you are on a boat with the man your man could smell like...

I'm loving these longer days. It is nearly seven, and not even thinking about getting dark yet. I know farmers dislike darker mornings, but really more people benefit from lighter evenings once the hour changes. We've broken up (at last) and it's time for a proper break. I have nearly three weeks off before I go back to school for just a few more weeks then leave forever. I really can't wait, but I'm going to miss my friends so so much. I could vow to stay in touch with all of them forever but I know this is unlikely. I hope we'll all continue to hang out when we come home, however. I also know I will never lose touch with some. Haybridge has its faults but the people are not one of them. Apart from some (most) teachers...

This is genius. Thank you Philip Garfield for making my life better by showing me this...

I got my eyes tested today, and this can only mean one thing. NEW GLASSES! I have somewhat neglected my eyes after sitting on my favourite glasses a while back, leaving me with only the navy ones which tend to pretty much carve into my face... I opted for some nice Red or Dead chunky black frames and thanks to the NHS they were nice and cheap. Time to nerd it up again...

Helen's coming home for a bit tonight and we're going out for a curry with some old people. Her return means I need to hide all of her belongings I have pilfered from her over time, which is no small task. (Helen, if you're reading this, someone tricked me into writing it. I have never borrowed any of your things. I have CERTAINLY never stolen any. I love you...) So now I take my leave and head into the deepest, darkest Black Country. If I don't come back, I love you all. Sarah you can have my scarf collection...

Raindrops on roses and big Green Peace sit-ins...

Julie Andrews seems to dig pointlessly listing her favourite things in an effort to cheer herself up (particularly during savage thunderstorms). I am already in a good mood, and it is merely drizzling, yet it's important to be positive amidst all the cynicism and despair in the world. Now, I am aware that I am usually responsible for much of this cynicism, but just for today, I'm going to put this aside. This is utterly random and so I apologise, but it suits my odd mood.




These are a few of Maria's favourite things...

rain, whiskers, kettles, mittens, packages, horses, pies, bells, german cuisine, nocturnal geese, fancy girls, the cold, more cold...

These are a few of my favourite things, the things that truly cheer me up "when the dog bites, when the bee stings", etc...

• James McAvoy - In Starter for Ten. Atonement would not cheer Julie Andrews up on a dreary day.
  
• Tea - White. No sugar. Nice mug. Sorted.
  
• Duvets
• TS Eliot - (I refuse to blog about poetry because it so easily becomes pretentious and there are thousands of people who have much more original, interesting ideas than I do. However, 'The Lovesong of J Alfred Prufrock' is the best thing I have ever read. It is just phenomenal. This doesn't count as writing about poetry. It is in brackets...)
• The Guardian - I used to want to be Hadley Freeman so much. Then I decided she was a bit too try hard. Now I want to be Jess Cartner-Morley (though of course I would never do the double barrelled thing)
• Juno - Teen pregnancy aside, she is pretty much my idol. She has a wicked turn of phrase, has a really good soundtrack AND bags Michael Cera. There aren't many girls, fictional or otherwise who can to that...
  
• Paris - I can trace this back to my obsession with Anastasia when I was little. This also lead to a slightly unhealthy obsession with the Romanovs. Anyway, Paris is just brilliant. The clothes, the cafes, the museums. Bahhh I love it...
• This
• Your face.

I am aware that even the best writers in the world probably couldn't write a hit anti-Nazi musical with these things as its basis. Maria and I don't appear to have all that much in common. She probably wouldn't make those children sing about James McAvoy, for example, but these are the little things that put a smile on my face. Apart from Paris. Paris is quite big...

all you can eat politics...

It's been a hectic week full of coursework deadlines and French essays. But would I have it any other way? Err... yes, yes I would. Despite this, I've had a great week, and with Easter just around the corner, next week should be ace too!

Nottingham on Wednesday was lovely. The language department is based in a lovely, old building, the campus is very pretty and we got free lunch! Now, not one to be swayed by free food(!), I am still on the fence. The university is compiled mostly of public schoolers, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, I just don't want to graduate all posh... So now I have to decide. Warwick or Nottingham? I love them both, so really it comes down to whether I want to learn Italian or Spanish, or more importantly, whether I want to spend a year in Spain or in Italy. Decisions, decisions...

Last night, I went to a 'Question Time' type event at school. During English that afternoon, I had been roped into helping out, asking a question, etc, by my fairly flustered teacher who was organising it all... It was actually very good. The 'panel' was comprised of all the candidates for the seat in the local area and a lady from Worcester University. The Tory guy was impressive. You could almost hear the audience drinking in his outrageous lies. The Labour guy was just lovely. He told the truth, too, though this was not always what the audience wanted to hear.

I want to go on holiday!!! That is all...

Napoleon wears the trousers...

Life is moving at a truly terrifying pace. Summer beckons. Weeks are passing with little warning. There are buds on the trees and the crocuses are poking their little, happy heads out from the soil. While I love Spring, it always seems to be marred by looming exams. In short, I am scared shitless. I feel unprepared and unconfident and though I keep looking at universities, I stand little chance of actually getting in to any. I am in coursework central and cursing my inability to be organised. My sleep pattern is erratic at best (not helped by my mother crawling in at one each morning, rousing the dog and therefore rousing me too) and I am so stressed! I do not mind this time of year, however. On the contrary, I quite enjoy it. It is difficult to put into words, but during the spring months, laziness is not an option. I feel like I should be spending most of my free time working, and it's really quite motivating! I keep telling myself it's the final push, not much longer now. At least with my subjects (English Lit, French and History) there isn't all that much revision to do. But this also means that you go into the exam feeling unarmed. I have got used to it over the years.

I am going to Nottingham tomorrow just as a final effort to like anywhere other than Warwick and Sheffield. After this, I have given myself a week to decide where I am going. I know that if I don't do this, I will dither for months before I make up my mind. This is something I would like to be sure about.

I have decided (far too late in life) that pink is my new favourite colour to wear. Because I have such a corpselike complexion, a bit of pink makes me look a little bit less yellow, which can only be a good thing. From now on, rather than greys and blues, I vow to wear pink and turquoise (just because it makes me happy) for all eternity. I will make an exception for my red duffel coat, however as it is an extension of my being...

Glide away in soapy heels...

I have nothing to say, really. I'm feeling fairly disenchanted with life and the usually abundant words seem to be just as lazy as I have been today. Instead, I give you Bright Eyes. A lovely, depressing, wallowy band. If wallowy was not a word before, it is now. Sorry for the cop-out, I hope in time you will forgive me.


I know that it is freezing, but I think we have to walk
I keep waving at the taxis, they keep turning their lights off
But Julie knows a party at some actor's West side loft
Supplies are endless in the evening by the morning they'll be gone

When everything is lonely I can be my own best friend
I'll get a coffee and the paper, have my own conversations
with the sidewalk and the pigeons and my window reflection
The mask I polish in the evening by the morning looks like shit

And I know you have a heavy heart, I can feel it when we kiss
So many men stronger than me have thrown their backs out trying to lift it
But me I'm not a gamble, you can count on me to split
The love I sell you in the evening by the morning won't exist

You're looking skinny like a model with your eyes all painted black
Just keep going to the bathroom, always say you'll be right back
Well, it takes one to know one, kid, I think you've got it bad
But what's so easy in the evening by the morning's such a drag

I got a flask inside my pocket, we can share it on the train
And if you promise to stay conscious I will try and do the same
We might die from medication, but we sure killed all the pain
But what was normal in the evening by the morning seems insane

And I'm not sure what the trouble was that started all of this
The reasons all have run away, but the feeling never did
It's not something I would recommend, but it is one way to live
Cause what is simple in the moonlight by the morning never is

It was so simple in the moonlight now it's so complicated
It was so simple in the moonlight, so simple in the moonlight
So simple in the moonlight...

She's a what now?

Right. Today's blog is very serious. It focuses on a matter that has perplexed and fascinated me for some time. In what way is the woman in the Phil Collins song 'Easy Lover' easy?

Now either this woman is a bit of a slut or she is "easy" to be with, love, etc. These seem to me the only two options.

So firstly, if the woman is "easy" in a schoolboy, insulting manner, would such a woman really elicit the writing of a hit song? If Phil Collins is happy to sing about 'easy' women and their apparent ability to enchant him, does he really deserve his successful (albeit slightly ridiculous) reputation? In the assumption that his lady friend is suffering from very low self esteem and therefore needs to seek assurance through using her relative attractiveness to secure men, we can then assume that young Mr Collins is oblivious to her feelings of self doubt, and he brags about the fact that he can copulate with her anyway. It is also possible that the only sort of woman Phil Collins can get with is the 'easy' sort (possibly due to the aforementioned ridiculous reputation). Either way, if the woman falls into the first 'easy' category, feminism took a severe blow on the day this song was released.

If, however the lover is 'easy' in a low-maintenance sort of way, and did indeed cause Phil Collins to fall in love with her due to her good will, the song's meaning changes completely. This seems unlikely though when we consider the lyrics of the offending song "She will play around and leave you, leave you and deceive you". The lyrics are sung light-heartedly however and Mr Collins does not seem too angry at the woman's behaviour. Her apparent flakiness does seem to hint that in fact she is a bit of a slut, which some people (normally the sluts themselves) see as a sign of female empowerment, but this is a topic best left for another time. Collins admits to an urge to 'control her'. Is it possible that he is concealing fairly sexist tendencies and wants to objectify women? Is his use of the word 'easy' in fact an embodiment of all that is wrong with with world?

The third option is that simply 'easy' seemed to just fit with the flow of the song. It is possible that the song would have been called "She's a highly principled, not at all slutty lover" had the rhythm permitted.

I am afraid that this matter may never be resolved. Do I have too much time on my hands? Not as such, but it's astonishing the lengths I will go to to avoid doing homework!

Shorty's like a melody in my head that I can't keep from, got me singing like 'na na na na' every day, like my ipod's stuck on replay...

I am a rubbish teenager. There are many reasons for this. For example, I think a cup of tea is the best thing in the world. I barely drink. I have read at least three Maeve Binchy novels. I don't think we need a fourth reason... My excuse now is that I have turned eighteen, and so I am technically an adult, therefore I can wear slippers all day, read the Guardian and complain about those younger than myself if I so wish (which I invariably do). I like to think, however that my ownership of GHDs, my addiction to the internet and my ability to sleep for fifteen hours running all show that in fact I am still young (though my hands are creepily wrinkly).

If I wasn't so hellbent on being a writer, I'd probably become a translator. Translating is the one form of homework I can stand. I enjoy putting my own spin on the text, and not sticking rigidly to the meaning, embellishing slightly. If you don't like languages, you probably don't understand, but I think it's ace!

Tomorrow is Mothering Sunday. I haven't as such bought anything for my Mum. I used to go to loads of effort for such occasions, but we're not exactly close anymore. I think we're going to Birmingham to see Helen, which will be nice. The three of us shopping does tend to end in tears, however. We are all so similar, and equally stubborn. It could go either way...

So I'm pretty sure I love fictional men...

I joined this group on Facebook a while back. No truer words have ever been spoken. So here is my definitive list:

1) Remus Lupin - scruffy, intelligent, messed up, modest, but with a definite sting in the tail. Is he the perfect man? I think he might be...

2) Mr Darcy - I know it's a massive cliché. I know that I am earning no points for imagination here. Yet I know that Mr Darcy's charms are vast and I am yet to meet a girl, no matter how principled, who has not finished that book completely in love. I think it's the moody thing. When a moody man is nice, it makes it all worthwhile...

3) Seth Cohen - Okay, hardly literary, I know. The OC isn't one of my favourite programs, but Seth, played by Adam Brody is just loveliness personified. He has a thing for superheroes. And glasses. And he's Jewish. That's it really...

4) Spiderman - A nerd who can kick ass. Need I say more?

5) Mr Bingley - in the film he is ginger...

6) Josh from Clueless - Okay, in this one I am combining Mr Knightley with his modern day equivalent. Mr Knightley has that lovely, older man quality. He loves Emma despite her meddling naivity and he's suitably sarcastic and cynical. Plus Paul Rudd is HOT. He really has that sarcastic eyebrow raise down to a tee...

7) Ron Weasley - Plus all of his brothers. I know that Sarah Dixon is with me on this one. Why would anyone ever go out with boring, weird Harry when they could have his ginger, bumbling best friend? I'll let Ginny off though. I will not be seen to condone incest...

8) The Doctor. (played by Mr Tennant of course.) - So I didn't watch Dr Who when it came back with a bang. All my friends were completely obsessed, even when Christopher Eccleston played the lead. After a couple of years, I watched all of series two on Youtube. It was astonishing. David Tennant has an awesome nervous energy which makes him perfect for the role. Seeing him in Hamlet didn't harm his appeal either. It might be the Scottish thing. Accents are always a bonus (Ewan McGregor, James McAvoy, anyone Irish...). Though he was a bit weird in the Goblet of Fire...

9) Father Amadi - from Purple Hibiscus. I love this book, and if a Nigerian Catholic priest doesn't do it for you, I'm not sure what will...

10) Sirius Black - "If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."... Phwoar.

11) Dave the Laugh - Right, I'm sure most book-type people would recoil in horror at the mention of the Georgia Nicholson books, but I am fairly sure that anyone who mocks them hasn't read them. They are funny, light-hearted and full of awesome comic timing. Dave the laugh is one of the greatest characters ever written. And as everyone knows, "the bigger the PANTS, the harder they fall..."

12) Holden Caufield - The best narrator ever. He's clever and iconic and just a big dose of awesome. I read once that the people who like Catcher in the Rye are more likely to go crazy in later life. I embrace Holden Crazy with open arms... I think I say 'embrace' too much...

13) Jake from One Tree Hill - Maybe it's the single dad thing. Maybe it's the fact that he's a little bit ginger. Whatever it is, he is infinitely better than Lucas and Nathan. What are those girls thinking?

14) Romeo played by Leo - I think the actual character is a bit dull, but Romeo is the original hearthrob, and I feel unable to leave him out. In the film he is pretty and the fishtank scene is epic...

15) Jess Mariano from Gilmore Girls - No OF COURSE I don't watch Gilmore Girls (!)

The devil owns a bookshop

Well it's been a while. I have been wearing the same clothes since yesterday morning. This is gross. I ended up going to a Warwick open day yesterday and then on the spur of the moment stayed with Helen in Leamington. A very bad thing has happened. I really like Warwick... I had resolved to dislike it, mostly due to the fact that if I go there I will be studying French and Italian rather than Spanish. Obviously Spanish is the more useful language as everybody told me when I was trying to decide what to apply for. The Warwick language department is pretty small so they don't offer Spanish. Another thing which was putting me off was the fact that the year abroad is in the second year rather than the third, however I came away convinced that this was best. Also, Italy is really, really nice. So yet again, we'll see...

I sent off my application to volunteer at Greenbelt today which is exciting. I'm also hoping to do a bit of work over the summer at an English language camp for French kids. They've expressed an interest in my application, so I'm hoping I get it. It would beat the Safari Park, surely?

Exam results came back today. I got a B in my history resit (after getting a C the first time). This sounds good, but in fact I only went up a few marks. This sounds bad, but I was convinced that after the Nullification Crisis crisis, my marks would have gone down. Any improvement is welcome.

I'm tired and moody (shocking I know) so I intend to spend the evening replacing homework with sleep and dinner with chocolate.

I saw Alice In Wonderland on Tuesday at the Imax in Birmingham for the lovely Jordan's birthday. It was pretty enjoyable, if only for the stupid "3D grannywag" glasses. I love getting engrossed in the film then turning round and chuckling at your friends looking ridiculous, sat beside you. The film was ace anyway. Of course it was no Sweeney Todd, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. Anne Hathaway didn't even annoy me that much. The Devil Wears Prada haunted me for weeks...

This website is awesome! www.modcloth.com I want it all please!

all-nighter...

The deadline for my second piece of history coursework on the trial and execution of Charles I is tomorrow at three thirty. I started it this morning and my progress so far has been limited. My inherent inability to do anything constructive, or prioritise means that I am writing this and watching Scrubs instead of opening any text books. I think I'll just give up on the idea of sleep tonight. The sun has made me happy. We've reached the point now where if it's sunny, it's not automatically freezing. It's getting dark later too, which is always lovely. I can't wait for summer! Thunderstorms and lawnmowers and strawberries grown locally. Summer always brings positivity. I hope this year isn't an exception.

Ellie Goulding is making me happy. I must have listened to her Live Lounge performance of 'Starry Eyed' at least ten times today! Also, Bombay Bicycle Club's version of 'Whatcha say' puts a rather large grin on my face. I love them, what with their geeky beats and Jack Steadman's haunting warble. Also, the ginger guy is really cute. Maybe this is just me. The vast majority of girls are not attracted to skinny, pale, musical boys. This just makes me think less of girlkind...

Yesterday was a sad day for me. It marked the first anniversary of the death of my lovely dad. Once, Dad and I decided to play badminton in the back garden of our old house on a hot, sunny day. Neither of us were sporty at all, so it was a long, slightly gruelling process, but we always made an effort to get outside and spend some time together (it was during one of these times that I discovered my insane skill for petanque). I ungracefully but enthusiastically brought my racket backwards to hit the shuttlecock, not knowing that our big, ginger mongrel Albert was stood right behind me. I hit him hard on the nose, and was horrified at the yelp he let out. My dad spent all of that day trying to console me (and mopping up the blood pouring from the dog's nose - he was fine, I would like to clarify). We went to the Co-Op and he bought me a book to try to cheer me up. Memories like this never fail to bring a grin to my face. So goodbye Dad, I miss you every day.

bella notte

Okay, so I didn't keep my promise. I know it's been a few days, but it's better late than never. I've had a lovely few days! Monday is my day off so I've taken the dog for a nice long walk, and now I'm sitting in front of the fire watching Lady and the Tramp. I love watching films I haven't seen for years. There are always jokes and puns hiding beneath the shiny surface- things that just fly over your head when you are little. So yeah, this film is ace! Good old Disney...

Most of Friday was spent on a coach going to and from Haworth in Yorkshire where the Brontë family lived and wrote. In the short amount of time we spent there, however, I fell completely in love with everything Brontë; the village, the alcoholism and the writing. Emily in particular fascinates me. As far as I can make out, she was pretty much autistic. She didn't take to teaching, didn't like travelling or the Church. She taught herself to speak German and Latin, and they think she was pretty radical compared to Charlotte. The revelation that Wuthering Heights had been written by a woman resulted in general disbelief. It is such a harsh, brutal novel, yet a day on the moors showed us all that in the desolate, unforgiving village of Haworth, there was really very little to do but let your imagination run wild.

I'm reading a beautifully written book; If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things by Jon McGregor, lent to me by Fiona the vicar quite some time ago. I figured it was probably time to give it back, but I thought I'd give it a go first. It's a masterclass in descriptive language. Nothing much happens, yet McGregor writes it in such a way that you never get bored. The narrative focuses on several characters which can be confusing but it isn't. The basic idea is that the little things we do everyday, though often unnoticed are 'remarkable' if someone thinks they are. Throw in a bit of unrequited love and some unwanted pregnancy, and you get a novel that I enjoy!