook and Twitter etiquette. As a writer I proof my status updates (as well as my text messages and I most certainly do not adopt abbreviated language such as 'lol', 'OMG' or 'ROFL'), aim for politeness and refrain from obscenities, so I am sure that I must paint a rather dull and nondescript view of myself.
So, there you have it, the reason why I don't like my friends, or at least, my Facebook friends. I know, you could argue that I should stop hanging out on Facebook altogether, but then that would just be dull, what would I have to moan about then? What would I do with all my spare time?
These are people who I once shared a table with at lunch, a classroom with at school or even a secret or two whilst at uni, but on the whole these people are not my friends. They are however people that have come to irritate me on a daily basis.
On a daily basis there are one or two people who love to shout about how wonderful their lives are. You know, the Facebook status updates that go a little like 'Pat myself on the back for raising 12 kids, cleaning my house and moving it slightly to the right whilst I married the man of my dreams, wrote a book and became a millionaire, I am sooooo blessed.'. They make me hate my own life, and I don't even really hate it (that much). In fact, I can often enter a post-Facebook lull where certain peoples lives sound so fabulous, exciting and as if they are really getting on with their lives that I sit there staring into space, questioning my life choices.
Or the incessant whining about their ex-boyfriends or husbands, such as 'HE didn't even bother to pick up the kids, their own father, he needs to sort his *&@* out or he won't be seeing em again.' Now don't get me wrong, I am one of those people in life who cares, I mean really cares, but I don't need to know about your marital problems whilst eating my lunch, I mean we haven't even said hello to each other in as much as 12 years, I certainly don't need a regular status update on your latest relationship spat.
Or then there are the people who feel the need to update you on their every movement. 'On the way home from work. Gonna get home, shower, eat, watch TV, bed and sleep'. Yeah, we get it, but quite frankly, we don't care.
Oh and how could I forget the errors, the social faux pas that are caused by my Facebook friends who clearly never learnt how to spell. As a writer I do aim for good grammar but, I do fall short...however there are some people who actually manage to create sentences using such bad English that they mean something else entirely.
As a copywriter and social media manager it is part of my job to write, tweet, share, on behalf of many of my clients. So I thought a few condescending tips might go a long way:
1. Share the love (but not too much)
2. Don't get political (no one likes a know-it-all)
3. Tag pictures, but no one wants to see 1300 pictures of you posing in a bathroom mirror taking a snapshot of yourself whilst someone is puking in the loo behind you
4. No one likes a whiner...call a mate, pour a glass or wine, but leave it off Facebook
5. Stop incessant attention seeking...it is not becoming for a woman!
It begs the question, what must MY friends think of my Facebook and Twitter etiquette. As a writer I proof my status updates (as well as my text messages and I most certainly do not adopt abbreviated language such as 'lol', 'OMG' or 'ROFL'), aim for politeness and refrain from obscenities, so I am sure that I must paint a rather dull and nondescript view of myself.
So, there you have it, the reason why I don't like my friends, or at least, my Facebook friends. I know, you could argue that I should stop hanging out on Facebook altogether, but then that would just be dull, what would I have to moan about then? What would I do with all my spare time?
Monday 30 January 2012
New Year's revelations
Yep, that's right, you didn't mis-read, I said New Year's revelations. I know I am a bit late on the old New Year thang but to be honest, it usually takes me a whole month to climatise to the new year, and even then I am still not getting my head round it.
As I get older I find the whole concept of a new year slightly daunting. There is so much pressure and as someone of an anxious disposition pressure is not something I cope with very well. I found the days leading up to 31st December quite exciting, the prospect of 'in with the old and out with the new' was rather, well, erm, promising? But by the time it got to 11.58pm on Saturday 31st December I was already having heart palpitations and breaking out into a cold sweat. I wish I could blame it on the alcohol but by that stage I clearly hadn't had enough. Don't worry, I made up for it throughout the rest of the forthcoming month!
But here we are, at the end of January already, the month that we all love to hate. The month of the blues, the bleak, the dark nights and the endless days awaiting a pay cheque, well actually the latter isn't true for me as being self-employed if I want to get paid I have to get off my now overly large January-is-a-bad-month-and-I-ate-and-drank-like-a-pig butt and invoice people.
Now I am in my late twenties I feel valid enough to say, 'I don't make New Year's resolutions', why bother? January is a crap enough month as it is without setting yourself goals you will only break cos you feel that you are not achieving anything, it really is a viscous cycle.
Nope, instead I plan to make New Year's revelations...things that make me feel wiser, perhaps without the older. So what can I reveal already? Erm, that January is bleak, New Year's is a real anti-climax and that wine answers all problems, including ones you didn't even know you had! Which now brings me to the real revelation. I need to get fit and lose weight...and thus my revelation becomes a resolution...something that now needs resolving.
As I get older I find the whole concept of a new year slightly daunting. There is so much pressure and as someone of an anxious disposition pressure is not something I cope with very well. I found the days leading up to 31st December quite exciting, the prospect of 'in with the old and out with the new' was rather, well, erm, promising? But by the time it got to 11.58pm on Saturday 31st December I was already having heart palpitations and breaking out into a cold sweat. I wish I could blame it on the alcohol but by that stage I clearly hadn't had enough. Don't worry, I made up for it throughout the rest of the forthcoming month!
But here we are, at the end of January already, the month that we all love to hate. The month of the blues, the bleak, the dark nights and the endless days awaiting a pay cheque, well actually the latter isn't true for me as being self-employed if I want to get paid I have to get off my now overly large January-is-a-bad-month-and-I-ate-and-drank-like-a-pig butt and invoice people.
Now I am in my late twenties I feel valid enough to say, 'I don't make New Year's resolutions', why bother? January is a crap enough month as it is without setting yourself goals you will only break cos you feel that you are not achieving anything, it really is a viscous cycle.
Nope, instead I plan to make New Year's revelations...things that make me feel wiser, perhaps without the older. So what can I reveal already? Erm, that January is bleak, New Year's is a real anti-climax and that wine answers all problems, including ones you didn't even know you had! Which now brings me to the real revelation. I need to get fit and lose weight...and thus my revelation becomes a resolution...something that now needs resolving.
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