Monday, 7 February 2011

I think there's a lot of wisdom about love and life that we can learn from what other people carve or scratch into toilet doors.
This struck me when I went back to the Sunflower Lounge for drinks last week (I actually remember it this time which is a nice touch and a marked improvement from the last time I ventured in there.)
Anyway, I went to 'powder my nose' (nb. I'm far too kitschy to be able to say the word 'piss' here. I actually cringed just typing it) and staring me in the face was there words that girls over the years have chosen to leave behind.
Primarily clich├ęd but nonetheless encouraging tidbits about not giving up, and life getting better but there are a few that actually really touched me.
It's just something to consider on your next visit to the ladies. Or the gents. (I've been known to use either in situations of dire need).

Anyway, I feel a little detached from the 'real world' tonight, I'm in an impossibly nostalgic and over thoughtful mood and I'm waiting for my folks to call because we've had some awful news this weekend and I think we're anxious to see how each other are coping with it.
I'm mostly happy, though, for what it's worth. I went out with my church's street team last Tuesday and it was seriously the best thing I've done since being back. In an altruistic and entirely selfish way, because I'd forgotten how much good caring for other people does me. And factoring in slam poetry; open mic nights and coming back from watching a film to find my two amazing flat mates had baked a cake which the three of us consumed frighteningly quickly whilst watching Take Me Out, it seems life here is turning out to be exactly what I'd feared to hope it could be.

Wednesday, 19 January 2011

In a world that is sometimes so dark it truly frightens me,
this website is a little beacon of hope.

Thursday, 6 January 2011

Je veux gagner ce coeur

(Moi Je Joue - Brigitte Bardot)

I have a new girl crush.
Well, that's not technically true. It's not exactly that specific, nor is it exactly new (I did my A Level French oral presentation on this topic) but it was a passion that had sort of lain dormant for a little while:
The French 'Nouvelle Vague' Heroine.
Doe eyed and milky skinned, I'm talking Jean Seberg in 'Breathless' (gamine crop, Brenton tops, cute pumps and a tonne of gallic attitude), Chantal Goya (rocking the blunt chin-length bob) and Francoise Hardy (with her adorable mix of femininity and androgyny).
But more so than any of the others, my first serious fashion envy of 2011, Anna Karina.
Danish by birth, but lived most of her life in Paris, she embodies the gorgeous, nigh-impossible-to-emulate, kind of effortless chic these women are famous for.

Disclaimer: this minor infatuation probably wasn't helped by Tuesday's visit to an exhibiton about the Beat Hotel, followed by a bottle of smoky red wine in Le Beaujolais and then an evening at a Jazz club.

Saturday, 1 January 2011

For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne

Welcome to the New Year!
After my first New Years in the South West (well, Southampton) I'm back home in my comfiest chair, with this tab open and a cup of peppermint tea and burnt toast smothered with butter willing a set of resolutions, which as far as I'm concerned is the only way to truly welcome in this coming twelve months.


Be braver and more spontaneous.

Learn Italian and/or Japanese.

Write more (and maybe join Writers Bloc)

Take more photos.

Get a first this year.

Spend more time with old and true friends.

Be calmer, because sometimes other people need that as much as you do.

Read more about art and architecture.

Stick to a weekly budget and stop forraying into topshop.

Run once a week, and maybe try Pilates or Yoga. Make more time to just be quiet.

Learn to really cook.

Make your room nicer, buy flowers or prints of photographs.

Get proper work experience in journalism or publishing.

Volunteer. Stop wasting your time, life’s just too short.

Make ‘mood’ related playlists on your iPod.

Stop being over-anxious. Trust more.

Quit drinking vodka just because ‘it’s easier.’ You don’t like it. Stick to wine, whisky and learn to like gin.

Wear dresses more often.

Find a coffee shop where you can be alone to read. Moreover, stop being so afraid of being alone.

Work on being more elegant and graceful. You’re getting too old for clumsy to be endearing any more.

Eat more fruit.

Completely cut out bitching. It’s just never ever okay.

Thursday, 16 December 2010

Sometimes late at night
While runnin' from the rain
Running from the voices
Filling up my brain
Now I wish they'd leave me alone
And let me be
To go off on my own
Let me be to go home
I feel like going home

Tuesday, 14 December 2010

When we're dancing, bones get broken, when we're dancing, hearts get broken

What a brilliant few days.
Despite a week of relinquishing any slight social life in favour of sitting in my oversize man shirts knee deep in fevered scribblings and scraps of highlighted paper and really old books and limitless cups of coffee in attempts to tame Shelley, Arnold and Bronte and coerce my tired brain and fingers into producing a semi decent essay, this extended weekend made up for it all in one fell swoop.

After a painful and awkward incident in the middle of the week, I was really counting on this weekend to make everything okay in my world.
Luckily, it delivered.
Saturday was a flurry of being around wonderfully talented musicians and amazing old friends. Playing music to an audience for the first time in an age, with my lucky shoes and gorgeous wine coloured cardigan gave me the rush of adrenaline and happiness I think I hadn't realised I needed. After three other amazing sets from bands with alarming amounts of talent, we were out til four dancing to 70s soul and disco classics before walking through a beautiful city in the cold, crisp air.
(Also, seeing Mills lifting his head off his pizza box to sing us some Rihanna was one of the most beautiful moments of my tender young life. I'm still wondering if I've ever seen anything so funny.)
Then I had one of the most perfect evenings for a long time. After a rude awakening, acquiring a cat called Mo and a chip buttie (buttie? butty? Hell knows) we walked hand in hand through the Christmas market, with a large creamy hot chocolate to a cute faux-Asian cocktail bar to reminisce about Um Bongo and laugh til we were hurting.
Last night was just a wonderful mess. Brilliant people (by brilliant I mean both talented and lovely), kitschy bars, heartfelt confusion and whisky shots.

But now I'm wondering if it's been brought on or augmented and twisted by the melancholy beats of Tellison's EP, but I'm re-reading Matthew Arnold's 'The Voice' and remembering the whole thing, and the first time I read it feeling a little lost and looking out over city lights and I can't remember reading a sadder poem in all my life.

I lay down next to other peoples lines, and hoped that I was right. Oh, collar bone, you put punctuation marks on all my clothes.

Saturday, 11 December 2010

From now on, whenever I'm sitting, daydreaming, in a lecture on the importance of Woolf in the modernist 'movement', daydreaming about adventures in Paris or Vienna, talking about architecture or philosophy, sipping cocktails in a jazz club...(You know the kind of French B Movie fantasy I'm talking about)
Just know that in all of them, from now on - I'll be wearing this dress.