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.

Monday, 6 December 2010

Oh, ummmm, hi Blogger.
It's, uhh, it's uhhhh, me. Look, I'm so sorry about temporarily abandoning you for tumblr.
But the server's down okay? It didn't love me like you did.
Did you miss me? I missed you. Really, I did.

Life's really changed since I lasted posted on here. It's actually quite a funny reminder looking back. Since the 13th March 2010 I've travelled the world, or at least an amazing slice of it. And I've started university in Birmingham, a city I'm growing to love more and more the quicker time slips away. Those are the two crucial landmarks of the last eight months. There are thousands and thousands of tiny little moments in between I'd love to savour forever: that idyllic cove in Spain, cider and sunsets at Reading '10, tea and scones at Alicia's, the most beautiful setting for a kiss since Paris, never quite managing to tan, the sunny day on the coast I love the most, and then the people I love who flood into almost every memory.
Oh! And I cut my hair.
And now, almost before I can blink, the lake is frozen over and I'm wrestling with my mustard yellow jacket every morning. And it starts to smell like Christmas.
Can you believe it?

Saturday, 13 March 2010


Fourty eight days

Wednesday, 3 March 2010

There was no real reason for me to have only created one post in February, it's just the longer it went on the more spectacular the post had to be to make up for the gap and so on (insert vicious circle here). But it's March and apparently, from gazing outside, it's brought it's old mate spring along with it. A very, very welcome gatecrasher as far as I'm concerned.
Honestly! I'm currently wearing the blossom print smock dress that's been shivering in the wardrobe since October sitting in the little wicker chair in the conservatory and basking in the brilliant sunshine. With only my trusty pink laptop (which mercifully forgave me for upending a cup of tea all over it about a month ago), the remains of my lunch -which boils down to a used plate, and a half eaten packet of Cadbury's chocolate animal crackers- and the Sound and the Fury. I bought it on a whim from Foyles last time I was in St. Pancras Station because bookshops are my nerdy girl's bank account kryptonite, and the cover looked so pretty that I snapped it up and consequently fell in love. But no, not all of it makes that much sense. But that's ok, the guy that wrote the introduction said as much before I'd so much as looked at the first sentence.
Right, massive Faulkner related deviation over. I swear.
I was back in Sheffield again this weekend, and I'm really begining to 'get down' with the city's laidback but somehow also buzzing vibe. Plus, Greg has some amazing friends that made me, the so-much-younger-than-everyone-else-I'm-practically-prepubescent-outsider feel utterly welcome and not give me the 'Bruce Springsteen tshirt and Topshop ruffled skirt? Really?' look that I probably deserved. Oh and myspace.com/likeslions, mhmmmmmm.
BUT I FINALLY GOT OFF MY BACKSIDE AND BOOKED MY TICKETS OUT OF BLIGHTY TOWARDS SUNNIER, MORE CULTURED AND (PREDOMINANTLY) ASIAN CITIES and it gives me a slight thrill to inform the web that as of the 19th of April I'll be backpacking with two best friends and a glockenspiel. I live the strangest life when I look at it in print.

Ps. Sorry vocal chords, but me and Croque Monsieurs have a love thang going on. Please forgive my excessive binges of these Parisian buttery, cheesy delights and don't get angry and phlemy. That'd be super.

Thursday, 4 February 2010

so, i'm pretty much playing with fire

Friday, 22 January 2010


Oh, you could cure my blackest, blackest mood with a twitch of your little nose

Thursday, 21 January 2010

the fireworks factory is on fire


hello rush of creativity, my old friend.
I've pushed through this hideous writers block, finally. Last night on my half hour break, i ended up sitting in my car with a mix tape made for me a few years ago (i love you, you know) that is a beautiful shade of melancholy, some Silk Cut and Salinger's 'Dear Esme, with love and squalor' and it just sort of clicked.
I've spent this afternoon with Dylan, Cohen and Apple (the masters as far as I'm concerned), an old, old notebook and a trusty acoustic and a piano. I got pen marks all over my hands and my feet got numb from being sat on, but I'm just really, really happy.
Note to self: never forget that you're no one's protegee, and you don't need that stamp of approval you've been chasing after. (ps. the raspberry beret looks as good as Prince said it would) I've got a kick out of being independant, in ways I don't think I've ever been before. Things are a'changing, and it still hurts, but I have the most incredible and most inspiring friends around me, and they're pushing me forwards.

Tuesday, 19 January 2010

we're strangers, we're not friends

this city's exhausted

I miss the way things used to be

Sunday, 17 January 2010

I feel it in the deepest caves of my heart

I'm in such a creative dry spell right now.
Like, I'm so frustrated that what I originally took this year off to do has made so little progress in the past few months. I admit that so much of this is my fault, it's essentially because I am so swamped and working such insane hours at the moment because I lost so much money in the unexpected Arctic weeks. And that instead of spending days off hauled over the piano surrounded by notebooks and scraps of paper, I'm greedily clutching onto any hours I have left before he leaves.
He's getting on the train tomorrow and I'm not sure I can bare it. It sucks beyond any measure that this just doesn't seem to be getting any easier; it's heart wrenching every single fucking time. Whilst it's wonderful that after a year and a bit we still care this much, it sometimes feels a little bleak to think we've got another three and a bit to go before it'll change.
Listening to so much Minus the Bear right now, it's insane. But coupled with some Frightened Rabbit (massive animal theme apparently), Tegan&Sara, Slow Club and Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton trying to force myself out of this.
I've had a pretty wonderful week, though. Drove up to Sevenoaks after work on Wednesday (making, of course, the necessary pitstop at the twenty four hour Shell garage to get cheap versions of chipsticks and some juice for the journey) and then 'assisted' Greg to blitz biscuits, and make a curry so hot i could only eat it in tiny amounts washed down with about a litre of water and school me in the American pie films. I essentially lived at his house for the til Friday night only making trips out to pick up food and work.
Then today me and my mum hopped on a train and ended up in Vauxhall at an hour only acceptable for rock and roll to record vocals on an anti-war song soon to be put out by Tiger Music. After we'd finished, there was red wine and a walk along the South bank, in the most perfect clear day since the start of the new decade.
And tonight, it's the killer Wallander/rose wine combo, so I guess I can't complain.

Sunday, 10 January 2010


Wait, they don't love you like I love you

Sunday, 3 January 2010

And I'd like it if you made it to mind my Christmas Eve, so you can hold me and we'll watch Christmas TV

Sorry Bob Dylan, sorry Scholars, sorry Blakfish, sorry...uh Rage?
But the very best yuletide record of 2009 was unquestionably put out by Sheffield's very own Slow Club. Quixotic lyrics, beautiful but never ever overdone girl/boy vocal interplay and better hooks that David Haye.
(Plus it's approved by Penny and Le Saucy)
Along with Pulled Apart By Horses, Bell Plaines and Ellie Goulding they're my bands to watch in the opening act of the new decade. Checkitttt

Friday, 1 January 2010

After the perfect substitute for a rainy walk and the bizarrest NYE yet (no, really. We had a wedding, stargazing from the roof, people standing in ponds thinking it was gravel - how I love you Toria Keegan -, canaries in baskets and sleeping in broken glass) the 'terrible teens' have begun. I was sitting reading last years resolutions, with the resounding theme being to 'discover myself and capture God.' It made me pretty sad, I guess, above other emotions because about a month ago that goal was so close I could almost taste it on my tongue. But then I lost someone that meant the world to me, and who (I realised at her funeral) I had been banking on being a face present throughout my future. And that shook me right to the core of me, and I lost myself a little bit. Slipped all too easily back into murky bad habits I thought I'd been rid of forever and into a mindset all too natural and familiar to me.
It frustrates me that I'd made so much progress on becoming a real, honest follower of Jesus and thought that my faith ran pretty deep to have it snapped right back to the place I was on the cusp of 2007. But instead of being all trauma-y about it, my resolution this year is to become genuine.
To have a faith in God so inbedded in my heart that it's like a layer of steel under the fragile life I lead, and to really, truly know my own head and heart and developed a silent but unshakable faith there too. To rid myself of jealousy and fear of being replaced. To explore my own creativity. To really believe I'm loved and live accordingly.
I was reading some pretty inspiring stuff from some people who just seem to have the whole 'holy and distinctive' thing figured out in a way I doubt I ever will, about shunning materialism and starting revolutions and I often find myself feeling less revitalised and more overwhelmingly guilty for not being like that. But unlike so many people, to me religion should not = guilt, but freedom. So I'm starting from the beginning, no grand statements, no profound conclusions, just a fresh start. I figured going back to my favourite Psalm 139 was as good a place as ever, so watch this space.
Anyway, here are my list of other resolutions for this year
Start writing properly again, instead of being lazy and only doing it when I'm forced to
Learn to love my body
Download all the back catalogues of bands that inspire me
Grow my hair
Read through my 'American classics' reading list
Read more poetry
Stop eating utter junk and doing fack all exercise just relying on luck to keep me healthy
Weed out the people that aren't good for me
Catch up with really old and really true friends
Start watching 'Monk'
Find the balance between loving fashion and rampant consumerism
Dig out old art books
Travel
Go on more romantic, spontaneous and quirky dates
Start something that excites me and changes things
Go to art exhibitions, plays and watch live music at its best regardless of genre