NORTH COUNTRY FAIR

Nothing to do with Charlize Theron or Bob Dylan.

Name:
Location: Norwich, United Kingdom

Keep on Truckin'.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

And You Are...?

In attempt to live a life of exuberance, the wallet has been feeling rather light of late. I thought I would be a good worker bee and do some temp work to tide me over until The (next) Day Of Glory (i.e. Student Loan Instalment day). However, when I turned up perky-faced this morning, I'd had more working invisaged than 10 minutes. It was after this time-elapse that I discovered someone else had been given my job...because she had an almost identical full name. Ah. Luckily it gives me a couple of days to gear up to mine and Nina's night out in London. The question on everyone's lips: what to wear?! I know, snore, snore. But they're scenesters! And I was probably sooo over five years ago! And my hair looks like yellow wine gums. Should I risk going brown with a home-dye kit? Actually, that's two questions.

Monday, March 21, 2005

The Dark Pit Of Girl

OK, so I'm just about to finish my essay. Thank gosh for that. Am still doing the weird clicky squinty eye thing at the computer screen (and it's a big one back home), but I may not be dying after all. OK, I admit it, I am categorically NOT dying. However, I am having possibly the mother of all periods (sorry, men). Because I was rubbish at remembering to take the Pill, I've been taking it for three months straight. Now that I've stopped (because, lets face it, I don't exactly NEED it anymore, and pumping the NHS for free prescriptions simply to keep my oestrogen-induced larger cup-size would be immensely morally wrong), I'm so swarmed with hormones I'm practically hovering. Did The Wedding Planner make YOU cry? No, of course it didn't. You're probably rational. I was reading a magazine column by a new mother the other day who said that post-birth, it felt as if her womb might just drop out at any moment. When I cough hard, I get exactly that feeling. Graphic, eh?

Apologies for descending into the Dark Pit Of Girl, there. I shall be back to normal in no time, what with it being Easter and all, and there being plenty of chocolate for the snaffling...and all.

Stay Safe x

Friday, March 18, 2005

Regrets..?

I've had a few. When you try and live a life of decadence for three weeks running, kids, when really your body is rather feak and weeble, things will inevitably catch up with you. And so it was at Lydia's Birthday Bash at the LCR, where the disease suppressed itself until midnight (allowing some last decent bopping) and then was fully unleashed, so that poor Moo was forced to take the Long Walk Home with me. I'm definitely on my way out. I'm coughing like the old guy from The Fast Show. Clearly I didn't get the essay done. Virile Woman to WomanChrist, anyone?

Mother has agreed to pick me up on Monday instead to allow vital weekend writing time, which has given me an extra day in bed (woo!), though with the window open, one can only be ushered to sleep by a cacophony of construction drills (damn the new housing!). The rampant coughing, sweats and jippy achy legs definitely aren't helping my chances with either sex. l think i'll be a good bunny and crack on with some reading...unless Richard and Judy is on. It is, isn't it? Posted by Hello

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Paddy's Day


'Tis Paddy's Day once again. A day when genuine Irish, Irish 'rooted' (apparently all American Exchange Students) and pure English blue-bloods come together to celebrate the driving out of snakes from the Emerald Isle....and Guinness...and free Guinness hats. What I love about Uni on sunny days like this is the hundreds of sandalled students eating 'proper' Norfolk ice-cream in the square. Summer is coming! However, I might have enjoyed it more were I not convinced that I am about to shuffle off this frivolous mortal coil. I appear to have contracted some sort of disease which induces delusional dreams and prevents any sort of swallowing action. I conveniently managed to snaffle The Godfather pudding at Emma's birthday meal last night before said affliction took hold, but now I have to finish (and in fact, start) an essay due in tomorrow, which is considerably more tricky. Plus tonight is Lydia's 'Uni' Birthday, so there will be certain other distractions!

St. Patricks Day, coupled with a sold-out last Union Night of the Semester, mixed with a housemate's 21st...ooh, it's a messy combination...
Posted by Hello

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Song Of The Week


Having heard it in The Ten Bells last night, it's going to have to be Iggy Pop's 'The Passenger'. Posted by Hello

The Town Red

Tonight, Moo, Lyd, Emma, James, Chris, Al, Boulder, John, Harry, Paul (as in random-photo-guy), Steve and I (in total; some dropped in, some dropped out) attempted a legendary pub crawl.

We started off at The City Gate. Such an 'Old-Man Pub', that the words 'Half Pint' are written in huge letters on the side of each glass for the visually-impaired. And most of the patrons wear glasses which look like they may have been fashioned out of milk-bottles, using basic welding tools and no eye-protection. Next Stop:

The Ten Bells. A decent little nook featuring old signs (including one above the side door reading, 'Bullshit Corner'. Guess which door Steve popped through, everyone?) and fairy-lights (and the potent smell of green), and playing some classic choons (think, 'Paint It Black', 'The Ace of Spades', 'The Passenger' etc). Friction stirred when Steve 'subtly' indicated to Chris that my sparkly cardigan was rather Gary (Glitter). Think, 'ton of bricks', 'lead balloon' etc. However, the alcohol was beginning to kick in and the mood became all orange and shiny....this was when we headed to

The Plough. Gaah. A 'school-boy error' Pub (as in 'Former Valentine's Day Haunt'). I began to feel a bit unstable, and what better than a solo Salt-Tequila-Lemon to rectify that? Oddly, the back room (each room is probably the size of your average Lounge-Room) was being occupied by some sort of Secret Society-type meeting. The only way to get to the toilets was to interrupt and sidestep about their little circle. All I managed to discover was that they were 'obviously going to Wymondham at some point' and 'desperately need the web-site up and running'. Any guesses, anyone?' Which brings us to

The Hog In Armour. From what I recall, we didn't stay here that long, although it was long enough for a double-Vodka-and-lemonade. So now we add Vodka to the list, alongside Stella and Tequila. We shoot off and drop into

The Delaney, an Irish Pub, who are having some sort of Private Party upstairs with a Live Band. To reiterate: we are NOT allowed upstairs. 'Paul, come back'. However, we are allowed (very expensive) drinks at the downstairs bar. Chris gives me a 'tip-off' on the Cider, so I escape lightly (£2.80). Poor Lyd is not so lucky; she gets a glass of cheap-looking Rosé...for £5.45. We're students, don't you know? At this point, the mostly AWOL Steve suggests the Prince of Wales before hitting Time (like Mercy, see previous posts). We let Al 'go-ahead' with him, find the pub and walk straight past (sorry, Al). So now for

Time. We stay pretty much until closing time. Great music played by a rather middling-aged and decrepit DJ who keeps hilaaaariously instructing the mysterious 'Geordie Lass' to text him more Porn. Over The Chemical Brothers. But who thought Feeder could be so much fun?! When we leave, we miraculously spot Al (who gets inevitably abused by the boys on site; this includes simulated raping and actual dumping of his poor helpless body into a skip. N.B. Al is immediately fished out of the skip and comes to no harm. He also probably enjoys being straddled by Paul). We head to

MegaMunch (Food Emporium Extraordinaire) for 'Garliiic Pizza, yeeees?!' (Chris manages to carry me 'wedding-threshold style' halfway up the hill) before all bundling into a taxi home. The driver is a 'comedian' who takes the chance of my sitting next to him to tell me I look like a Norman (as in the ancient Race, not a man's name), Normans have ruined the country, my coat looks like tatty old 70's wallpaper, our garden is rubbish, and £15 for a fare is 'cheap'. I lie; the word he used was 'bargain'. Ha ha ha! What, seriously?

Best night out of the year!

Posted by Hello

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Lost In Space

Tonight, Moo and I went to Po Na Na's for their twice-weekly indie night. I was actually supposed to be seeing The Raveonettes at Norwich Arts Centre. I only managed to make it as far as the bus-stop when Mother called. 'I'm at home tonight, licking envelopes', says she. Oddly, this triggers absolute bawling on my part, and I end up back at the house five minutes later, tail definitely in-between legs.

Po Na Na's was absolutely rammed, mostly with baggy-jean wearing waifs and strays (just how I like them, although fastening your belt under your boxered buttocks is taking things a tad far). Usually 'Whorge' (my rampant-eyed alter-ego) would have been immediately activated at this pleasant sight, but I am (still) seemingly 'off' men and wasn't tempted in the slightest. Rubbish.

However, they did play 'Gigantic' by The Pixies. Bonus.

Tomorrow, The Absinthe Guys TM are leading us about on a pub crawl. I will try and restrain myself from making any regretful posts during the wee small hours, but i'm not promising anything.

Listening to:

McKay, 'Take Me Over'
Led Zeppelin, 'That's The Way'
Maggy Star, 'Into Dust'
My Bloody Valentine, 'Sometimes'
Coldplay, 'I Ran Away'

Monday, March 14, 2005

Crudeness Apologies

We stayed in an all-female dorm at the Stay Okay Hostel Stadsdoelen. For £15 a night, we got breakfast (Dutch Breakfast Cake, Raisin Bread, toast, cheese, ham, hot chocolate, coffee, fruit juice etc etc...definitely pick up the chocoladepasta- Nutella but better!), a huge locker, bed sheets and a free drink at the bar (a bit like Aftershock- feel the burn!)...plus they also gave us plates and a huuuge knife for Nina's Birthday Cake and a good sing-song....all in the City Centre. For anyone who's thinking of going 'Dam-way, I would really recommend it. Me and Moo are already talking of booking sometime soon. Click here for more info.


Hostel tips (a lucky 7):
  1. Don't set your alarm for 6.30am; it pisses your dorm-mates off. Well, it certainly pissed US off.
  2. Don't go to your locker, bend down and demonstrate flatulence for the two Spanish girls absentmindedly brushing their hair. If this happens, do start giggling, thus showing your ability to laugh at your own apparently chronic problem. Good save, Anne-Sophie.
  3. Don't leave huge (open) bottles of Red Wine at the foot of the English girl's bed ladder. It wasn't my fault the Cabernet Sauvignon went everywhere in the pitch darkness of 3am, honest!
  4. Do let people know if it's your birthday. American Girls: 'Are you guys, like, having a party?!' The more, the merrier.
  5. Don't fix up your lunch from breakfast stuff, that's just cheeky. Do take advantage of the left-over cartons of chocoladepasta.
  6. Do be vigilant with your naked self. Female shower-rooms are not necessarily so if the boys' one is full.
  7. Do take flip-flops. How else will you negotiate the steep frosty steps twixt bathroom and bedroom? Posted by Hello

Red Hair: SOS

Last night (Saturday) at The Doors Café, me and Anne-Sophie decided we'd like to have a bit of a smoke. I asked for a Menu, at which point I was shown a gold gilt square which, if you pressed a button, framed a lit-up display of all the available 'items'. We hadn't got a clue. 'Errrr, we'll take the K2 Red Hair' (any guesses?). Papers and filters we 'borrowed' from the jar on the counter.


We cheerfully take the green back to our table. One problem. 'OK, who's rolling?'. Nina shakes her head. 'I'm not smoking'. 'Really? Oh, OK, Anne-Sophie then...'. Anne-Sophie gives me a look. 'I cannot roll to save my LIFE!', she chuckles. Oh dear. The only rolling 'skills' I have are the mental ones gleaned from watching Reynolds, 'The Pro', light up of an evening. I am trying my best, but it looks like a chipolata and the filter probably couldn't stop a peanut dropping through. We ask for help...success! Whilst puffing, we are able to properly to take in our surroundings; the painting of a very almond-eyed Jim Morrisson with 'Sun Ray' lights projected onto his forehead (as in, 'Whoa, the rays are just emanating from his genius brain' etc)....the 60s wallpaper...vinyls...guitars...BLOODY GREAT BIG SPIDER IN MY FACE!!! Ah, was just the bartender trying to sketch us out with a huge furry model on a rope. Thank goodness they'd run out of SpaceCake or that could have tipped me over the wrong way. Posted by Hello

Sundays Are Back

Tonight, me and Moo went over to the Absinthe Guys TM 's house and enjoyed a few free drinks (Whisky & Coke, followed by Rosé), all in the tradition of the Crazy Sunday (est. Fresher Year). It ended up in surveying some of John (absent)'s porn, which featured (excuse me here) some very misshapen vaginas. Moo and I were flabbergasted by some of them; one girl had long strips of skin hanging off 'her', for goodness' sake! I'd love to know how much the 'lesbians' were paid for their 'photo-story'; it should have been more if only to cover the cost of them looking remotely interested in licking each other's inner thighs. Also; liking the gadget articles every five pages or so! Boys, eh?

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Doors And Windows


Have just jetted in from the 'Dam (dahling). If it sounds glamorous, you clearly didn't factor in Official Airport Faff, 2h30 of National Express and a Long Bus Home (dahling). However, I had an absolutely awesome weekend (with Nina, Anne-Sophie and Hannah) soaking in the sights (and smells) of Amsterdam. I'm sure some stories will seep onto here during the next few days, but for now, let me say that The Doors Café (as in the band) near Centraal Station is possibly one of the coolest places I have ever been. Visit the (very sketchy) website here. Posted by Hello

The Sunday Pin-Up


I did consider putting a nice photo of my Dad up (smiling, posing etc), but then I reconsidered and decided this way was far more entertaining (for myself). Dad (real name: Frank) is this week's Sunday Pin-Up because today is his 58th Birthday! However, it's lucky this diary is fairly low-key, because I think he tells people that he's 53 still (he was 47 for several years). Happy Birthday. Posted by Hello

Friday, March 11, 2005

Packing Up, Jetting Off


(Technically) today, I'm heading off to Amsterdam to see lovely Nina (whose birthday it is), her Uni-mate Anne-Sophie and her Mum, who is coming along tonight to take us out for a lovely (free) meal...yippee! Nina pointed out that it may be hard to therefore celebrate our arrival by going to a coffee-house, but then we will be there for another ENTIRE day, so I'm sure we'll squeeze it in somehow. Am trying to decide what to pack at the moment, although it seems that only a couple of T-Shirts and deodorant will really be required; a bit of a come-down from the 6-week Thailand packing which happened the last time I had itchy feet (malaria tablets and emergency syringes etc).

Have a fun weekend, everyone xxx
Posted by Hello

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Postscript

Bits and bobs I forgot to mention.

1. Song Of The Week TM is, this week, 'Baba O'Riley' by The Who. It's all about old-skool.

2. When you're going through a break-up, you can always rely on good friends to come up with some glittering nuggets of advice on how to best recover from a damaged heart. However, Moo trumped them all with this:

S: (on Reynolds situation) 'I did actually send him a text today about my lovely guitar.'

M: 'Whaaaat? Why would you do that? Why?'

S: 'I was trying to be nice'.

M: (Suddenly adopts comedy vocabulary). 'Stop being bloody nice. He is pillock. Stop being a bothered and let him shit in the grovel'.

Thanks, Moo.


Meet Your Cousins Posted by Hello

The Explanation

There was no time for caressing Erin this evening as it was straight out to the Union for 'Burberry Bling UK vs Trailer Trash USA' Night (Moo and I here representing both teams). Oh, the quality of student entertainment. The night was to celebrate the UEA vs UE (University of Essex) Sports Derby, so needless to say, there were many people in the SU Bar dressed in 'chav' costumes without knowing there was a theme night going on. Ha! Just kidding! No, actually not. The bar was rammed with Sports Teams, and therefore vomit, and one man decided to entertain himself with his heavily exposed appendage on one of the sofas while, oddly, his male friends watched. Eurgh, that one's going to wake me up in a cold sweat tonight.

We scarpered upstairs as soon as we could; the boys dressed brilliantly in their townie/trashy garb, and had an absoutely fantastic bop (first on the dancefloor, people!). James and I had a good waterfight going on at the fountain. He was wearing some sort of ultra-static synthetic (chav) tracksuit material which absorbed all the liquid in nano-seconds; I still had the appearance of a person competing in a Wet T-Shirt Competition much later. We unfortunately attracted the attention of Gareth (him again) who I was worried might lynch James at one point for touching my bare arm! with his hand! Attempted to be tactful in turning his dinner-offer down for the third time, then got told off by Moo for being 'too nice' when i should have 'told the creep to bugger off'. Hmm.

Steve was so inebriated on the long walk home that Chris, James, John and Al wanted to take me and Moo through the park simply to cut a bit of time off and therefore escape the drunken (heavy) shoulders of said Hockey Boy. Bogs: hard to see in almost pitch darkness. We've no idea how he did it, but Steve managed to catch up with us once we were back on the main road and poor Al was left to support his 6'4" brick-house frame and the singing of old sailor songs all the way home.

Is now 3.15am. Bleurmegumun. The sound of absinthe, pre-hangover headache, lethargy and cheese on toast all circulating within one body. Posted by Hello

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Goodbye Ruby Tuesday


Today I carted Ruby down to St. Benedict's Street to exchange her for a larger, acoustic version. Poor Ruby, she's never really been given a chance at a good life, being right-handed and all, and me being utterly inept. However, the guy who offered to take her from me was being downright insulting to her when he suggested that a fair price for her beautiful Fender Squire curves was £40. 'Whaaaaat?!' Then I looked around me and realised that there were several other young chaps also selling their beloveds for back-of-lorry prices. I suddenly felt very soul-less.

Luckily, salvation arrived in the form of a Westland left-handed electro-acoustic going half-price. I creep up to her, stalker-style and whisper 'Hello, beautiful' at her fret-board. I am so taken with her, that 'Dave' agrees to significantly bump up his offer for Ruby and I also manage to blag myself a free carry-bag, whilst being serenaded by an Elvis impersonator, who apparently 'comes in everyday and performs in the style of Shakin' Stevens for the benefit of the customers. He's mental'.

Above, you may observe the prettiness of Erin, our newest housemate. She's comparatively a bit of a beast in size to Ruby, but she's so shiny and I can stick a battery in her! Excellent. Posted by Hello

On Your Marks


Athlete: Now tapping into the marketing goldmine that is 'Middle-Aged Housewives'
This evening, Paul and I went to see Athlete at the LCR. Shockingly, none of them were smothered in baby-oil, or even wearing jock-straps! Of course, I jest. The last time I saw Athlete play was at V2003 and 'Vehicles and Animals' was proving a big hit on the NME (other) Stage. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and me and Big Sis were enjoying a lie-down in the daisies (and used condoms) whilst unfussed spectators mooched about our legs. We both agreed that we liked the 'twiddly bits' (girls, eh?) on the tracks. So when I caught an earful of second album 'Tourist', I was a little dissapointed that Athlete had quieted their keyboards and morphed into 'KeanePlay', albeit a record company's wet-dream, with rousing guitars and, 'one day you're going to be swept off your feet...' type lyricism. I went along this evening shamefully sceptical, because they actually did a darn good job of it, striking a good balance between the 'twiddly' and 'new' bits, and being playful with the crowd.
However: A question (unrelated to the lovely Athlete) . Camera phones, and tall men at the front. Why are these necessary? Posted by Hello

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Lets Make A Rendezvous


Excessive acne: check. Greasy canary hair: check. Obligatory run-in with recent ex: check. Apparently Reynolds doesn't remember that we actually went out for three months, slept together etc. The only mild reference he made to having seen anything of me off-campus was a feeble (although unprovoked) apology for having 'run-away' from me on Friday night. 'I...er....bit drunk... (barely audible vowel sounds)....went to bed'. He succesfully skirted around the 'text dumping' that happened the same night, and instead preceded to moan about his continual man-flu, and his attempts to score a 'Henry'. My unimpressed expression probably says all, and I find myself unable to control cat-like urges. 'I find it funny that my legacy is introducing you to your dealer', says I (I don't smoke. Much). 'Isn't that ironic?' Awkward silence. 'I'll see you round then', I proffer, putting gloves on. 'Yes', he says. 'I'm going to have to leave you because I probably should be going home to bed'. Petty 'I need to leave first' banter ensues. When we finally part, I catch him looking back a couple of times. I spend the long walk home feeling just a tad confused. Posted by Hello

Sing-a-long-a-Ronan


This evening, two of the Absinthe Guys, James and Chris, popped around with a carrier-bag full of Stellas (kids, eh?) and helped us to snaffle the rest of our wine, plus new stock J With The Metro kindly delivered us. Chris tuned Ruby (my poor, abandoned Squire Stratocaster) for me, and kindly played us a few ditties, the highlight being Ronan Keating's 'You Say It Best (When You Say Nothing At All)'. However, the sound Lyd and I produced to accompany him probably sounded like two bad karaoke singers who had both been sedated with a heavy shot of morphine as we struggled to recognise crucial shifts like verse, chorus etc and only managed the odd line of actual lyric.

Chris turned out to be quite the storyteller; the time his friend ill-advisedly put the words 'pimp-palace' in her front-bedroom window and a man knocked on the door asking to come in, thinking the house was a brothel and she its prostitute...the school trip aged 17 when a pupil drunkenly wet himself (and his teacher's arm) during his sleep and they wouldn't let him (the pupil) wash for the next day as punishment...the same trip when their translator mispronounced the Polish city as Krakov and told them, 'when the Pope comes to krakov we ring the bell'.... the time a man shouted at him insanely for opening 'his' shop (he worked for Sainsbury's) despite the fact they had run out of quail's eggs...I could go on...

N.B. This morning I realised that Colgate Total does not work on spots. But it does make quite a mess on one's face. Not a problem, unless one should leave the house in a hurry the next morning and forget to scrape it all off (I came *this* close, people)! Posted by Hello

Monday, March 07, 2005

Out, Out, Damned Spot


Here is a photo (obviously) of Moo (left) and I (right) and a reveller from the Uni-Bar-Social-Bar-Golf, which filtered its way through six degrees of seperation (in reality, two) into my bedroom tonight. Please ignore the red-eye (I blame it on poor lighting and camera usage); I put it up to illustrate the sheer yellowness of my poor abused locks, for those of you who have asked me what it looks like. Yes, that does appear to be a quiff. But we were grabbed! There was no time for combs! etc etc.

My main visual difficulty at the moment is, however, 'The Skin Beneath The Quiff'. As if my poor heart hadn't suffered enough (hand-to-forehead action), my skin has now chosen to take the time to rebel against me, therefore creating a sort of pre-Krakatoa effect on my face. I'm sure I heard my pores cackling with glee last night as I slowly fell to sleep ('She Got Dumped, Let's Rub It In'...and such paranoia) and as I awoke to Emma's Sunday hoovering session, my forehead and chin were inevitably covered with hard, red, tense, peaks. Gosh, I've made zits sound absolutely filthy there.

Having tried to rectify the situation with cover-up (and failed, due to extremely dry skin resisting the alien stick and forming delicious-looking face-cracks akin to those found in dried-up riverbeds), I now have little blobs of toothpaste on the offending areas (and probably look like a pubescent who has cut himself shaving). Please work. Come and get me, boys, etc.

Posted by Hello

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em

Today was Mothering Sunday and, being a diligent daughter, I called Mother to hopefully discover that she was with feet raised and gorging on artery-clogging sweets. However, not only was she doubled-over feeding the cats, but seemed to be primarily concerned with my own love life.

M: 'Oh. It sounds like he's a little confused, dear. Has Moo managed to introduce you to any nice Brazilians yet?'

S: 'Actually, no, but she's trying her best. We've been out almost every night this week.'

M: 'Oh good, so you're certainly meeting people, then?!'

S: Howls. 'Well, I guess you know things are bad when even your own mother is trying to pimp you!'

M: 'No, darling, I just don't want you to feel unhappy.'

S: 'I thought you said you shouldn't rely on men to make you happy?!'

M: 'Well, no dear, but it's not a hindrance is it? Now then, I know something which will make you laugh. The government sent me a letter saying how much my State Pension is going to be!' (Mother is not-quite 55)

S: 'And....?!?'

M: '(Discloses pitiful sum). You will look after me when I'm older, won't you?'

S: 'Of course I will. I'll just put you in a home.'

M: 'In which case, you can kiss your inheritance 'goodbye'; it'll be going to the cat shelter'.

Tonight, me and Moo headed (again) to the Union Bar, where we shared a very swilled bottle of wine and discussed, amongst other things, other people's marriages, the fact that we seem to magnetise sketchy people towards us, and gave a post-mortem to the annual Universe conspiration. This year, it brought a break-up (mine) and a housemate (Y) moving out. And the conspiring always seems to happen in February. What's up with that?

In other news, the hair is now verging on pathologically ginger, Al's (Abinthe Guys Associate) girlfriend is devastatingly beautiful and, thanks to www.bebo.com, I today received multiple photos of my ex-gilrfriend with her steady (my ex) boyfriend. Thanks for that, guys. Posted by Hello

The Sunday Pin-Up


The Girlie Bit Of The Blog TM. Sundays' First Pin-Up is Guy Berryman, Coldplay bassist. He stole my heart when I was 16 and foolish. Gosh, I really must learn to stay away from bassists, mustn't I?!

N.B. I did not enlarge this photo myself! Put this hysteria down to the oestrogen-fuelled mania of a First Big Crush. I was a late-comer.

Posted by Hello

Saturday, March 05, 2005

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly


As per drunken vow, here are my five bugbears. Thought it was best to counteract the negativity with five good things, and thereby restoring cosmic balance etc. This has come at the price of my work; it's very hard to muster enthusiasm for Joan of Arc though when one can quite clearly hear one's housemate shagging her French boyfriend (ouiouioui etc) in her shower!

The bad and ugly:
  1. Mime Artists. They're like clowns, who are quite frankly terrifying, but they insist on trying to interact with people to a much more aggressive degree. The fact that they call themselves 'artists' is also fairly flabbergasting.
  2. Push Chairs: The Battering Rams of the 21st Century. It has not been unknown for these vehicles of intimidation to turn at right-angles/ make hairpin manoeuvres towards and on to unsuspecting toes and sustain their course regardless. Most of them don't have children in.
  3. Tutting. From whence did this method of showing dissapproval cometh? Often perpetrated in unnecessary instances of irritation, i.e. by women whose husbands have failed to mow the lawn, or by bus drivers at the mere whiff of a banknote, it is the tried and tested expression of passive-aggressiveness. Its Amercian sister is the reply, 'whatever'.
  4. Corky's Vodka Shots. Vodka and creamy liqueur combined in one plastic and foil-covered shot glass does not a good night make. I've been to pubs where they are sold as four for a fiver with the footer, 'X encourages responsible drinking'. I'm sorry, what now?
  5. Mizzle. Wetness expelled by an incontinent cloud who can't hang on to its moisture long enough to rain properly. Mizzle is generally not visible, not heavy enough to require an umbrella without looking like a hypochondriac with an unnatural fear of air-borne bacteria, and not light enough to arrive at your destination not looking like a drowned sewer rat.

And now for the good...

  1. Excessive snow. Nothing like a good few inches to bring back the gay abandon of your childhood! I make a crunching sound when I walk! I'm walking with my mouth open! Look, I made a giant snowball, put sticks in it and now it looks like a man! Hurrah! Don't tell me you've never watched The Snowman, you heartless fool...
  2. Barbeques. My 'Uni Birthday' (I spent my real birthday in Thailand) last year was spent cooking up hundreds of little sausages on two tiny disposable BBQ's, dipping into a coolbox filled with Stella, white wine and Vodka, and playing frisbee, while J With The Metro put on some breaks for atmosphere. I burn good burger, people.
  3. Cosmo Kissing. I love it when you meet new people and they kiss you on both cheeks. A bit of an odd one, I realise, but its much more fun than the awkward 'mini-wave' a lot of people do when they hear, 'And this is...'
  4. Good New Music. What beats hearing a song for the first time which makes your spine quiver?
  5. Orchids. Preeeee-ty! Posted by Hello

Making Contact


In one of my units there is a fantastically intelligent guy who never fails to pipe up when the conversation gets heavy. T has regaled us over the weeks with stories of Incan blood rituals, the Spanish Inquistion and 15th Century pygmies in Oceania...unfortunately they in no way relate to what we are discussing. The Rampant American Feminists (the alternative RAF) of the class refuse to talk to him, ever since he claimed their 'colonial accents' were impossible to understand. I thought I would try to 'make contact' during the fag break, seeing as the only real fault he has is of being too well read and having the odd screw loose. In true Brit style, I struck up a typical banal, non-education-related conversation about the weather (well, it had snowed 5 inches that morning). It backfired.

S: 'Did you walk or drive in this morning?' (Lame, lame, lame)

T: Scowl. 'Where?'

S: 'Into campus'

T: Confused look. 'What into campus?'

S: 'Did you walk or drive?'

T: Irate glance. 'I don't understand what you're trying to ask me'

S: 'When you came to the seminar this morning on campus, how did you get here? Did you walk or drive?'

T: Scoffs. 'Me drive? You wouldn't catch me in such a heretical vehicle!'

S: Wrongly attempts joke. 'Cars aren't heretical, our local vicar drives a 4 x 4'.

T: Curls lip. 'Excuse me?'

S: Scared. 'Well, you said cars were heretical, but vicars drive them'.

T: Digusted. 'I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're trying to say to me. Could you clarify your point, please?'

S: Stumped. 'You said cars were heretical, so...'

T: Narrows eyes to slits. 'No I didn't. What on earth are you talking about?'.

S: Defeated. 'Nothing important'.

T: 'What is important, is that Mohammed is widely regarded as having been the figurehead for feminism since the 14th Century...'

Of course.

Posted by Hello

The Pope On Line One


OK, chaps, this is Vatican DC, the band I attempted to give 'constructive criticism' whilst perhaps a tad intoxiacted last night (see Tears Before Bedtime II). I think Steve is the one who's standing second from right on the photo (from vague memory), the one who looks a bit underdressed, or either didn't go to the Jet School of Leather-Jacket Rock Fashion. Sorry boys, your lead singer was actually very nice to me. And if I hadn't been having man trouble, I would have been delighted to come back to your opium den. Kidding. Posted by Hello

Blood On The Dancefloor

Condoleeza Rice is an angry lady. Click here to view the evidence. I just had a flashback of me and Moo being quite angry at the Union last night. During our mutual drunken bathroom hysterics, not only was I advised to cry to maximum force, but also to express my anger in violent ways. Obviously, I like to make love not war, and the only thing which was physically present to receive my 'wrath' (apart from Moo) was a wooden structure covering the toilet cistern. Despite the best efforts of my brain, said wood received the feeblest of kicks from my crocheted feet and revealed only a slight wobbling weakness. On the other hand, Moo, force of nature that she is, managed to rip a large plastic toilet-roll cover from the cubicle wall on my behalf. OK, it wasn't the most mature activity we could have engaged in in the 'little girl's room', but sometimes these things just have to be done.

N.B. I did try and fix said plastic lump a bit later. That's how geeky I am.

Posted by Hello

Listen To Your Uncle Bob


I can't believe that 20 years went by before a chance encounter with Reynolds introduced me to Bob Dylan. Ironically, Bob is helping me to get over the whole toxic-Reynolds thing, and even though this song is addressed to a girl (natch), I still think it rings quite true for me. Sorry to be a complete sentimental arse, but sometimes, particularly when squiffy (as per now), a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don't matter, anyhow
An' it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don't know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I'll be gone
You're the reason I'm trav'lin' on
Don't think twice, it's all right

It ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
That light I never knowed
An' it ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe
I'm on the dark side of the road
Still I wish there was somethin' you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talkin' anyway
So don't think twice, it's all right

It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
Like you never did before
It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
I can't hear you any more
I'm a-thinkin' and a-wond'rin' all the way down the road
I once loved a woman, a child I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don't think twice, it's all right

I'm walkin' down that long, lonesome road, babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
But goodbye's too good a word, gal
So I'll just say fare thee wellI

I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right Posted by Hello

Tears Before Bedtime II


Tonight, me, Moo and the Absinthe Guys TM headed to the Union for Brighton Rocks, a student night dedicated to 'alternative' music. Unfortunately, going up to the bar only to literally collide with Reynolds and have him run off without so much as a 'goodbye' was not a good start. Moo asked why I looked so miserable all of a sudden. 'Well,' I replied, 'I just bumped into the guy I fancy and love and he doesn't want to know me anymore'. 'Oh', she said, 'you have a point'.

During Brighton Rocks, we watched a very poor set by a 'new' band called Vatican DC, who Zane Lowe has suppposedly been championing. Moo had decided I needed to have a good cry and, in true girl style, we both ducked into a toilet cubicle and had what can only be described as hysterics for about 20 minutes, in which I cried, and Moo egged me on to cry more, and then she cried out of pity, and then we both cried together. I sent Reynolds a text saying I couldn't put myself through 'it'. As I came out, Ianthe spotted me and said, 'you look a wreck, are you wasted?'. Er no, I've just been sobbing, that's all.

Anyway, back to Vatican DC... I spotted them standing next to me, attempting to look 'above' dancing to The Libertines, and goodness knows why, but I began to tell the lead singer that he needed more 'coherence in his band' and that 'the drummer seems to be taking the weight'. The poor boy looked a bit wounded, explained they'd only been together for 5 months and then asked me my name. As the conversation continued, I became aware that 'Steve' had clearly got the impression that I was a thinly-disguised groupie who knew how to bullshit the lead singer of a band, and it was at this point that I scarpered, taking my wild thoughts of Rock and Roll orgies and crack dens with me.

The other person who showed up was Gareth (head-lock boy from the School Disco) who asked whether this time I would take HIS number in case I ever felt 'off' the rebound stage. Hmm, this one could run and run.

Moo and I trudged through slush and snow (picking up a forlorn Jam several times) before having a chance encounter with a minicab, whose driver agreed to take us home. But it was cold! And our socks were wet! etc. And now she's chatting to J With The Metro, and I am writing, and we will both be terribly hunogver in a few hours. But until then, my fellow singletons, and lovely people everywhere in general,

Goodnight xxx Posted by Hello

Friday, March 04, 2005

Stalked!


Stalked by a kerazy shadow demon, apparently. Oh dear, squiffy. Posted by Hello

This Blows

As if this week hadn't been sketchy enough on its own terms, this evening (Thursday), I went to a screening of 'BlowUp', an extremely 60s movie, as part of my Photography and the Arts module. The opening scenes feature a photography 'moment' which Mike Myers spoofed so accurately for Austin Powers, as our hero straddles a model with apparently laser-cut cheekbones, yelling, 'give it to me, baby!', 'make it come!', and the fantastic observation, 'tasty!'. The film then descends into, amongst other things, purple silk shirts (another Powers rip-off), superfluous naked playfighting and, irritatingly, mime artists.

I began thinking that were I to conceive a bugbear list, I might actually put mime artists fairly near the top. Then, instead of writing notes on the film, I mentally began to compile said list (well, it had been two hours, and very tiring as I'd been constantly trying to prevent my very blocked nose from whistling loudly in the company of 'art' people). It needs ordering, and then i'll put it up...and NOT think about it instaed of my work.

They're All Ugly!

Tonight, me, Emma, Lyd, Moo (next year's housemate list) and James (of the Absinthe Guys TM) went to an absolutely shocking nightclub in the Naarch called 'Mercy'. The concept behind Mercy was that it was going to bring the 'super-club' into, er, East Anglia, and let me tell you kids, there aint nothing super about it. In all fairness though, the music kept us bopping away almost until closing time (when food was urgently required), and the drinks were damn cheap- woo!

Moo decided she would like to try and 'pimp' me to whoever took my fancy, but the poor girl was hitting a brick wall. 'They're all ugly!', cried I. 'None of them are even half as gorgeous as Reynolds blah blah blah' (as heard from the ears of Moo). We both agreed pimping was perhaps a little premature. Venturing onto the dancefloor post-midnight proved to be akin to running the gauntlet, albeit the jousts replaced by 'errrrr, you fanschy akisssshh?' No.

Now reality dawns that I have a lot of Medieval Women's Stuff to do before tomorrow morning, when I will no doubt be expanding my feminine side. And then it's off to Brighton Rocks (indie music...hurrah) tomorrow night for yet more Male Absinthe Related Fun. Or 'MARF'. No, that does not sound good. Am thinking I may just be curing hangovers with yet more alcohol at the moment. Sunday morning will not be pretty. What did we do before T4?Posted by Hello