NORTH COUNTRY FAIR

Nothing to do with Charlize Theron or Bob Dylan.

Name:
Location: Norwich, United Kingdom

Keep on Truckin'.

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Novel Lock Jumper Runners


I tapped in 'dumped photo' into google, and what did I get? Thom Yorke 'dumped' by lots of chocolate in the name of the excellent Make Trade Fair campaign (click here to see Michael Stipe 'dumped' by milk, Bono by sugar, Chris Martin by rice and Alanis Morrisette by straw, and many more besides)! This was supposed to be a post on how an intense relationship seems to have boiled down to four little random scraps of the past (Rings of Saturn by W. G. Sebald, a bike 'lock', a South African Cricket Jumper and Searching For The Young Soul Rebels by Dexys Midnight Runners), but lo! it has turned into something charitable and shiny and wonderful.

To support the campaign our heroes are being 'dumped' for, simply jump to www.maketradefair.com where you can find lots more about Fair Trade products and where to find them. It makes sense, people.

One more thing; don't forget to keep clicking on The Hunger Site . It's still going and it's still giving, so unless you don't even have 10 seconds to spare (which, if we face it, you must do to be looking at this blog) there are no excuses!

Lots of love to you all xxx Posted by Hello

The Beatnik Experience


How should one conduct oneself ideally post-break-up? I feel like I should be wearing dirty pyjamas and staggering around the house with bits of popcorn stuck to my (canary) hair, perhaps having fallen asleep on the sofa watching Love Actually, or some similar girl gumpf.
At the time when I broke up with my girlfriend early last November, I was doing a Creative Writing module mixed in with a bit of American Beat Poetry. The idea was to read through Allen Ginsberg, Robert Lowell etc, get some tips, and come back each week with a 'work' of your own (bongo accompaniment optional). I found some discarded 'works' of mine the other night (most of them relating to the untimely dumpage by Fox) and giggled with glee at how truly shocking most of them were.
Luckily for me (and lets face it, the poor people who had to put up with me when I was being so insufferably pretentious and turgid about my 'art') I have no desire whatsoever to write anything corny/bitter about love and all its little foibles at the moment, but I will leave you with this little effort, from when I did, which was just that smidgen more bitter and dramatic than the others I found. Feel free to laugh.

Blonde On Blonde


RE: The Radical New 'Do. Nothing says 'dumped' like a new hair cut (that sounds a bit like an anti-hairdresser slogan), but sometimes a girl must wash that man right out of her hair. I'm not sure, however, that 'hair' is the appropriate term for the Birds-Eye Custard-coloured fibres which now adorn my crown. Unfortunately, the supposedly ashy highlights which were to 'lift' my mousey locks out of obscurity appear to be tending towards the 'raving ginger' side of the spectrum and now the crucial question is:

How Does One Return One's Ex's Belongings With Dignity Surrounded By Hair Of Most Outrageous And Unbecoming Kind?

I have learnt the hard way that 'radical' behaviour is not advantageous when one is feeling slightly irrational. Thank goodness I thought twice about that piercing.

Now, where's my balaclava? Posted by Hello

Thursday, February 24, 2005

An Epic Tale And A Get Well

So we said goodbye last thursday. I say, 'See you the week after next, then.' He looks horrified. 'Well, I'll speak to you before then!' I become reacquainted with all things Northampton (i.e. twiddle my thumbs) until tuesday when I cave before my zero-contact attempt (and yes, this includes 'hello' texts) and call him. He's 'busy', although he takes the moment to inform me that he'll be swimming in the channel this weekend. Naked. With a girl. He doesn't tell me this last part (in fact, he refuses to mention a name) but I remember afterwards who lives in Brighton. I say nothing. He'll call me tonight. He doesn't.

Well, from the blank tone you may guess I wasn't overly joyful about this arrangement. I have become slowly sloshed with my step-dad in the meantime, and after several phone-calls he fails to answer, I send him a text saying that we're finished, and also a voice message in case he doesn't quite understand. His reply? 'Why's that?' I'm not allowed to call him as he's at his friends so I ask him to phone me the next day.

Sigh. The next day comes and I have uber-itchyness in my feet and run to London, the home of my favourite thinking spot, Tate Modern. I see a good exhibition (August Strindberg) and a great exhibition (Joseph Beuys) and feel very replenished. I sit on the steps of St. Paul's Cathedral as the bells ring for 4 'o' clock and it begins to snow again. It is just so beautiful that I have to call someone. Unfortunately he cuts me off. I try again, then resort to the old grumpy-text-message ploy, telling him its not on to do that. 'I wasn't aware I did', he even-more-grumpily replies. 'I'm stuck in Ely for an hour, i'll give you a call when I'm back in Norwich'. I wait until midnight. He doesn't call.

I pour my heart out to his voicemail (again), to find a text this morning apologising for not calling and promising to call me when he comes back from the sea-side. I assume he means Cromer (which is 40 minutes away) but then my stomach drops and I realise he means Brighton, to where he's fled two days early. I feel stupid for putting up with this. I have irrational hopes that he will throw his phone into the Channel along with his naked body and however many other women are coming too, so that I never have to receive a lame text message from him again. I wonder why he doesn't have time to say hello to me when he's been positively Postman Pat-like this week, diligently doing the rounds with all his ex-girlfriends. I'm fed up (this should have been made obvious by the previous 4 paragraphs). Right now I am planning:
  • a radical hair-cut (tomorrow)
  • the excavation of the things I have of his in my house so I can return them (Monday)
  • an eye-popping outfit (for the forseeable future)

Yikes! Single again!

I also wanted to say (while I still remember) a big 'Get Well' to everyone who's feeling ill this week (and there are quite a few of you, methinks). Snow is temporarily quite bonny, but not when your body appears to be expelling its miasmas through two severely punished nostrils and a Saharan oesophagus. Apart from the odd desperate shriek to Mother Nature, the trick to preserving your sanity is chunky vegetable soup and cheese. No, not the edible kind, I'm talking terrible weekly publications like Pick Me Up, airport literature (anything with a high heel/plump lips etc on the cover) and rubbish films (She's All That). It will work. Lots of love to you all, my contagious ones.

Saturday, February 19, 2005

An Honest Post

The Song I Can't Get Out Of My Head This Week TM:

Honest Mistake by The Bravery

Posted by Hello

Packing Up, Shipping Out


Thought I would put a last entry in before I went home, seeing as the reliability of the technology available there is highly debatable. The pill-popping-Martha-come-boyfriend-angsting head-space i'm currently occupying isn't really agreeing with me, and what better to combat this with than a good rant to mother...and, er, the immense goldmine of Ben and Jerry's I know my stepdad stashes in the garage freezer (which incidentally, deserves to be in a skip. Different story).

However, it won't all be hibernation, and here I must explain the The 21st Birthday Tour. The Tour mostly involves breathtakingly long train/plane journeys in the name of attending various 21st Birthday parties. The Tour's Big Gig last month was a 16 hour train journey (over two days) to and from Dundee simply for One Big Night Out. I spent a very hungover and shunting Sunday c/o GNER in order to make it back in time for important Monday-Morning things, which I liked to think at the time was quite Rock and Roll of me...although the only Rocking and Rolling thing about it was my stomach whilst trying to switch locomotives 6 hours in. TheTour is currently planning a trip to Southampton (for the lovely Cat) next Wednesday in much the same vein, before it heads to Amsterdam (for Nina) on March 11th! Maybe see you next week, Cat.
Have fun next week, everyone xPosted by Hello

Friday, February 18, 2005

A Marthable Existence


Tip: for revitalisation and go-getterness, ditch the caffeine, avoid the ritalin and make the wise choice: trimethoprim. Goodness knows what's in these tablets, but I have singlehandedly completed a 5-person weekly cleaning rota in the past few hours and am now itching to do more. Do those magazines fall either side of being perpendicular to the table's edge? Is that a length of spaghetti on the sideboard? Moo went to spend the night at J With The Metro's tonight, but before leaving asked me in a concerned voice whether I would be OK on my own. 'Of course I will', I replied. She pauses at the door. 'So the house won't be a different colour when I come back?'. 'Of course not!' Now I imagine that my pupils are a wee bit dilated as I skip about at right angles to the floor. This desk could use a polish...Posted by Hello

Living The Dream (Salute Part II)


This photo was taken roughly a year ago, but I like to look at it because it reminds me that everything comes full circle. Here we are actively demonstrating our ingrained pre-bar rituals; me with two slices of honey on toast, Moo with more than a bottle of wine in front of her and Paul with cheap cider and mobile. A toast to you two for knowing that cabin fever never helped anyone and even a £7 taxi fare is still much better than a poke in the eye. Posted by Hello

Ye Womeyn's Lib (Salute Part I)

I have no idea why the module Medieval Women Writers appealed to me. As if reading authors like 'Hildegard of Bingen' 'Christina of Markyate' and the even more sketchily dubbed 'Marie de France' wasn't vague enough, the course also involves spending two solid hours in the company of extreme feminists, some of whom look as if they would like to have you round at theirs for a nice cup of tea and a mutual vaginal inspection. At least, as an energetic class, there are never awkward silences, but then conversation mostly revolves around the old women's adage (proven by the Medieval view of 'women as commodity') that 'Men Are Shit'. Oddly, the tutor chosen to direct this gathering-together of superfluous oestrogen is a lovely man who somehow manages to negotiate his way through the time slot without yelling/crying in the name of his sex. I salute you. Posted by Hello

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Jagged Little Pill


Am sick. Rubbish. Luckily I have the chance to be nursed by mother at home during the coming week, and have the relatively easy task in the meantime of trying to preserve my decrepit body from withering away in the style of a character from a Thomas Hardy short story. In my current pill-popping state, if one were to compare me to any animal, I would be a captive and very bloated Panda being given a heavy evening mixture of tablets to encourage it to breed.

I do feel a little self-conscious about my (shabby) appearance, although it didn't stop the delightful children in the park today yelling, 'Show us your fanny' at me. Aah, the pleasant sound of five sets of balls not yet dropped, all warbling in unison. Thankfully, the precious Moo brought chocolate, senseless visual entertainment, and the good sense to laugh at said libertines and all was right again. Fickle? Moi? Posted by Hello

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Breakfast Makes It Better



Post-Valentine's Trauma (PVT...see below for excruciating details!), took its toll tonight. Luckily, Moo and I discovered that the best cure ever is possibly The Breakfast Club (c/o BBC1). Why?
  1. There's something a little bit wrong and oh-so-right about Bender (far left) besides his comedy surname (see Principal Vernon deliver the line, 'give it to me, Bender' with no trace of irony whatsoever. Well, he is American). He could be an early white pioneer of the diamond bling-bling ear-stud, and his scarfed boot can't really be beaten for fashion choice. Also, I don't know whether it's my inner bisexual, but his girly 'do is much more appealing than that of the vested Estevez (next left) in retrospect.
  2. Alison paves the way for the classic Ugly Duckling storyline (see My Big Fat Greek Wedding etc). But the speed with which Estevez pulls her close once he gets an eyeful of her new pink top and flower headband (where did that little item come from?!) will displease even the weakest of feminists, or indeed anyone who believes beauty comes from the inside.
  3. 80's dancing. I wish i'd seen more of proper 80's dancing when it was genuine, and not re-created by electoclash girls and boys wearing leg-warmers (the former) and chequered trainers (both). The unabashed throwing of shapes by Ringwald (second from right) and Estevez is astounding. The film-makers possibly went a bit too far, though, by implying that Estevez made a reinforced-glass door smash just by yelling quite loudly in a New Wave-induced rage.
  4. Karl the Janitor is very cool. Why did I not notice this before? Was possibly the slinky pelvic muscles of Bender working his way through the air-duct... What's that? Bender is alarmingly mahogany and quite wrong in general? Tell me something I don't know.
  5. Brian typifies possibly every 'geek' cast in every single film/soap opera made in the last three decades. But he thought up the name 'The Breakfast Club'. That's not geeky, is it? Oh, i've watched this FAR too many times... Posted by Hello

Tears Before Bedtime



Oh dear. The curse of Valentine's has well and truly struck. It ended up just the three of us; me, Reynolds and housemate Matt going to see Yeti. Even though Matt has seen them five times already, when we got to the front of the queue and there were only two tickets left, he insisted on keeping his, thus driving out 'two young lovers on Valentine's Day' (R's words) into the cold. However, we had a surprisingly lovely night involving lots of wine, pillows and good company and triumphed over Valentine's once and for all by agreeing that wasn't it overrated and couldn't we do this any night?

Unfortunately, R's ex-girlfriend (of a year) does celebrate Valentine's and did so this morning by sending him a late Valentine's card asking for him back. I did the bad deed and sneaked a peek at the writing inside. 'I dreamt about you every night last week', says L. 'I'm still in love with you and want us to be back together', finishing with, 'i'll see you on Friday (when he goes home for the weekend) to talk'.

They're very good friends now (or at least I thought they were). I kept my cool before shedding a few nauseated tears while he went for a shower. When he confronted me, I asked him whether she knew he had a girlfriend. No. Did I have anything to worry about? Apparently not. I walked home frustrated, wishing I had asked him whether he would tell her about me or not. Was I being unreasonable in getting upset? I still can't decide, but I'm starting to fret about Friday already. Oh dear, I knew this February the 14th malarkey never agreed with me...

I CHOOSE VODKA...AND CHAKA KHAN!Posted by Hello

Monday, February 14, 2005

Wik-Wik-Wikka (DJ Sound Effect)

Just thought as I was STILL awake, (because of insomnia...gasp!), I might list down the tracks that I can't get out my head right now (in case you were browsing HMV and feeling a bit lost. Or on Kazaa Lite. Naughty.)

  • The Smiths: This Charming Man
  • The Futureheads: Hounds Of Love (The Best Kate Bush Cover Ever TM)
  • Bloc Party: So Here We Are
  • The Beastie Boys: Root Down
  • Interpol: Evil (Hello there, Interpol)
  • The Roots: The Seed
  • Kings of Leon: King of the Rodeo (Good Time To Roll On!...etc)
  • Joy Division: Love Will Tear Us Apart (because it's ALWAYS in my head!)
  • Curtis Mayfield: Move On Up
  • Drew: You Don't Know Me

10 should do it. Goodnight.
Posted by Hello

Fairy Fairy Drunk!



The early hours of Valentine's Day, and me and Moo have just returned form a drunken session at a house down the road (which belongs to guys we have met...er...once?). Moo's Other Half is giving her the same, erm, frustration that R is giving me, and what better way to blow off some steam? Ahh, the decadent sight of Absinthe-soaked sugar burning away in the light of the kitchen. Sundays were made for this. Listening to The Futureheads' Hounds Of Love, life seems much better. And much more swirly and filled with rainbows and moonbeams and circles. I love you Moo (pronounced, 'I, like, so, loooove you Mooooooo'). Against all my non-plussed singleton instincts towards it, I wish everyone a Happy Valentines Day.

Suzette xxx Posted by Hello

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Party Of Two

The week leading up to Valentine's Day is about as subtle as snipping up your ex-boyfriend's favourite T-Shirt (N.B. I have never done that) to form the words 'Better Off' and arranging it on his front lawn. However, this year's countdown has been made a little more bearable by the realisation that Bloc Party's much-hyped album, Silent Alarm, is being lovingly placed on the shelves of record shops as we speak. And excuse me while I go into stereotypical girl groupie mode, but the beautiful features of one Mr. Kele Okereke (far left) are hardly hindering the operation. If you are single for Valentine's Day, and even if you're not, vote with your wallet/purse/small coin sack tomorrow. After all, being alone in the company of the exquisite Kele couldn't but help you feel just that little bit more amorous towards life itself on the gloomy 14th. Posted by Hello

The Brown Bean Of Love


There isn't any chocolate in the house today. Disaster strikes! I got to thinking about how the strength of my usual chocolate urges has skyrocketed in the past week. Since Monday morning, i've eaten no less than 6 Mars Big Ones, 8 chocolate-chip muffins, 1 chocolate Galaxy Muffin, 2 Twirls, 3 Spira Bars, a 400g bar of Dairy Milk, 2 chocolate croissants and numerous Hot Chocolates (and i'm not counting the unfortunately un-chocolated cheesecake I snaffled).

Call me obsessed, but I can't help wondering whether it's anything to do with my current sex drought. In which case, how the hell did I live for 20 years and not surpass that in stone weight?!

Food for thought.Posted by Hello

Saturday, February 12, 2005

The Tim Blue Line



Don't you just love hearing from old friends? The other night, me and housemate Lyd received a late-night phonecall from our old fresher housemate Tim, who's now back home in Vancouver. It's reassuring and frightening that people tend to stay the same forever (of course it's the former with Tim), and its even better share the same old jokes and still find them funny. Our favourite is the one of poor youthful little Timmy who was made to wear a huge velvet horse-riding helmet just to ride his bike down to the shops...and in the shops themselves. 'But Mommy! I don't wanna wear the helmet! None of the other kids have to!' Hee Hee. Maybe we'll catch you later this year Tim.Posted by Hello

The Incredible Wall-Climbing Spider Girl!

I'd left R's house on Tuesday lunchtime having been sexually rebuffed that morning, but then after the 'invitation incident', i'd decided things were best left cooled. Unfortunately, his definition of 'cool' denotes a Nuclear Winter akin to that widely feared during the Cold War/ days of the 'Iron Curtain' etc etc, and so with not as much as a 'Hello' text by late Friday, I lapsed and called him to arrange the next rendezvous. 'Well, i'm sort of hungover', says R. 'Why don't I text you later this evening about maybe perhaps possibly you coming to see me?' It will take me an hour to walk to his house in the cold and the dark and the rain. I have a tired wibbly and accuse him of being severely lacking in effort. 'OK, OK', he reassures, 'If you come over I will even pay your cab fare'. Excellent. And maybe he will even cook (albeit monstrous fried creation).

We have a nice evening during which he records some new songs onto his dictaphone (and I accompany him on the House Set Of Drums- an empty guitar box). But when it comes to bed-time, he loses his enthusiasm. 'I'M SOOO TIRED!', he bellows with the dramatic intentions of Zsa Zsa Gabor, 'I can't WAIT for my bed!' (he's already in it). Then he switches the lamp off. And turns over. I wriggle out of my skirt and slip unnoticed under the covers, whilst he shuffles as far over to the wall as possible. During the night, I dream we're having sex three times, and each post-dream waking brings the crashing reality that he'll start fretfully bouncing around even if I accidentally brush his foot. By the morning, I'm climbing the walls and try to initiate something. He's having none of it, and sprints out of the room, mug of tea in hand. Eventually I am resigned to grabbing my bag and heading home. 'I guess i'll see you on Monday then'.

Unfortunately I think R assumes that being a very recent virgin, I will be satisfied with sex once a week (with a good amount of persuasion on my part) and with the fact that his libido has not only fallen, but apparently skydived from a very high building without a parachute, hit the pavement, caused a terrible mess and taken someone with it as well.

I'm planning to make some serious moves on Monday. And if that doesn't work? Clamber, clamber...

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

An Invitation to Disaster

Met up with my ex-girlfriend today for coffee. It's nice that we can chit chat like we used to do back in the day (although talk of our new boyfriends- i've already dated hers- is secretly prohibited due to obvious potential awkwardness)! Fox's big 21 is coming up on sunday, and I was given my first post break-up invite to one of her regular shindigs (and it's an important one!). The invite was addressed to Suzette and Reynolds. I was so overawed by the fact that she was cool with us coming as a couple (and hey, well near encouraging it), I didn't pay any attention to an unexplainable rumbling in my stomach (i'd had breakfast, thanks) until much later.

Suzette and Reynolds. It struck me: a mere 10 weeks in (I won't go into hours, minutes, seconds etc), are we really becoming a proper 'we'? Fox had inadvertently brought out my inner commitment-phobe. I found myself stressing over high ideas of self-sufficiency, independence and identity. Had I become too attached to R? Worse: had I become dependent on him? Even worse: did we have to sign birthday cards together now? Shudder, shudder.

I already knew R couldn't make it to the party (he's going to Wales). More to the point, the invite gave me a good kick back into reality. This week is for Suzette and Suzette only; and Reynolds comes later. Posted by Hello

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

A Shrove In The Right Direction

Today is Pancake Day!

Time to prove to your housemates once and for all that your tossing skills are above any other's. OK, enough with the predictable batter-flipping innuendos. Really though, I think you'll find it's me.


Posted by Hello

Monday, February 07, 2005

She's Like The Wind

Aaah, Valentines approacheth... This will be the first year out of 21 where I will be officially 'attached' for February the 14th. Cue Vomit.

The drought years hardened me to the GCSA (Greeting Card Sponsored Affection) of Valentine's Day. If we were to put this in visual/literal terms, my skin would probably resemble John Wayne's chaps after a hard day on-set. It's that leathery. When I see those paper hearts in shop windows, the effect is Pavlovian; suddenly I am awash with images of couples calling each other 'babe' in B&Q as they attempt to choose between the last two delapidated Christmas trees. Or putting on 'their song' on the Stereo at a party and going all misty-eyed. Or being so glued to their mobiles that the abused instrument has never been allowed to ring out for a text message a second time, before its owner is frantically twiddling their thumbs in reply. In short, I'm fairly smug and satisfied to be a singleton, and not commit any of these heinous crimes to public decency. Or was.



Now that i'm 'involved' with R, what Valentine's terrors await me? Do I have to get a present for him (he's a preferred singleton himself), or even a card? And do we HAVE to go out? I find myself, after years of Ostrich-style head burying in reaction to St. Valentine's farcical legacy, thinking about it incessantly and how it would be soooo much easier to join all the other SAD (Single Awareness Day) revellers I had such good piss-ups with in the (legal, of course) Wonder Years.

Don't worry. I've solved it. It's going to be a normal dinner (possibly one of R's 'experimental' fried creations) and then the expected excursion. To a brilliant gig. With our friends. And neither of us will remember that it's Valentine's Day. Fingers crossed. Posted by Hello

The Brownie Code



Received a text last night from I, wanting to know a brownie recipe...Gaah!

Flashback to three weekends ago... Me and my lovely housemate Moo decided we'd try some "magic" foods and cooked up a whole batch of odorous green-tinged brownies for the two of us. Of course, R (swoon) didn't trust our girl constitutions (pah!) and stayed to observe us (Read: 'Join In For Free). It was exactly 24 hours after we'd said those three little words to each other that I had the revelations that,
  • I was eight years old and that he and Moo were my dissapproving parents
  • My little stoodent house was a huge country mansion in which Lemar was the butler (drool!)
  • I had an ability to transform into a worm which could be used for fishing

And more truthfully, that,

  • Potato Wedges really do hit all the right spots
  • Throwing up and seeing green flakes is really not nice, especially with your new interest knocking on the door throughout
  • It's hard to get undressed by yourself sometimes, and it doesn't help that he's grumpy because he missed Match of the Day when you were having an 'episode' Posted by Hello

Luckily, he didn't dump me. In fact he proved himself to be a Man of Worth TM with Moo for this nugget of advice....

What Would Bob Marley Do?

He'd go down a woodland path with a football and kick it against a tree a few times.

To feel better, mentally kick a ball against a tree 28 times

Sunday, February 06, 2005

Sipping Sea Breezes



February 6th and Cromer. Eating "Haddock and Chips" on a bench dedicated to Brandon Lee, Lifeboat- and Fisherman. A lady picks up her chihauhua and stuffs it into her coat to keep it warm. The parents squint into the wind whilst their frugal student daughter diddles away with her Chip Fork and makes the most of it. Winter Sundays Are The Best. Posted by Hello

Mission Statement?

Hello lovelies and welcome to my blog. You may wonder why I consider myself web-fit. Some have wit, some have charm, some have tremendous technological skills, whilst others have, erm, insomnia. And you may have already guessed that I fall in the category of the latter. A housemate suggested that I might keep a diary to aid my slumber, but I lack the discipline for that. So here I am, posting away on the pretence that someone somewhere will be counting on my daily rambles! It won't all be bus tickets and pasta; my love life is gruesomely complicated and reads like the most melodramtic of Neighbours' storylines (i.e. your archetypal car crash scenario), so will hopefully be entertaining at least for those of you without insomnia! Enjoy...

A Suzette; And Make It Crêpe!



This is me. Thought you might like to know who's talking to you. Or possibly herself Posted by Hello