well, the bells out in the church tower chime, burning clues into this heart of mine...

I'm a little bit emotional. Tonight (as you probably know by now) was prizegiving, and not only did I see my best friends in the entire world, but beloved teachers and my excellent school with which I have a bit of a love/hate relationship. My old French teacher made me cry, my old English teacher roped me into organising a Christmas reunion and my (very) old maths teacher helped me find my mother's coat when she was being inept.

We're all going to see Harry Potter tomorrow and I'm disproportionately excited. The books, while a little lacking in stylistic narrative are brilliant. The films are obviously less good, but still offer a better cinematic experience than most other films around at the moment. I'm sure many will disagree...

I am getting on oddly well with my usually tempestuous mother at the moment. This is probably because we haven't spent more than a couple days together since I started at university. The thing is, despite what I say, Mum and I were always going to work things out eventually. We are simultaneously the same and completely different. I'm quite a practical person: I can change light bulbs and fix the electrics and get dead mice out of traps. None of these things are particularly tricky, but my mum is a woman and is therefore incapable of completing these menial tasks. It's partly a generational thing, I think. We're also quite different in our attitudes to men, music and friendship. But I begrudgingly admit that we are SO similar: we're both pretty left wing, we did the same A-levels, neither of us are stupid and we both really like food. I think we both really needed a break. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and I certainly resent her a little less.

I've taken up drinking coffee which I used to really hate. Tea doesn't quite cut it when you need to stay up because you've left it a bit late to do that essay, so I've upped the caffeine stakes. I'm also very much aware of my looming year in coffee-mad Italy. I don't want to seem like a complete tourist. I'm sure I'll be gulping down espresso in no time...

In the past couple of years, my music taste has definitely become a bit more abstract. I like quite obscure bands and melancholy melodies, but I've tried my hardest not to become too pretentious or take my music too seriously. There's nothing worse than a pop snob. Often pop music is popular in the first place because it is genuinely good. An example of someone who has lived up to the hype in my opinion is Ellie Goulding. I really liked her album, and now this gorgeous cover has emerged which I can't get enough of:



And this is the thing that converted me in the first place:

she's got everything to gain 'cos she's a fat girl with a lisp...

I only ever really write a blog post when there's something important I need to be doing. Something other than writing a blog post. It's reading week next week. Expect lots of blog posts.

Today has been a good day. I feel like I have been fairly productive despite the fact that I have done nothing. Which is an achievement in itself. My stomach muscles have also just about recovered from the amount of laughing I did while watching 'I Love You Man' last night. The film wasn't even that funny. The cackles of my flatmates enhanced the experience 100%.

As I said, next week is reading week. This can only mean one thing - there is no longer a valid excuse to not go home. It's not even like I live far away or the train journey will be expensive. If home wasn't so unpleasant approximately 73% of the time, I'm sure I would be looking forward to it, but while other people are looking forward to returning to their warm houses full of wholesome meals and welcoming parents, I am not. Last winter, our house was not heated at all; the central heating had broken and Mum chose to wait until May to get it fixed. Right now, my house does not have a functioning shower, certainly will not have any food - other than soft biscuits and curdled milk - and contains my mother.

Now, don't get me wrong, if she was around all the time, I would complain about that, too. She is a very difficult person to live with, and it's nice that she isn't always under our feet, however, it would be nice if sometimes she was a little more maternal. I actually can't remember the last time she cooked a meal, or the last time we all sat at the dining table. It's funny how family dynamics can shift so dramatically.

This month is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo. I am not partaking, but I love the idea of a bunch of young writers pushing themselves to find ways of expressing themselves by putting words onto paper. I would have loved to have given it a go, but as I can barely complete the work I already have, I thought it best to leave it until next year when I will surely be bored and lonely in Italy. I also feel like I would be incredibly ashamed of whatever I managed to come up with. Novels just don't happen at the age of eighteen, do they? So while one day, I will almost certainly come up with a pile of literary shite full of all my deepest thoughts and fears, I'm far too happy to do it now. We all know that books written by the content are always atrocious. I'll wait until I'm miserable again.

Sigh...

sei molto cocciuta...

Now, because I chose to follow my pockets rather than my heart, I am not doing a degree in creative writing. You probably know this because you probably know me, and therefore know a little bit about me. I do know, however, that there are a few people dotted around the world who read this (yes, I'm as surprised as you are) who probably don't know much about me. Please bear in mind that this is not the original premise of the blog post, so feel free to join me in a couple of paragraphs' time if you already know all this about me.

My name is Anna Mary Morgan and I am eighteen years old. I currently study French and Italian at the University of Warwick. I am from Kidderminster which is a bit of a dive. It is near Birmingham which I think is an underrated city. I am half Welsh. My favourite food is goats' cheese, but I also like spinach very much. I put it in everything. I am vaguely vegetarian but I eat fish and I eat meat if I have no choice (for instance at someone's house if they haven't realised and have prepared a gourmet meal). Saying this, I have only eaten meat once since February. My favourite meat is lamb. My favourite film is probably Juno, but I like Lost in Translation a lot. I'm sad sometimes because some sad things have happened to me, but I'm lucky in lots of ways so I try not to let it bog me down. My favourite book is probably something Brontëish, but I haven't fallen in love with a book since I was pretty young and read 'Sophie Hits Six'. I'm not sure how I have friends. I don't like to purchase clothes or books online as much as physically going shopping, but I do it all the time anyway. I really like James McAvoy. I like old detective shows. Berlin is the place I like most in the world. So far. I really dislike foetuses. I am a socialist. I am frustrated by the fact that I'm still not fluent in French. I'm not frustrated by the fact that I'm not fluent in Italian because I started learning it four weeks ago. My favourite band is Bright Eyes. I would like to be either taller or shorter. I would like to be either blonder or more brunette. I would like to be either thinner or fatter. Oh, wait, I'd just like to be thinner. When at home, I live with my mum and my sister and my dog. I miss my dog much more than the other two. Death doesn't scare me. I like floral patterns, but I'm indifferent to flowers. But I like plants. I only fall for people I have no chance with. I always forget to take an umbrella out with me. It always rains on the days I've straightened my hair. I am a Christian, but I put Christian far too far down on this list. This should give you an idea of just how Christian I am. I used to drink, and then I didn't drink for a while, and now I drink a bit again. I don't know how to talk to human beings. I have had a sore throat for a week. This list has fallen into anarchy.

So there you have it, and to get back to my original point, I'm not doing a degree in which I have to write all that much. The other day, however, we had to come up with a dialogue between two people who meet randomly. This was mine:

Emma: Scusa, lavori qui?
Connor: No, ma Stefano lavora qui. È un ragazzo alto e ha i capelli biondi.
Emma: Non importa. Piacere, io mi chiamo Emma.
Connor: Io sono Connor. Piacere! Sei inglese?
Emma: No, sono polacca, di Varsavia.
Connor: Polacca? Davvero? Sei qui per studiare?
Emma: No, sono con un’amica; è una studentessa di medicina. Dove abiti?
Connor: Abito a Firenze
Emma: Ah sì? Che bello!
Connor: No, TU sei bella!
Emma: Grazie ma ho un ragazzo.
Connor: Allora, sei contenta?
Emma: Sì sono molto contenta
Connor: Va bene, però io sono speciale!
Emma: Sì, ma...
Connor: Vuoi venire al cinema domani?
Emma: Domani, parto per Roma!
Connor: Sei molto cocciuta! A presto!
Emma: A presto! Ciao!

I had SO much fun writing it that I feel a little ashamed. She said that it was the only one she enjoyed reading. I'm not sure why I made 'Connor' a bit of a twat.

Can I say 'twat' on here? If not, sorry.

for richer, for poorer, in fiction and in wealth...

I have realised that when I make sweeping, unsubstantiated commentsin this blog, these comments are challenged and turned on their head (or just mocked) by the people who read this, resulting in me feeling a bit naive, or faintly amused at the intimidating intelligence of some of the people in my life. So yes, what I am trying to say (in the longest sentence ever) is that I need to be careful.

This is how I would usually start this post:

Now, as you know, I will never get married. I do not believe that the institution of marriage can offer me anything in my life. I am fiercely independent and I will never need a man to complete me. I am already whole. BUT, if I were to change my mind (though this is unthinkable), these men would probably be the only ones in the world that I could bear to marry.

...

So though I love writing ranty paragraphs, it may be time to refine my thought processes and write like a grown up. I probably shouldn't have chosen this post to try it, but nevertheless, here is my second effort...

I may never marry. Never say never, but I'm not sure it's really for me. In the words of Summer (of '500 Days of Summer' fame) "I just don’t feel comfortable being anyone’s girlfriend. I don’t actually feel comfortable being anyone’s anything". Now, replace the word 'girlfriend' with 'wife' and you're getting close to my way of thinking. I'm sure many people have happy, healthy marriages, but I don't really like making compromises or admitting that I am wrong. And I'm scared of foetuses. And foetus-presence is implied in the holy sacrament, etc, of marriage.

Nevertheless, there are a few people in this world (none of whom I have met) I believe I could put up with forever and ever:

• James McAvoy - The original, the best. Plus, he already seems to be making one marriage work, and therefore is an expert.
• Conor Oberst - It wouldn't be the most cheerful household ever, but we could have sad, gaunt children who would be musical prodigies and have weird eyes.
• Robert Webb - Mostly because of this (which I robbed shamelessly), partly because of this.
• Joseph Gordon-Levitt - He stole my heart when I first watched Ten Things I hate About You (I think I was 12) and I never really got it back.
  
• Jonny Lee Miller - He plays Mr Knightley in the good version of 'Emma' and is the master of twinkly eyed disapproval. He was married to Angelina Jolie, however who is stunningly beautiful and I'm... well... not.
  
• Auden - dead and gay. At least my taste is original...
• Remus Lupin.
• Simon Amstell.
• Atticus Finch.
• Bill Murray.
• John Hannah.

I feel like the last few need no explanation.

I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else.

It appears that I am approaching rock bottom. I am sat alone on a Friday night drinking wine and watching French films about murder and adultery. Of course, to me this is pretty much the perfect evening, but soon my mum will come home from wherever she's been this time, and she will make me feel pathetic and lonely. Both she and Helen have admitted that they find being alone at night in my big, horrible house a bit creepy, but I don't mind it one bit. I'm the sort of person who needs time to myself which I haven't really got much lately while Mum has been off sick and Helen has been home.

This weekend will either be ace or a bit of a bore; I guess you could say that of anything really, so I'm sorry for talking bollocks. Last night we all stayed at Christina's for one last time and tomorrow evening I'm going to Bewdley with Hagley people which seems a bit odd, but it's close to home so I'm not going to complain. On Sunday, I'm going with Sarah to Ikea for the all important university shop. It's difficult to get excited about cutlery and pen-holders, but I do like the general Swedishness...

I really do need a phone now, but I hate spending money on things that aren't shoes or books, so I'm generally quite sulky about the prospect. Things are complicated somewhat by the fact that this time next year, I will be in Italy, making contracts and stuff tricky. I've just realised that I am writing about frightfully dull things tonight, so I can only apologise (though the phrase frightfully dull does make me feel like a prim Victorian, which is fun in moderation).

Goodnight!

P.S. watch 'Free Agents' on 4od. It's good and she's stylish. End of.

variations on the word love...

Variations on the Word Love

This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace
and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn't what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.


Then there's the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It's a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside.
You can hold on or let go.
. Margaret Atwood

I love this poem. I found it earlier when I was feeling a bit despondent and it made me feel... not happy exactly, but different. And sometimes change is good.

I'm considering going to stay with my auntie who literally lives at the end of the world (Gower). I have decided this because there is no wireless, no noise, and very few people. A bit of walking in a truly pretty place might do me a bit of good. Plus, unlike my house, they have fruit and vegetables so I might avoid the almost inevitable onset of scurvy.

Last night, I went to see Scott Pilgrim Vs the World, which made me want to dye my hair blue. I also get this feeling every time I watch 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind' or 'Ghost World'. Unfortunately, I neither look like Kate Winslet or the much less famous ones in the other two films, so I think I'll refrain from being too hasty. Not that becoming 'the weird girl with the blue hair' wouldn't be fun...

ten things to eat when you have no food.

I can't sleep because I'm really nervous about the car crash of results day, so I thought 'Hey, I'll write a blog!'. I would like it taken into account that it is very early in the morning, so please don't judge me too harshly.

As you know, my mother is in hospital, and I live in Wolverley which has one shop which opens somewhat erratically, so tonight, I found my fridge stocked only with rancid chilli con Quorne from a few nights ago. Nevertheless, I am a girl who likes a challenge, and I knew I could find something to stave off the hunger somewhere.

Here is a list of surprising things to keep you going when your mum is in hospital and you live in a place where Costcutter closes at eight and you are in your pyjamas so can't go further afield (besides, you don't own a car or have a license or anything useful like that. Also, you have no money, so even if you did have a car and a license and you weren't in your pyjamas, you could not afford to buy anything anyway. It's time to close these brackets.)

• nutella straight from the jar
• milk
• raisins
• nesquik powder
  
• flora (on crumpets if you are lucky enough to have them)
• slightly crinkly cherry tomatoes
• dried apricots to stop you getting scurvy
  
• an apple from the tree in the garden (though you are not sure if perhaps it is some kind of secret poison apple tree and nobody has thought to mention it to you. You are hoping for the best.)
• some gone off Quorn fajita strips which taste a bit funky
• a tin of tuna.

I ate all of these things while watching 'An Education' which is possibly now my favourite film. I LOVE Dominic Cooper and Rosamund Pike, but in quite different ways. Also, I now want to go to Oxford. This is unfortunate as I'm not even going to get into the universities I have applied for. I will accept this as my lot in life and become a squatter, caricaturist or busker (ukulele) as was intended when God made me out of a crappy bit of left over person.


Still haven't started War and Peace. I'll keep you posted...

a not-so helpless world...

So it's been a while since I've actually dared to write about anything serious. But (thinking you might be a bit fed up with accounts of my mundane life), I thought it was probably time.

The world is a bit shit. When opening a newspaper, it is easy to be overwhelmed by all the terrible things happening. Civilians are slaughtered in wars they can neither understand nor support, young men are sent to the gallows for falling in love with one another, HIV tears communities apart. The world reeks of unjust death and there are so many causes we feel we should support. Palestine, Nigeria, Burma. It will never be possible to protest against every tyrant, every mass killing, every dose of oppression. So how do we choose the ones we take interest in and those we let slip by? Obviously the press has almost unlimited power when it comes to bringing selective suffering to our attention; while the death of every British man killed in Afghanistan is reported (and not unjustly), if every civilian death from the same war was mourned in such a way, there would never be time for any other news items. To the media, local lives lost are worth far more than their faceless counterparts.

And even when we take an interest in this seemingly unstoppable suffering, if we wish to continue our middle class, comfortable existence, we are really powerless to stop it. Is it worse to know these horrible things are going on and do nothing about it, or be ignorant to it? Ignorance is bliss, but surely an indifference to the plight of mankind is one step away from condoning it? I just hate this helpless feeling.

Just so I don't explode with the injustice of it all, I tend to take interest in just a couple of these causes at once. Recently, I've been reading a lot about the situation in Iran. I won't turn this into another of my feminist rants, although it would be so easy. Let's just say that women are caught up in a system steeped in oppression and regressive laws. It's easy to say that this nation is too far gone to be helped; to help itself. When I watched this film however; the film the Iranian authorities tried to conceal from its people, I couldn't help but feel that Iran is far from doomed.

There is a somewhat stifled revolution taking place; a challenge to a corrupt government, a yearning for peace. Unfortunately, this uprising has been greeted with shocking violence. The striking image of the beautiful Neda Agha-Soltan's blood streaked face as she died at the hands of the Iranian regime was the reason I, and millions of others began to understand the severity of the problem. The film is brilliant, and I urge you to watch it (not least for the amazing voice of Shohreh Aghdashloo who narrates and who also starred in a recent episode of The Simpsons).

For me, the important thing is that in the face of violent militarism, the people of Iran are beginning to revolt. It's not like these things can be resolved in a couple of years, but I firmly believe that Iran will come out of the darkness in time. If only the years in between could be more peaceful than those preceding them.

can you take the sex out of the city?

So I finally bit the bullet and went to see the second Sex and the City film. I'm not ashamed to admit that I completely loved the series. It was funny, original and entertaining. The principle characters were compelling and intelligent and the four girls were "each other's soulmates", never letting a man interfere with their friendship.

It seems that with the arrival of the first film, all the wit and subtlety of the series was thrown away and replaced with dull, insincere women who relied on ruddy men far too much. Charlotte gave up her impressive job to have babies, Carrie let her significant other buy her an apartment, Samantha devoted her life to her superstar boyfriend; even jetting off to LA for him, and Miranda got cheated on. What happened to make these strong New York women completely charmless? When did the "style" overtake substance so completely?
So it's safe to say that I went into the cinema with low expectations of the follow-up. The good thing about pessimism, however, it that it's harder to be disappointed. The least that could be hoped for was a mediocre but entertaining couple of hours, and this is exactly what I got. During the first half hour, I thought I was watching the series again. The pace was quick, the laughs were rolling, and I didn't detest any of the characters too much. Of course the film's desire to give every single person a "happy ending" (and by this, I of course mean marriage) meant that the opening sequence focused on the shockingly stereotypical wedding of the completely incompatible gay best friends of two of the girls (two loose ends in desperate need of being tied), yet it was a promising start, and my expectations, however low, were being met.
From here, however, the film took a turn for the worst as the girls jetted off to Abu Dhabi, immediately ridding the stylists of the opportunity to introduce layering as a fashion device, and providing the chance for a bit of casual racism. While I have no doubt that the producers were aiming for female empowerment, I'm pretty sure that any female inhabitant of the United Arab Emirates would have been a little bit offended by the sweeping stereotyping of their way of life. Also, instead of any sort of rebellion against patriarchy, the women's way of protesting was to wear Manolos under their hijab. Ridiculous? Not at all. Not at all...

The film's redeeming feature was no doubt the return of the lovely Aidan, played by the lovelier John Corbett, with whom I fell in love in My Big Fat Greek Wedding (a classic of our time if you ask me...). However, not even this tall, tall man could save the film which ended more charmlessly and unmemorably than ever. The truth of the matter is that this blog contains no spoilers, simply because I can't remember anything original happening. At all.

So all in all, the film, despite the brilliant foundations laid by the series failed to woo me. Yes, putting pretty people on the big screen will always rake in the cash, yes the insane budget was apparent, but I can't help but thinking that some of this cash would have been better spent on writers who were actually funny or intelligent rather than on impressively ridiculous clothes and Arabian walls made of gold. If (God forbid) a third film is made, some reevaluating needs to be done and the women, rather than the men who dictate their lifestyle should be brought to the forefront; and this doesn't mean just putting them in bigger dresses and higher heels.


P.S. please note that I include pictures only of the series. Consider it an act of defiance...

Oh and I changed Warwick to my first choice... Hello Italian!

The prophets and their bombs have had another success and I wonder why we bother at all...

Marion Cotillard epitomises pretty much everything I want to be. She is French, she's successful, and , most importantly, she rocks Converse Allstars with ease. She completely nails every role she plays, whether in a bizarre Indie film, or something much more OSCARiffic like 'La Vie En Rose'.

What's more, Ms Cotillard is currently cosying up with the one and only Guillaume Canet: intellectual, visionary and overall French Hottie. The two starred together in 'Jeux D'enfants', one of my all time favourite films. It's funny and cute without being at all naff, as English and American films seem to slip into. If you haven't seen it, it really is wonderful and I recommend it. Those two would have cute babies...

The reason she's so great in 'La Vie En Rose' is the way she's unafraid to make herself look well and truly minging. It's possibly the most unattractive role she could have taken but it turned out to be a very wise move. Now she walks among Hollywood's elite, gracing the covers of magazines and seeming very classy and gracious with it. I think the fact that she failed to get her Oscar acceptance speech out over the flood of tears shows that she genuinely did not expect to win. Or she is a very good actress. Which sort of goes without saying really.

So this week has panned out much better than was expected. I did have a rubbish driving lesson on Monday, but everything else has been pretty good. Usually the double dose of double French on Tuesday and Wednesday pretty much finishes me off, but something odd has happened in the Modern Languages department; the teachers have gone soft. So instead of sheet after sheet of grammar, we got to watch TWO films. So yesterday, we watched 'He loves me, he loves me not' starring Audrey Tatou and a guy with really good hair. I'd never seen it before, so didn't know what to expect, but it was brilliant! It was exactly like Enduring Love, but Frencher and even creepier. The plot was almost identical, but because of the style of the film, the viewer is hooked much longer. Today, we watched 'A very long engagement' which was sad, but good. This had Tatou AND Cotillard in, therefore was automatically going to be ace. It did not disappoint. To say I enjoyed it would be a bit sick really - there was an awful lot of graphic mutilation, but it was pretty awesome. Cotillard plays an amazing, gutsy prostitute who seeks to avenge her bloke who dies on the Somme. If I didn't love her before, this certainly did it. Watch it. Please?

Fyfe Dangerfield (Fyfe, Fyfe, love of my life) may be my crush of the week. I just love his voice, love the Guillemots, love the John Lewis advert (about which I have already gushed). He's probably a bit of an arse, but he has lovely eyes and the voice of an angel. I think this is enough to absolve him. Trains to Brazil is an amazing song!

Lost in Coventry...

Today has been terrible. I completely messed up my French exam and as a result I have been in a foul mood all day. Yes, I know you thought I was delightful all the time, and that I live my life with all the grace and charm of a unicorn, but I'm afraid I must disappoint. Today I have all the grace and charm of a sloth. An old sloth. In pyjamas.

I had a complete panic on Monday night with the realisation that my history coursework was due in the next day, not today as I had been convinced. This resulted in a distinct lack of sleep on Monday night. Propped up with Lemsip and caffeine, I managed to make the deadline. I spent the weekend with my smelly big sister in Leamington. My mum and I went for a meal with her and we made a quick visit to Coventry Cathedral which was lovely. Luckily I didn't stay with Helen on Monday night as I had intended. I really would have been in quite a lot of poo...

Tonight I'm celebrating the fact that all my coursework has been handed in and I don't have any more exams for forty eight days. As a result, I'm going to watch Lost In Translation which always calms me down (particularly when, like today, mean, bullying men make me feel about as big as a flea). It's just so good! I love Scarlett Johansson at the best of times, but in this, she is just wonderful, Bill Murray is a definite old man crush and some of the locations are just ace... It seems that in most of my favourite films, nothing really happens, and this is no exception. Right, I'm watching it!

Also, if you get the time, listen to Antony and the Johnsons. They have a really unique, lovely sound. 'Hope there's Someone' is gorgeous and my favourite song at the moment...

grinning bobcat...

When I was little, I thought Pocahontas was the greatest film ever. I used lipstick as war paint in a bid to look a little bit like a native American. I sang the songs all the time. I played the video at least twice a week, much to my sister's disgust. Best of all, I was convinced that the climactic song 'Savages' was in fact a roaring chorus about... sandwiches. I hang my head in shame.

In my opinion, the greatest Disney film is The Rescuers. Its value is greatly under appreciated, but its appeal is vast. Honestly, it has everything! Firstly, it is terrifying. The nice, little orphan Penny is kidnapped by some scary people and has to make the hazardous trek down a mine to find a diamond or she will be eaten by some alligators (Sort of. I haven't seen it for a while...). Luckily she is rescued by some adventurous mice and finds a home, living happily after. Then there's the second film. Not quite as good, but certainly not to be dismissed. The villain looks just like a Kidderminster cabbie. This once led to a terrifying journey home from Morrisons...


The Lion King and Beauty and the Beast are obviously classic. Snow White is annoying, The Hunchback of Notre Dame is full of brilliant songs and a satiric juxtaposition of religion and sex, and Mulan has to be the most aesthetically pleasing film in existence...


I hate to sound like a grandmother, but they really just don't make them like they used to, do they? Watch a Disney film now and there are no spontaneous songs or soundtracks written by such national treasures as Elton John and Phil Collins. The humour is more laboured and much less subtle. And just as a parting comment, if you are lacking in things to do this rainy bank holiday weekend, watch the Jungle Book. It is obscenely brilliant. I swear I never appreciated it when I was a kid. Unlike Pocahontas...

with a dreamy far off look, and her nose stuck in a book...

I haven't been out of the house for two days. Usually I would find this depressing, but right now it's really rather wonderful. I've been watching LOTS and lots of House, as well as The Devil Wears Prada and Step Up (an awful film. Seriously.) Because none of these things are all that distracting, I've actually managed to get some work done. If I were to prioritise, I would do history coursework, followed by preparation for French speaking which falls a week tomorrow, then finish up my English coursework. Of course, my brain does not work in such a rational manner. I've been doing general English work, Wuthering Heights mostly. I've been colour-coding, note-taking, partaking in general literature-based merriment, the works. The exam isn't 'til mid June. I'm not really sure what I'm playing at, but some work, whether important or not is better than no work at all. Right?

I had everyone round here on Friday night which was nice. There was minimal vomit and I think the house actually turned out tidier after the party than before. This is because my friends are awesome. And really bizarrely tidy. My messiness is as mystifying to them as their urge to live in a clean, pleasant environment is to me. Minimalism has never really been my thing. What's the opposite? Squalor, or just plain mess? Either way, that's how I live my life. Anyway, it was really nice to see everyone. Equally, the next night, I had the pleasure of catching up with some old friends, including my ex-vicar Fiona and her husband Martin who had us all over for dinner. It was absolutely lovely despite the fact that we all seemed really tired due to holidays and hangovers.

It's time to lose weight for the summer. I don't like winter much but it does hold the advantage of being able to conceal rolls of fat beneath rolls of fabric. As soon as the snow melts and the gladiator sandals come out, there is no escape. I do this every year. Yo-yo? Me? We've acquired an archaic rowing machine from he who must not be named, which is a start. I may not lose weight, but my arms are now really manly. Score.

Everyone is breaking up. This is bad at the best of times, but I have unusually high levels of cynicism in my blood, so when there is a spate of break-ups like this, I climb further in my metaphorical (though not insignificant) bitter hole. People cheat, people get divorced, people die. I always thought Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella were wet. Esmerelda is awesome and beats up her future husband whom she chooses over the evil man who could ensure her safety. Belle strives to escape her "provincial life" by choosing an ugly guy over the town hottie. Mulan gains the gratitude of the emperor of frigging China! They all end up happy. Well, they all end up married. According to Disney, I'm pretty sure these two things are interchangeable. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, so I will summarize. Girls with principles and a strong will end up happy too. They do tend to be animated though...

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!