back on track.

I spent last term in a haze of missing home too much, not drinking enough, not working enough, not speaking enough Italian, not blogging enough (or at all), not reading enough. There is a big ol' list of 'not enoughs', but this term, everything is going to change. Today, I am going for a run, applying for jobs and drinking lots of coffee. This wave of productivity/caffeine has got me feeling really good. I have six months left in Rome. Better make them count!

So it's been a while! Last time I wrote on here, we were in the midst of riots and a warmer climate. Since then, not all that much has changed. Except for the riots and the climate. My mother got "engaged", and while my prospective stepfather leaves a lot to be desired, in theory, I am happy for them and I wish them well (seriously though, who gets engaged at the ripe old age of fifty six!?). Along with half of the population, I bit the bullet and got a Kindle. I was on the fence, but I'm really glad I did because I am reading so much more already. I went to Tom's for Christmas, which was absolutely lovely, though it did mean that due to the legendary Moore hospitality, I ate far too much. This would have been fine, except a couple of days later, my lovely friends Eilish and Bob got married, and I had to not look enormous in my purple bridesmaid's dress! I'm not sure I managed. Eilish on the other hand looked absolutely stunning, and I've never seen two people with bigger grins on their faces.

That's about it really! I came back to Rome about a week ago, and I'm rather enjoying myself. It's sunny and cold, and oh-so Italian. Everyone wears these massive puffer jackets; belted, quilted monstrosities which turn even the most glamorous of women into the Michelin Man, all tutting as they see us silly Brits strutting round in light jackets. The older women waddle around under the weight of their huge fur coats, and the men blow-dry their hair, all for fear of getting a cold.

They might just have the last laugh though, as I'm feeling a little bit sniffly...

So there you have it, a cheeky little update for those of you still interested. A few people asked me to resume writing on here, but I told them I thought maybe the time had passed. I guess I was wrong!



This was in Sherlock last night. Can they do no wrong? Also, Benedict Cumberbatch - phwoar.

dearest.

Let's stop sending each other messages on Facebook. Write a letter. Stamps don't cost much, and handwritten post is always nice to receive. It's nice to find a letter waiting when you get home, recognising the familiar scrawl on the envelope and reading the meandering thoughts of a friend set down on paper. I've already cajoled one unsuspecting person into corresponding with me in this way, but send me something! Send something, and I will always reply (which cannot be said for any other form of communication). A letter, unlike an email, can never be deleted.

I am saddened by the anti-Islamic protest march happening today. The English Defence League demonstrated today under the thinly veiled premise of targeting fundamentalism, but no good can possibly come of these tensions, which are surely more likely to encourage extremism than combat it. I'm struggling to write this paragraph from an objective viewpoint, without just ranting and being cross. I'm not sure it's even possible. I just can't fathom this country sometimes, and I hope that this shameful hatred ceases rather than gaining momentum. The world is a scary place.

My wonderful friend Eilish is soon to be married. I feel like if every betrothed couple was like Eilish and Bob, I would have no reservations whatsoever about the institution of marriage, and I know they will be very happy. She is the macaroni to his cheese.

I have an exam on Monday, and I have to learn seven hundred and twenty three prepositions... probably. The sad fact of the matter though, is that I simply cannot be arsed. Somebody motivate me. That would be lovely.

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.

moving on...

Well it's been a good weekend. My brand new iPod arrived, the Labour Party was saved and I went to Surrey to a silver wedding celebration/renewal of vows/apparent excuse for old people to get drunk. I also discovered that a maroon chunky knit beret is a brilliant way to cover up shit hair. Which I definitely have at the moment...

So we'll start with the lovely Ed, shall we? Finally, a genuine socialist has taken the reigns, and things are going to change. It's not like we can underestimate the impact of such a disappointing election, but the shiny veneer of the coalition is starting to crack, and now we are in opposition, the left is cool again. I really liked David Miliband, but I voted for Ed because his values are the closest to my own. In May, I must have heard the phrase "well they're all the same, aren't they?" about fifteen hundred times, and even though this is really quite untrue, Ed is definitely different. And he's fairly young and punchy, and with Harman beside him, I feel like the party's in good hands.

Today was the twenty-fifth wedding anniversary of my uncle's stepson and his wife (yes that's right). They are only in their early forties, so they must have got married incredibly young, but in fairness, they seem very happy. To celebrate the longevity of their relationship, we got up at five and drove down to Surrey to make it to the church service on time (incidentally, today is 'back to church Sunday'. Fairly fitting as this was the first time I had set foot in a church in months.) The vows were renewed and rings were exchanged (again) during a fairly bog standard service. The vicar did manage, however to centre the entire thing around the importance of commitment and love and not murdering one's spouse. He also mentioned something about Lazarus and a rich guy, but I think this was unrelated. Next, we went to a pub-type place where the champagne flowed (although I drank lime and soda because I had enough trouble staying awake without the interference of alcohol) and there was food. Lots of food. I gritted my teeth while many distant un-relatives grilled me on my lack of a male escort. At least two people asked me whether wedding bells were on the horizon for me. The exasperated response "I'm eighteen!" did not seem sufficient to quell their disapproval. Coupled with the fact that my mum kept telling everyone that I hate men, I'm not sure I gave off a great impression, but I probably shouldn't look into it too much. They probably just thought I was a friendly lesbian.

And the thing is, it's not even true! To say I hate men would be a grossly unfair generalisation. There are several men I like including Stephen Merchant, Conor Oberst and Gordon Brown. See? My mother also fails to bear in mind that far from hating only men, I don't like women all that much either, and as such, I am probably a pretty poor excuse for a feminist. So all in all, it is more of a general dislike of humanity than of males in particular. And I'm sure one day, there will be a man who will sweep me off my feet and with whom I shall fall uncontrollably in love, etc, but until that day, it just doesn't seem worth the bother, and as such, I'll have to deal with the prying questions for a little while longer.

would you rather get married or lick a tramp?

I often start a blog post with no intent and no idea where it will take me. This is one of those occasions. My mum's come back, so the house has a miserable air. I'm glad I'm only going to be here for a couple more days. She does have her uses though, having just removed a monster earwig from the kitchen for me. I've always hated the vile little things ever since I found one hanging out of my finger a few years back. Grim.

According to the Guardian, Warwick is now second only to Oxford and Cambridge in excellence. This means I will be even more gutted when I fail to make the cut in just over a month.

Also according to the Guardian, one in five of those in a relationship claim to be in love with a third party. The article then goes on to dismiss these feelings as misdirected lust and rather self-righteously explain where these poor, misguided romantics went wrong in their relationships, even stating that they have never known love at all. Of course, just because I think the journalist in question sounds like a bit of a ponse, doesn't mean I disagree with her.

Now, I may be about as cynical as they come. When people ask me why I don't have a boyfriend, I scoff and say something derisive about men, cite my insane independence and say something wry about my general contempt for society. I make no secret of the fact that I don't believe in marriage. I have completely perfected my ''can't argue with the statistics'' argument, and though I try to be supportive to those of my friends who have chosen to get engaged at the ripe old age of eighteen, I can't help but be pessimistic. It's just my nature, I've never been mushy. And when yet another person blames my attitudes to all this crap on the "hard time" I've supposedly had in life, inside I am screaming that I would have been like this anyway! That's what I let myself think.

I think at the end of the day, it's all about what makes us happy. I am perfectly content with the idea of being married to literature and music and goats' cheese. I'm not saying this won't change, but for now I'm dangerously close to the terrifying precipice that is happiness, and I find it disconcerting. After all, youth is supposed to centre itself around self-obsessed angst, isn't it? Meanwhile, the label of a slightly damaged , hostile girl has been working just fine for me, and I will think very carefully before ditching it.