Totes and utter crap!

I wouldn't call it an indulgence as such, reality TV is not one of my secret guilty pleasures. In fact, it is a part of the latest generational culture that slightly perturbs me but anyway, my point, yes my point, err, in a moments madness I watched the debut episode of 'Made in Chelsea' reality TV simply about the elite and privileged lifestyles of twenty-somethings made in Chelsea. I wouldn't call this a review of such as with most reviews the critic would, oh well who am I kidding...I feel slightly disgusted with myself, for several reasons, least of all the fact that I have now lost an hour of my life of which I will never get back.

I'm not even sure where to start, the make-up, hair, fashion, I mean these are people with money and if it werent for the high level R.P and location shots of Sloane Square in all it's glory then I could have mistaken it for 'TOWIE'!

I shall attempt to make sense of their conversations, I did at one point want to feel sorry for some of their awfully over-dramatic affairs but the posh overtones and hideous outfits made me forget what they were rahing on about in the first place. There were a few unforgettable moments however from the party host Ollie Locke (who I unknowingly mistook for being gay) as he sits and has dinner with his somewhat dim but rather beautiful girlfriend. In a romantic restaurant he poses the question 'shall we party or go have sex?' to which she replies 'can we simply not party AND have sex?'. I mean, seriously? there really is no hope. And who said romance was dead.

My other highlight (of which there were only two and they did leave me with a slight sinking feeling inside) was again from one Ollie Locke. On an evening away from London in the ever rural 'country' he describes his love of cow sh*t, quite literally stating 'I sometimes enjoy the smell of cow sh*t - I mean who are you kidding, decked in an outrageous Cavalli outfit with your long hair and playboy lifestyle and what do you know of the country apart from a wannabe farmhouse and an oversized Grandad jumper?! urgh.

As for my character assasinations, well, here goes;

Francis - hysterically posh and for that I love him. His over-the-top suits and quirkiness make him somewhat of a favorite

Spencer - seedy, sly - all the traits women despise in their men (not to mention the greasy hair)

Amber and Rosie - innocent perhaps? even likeable?

Cheskha and Binky - Their names alone say it all

Caggie - Epitome of daddy's poor, little, rich, girl

As for all the other characters - well you were simply so non-descript that you weren't even worth mentioning

And are they educated to speak without moving their lips? did Eton, Harrow, Marlborough and all the other elite schools say 'when one must open ones mouth don't move ones lips'

I could go on, but for the sake of those who actually enjoyed this reality hell I will stop. Except to say that having watched one episode I really feel I owe it to find out how this story pans out? Will Spencer get caught out? Will Binky ever be free from the orange fake tan and does Francis choose the globe or the pineapple for his portrait?! I mean it is 'real' life right? err 'totes man totes'!

A breath of fresh heir...

It was what fairytales are made of...

From beginning to end it was picture perfect. Well if the Royals can't do perfection when it comes to weddings then us mere common folk don't stand a chance! (although they are becoming fine tuned in the art of divorce but let's not taint this already).

Whether you were like me and eagerly in anticipation of Kate's dress (and let's face it, it did not disappoint) or simply hoping to hear William stutter at his nuptials it is safe to say it was the wedding of the year! With all the pomp and ceremony it was tasteful, regal and what weddings are all about - true love 'well whatever love is'!

However I get the feeling that Kate was slightly upstaged by her younger sister Pippa...I for one think that Kate is the ultimate princess and with a life ahead as Queen in waiting I certainly had the feeling that history was being made. Apparently not of the kind that I was envisaging. Pippa Middleton's derriere gained more hits on Facebook and Youtube in one afternoon and it even has it's own website formally called 'The Pippa Middleton Ass Appreciation Society'. Perhaps it is a sign of the technologically advancing times but really?! I mean history was being made that day and all the nation can focus on is a middle class, rather attractive one might ad, privately educated bottom?!

I digress, I wanted this to be a far more 'Royalist' endeavor considering I fear becoming one, but I have lost my train of thought. This was supposed to be about Kate, William, their big day and what this means for the future monarchy. Instead I am as shallow as the rest of the nation. Let's hope all this new found fame and wonderment doesn't go to her head (or her bottom for that matter).

A Royal Affair...

It will be one of those questions asked at future dinner parties, by your children on a Sunday afternoon or perhaps simply back at work on the Tuesday morning 'where were you on the day of the Royal Wedding?'

Perhaps I am getting a little over excited about the whole 'royal' occasion. Ok so I haven't bought my Kate and Wills tea towel or tea cup yet but I am discussing the potentials for a trip to London, tea in the park or an old fashioned street party (unless the council have a fit and oppose our request!).

Now don't get me wrong, I am no Royalist but there is something very innocent and well, all in all, pleasant about the country having a day off for something that is far from 'traditional' these days. Marriages are a rarer occasion in our social calendars of late and I for one thing am all for it!

Being a child of the the 80's I can remember having our very own street party for Fergie and Andrews wedding back in '86...in London Town. Cake, bunting and pasting tables all laid out in the street, if I remember rightly we even had a rigged sound system (although my mum will probably discredit that).  So I say let's repeat the tradition. Let's give the street party a well earned come back (I mean if flares and cheesecloth can do it!). Something to celebrate for a change, perhaps even a chance to meet your neighbours?

Well whatever you choose to do, make the most of it - I mean how often do you get a day off for nothing. I for one will be donning my hat, hanging up my bunting and sitting down to a rather delectable spot of afternoon tea...in my newly ordered Wills and Kate tea set (OK so I lied, it would be wrong to drink it out of anything else!)

'You said I must eat so many lemons...

After hearing Caroline's a Victim, the first track by Nash back in 2007 (eventually featuring as the B-side on Foundations) I was impressed. Here is a girl who was authentic, spoke her mind in a quirky, happy-go-lucky fashion with a Hackney feel. Everything from her Laaandaaan voice to her vintage fashion was intriguing (thanks Libby!).

Her lyrics very aptly articulate many of the trials and tribulations in our relationship break ups and break downs with a 'whatever' factor, 'get over him he just aint worth it'...so, as with most bands and artists that I avidly listen to, I went to see her (with little sis in tow). Suitably impressed we left feeling slightly happy-go-lucky ourselves. On the return of Nash, touring with her second album 'My Best Friend is You' I decided to make a return visit. Something tells me I should have stayed at home that night. What's that expression? 'First time's a charm'!...playing at the Old Fire Station in Bournemouth, where I was in fact the oldest person there by around ten years, she bounced onto the stage with her all girl band and if I'm honest, made my ears bleed. 

Perhaps I'm getting old, perhaps I make poor judgements, but something has happened to Nash. Gone was the happy-go-lucky-Harrow-bred-beauty and instead she had been replaced by a girl in serious need of some anger management and a bar of soap to wash her potty mouth out with! 

When behind her piano tinkling along to her 'Made of Bricks' classics she was delightful but, sadly that was for all of about four songs. Her teen angst-screw the world new material left me staring at my friend with a 'what the...?' look on my somewhat sad face. Screeching down the mike about her sisters ex boyfriend  and ranting in a rather pretentious (before she used to get away with it) fashion that just, well quite frankly irritated me...

I feel bad, I shouldn't trash the girl, she clearly does have talent, it's just she chose not to use it this time. 

Kate, word of advice, stave off the lemons, there really is no need to be that bitter!

The Library...a place of Discovery

I have recently embarked on a diploma...self disciplined study is in fact the hardest kind! Finding all manner of distractions at home I decided to wander along to my local library. The last time I graced my local library with my presence I was indeed a student, and found it the perfect, 'quiet' place to get my head down and focus.

But apparently the term 'library' no longer constitutes that quiet place where silence echoes and stern looking women watch with beady eyes for any sign of disobedience. Instead it is over run with teenagers with nothing better to do but blast music from their iphones and shout obscenities at each other, people spilling coffee over books and computers, mobile phones ringing and a steady stream of young kids (who appear to have no school to go to) running about and yelling. Now I don't want to come across as a grumpy 'old' woman but what happened to the 'shhh it's a library'?

On passing comment to the chap sat next to me, his response was 'it is now referred to as a 'Discovery Centre'. And much to my disappointment, on leaving the building, I did in fact see the sign 'Winchester Discovery Centre'. Clearly not a place for people to discover peace and quiet, so I shall return home where I know no discovery is needed...

Best of the Brits...

The day that follows February 14th in the British calandar is a far more exciting event then that of red hearts, over priced gifts and soppy poems...(never been a big fan of the hype that is Valentines day). A celebration of all that is good, bad and quite frankly obscure in the U.K music scene - formally known as The Brits!

James Cordon took place as this years host (although I for one was not overly impressed) and found it uncomfortable to watch him awkwardly amble his way through one of the music industries yearly highlights. This was however, greatly overshadowed by amazing peformances from Adele, Mumford & Sons, Plan B and other great talents from our musically productive shores. These acts alone made some pretty worthwhile viewing, along with Mumford & Sons, Laura Marling and Arcade Fire finally getting some well earned recognition.

However, despite the fact that the Brits has been running since the mid 80's (well technically the 70's), there is one tradition missing...the notability factor! It has become far too polished and preened for my liking, even with fat boy Cordon presenting. Even the award itself has been 'fashionista'd' thanks to the eccentric talent of Vivienne Westwood. What I mean is (for those of you that can remember) is the excitement of live television, post watershed, when the likes of Jarvis Cocker standing up in front of Michael Jackson in protest of his 'Jesus' like figure, or when Chumbawumba decided to dump a bucket of water over cabinet minister John Prescott, or the never ending feuds between the Gallagher brothers in the oh so poignant days of 'Brit rock'! Even the Spice Girls vamped it up with Geri's 'Union Jack' dress, which later sold for over £40k.

No wonder we are accused of being overly stuffy and too 'P.C'.

Don't get me wrong, I love the glamour, the hype, the music (well some of) and even the Facebook antics that follow, but we have become a bit too refined in the areas that are just, well, not meant to be. British music and the scene that goes hand in hand is all about rawness, ego and the like. But now I am risking the start of a far bigger debate, for which is another matter all together...

'In THESE shoes?'

Could there be a girlier subject to blog about? I almost feel hedonistic just beginning to write about it and when I come to think about it I almost don't...but I will!

There are some women out there who collect handbags, dresses, purses (the men reading this are now pondering the mere difference between handbags and purses), jewellery, make up, the list is endless. We are creatures of not comfort but beauty. A 'thing of beauty is a joy forever' and that is exactly where my love affair of shoes begins.

As young girls the majority of us loved to parade around in our mothers and grandmothers pearls and shoes. I know I certainly did. My grandmother always had an array of high heels that she stored in boxes by her ever growing wardrobe. Me and my sister would find ourselves shrieking with excitement when on school holidays we could run up to her room, raid her shoes and prance about all afternoon delighting at how glamorous we looked (looking back at photos now, between the bright red lipstick, oversized shoes and satin cami's we looked like rejects from the Rocky Horror Show). Eventually I outgrew my grandmothers petite size 3's and grew into my very own size 7's, big feet seem to run in the family.

As I began working post uni, I soon found a way to squander my hard earned cash. Unlike many of my friends who seemed to wisely invest it in cars, houses and the like, I began a collection. It soon picked up like a drug and I became no longer happy with the classic court or the ballet pump, but the more colourful, higher, and more obscure the better. Now I'm not necessarily talking the most expensive but you do pay a premium for highly obscure shoes. See the thing with shoes is, that no matter what mood you're in, whether you gain weight, loose weight, have a bad day at work, shoes will always fit AND look fabulous.

I no longer buy shoes to match an outfit, I sometimes don't even care if they co ordinate with my outfit. In fact, as I get older I seem to get immense satistfaction out of wearing an outrageous pair of shoes with bright tights and an equally mismatched dress (Vivien Westwood I am not).

So now I have a dilemma, well many in fact but let's begin with the shoes. Storage for one. I am slowly running out of space. Slowly limited to the places, events and even weather that will allow me to present a new pair of heels. I am even beginning to wonder whether there is something in this 'saving' business and it is time for me to invest elsewhere.

So perhaps it is time for me to surrender my love affair with shoes...for fear that one day I may become the woman who, quite literally, lived in her shoes...