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...