Thoughtful Musings of Someone.

Capsules

2011-05-31T09:05:00.000-07:00

With an inundation of 'reality' TV shows boasting fantastic entertainment and overflowing wardrobes, our already short attention spans have spread to clothing. Why can't we change what's in our wardrobes as often as the cast of our guilty addictions Made in Chelsea and The Only Way is Essex?

Having started my new job as a PR and Marketing assistant, I've spent many an hour musing over the perfect working wardrobe. As so much is made of it in endless publications, it seems only right that I should contemplate it. My list has come down to the following:

Nude heels
Trench coat
Black skirt (pencil or other)
Black dress
Waterfall cardigan
High waisted trousers
thick and thin waist belts
selection of colourful tops
white shirt
camisoles
snakeskin flats

In my bid to be eternally stylish, accessorising is required (in moderation). I vote for pearls, faux or real, a selection of rings and a simple necklace. A watch, of course, is imperative, but dangling bracelets are not.

Fashion is gorgeously fun, but I believe it is detracting from our ability to interact; we squabble over someone buying the same as us and focus more on what we will wear out than what we'll do when we get there. At work this refined approach is more important than ever in a world where ostentation is no longer revered, but sniggered at.

Grids and Chaos: the beautiful juxtapostions of NYC.

2011-03-06T04:35:00.000-08:00

Just one week ago I was leading three sodden members of my family down a seemingly endless London street, two hours after we should have eaten, searching for the tube station.

Right now I'm sitting in a slightly faded twin room on E 47 St, New York City. It's the kind of post-consumerist simplicity championed by my champion, Carrie Bradshaw. Ripped out advertisements from the image-led bible, ELLE, litter the comforter on my bed, yet the flat is devoid of a Kettle or Wireless internet (I'm currently coasting on a network from a flat that is either above, below, or alongide our own).

Yesterday saw me walk from Times Square to Henri Bendel. From 7th Avenue to 5th Avenue; yet it felt like a transition from one nation to another. In this city where the walk from Tack to Taste is only two blocks, my confused sould feels understood. There is no need to be calm or to be peaceful. You can choose: NYC or New York City, DKNY or Donna Karan. Both mean the same, both quintessentially New York, but you can choose. Whatever the choice, Busy is the Keyword.

Joanne Hynes

2011-02-23T01:50:00.000-08:00

Think Ireland, think Westlife, Guinness and rain, no? Well, from ttheir Irish locations Joanne Hynes and Helen Steele created a stonker of a collection, inspired by Grayson Perry and their own Irish roots.

Fur, Red, Snakeskin, CableKnit, Plaits...you name it, the eclectic duo had it.

As part of Vauxhall Fashion Scout, the duo took over Freemasons Hall and gave the viewers 20 minutes of extraordinary showmanship.

D.Rat - that's Downing St. Rat

2011-02-15T02:50:00.000-08:00

So, finally we have a real solution to a real problem at the forefront of the PM's mind.

I am relieved that instead of spending valuable public funds on unnecessary rat poison, the Camerons have made a trip to Battersea Dogs and Cats Home to rescue a rat-chasing feline friend.

Embracing natural order whilst eradicating potential health risks? An elegant and simple solution.

But which domestic creature will chase national debt away?

Style, 2011.

2011-02-14T23:58:00.000-08:00

Every year the Elle Style Awards are big news. This year is no different. As the dictators of fashion, glossy magazines have a lot to say, and those in the fashion world sit up and listen.

So, for Emma Watson it must have been a fantastic night. Her transition from precocious big screen movie kid to serious fashion contender. Beating off stiff competition from stalwarts such as Alexa Chung, Cheryl Cole and the likes of Kate Moss (whose inspirational glow seems eternally alight!), Emma has deservedly joined fashion royalty.

As real film roles, Chanel muse-ship and degrees from Ivy league stud her horizon, Miss Watson must be extraordinarily excited. I envy her.

Paris. City of Reality?

2011-02-14T10:50:00.000-08:00

Today is Valentine’s Day, and I am freshly back from Paris, the city of lovers. I am certainly in love with it. Pont des Arts provided endless entertainment and dreaming as I imagine couples high on Love immortalising their feelings as they close their engraved padlock.

Paris is a city of so many old clichés; berets and baguettes, Art and Artisans, the Tour Eiffel and Tart Tatin. But here they’re real. Paris is a living, breathing cliché, where dreams can become reality.

In the beauty of the city it would be easy to forget the grief of the world, but the exhibition at the Maison Européene de la Photographie, nestled just on the right bank, refuses to let the casual dreamer delude themselves about the beauty of society.

The Henri Huet exhibition, currently resident in the basement, is harrowing to see. Portraits of war-ravaged Vietnam and the desperation of the military have staggering powers.

Against the backdrop of fantasy, harsh reality is all the harder to bear. Painfully beautiful, as we celebrate pink, frothy love we must remember the raw, painful love of soldiers and of sacrifice.

Mental Health - Let's break the taboo.

2011-02-07T03:45:00.000-08:00

10% of youths develop a mental health issue at some point during their childhood. Recent government promises to increase help for children and teenagers suffering from mental health issues are necessary and long overdue.

When I returned from university following the return of my depression and eating disorder, I had to wait nearly two months to have my first CBT session and was told by my doctor that anti-depression medication was not only unnecessary but potentially detrimental to my mental development. By the time my first session arrived I had purchased a CBT self-help guide and taught myself a good part of the 'syllabus'.

What needs to happen even more than an increase in available help is the removal of taboos. Mental health is seen as dangerous, embarrassing and weak. It is none of these things. The majority of those experiencing such problems are victims because of a combination of nature and nurture. The dangerous spiral of insecurities present not just in teenager girls but in both their male counterparts and their parents must be stopped before an epidemic of anorexia throttles the development of our nation.

Do you think I'm exaggerating a problem? I am certain I'm not. Every time I go out or attend a party a considerable proportion of the revellers who are present will not have eaten. This is not just in a bid to get more drunk, more quickly, but also a desperate (and decidedly counterproductive) effort to avoid weight gain.

Warped associations are more dangerous than we realise. Why would starving oneself temporarily, and inevitably bingeing later on, bring either health or happiness? Similarly, why do so many people associate the gym with weight loss? It should be a haven for relaxation and fitness, albeit one where a potential side-effect is slimming down. Why is shopping associated with credit card debt and materialism? It is a necessary part both of our economy and our survival.

To return to basics is not only advisable but essential. CBT is one of the most effective treatments of depression, but perhaps it should be integrated into schooling from an early age, when minds are being formed. It will permit those who understand the technique to question ridiculous assertions and break the vicious cycle which threatens global development.

Relocation, Relocation, Relocation.

2011-01-31T02:54:00.000-08:00

So, the end of the country era has landed. Courtesy of my lovely Aunt, Uncle and cousins I am now a lodger in the South with the subtext of a new job. Independence and liberty call keenly, but since my last bid for freedom (university!) I've learnt not to expect too much from life. Not every minute of every day will be unbelievably fantastic; but parts of each day will be. Lulls and times of empty time are to be expected, and one discovers the best things by accident, not by searching restlessly.

What's stopping you, except yourself? Rarely, but occasionally, there is a real obstacle. Today, for me, I have jumped the hurdle and am ready to tackle the world and my dream. To journalism, to fashion, to fun. Cheers.

x

Listen to your Gut - that means no Yakult.

2011-01-27T23:19:00.000-08:00

It's been quite a while since my last post; I would apologise if it weren't entirely justified. I've spent the past two weeks rushing across the country on various placements. The first was at a Magic Circle Law firm, which was a fascinating experience, but for sure isn't what I want to do for the rest of my life.

This week, however, has been a real highlight. A week at a local magazine has let me indulge my love for writing, with the prospect of someone actually reading it! In addition I have learnt mountains about Marketing and the Publishing industry in general, whilst feeling myself and not having the strange sensation of playing dress-up in my own clothes.

It occurs to me that I have followed (what I believed to be) the wishes of my parents. This is, I hasten to add, not their fault; it was entirely my choice. Yet why strive to do what will please those above us? Is it because I am afraid of the resulting conflict if I question the ideals of those who raised me? I believe it is.
Finally I am progressing in the world with a lesson more valuable than the illustrious Oxbridge halls could have taught me; I have learnt how to listen to my own preferences, and how to make myself happy with my own decisions.

If anyone does happen to be reading this, please take my advice: listen to your gut. I don't mean head for the Ben&Jerry's at 9am. What I do mean is if you feel like you're too exhausted to embark on a MA, then take a year out. If you feel like you don't love your boyfriend any more, then take a raincheck. Life's too short.

x

New Feminism

2011-01-12T01:10:00.000-08:00

Last year spawned the latest Sex and the City release. Yet again Carrie poses endless rhetorical questions and is rewarded for the tone by a fat pay cheque and a free trip to Abu Dhabi.

Carrie is an icon for many a modern day woman. Why? Because she manages to juggle glamour, a career, her girlfriends and a man in one exciting walk down Madison Avenue, Manolos clacking.

But it occured to me just the other day that Carrie Bradshaw is, in essence, living the life of a man. Those who love the show will be familiar with the episode where she tries to have sex like a man, but this intention itself demonstrates that she sees herself 100% as a lady, a woman, a female.

Carrie Bradshaw doesn't have children. Carrie Bradshaw does not cook, famously using her oven to store her overflowing wardrobe. Carrie Bradshaw does not clean. She used to paint her flat to overcome problems, in a way that reflects a stressed man donning his 15-year-old t-shirt come Saturday to indulge in some escapist DIY. Carrie Bradshaw engages frolicks with endless, nameless men.

OK, so she buys shoes, has long hair and wears makeup. But does she possess the fearsome yet gentle motherly instincts of Miranda? Does she exude vulnerable femininity like Charlotte? Does she embrace her role as sexual magnet like Samantha, who exploits her body to her own physical ends? She does not.

In my mind, Carrie is an icon because she is a women masquerading as a man. There is a reason she took so long to settle down, a reason why gay men love her so. Her success is on a masculine level, and yet the illusion of her feminism makes her a shining light for so many women quashed by their responsibilities. They can forget the baskets of ironing, cupcakes to be baked and dinners to be washed up because Carrie never even thinks about those things. And unlike many career women of today, she doesn't feel guilty about it.

New Year. Same You.

2011-01-02T02:09:00.000-08:00

I resolve not to resolve ridiculous resolutions. I resolve to:
1) Drink less (those with me on NYE 2010-2011 will be thrilled to hear this)
2) Eat more
3) Sleep more
4) Think less
These are not legal clauses, they do not have '3 times a week' or 'every day' in them. They are true lifestyle changes, but achievable ones, and not gratuitous.

Last year I resolved to be a happier person. I am now happier, after two nervous breakdowns and a lengthy depression. Did I complete it? Considering that 11.5 of the months were spent in dire straits, I'm not sure, but the end result is a rejuvinated me.

The glossies will print endless 'New Year, New You' or 'New Year, New Body' articles. These irksome titles are futile, because at the end of each year, we are not new people. Why try to evade the inevitable; we are who we are, and can only polish up the best aspects of ourselves and learn to live with the flaws. Aspiration for perfection may drive the world, but the inevitable failure to reach it leads down a dark path.

This year, resolve to be the best version of yourself.

Resilience Quota

2010-12-28T14:00:00.000-08:00

Midway through a family evening, my short attention span strikes again. I mount the stairs to my bedroom and reach for the pile of Sunday Times magazines I have been hoarding ready for a rainy day. No droplets fall outside my window, but this seems as good a time as any to plunge in. Midway through Style from a couple of weeks ago, I find an article about RQ, or Resilience Quota; one's ability to bounce back. By clicking onto www.testyourrq.com you can quickly identify your strengths and weaknesses and hence how to develop. Post-meltdown, this strikes me as a constructive and interesting venture, and so I try it out. The results are interesting.

They are split into five categories: Optimism, Solution Orientation, Individual Accountability, Openness and Flexibility & Managing Stress and Anxiety. Overall, my RQ is pretty high at 64%. However, my 0% score on 'Managing Stress and Anxiety' sticks out dramatically amongst the 75%, 85%, 85% and 75% respectively in the other four areas. Not only does this strike me as interesting, but remarkably accurate. I have often felt let down by my ability to tackle stressful situations calmly, and anxiety has riddled my thoughts for quite some time. My report's advice for dealing with this is:
1) Identify stressors (things which trigger stress)
2) Consider if you can avoid/eliminate stressors
3) If the second step isn't possible, either distract yourself from the stressor, or break it down and tackle it before reaching a resolution.

I like this, and I like it a lot. It appeals to my logical side; the side that caused me to score 85% on Individual Accountability. It makes my Anxiety and Stress two boxes that I can neatly pack away in my wardrobe, so long as I have identified the parts of my life that should be stored away in them. Is this why it's so therapeutic to tidy and organise a bedroom or an office? It must be my inner control freak. I'd recommend heading for your free RQ test right now. After all, what have you got to lose?
www.testyourrq.com

Pursuit of Happyness

2010-12-23T13:34:00.000-08:00

Pursuit of Happyness

10 gallon head. Is that what all this is about; all the space knocking about inside of a brain that makes us question and wonder?

Chris Gardner thought so, and Will Smith certainly wanted to show the world that he thought so too. Sometimes, someone comes through the rough and the tough to show us how things should be done, how we can strive to achieve things, and how we can pursue happiness (with an 'i').

As Christmas approaches, I compare last year to this. Last year I was in the same place, and so were my family. We celebrated with the same traditions, the same meal, the same routine. We were all the same people, on the surface.

Now we are a year older. And what have I achieved? I have achieved many things, and so have you. I don't know who you are, and if you are anyone, if anyone is reading this blog. But if you are, you must never let anyone dictate what you should or should not do. You should never feel guilty.

It is not your fault.

It is not your fault that there are people in the world who don't have enough money to buy food tonight. It is not your fault that climate change may or may not be ravaging the planet. It is not your fault that Hitler got into power in Germany and ended many innocent lives. It is not your fault that Planet Earth lives in a blur of consumerism and endlessly fills landfills with tonnes of waste plastic and electronics each year. It is not your fault that some people have lost the ones they held most dear and are still etched onto their hearts.

Do you have a responsibility? Yes. It is the responsibility of each of us to take advantage of what we have been given. To make the most of our abilities, our families, our privileges, our good fortune. What else is there that is beautiful in this world, but the strengths of humanity?

As Christmas comes and passes again, do not think of what you have not done, of what others lack, but of what we have learnt this year. I have left school, and left university. I left my time in Italy early. Did I fail? You might think so, but I no longer do. I have learnt that life is. Pure and simple. No rules, no shoulds, no musts.

Why? I don't know why. We will never know all the answers to why, or where, or when things will happen, or did happen. Nothing is for sure.

Grab life, and go for it.

Saturday Blues?

2010-12-18T01:17:00.000-08:00

Faced with overcoming depression, I find myself reading 'Need a lift?', an article in Glamour magazine, one that I hope and dream of working at in the future. 'Yes', I think to myself, 'it would be jolly nice if you gave me a work placement, wouldn't it?! Then I wouldn't need any kind of lift'. Regardless, I start to read on.

So, what do I discover about happiness. Point 1: it's a choice. Point 2: it's determined 50% by genes and 10% circumstantially. Not such great news if your family leans towards negativity and you're not in such a great place in your life. The good news, though, is point 3: 40% of happiness is determined by our behaviour. Here are my pick of the best ways to maximise on that 40%:

Smile (trick your brain into thinking everything's OK)
Catch yourself negatively self-talking, and stop it
Sit up straight again
Share positive compliments with others
Have your own little secret (jump around in the bathroom, dance like you're 5 again, talk in a silly voice to your dog)
Flirt with a random person
Breathe deeply
When you start thinking too deeply, shove on some upbeat music and dance, dance, dance
Talk as though you're happy. It's not a 'crap' day when it rains, merely a 'rainy' day.
Plan a treat
Clear out clutter
Get outside
Do something totally new
Clear out your wardrobe
Cull your facebook friends

I love these sort of 'empowering' things, and I 'ain't sceptical about them either. Long may this last.

A Very Human Heart

2010-12-15T21:20:00.000-08:00

Logan Mountstuart led a good life. Not a perfect life, mind you, but it was a pretty good one. Not only that, but he reflected upon it in the most positive of ways; casually dismissing periods as a POW as 'bad luck', along with hatred from royalty, mistakenly sleeping with his dead son's 16-year-old ex-girlfriend and alcoholism. He even looks back on a period of supping on dog food and dismisses it as another of life's little bits of not such good luck.

I hope that when I go, I die knowing that I have experienced as much; as many interesting partners, as much emotion, as many voyages. Jim Broadbent ties in the ends neatly of the Channel 4 Saga Any Human Heart with experience and skill; an excellent choice following consistently tight casting throughout the production.

What makes it so good to watch? It's not necessarily the storyline, full of clichéd images of sexy femmes fatales, debauched 70s London and drugs in Berlin. I think it's Logan's incredible humanity; anyone can relate to his stoicism after the death of his two true loves (his second wife and his daughter), and we can all admire his wish to not grow old gracefully. I don't think it's believable, necessarily, but it makes beautiful viewing. The score is emotive, the sets realistic and the costume design consistently spot-on. Channel 4, you excelled yourselves.

Watch here: Channel 4 od - Any Human Heart

Middleton Mania

2010-12-10T03:35:00.000-08:00

Kate Middleton has sparked a fashion revolution across the pond. New Yorkers are all going gaga for her manicured, preened look, and it's a little terrifying.

Yup, she's got nice hair. Her skin's pretty flawless too, and she looks like she takes very good care of her figure. Sure, she's very attractive, beautiful even, but she's hardly a style individual. Her polished, ironed-out look has a Carla Bruni ring to it, post the Sarko marriage. It's a perfect look for the wife of a statesman or respected public figure, but for the everyday life of the ladies of NYC? I think not.

Where is the individuality of Carrie Bradshaw and her cronies? Why can't we still see Holly Golightly taking breakfast at Tiffany's in Givenchy and Diamonds? Have they both had chestnut hair extensions, teeth whitening and a personality-free makeover? Does every one of the successful careerwomen in New York want to be married to a slightly balding toff, one who is doubtless perfectly charming (and a prince, I'll give him that), but one they've never met?

But then, I suppose she's a better role model than many of today's celebrities. She's educated, poised, refined, elegant, and is going to commit herself to two centuries-old traditions: Marriage and the British Monarchy. She does not regularly expose her privates, or throw baked beans at the press. What we see, however, is the inoffensive public front; why are people so desperate to emulate that? The real Kate Middleton doubtless wouldn't wear her Sapphire-Blue Issa dress for brunch with her St Andrews chums, and might even tie her hair in a ponytail once in a while.

And on a more serious note, why is it that people only seek to emulate the sartorial qualities of celebrities and not their philanthropic ventures? As Sean Penn wakes up for another day living in ravaged Haiti, why are fans not whipping out their chequebooks?

A tad sad, no? But perhaps in time, and by wearing 'charitable clothing' or using a hairdresser that donates 50% of its revenue to charity, Kate will be able to use her looks for the greater good. Until then, I pity the bored NYC salon directors cutting an identikit style on every single twenty-something that walks through their door.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-11959566

Student Disgust - is it justified?

2010-12-10T02:05:00.000-08:00

As you read this, it is worth remembering my position; I'm a student myself. I am not especially pro the coalition government, nor am I anti; I don't think it's had enough time to prove its strengths and weaknesses. However, many of my contemporaries are outraged by yesterday's decision to increase student fees to up to £9000 per year. I quote a facebook status: 'David Thatcher, education snatcher. Nick Clegg, just a wanker'. Indeed, £9000 is treble the current rate they pay, but no more than it currently costs to educate a student for a year. In fact, even with the government's funding, universities are making a loss each year whilst improving the education they offer.

Why should the tax-payer and the government continue to subsidise the glorified beer-festival that most students call their degree? Many who have joined the protests are doing so merely as some form of amusement, and whilst I accept that some are genuinely distressed by the decision, I wonder if they've paused to reflect on the decisions behind it, and the repercussions it may have.

The intentions behind the decision are clearly to cut costs to the government and to reduce government deficit. In a time where as a nation we need to club together and ride the rough with the good, it seems fair that students join the belt-tightening too. They will have to pay more, yes, but gradually, and once they have money. In addition, in a democracy we must learn to accept the ways of our government. The coalition came into place, and many people are unhappy with this, but did every single person who complains use their right to vote? Did they all march down to the polling stations, desperate to exercise the right that their predecessors died for? I think not.

Of course, repercussions of this decision are currently unknown, but it seems likely that scholarships and sponsorships will spring into place to encourage the underprivileged to continue their education. Global Law Firms and Pharmaceutical Companies will doubtless fund the most promising students' degrees provided they accept a job with them upon its completion. Who loses there? No-one.
Others will have time to set aside funds for their children, and it will be a struggle for some more than others. This has always been the case; many don't need to take out a student loan, and no fire safety equipment was hurled at Tory property because of that. For many it is a priority to get a degree, and so be it, but it shouldn't become a necessity, and it certainly isn't a divine right.

And yet fire extinguishers are thrown at Conservative party headquarters and our Prince of Wales is attacked on his way to a charity event. Who is committing this vandalism? The students that wish the taxpayer to keep on subsidising their education, that's who. And how on earth is that just?

Turner Prize 2010 - Is it Art?

2010-12-07T04:17:00.000-08:00

As Susan Philipsz picks up her £25,000 reward for her exhibit of Lowlands Away and will scuttle back to her Berlin base to sing a few more songs in her soft Glaswegian accent, we must pose the distinctly unoriginal question: 'What is Art?'. Every year the Turner Prize causes controversy, and Philipsz's idea of creating sculpture through sound (which she discusses here: BBC News - Turner Prize: Susan Philipsz wins with Lowlands Away) is decidedly more groundbreaking than my question, and therefore merits winning the award, set up to 'celebrate new developments in contemporary art'. The OED defines 'art' as :

'The expression or application of creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting, drawing, or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power. Also: such works themselves considered collectively. Cf. a work of art at work n. 14.'

Does Philipsz work fit into this category? The Stuckists, opposed to modern, conceptual art, think not. They class her work as music, and not art. However, the way the dictionary defines it does not require art to be in visual form, merely that 'typically' it is. This is undeniable, but surely progress is necessary for the development of art, and this entirely new technique taps into our emotions in an entirely different way to a conventional performance of song or art, because it prompts the observer to engage with the building, its acoustic qualities, the song itself and the emotion of the lyrics. Because of the preconceived mindset one has when in an art gallery, there is a different reaction when engaging with Philipsz work (I hardly know what verb to use here; surely I can't describe us as 'viewers', perhaps we are 'listeners' or maybe 'engagers') than if it were displayed in a different setting, or a different context. Therefore, we become increasingly aware of it, we are thrown off balance, our artistic appreciation balancing as though on an artistic wobble board.

Inevitably there will be those who critique her work and dismiss it as 'not art', but surely if it is beautiful enough and engages us enough in the emotional power, it fits in with the dictionary definition? It could be an error to try to define art in such concrete terms, but I fear it is necessary when arguing against such bigoted ideas as those of the Stuckists, who refuse to progress with the art world. As the authority chosen by the organisers of the Turner Prize the judges Isobel Carlos, Andrew Nairne and Polly Staple have selected Philipsz as the winner. In this act they, and those who selected them to judge, have irrefutably defined Lowlands Away as art. No-one is required to respect the Turner Prize as the most important in all of art, but they must accept both its existence and its legitimacy in its own field, and perhaps instead the Stuckists should invest their energy in establishing a contrasting award for the least progressive piece of artwork created by any British artist under 50. Let's see how exciting that would be.

A Grey Christmas?

2010-12-04T21:41:00.000-08:00

As the undeniable lure of Christmas drags us into its clutches, I finally embark on the arduous journey of my Christmas shopping. Jokes aside, I love this inevitable seasonal task; retail therapy is no longer a selfish indulgence, but a gift to others. Shop Assistants smile happily in early December as they hit high sales targets. You can almost smell the joy of the CEOs as the insatiable strength of the British shopper strikes again, credit card flashing, January's bill a distant and unimportant prospect.

In our household, the stocking is always the highlight of Christmas Day; somewhat sad considering that it comes at the very beginning, but adorable too that even when we are adult the satsuma-laced delights of my father's old socks can be the best moment of our year. John Lewis makes me doubt that others feel the same. 'Only £40', declares a label next to a box of Origins goodies. £40? For an impersonal gift like that? I can understand the desperation-fuelled buy on Christmas Eve, perhaps, but this early on in December? Where's the thoughtfulness? We still have time to make presents, for goodness' sake. Each year my best friend and I hand craft each other gifts, and this year I plan to continue our young tradition. In an age where few of us know how to sew a stitch or bake a cake, this can prove tricky (although I believe my culinary skills have improved somewhat since I made her a rather unsuccessful jar of Peanut Butter last year).

An even younger tradition seems to be the buckets of snow that dump on us as winter approaches. Last year I almost didn't receive my university acceptance letter (thankfully someone invented email to save me) and the respite from an exhausting six weeks of anxiety. As the snow continues to fall on the Derbyshire ground, I think, for the first time in my life, that perhaps the best present I could wish for would be a non-White (perhaps it would be called a Grey?) run up to Christmas, one that meant I'd been able to drive a little beforehand, and perhaps finally passed my driving test.

X

Art Galore

2010-12-02T23:58:00.000-08:00

So we hear that the Government's art collection will be put on display in the Whitechapel Gallery next summer, with guest curators including Nick Clegg, Peter Mandelson and PM's wife and Smython consultant Samantha Cameron. With significant work from across British Art History, this will be a fantastic exhibition, and I'm 100% behind the government in its decision not to sell a single painting despite the current financial hardship of our country. These paintings represent a slice of our history, our identity, our culture, and paint (excuse the pun) the story of our ancestors and hence ourselves. We can learn from paintings just as we can learn from history books and diaries, yet they bring us beauty and elegance in a world decidedly lacking. Typically, this wasn't started out as a cultural venture, but the government decided that buying new paintings to cover the stains in the Whitechapel Buildings would be cheaper than smoothing over another couple of hundred rolls of wallpaper. A happy accident, but one must ask: What on earth were they planning on using to paper the walls? Morris Originals? This is a recession after all, as we keep getting reminded...but then again, we are all getting a fabulous exhibition out of it.

Snow is (still) falling all around us

2010-12-02T05:37:00.000-08:00

As yet another almight flurry dumps on our village, I question my previous post. I know that in a few days time, when the trainline is still closed and the food supplies run short, my gusto for 'survival' will wear somewhat thin, and I will mourn the day my parents retured from their ex-pat life in sunny, humid Singapore. Where it never, ever snows. And yet, there is something delightful about readjusting oneself to the gloriously slow pace of life that run alongside snowdays. Granted, it's bloody freezing, and I can't get to my spinning class, but how much does that actually matter? I'm stuck in a house with two people I actually love, with central heating, with food, with my dog. I'm not freezing to death, I'm not without things to do, I'm not even without the internet. Even if I were, I have endless books and no imminent deadlines. From my seat I feel like a child staring in on their new snowglobe, as I watch the fat flakes twirling delicately from the milky sky to the carpet of snow that lies across our garden.

How would our society change, one wonders, if this happened every year? Would we live at a more manageable pace? Would there be less stress, less illness, less influence by 'slebs and the media? With the infiltration of the web, it seems unlikely, but there is something gorgeous about the simplicity of life without travel, with sights set only on survival, and not on world domination. I'm not such a fan of the -20 degree nights, but if a national standstill were scheduled for two weeks each year, I wouldn't complain (too loudly). But then, perhaps that's what Christmas is designed to be.

Pretty white stuff?

2010-11-30T01:13:00.000-08:00

I can see the beautiful snow falling from where I sit. Deep and crisp and even, it carpets the outside world in a beautifully pure fur cape. But much as I despise snow cynics, there is a more sinister side to the snow. Yes, it's beautiful; yes, it makes us go back to basics and walk to places we'd normally drive; yes, it unites the nation in an icy embrace, but it's also a huge impediment to most activities. This morning, my exhausted father dragged himself out of bed at 5.55 to catch the 6.28 local stopping service into work on account of the snow burying his car under several inches of snow, only to be stuck on the train, frustratingly close to his final destination. He made it to his important meeting, late, at 9am, doubtless exhausted, bedraggled and without breakfast.

Yes, my village looks like the front of a rather charming but tacky Christmas card, but it's not much fun being trapped on a greetings card for several months of the year. As the snow continues to fall, I keep reminding myself of the positives: the birds that cluster around the window as they stock up on the nuts that we've left out for them, the chance of tranquility at home, endless opportunities for sledging. Still, I find myself wishing I was twenty miles closer to a city. What are we going to do when the freezer runs out of food...?

Happy Snow Days!

The L Word

2010-11-26T07:09:00.000-08:00

Liverpool, Leeds, London...the list of great 'L' cities in England isn't something I've paused to think about very often before, but I think it deserves some thought. I've now visit all three, and I've started to realise just how ignorant I've been about our small, but culturally diverse, country. Of course we all know London, but how many of our cities have you visited? How much history and heritage from any of them do you actually know? I hark from Sheffield, a city made famous (or perhaps that should be infamous) by 'The Full Monty', but the perceptions about it being a dingy industrial dump are quite simply false. Anyone who has seen the city's new Winter Gardens (apt for a city which is so interminably cold) or listened to the tragically short-lived Arctic Monkeys would have to agree. Leeds, except for it's charming (but dangerous to frequent with a Credit Card) Victoria Quarter, is arguably unremarkable, but Liverpool is another case in point. Floating along in my own little bubble I knew that it was the city of the Beatles and Colleen Rooney, but was hopelessly unaware that the stunning waterfront hid beautiful architecture, wonderful shops, two remarkable cathedrals, and a Tate gallery. Picasso's Weeping Woman was there, for goodness sake, as were some of Tracey Emin's 'neon' works. The city's Walker Gallery, too, is not only worth a visit, but vastly superior to Manchester's city Art Gallery, and bursting with little gems (Hockney, anyone) that I never expected to see. And best of all, it's free entry, and about one minute's walk from Liverpool Lime Street train station. Add to that the meagre cost of my £4.60 YP ticket from Sheffield, I was left incredibly impressed. Liverpool, you have been warned, I will be back...

Kate and Wills....the biggie!

2010-11-17T00:37:00.000-08:00

So, yesterday the worst-kept secret in the history of modern times was let out: Kate Middleton will marry Prince William. Girls weep as they finally realise that a 28-year-old royal they've never met is not going to marry them. Harsh. The criticism for the Middleton family rolls in. Now, I don't know the family, they may be ghastly, they may be wonderful, but this girl has sacrificed her liberty for the man she loves, and that's not a small deal.

So, what are the objections?
1) People think she's a lazy airhead - she's not. St. Andrew's don't let in lazy airheads, and they don't get a 2:1 at the end of their degree either. And...she does work. Lots of people work for their family business, and it's pretty hard to juggle the commuting pressure with the paparazzi following your every move and the tabloids criticising your every outfit.
2) She's 'common'. Er...really? OK, she doesn't have a title, but we live in the 21st Century. And I'm pretty sure the royal family have learnt that it's a bad idea to forbid future kings from marrying the women they love (ahem, ahem: Charles and Camilla).

I'm sure there are more. I know there are counter-arguments. But please, give the girl a break. She has to wear the engagement ring of a woman 'killed by the press'. That can't be nice, can it?

The Social Network - how a socially inept student transformed our interaction

2010-11-11T06:44:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I profited from our culture's relentless marketing by going to the cinema with 'Orange Wednesdays'. Even better, I got a good deal for going before 5pm, something I loathe, but as I'm learning to 'indulge', it seems a good enough way to do it. So, 'The Social Network' was the film of choice.

JT impressed me, I have to say. Mariah and countless others have tried the ol' 'I sing therefore I act', but Mr Timberlake actually seems to be able to put on a very convincing act. His colleague Jesse Eisenberg is equally, and likely more, talented in his representation of facebook's founder, Mark Zuckerberg.

I sat down to two hours of elaborated history and re-emerged into the November dusk with a strong urge to check my own facebook profile. It was painfully ironic, but nonetheless, I resisted for a short while before giving in. It was when I was packing up in Waitrose that I gave in, iPhone in hand, to the sad truth: I'm just as addicted as anyone else.