Unfortunately, I never really kept in contact with the many of the people I was friends with in secondary school.
David, my friend/tormentor, disappeared off the face of the Earth. Nobody could get in contact with him, or had any idea where he could be. Billy shacked himself up in his house, preferring to be depressed and alone than come out and see any of his friends. Ellie got a job, and so did Stef. Sarah moved to Grantham, but by the time we left school I hated her guts anyway. So…I never really got to see my old friends any more. I moved to Derby in September 2008 and although I got myself some new friends and a new life, I really missed talking to my Giles mates. We used to be together all the time, and although some people had a sick sense of humour (yes David, I am looking at you) hanging out in room 17 (and, later, the common room) gave me some of my best memories there.
Stef now goes to the same university as me, and is moving into the same halls as me next year. That should make it so much easier for me to meet up with her and have a chat! I talk to David and Billy on msn practically every day, and although they irritate me sometimes, I still enjoy talking to them. What can I say? I’m a sucker for punishment, obviously (and I know they’re going to find interesting ways of twisting that sentence!). They are some of the most immature, sex obsessed, silliest guys I know, but I can’t escape the fact that, for some bizarre reason, I actually kinda like talking to them. I’m even writing this blog post, purely because they instructed me to do so.
(Actually, they wanted me to write about them two having sex, but I don’t think I can do that without being sick. And even if I could, I wouldn’t inflict it on my poor readers!)
So…yeah, I guess the point of this post is a) to say that I love my friends, even if I don’t get to see them very much (BECAUSE THEY ARE ANTISOCIAL TWERPS) and b) I am easily forced into writing rubbish blog posts.
Monday, 31 May 2010
Friday, 28 May 2010
Going Veggie (the vegetarian’s perspective)
When I went vegetarian when I was 15, it was the easiest decision in the world, and just as easy to carry forward into my life. Okay, so I had to put up with the constant, stupid, insufferable jokes (“Does that mean you can’t eat cock?” “If God didn’t intend for us to eat animals, he wouldn’t have made them out of meat!” etc) and the parents telling me off for not eating what they were having, but, food wise, it was simple. I had never been a big fan of meat anyway, so cutting it out of my diet completely was simple. It got harder when I cut out all meat derived products like gelatine, rennet and cochineal, but after a bit it got easier.
My diet expanded from pie and tates (my Mum’s staple creation) and I began to eat spag bol, chilli con carne, lasagne, random Quorn dishes I discovered on the internet.
I wasn’t under any illusions about how difficult it would be when Wayne, my meat-eating boyfriend, went veggie for a week, though. One of the things he said last year, before we were dating, was that he could never date a vegetarian – “I like meat too much!” (Haha. Yeah, sure, Wayne...)
As explained in his blog, his week-long vegetarianism was a consequence of him losing a (horrible and really kind of mean) bet. Apparently, there’s a curse on him; when a girlfriend meets his mum, they split up within 6 weeks. And so he bet that we would do the same.
He lost, and the vegetarianism began last Thursday.
The first meal that he had was supposed to have been cooked by yours truly, but somehow I managed to wriggle out of it and get him and Kain to cook it for me. It was a sausage hotpot using some tomato and leek sausages (Tesco was out of the Quorn ones), beans, tomatoes and onion. It was quite yummy. I don’t think I would be able to eat lots of it, but as it cooks for 6 and we were dividing it between 3 people, I wouldn’t really, anyway. The best thing about the meal was the chips Kain had made. They were absolutely delicious!
The best food came from either Limes Restaurant in Derby, or, strangely, the random café in Drayton Manor. Wayne agreed that both of them were pretty damn delicious, and are things that he wouldn’t usually have eaten. So, although he didn’t enjoy his week of veggie-ness (“bland” was his word of the week), it did open his eyes to the massive world of food that exists beyond pepperoni pizza, and I suppose that’s one thing. It did the same thing for me too – I had become rather set in my ways, eating the same things and not trying anything new. My diet basically consisted of nothing, spag bol, pizza, and veggie burgers and chips.
I hope that it also opened his eyes to the difficulty vegetarians have when buying food, eating out, and even when hanging around people who eat meat. Meat by-products have got into almost everything, ruling out chocolates and desserts, sweets and cakes, and soups and cheeses. When you go out, not everything is marked, so you have to go through everything, checking to make sure there’s nothing bad in there. And there’s the fact that very few restaurants have a wide range of meals suitable for vegetarians.
So…yeah, I think some good things have come out of it for both of us. And I am very proud of him for sticking with it for the whole week, even despite my not being at his house to keep an eye on what he’s been eating for several days.
My diet expanded from pie and tates (my Mum’s staple creation) and I began to eat spag bol, chilli con carne, lasagne, random Quorn dishes I discovered on the internet.
I wasn’t under any illusions about how difficult it would be when Wayne, my meat-eating boyfriend, went veggie for a week, though. One of the things he said last year, before we were dating, was that he could never date a vegetarian – “I like meat too much!” (Haha. Yeah, sure, Wayne...)
As explained in his blog, his week-long vegetarianism was a consequence of him losing a (horrible and really kind of mean) bet. Apparently, there’s a curse on him; when a girlfriend meets his mum, they split up within 6 weeks. And so he bet that we would do the same.
He lost, and the vegetarianism began last Thursday.
The first meal that he had was supposed to have been cooked by yours truly, but somehow I managed to wriggle out of it and get him and Kain to cook it for me. It was a sausage hotpot using some tomato and leek sausages (Tesco was out of the Quorn ones), beans, tomatoes and onion. It was quite yummy. I don’t think I would be able to eat lots of it, but as it cooks for 6 and we were dividing it between 3 people, I wouldn’t really, anyway. The best thing about the meal was the chips Kain had made. They were absolutely delicious!
The best food came from either Limes Restaurant in Derby, or, strangely, the random café in Drayton Manor. Wayne agreed that both of them were pretty damn delicious, and are things that he wouldn’t usually have eaten. So, although he didn’t enjoy his week of veggie-ness (“bland” was his word of the week), it did open his eyes to the massive world of food that exists beyond pepperoni pizza, and I suppose that’s one thing. It did the same thing for me too – I had become rather set in my ways, eating the same things and not trying anything new. My diet basically consisted of nothing, spag bol, pizza, and veggie burgers and chips.
I hope that it also opened his eyes to the difficulty vegetarians have when buying food, eating out, and even when hanging around people who eat meat. Meat by-products have got into almost everything, ruling out chocolates and desserts, sweets and cakes, and soups and cheeses. When you go out, not everything is marked, so you have to go through everything, checking to make sure there’s nothing bad in there. And there’s the fact that very few restaurants have a wide range of meals suitable for vegetarians.
So…yeah, I think some good things have come out of it for both of us. And I am very proud of him for sticking with it for the whole week, even despite my not being at his house to keep an eye on what he’s been eating for several days.
Thursday, 27 May 2010
A Day Out: Drayton Manor Theme Park
"You two are going to hate me."
Krissy turned to give Wayne and me a big, evil grin. We were sitting on a ride at Drayton Manor theme park - a ride she promised us was just a log flume. We had just been down one flume – one down, two to go.
My stomach threatened to fall out.
"Why?"
"We're going to go backwards."
"WHAT?"
Wayne and I are first class, self declared Wimps when it comes to terrifying rides. If she had mentioned anything about going backwards down this flume, I would have said no to going on it. Which is why, I imagine, she didn’t mention it until a few moments before it was going to happen.
Imprints from my fingers will, I believe, never leave the bar onto which I was holding on for dear life as we plunged backwards, down a slope of unknown steepness, and immediately got drenched by the splash of water.
Freezing cold, very wet water.
Why did I go to a theme park if I wasn't expecting to go on anything? Same reason as I went to Alton Towers when I left Sixth Form - to go somewhere new, to hang around with my friends, and to laugh at other people going on stupidly terrifying rides. Yeah okay, it would be a bit (very) expensive to go to a theme park purely for that, but hey, I have been good and barely spent anything this year, so oh well.
Besides, my bursary was due to go in that day.
Miss Krissy and Kelly, however, would not stand for this and dragged me on as many rides as possible. The only ride I refused to go on was a spinny roundy thing with Speedy Gonzales on it. Rides that spin around in circles have a weird effect on me – I get really, really ill. I’ve never been able to go on Teacups, waltzers, or even roundabouts without getting very sick, so I didn’t want to go on it.
Kelly said I did the right thing by not going on, so I am very pleased I said no to that one! Saying that, somehow they did manage to get me to go on Black Revolver (waltzers) and some barrel things that were basically the same as the Teacups. They weren’t even too bad – okay, so I was a bit dizzy afterwards, but I was nowhere as ill as I usually get after going on that type of thing.
I enjoyed most of the rides I went on, actually. A special mention goes to The Buffalo Coaster, the first coaster that I have ever been on! That one was Wayne's fault, not Krissy or Kelly's. They were in the queue already and they were going to let me off. It was Wayne who grabbed me and dragged me into the queue.
Mean git.
Okay, so it was a rollercoaster for kids.
Apart from a couple of sharp bends and dips, it was pretty simple - no loop the loops, no big slopes, nothing drastic. It was, however, the biggest ride I had ever been on, and so I was bricking it while waiting in the queue to be allowed on. As it happens, I needn't have worried. It was absolutely fine - I even found myself enjoying it! We enjoyed it so much that we ended up going on it twice! I got thrown around a lot, especially on the second go, and was screaming more in pain than enjoyment or terror as I earned bruise after bruise after bruise. But hey, they’ll go soon.
I’m glad he did drag me on there. Even if I was shitting myself in the minutes before the ride set off.
Splash Canyon was the only other ride we went on twice. The first time I went on it, I was with the full group, the second time I was just with Wayne. I loved it as much the second time as I did the first, although I sustained more injuries in it. There was a very scary/funny moment when we got caught between two currents and were in danger of getting stuck on the course, but (with some help from a boat behind us) we managed to break free. The injuries came towards the end of the ride.
There’s a camera poised to get photos. We wanted one, but if we had been in our original seats, we would have got a shot of the backs of our heads. So, when we saw the camera, we dived for seats that would mean we would get an okay picture.
The flash went off.
And suddenly the rapids meant the boat jerked off to the side. I was caught unaware, and flew off the seat, landing hard on the steps that lead into the boat. And then it jerked again: I earned another bruise when my arm smashed into the side of the boat.
At least the photo was good!
While not particularly thrilling and despite me being completely crap at it, the Golden Nugget Shoot Out was lots of fun. We were in a little cart; Kelly and Krissy in the front, Wayne and me in the back. Have you been to Cadbury’s World before? If you have, you know there’s a ride through a trippy land of dancing coca beans.
This ride was kind of like that, but it was far less terrifying.
In the front of the seats were guns, and you had to use the guns to shoot targets that were all over the place. Hitting the target meant that the item the target was placed on would move.
Wayne, having played lots of games before, came first. Kelly came second, Krissy came third…I came last. Yay, go me!
One of the less brilliant rides of the day was Excalibur. Can it even be described as a ride, when it was neither interesting or exciting? I don’t know. I do know it was pretty damn awful, but Krissy had warned us about that before. Her reasoning for going on it anyway? “You’re at Drayton Manor, you have to go on as many rides as you can!”
Fair enough, Krissy.
The best thing about the ride was some of the quotes that came out of it.
*sees ducks*
Wayne: Look! Real wildlife!
Us: …
*boat turns a bit and we see a bloke by the trees*
Wayne: A real, authentic fat man!
Us: *sporfle*
The most exciting part of the ride wasn’t part of the ride. Nor was it particularly exciting. It was scary, but not in the normal themepark type way.
There was a duck in front of the boat, and we were *this close* (imagine a very small measurement) to running him over.
When you say that about a ride, you know things are bad.
Very similar to Excalibur was the very underwhelming Pirate Bay. Based on Pirates of the Caribbean, the main difference (apart from it being based on a battle and not the story of the Round Table) was the complete lack of ducks.
And a lot more pirates in suspicious positions that you don’t really want to think too much about.
The absolute shittiest ride of the day, though, was the Haunted House. The sign out the front promised much:
THE SCARIEST PLACE UNDER ONE ROOF.
As is usually the case with such things, this was a wild over estimate – I have been on scarier donkey rides at Skeggy beach. (Admittedly they aren’t UNDER ONE ROOF, but still.)
After a several minute wait, you go into a small room and watch a cliché filled film about some bad actors pretending to be paranormal investigators. They disappeared, and have never been seen again. Therefore this scientist dude wants more people to go in and check it out. The attendant turns the telly off, and opens a door, leading you through. Lights flicker on and off.
It could be scary if you are the biggest wimp in the entire universe.
Suddenly all lights go out. There’s screams from up front. I look around, no idea what the hell’s meant to be scary. My gaze goes upwards, and I’m looking at the ceiling. A very poor skeleton flies above us, so quickly that most people don’t have a clue what they’re supposed to be looking at.
The lights flicker back on again. We’re lead through a door at the end of the hall.
We emerge into a large room with three paintings on the wall. ‘Behind’ one of them is a puppet skeleton with a thick German accent that makes it difficult to understand what the hell he’s going on about. I think he said something about never being able to escape his house unless we find the Inner Sanctum. The atmosphere might even have been slightly scary, if it wasn’t for the bored looking attendant at the side of the room playing on his phone!
Anyway, straight after the puppet’s finished talking (with much Evil Laughter™ from him and laughter from me) we’re broken into two groups. One group goes through a door on the left, one goes through one on the right.
Both doors lead straight into the Inner Sanctum.
Possibly the simplest escape from a haunted house, ever.
We sit down, are told to hold on tight…and the walls spin around. Okay, so it makes you a bit disorientated. But, more than being scary, it was absolutely bloody hilarious how bad it was!
The only part of the day I completely hated was the zoo. I was reading the signs as I went around, and the number of animals whose natural habitats were in deep forests and yet had only one small tree in their cage was depressing. Plus, I hate zoos anyway. I spent half the time walking around fighting the urge to break down in tears for the poor creatures.
But I won’t talk about that in this post. It’s too depressing and cry-worthy to talk about in a post that should be happy. For the most part, it was an absolutely amazing day with three of my best friends, and was well worth the 19 quid I paid to get in. I would go again any time, and am already thinking about arranging a trip there with my brother sometime!
Krissy turned to give Wayne and me a big, evil grin. We were sitting on a ride at Drayton Manor theme park - a ride she promised us was just a log flume. We had just been down one flume – one down, two to go.
My stomach threatened to fall out.
"Why?"
"We're going to go backwards."
"WHAT?"
Wayne and I are first class, self declared Wimps when it comes to terrifying rides. If she had mentioned anything about going backwards down this flume, I would have said no to going on it. Which is why, I imagine, she didn’t mention it until a few moments before it was going to happen.
Imprints from my fingers will, I believe, never leave the bar onto which I was holding on for dear life as we plunged backwards, down a slope of unknown steepness, and immediately got drenched by the splash of water.
Freezing cold, very wet water.
Why did I go to a theme park if I wasn't expecting to go on anything? Same reason as I went to Alton Towers when I left Sixth Form - to go somewhere new, to hang around with my friends, and to laugh at other people going on stupidly terrifying rides. Yeah okay, it would be a bit (very) expensive to go to a theme park purely for that, but hey, I have been good and barely spent anything this year, so oh well.
Besides, my bursary was due to go in that day.
Miss Krissy and Kelly, however, would not stand for this and dragged me on as many rides as possible. The only ride I refused to go on was a spinny roundy thing with Speedy Gonzales on it. Rides that spin around in circles have a weird effect on me – I get really, really ill. I’ve never been able to go on Teacups, waltzers, or even roundabouts without getting very sick, so I didn’t want to go on it.
Kelly said I did the right thing by not going on, so I am very pleased I said no to that one! Saying that, somehow they did manage to get me to go on Black Revolver (waltzers) and some barrel things that were basically the same as the Teacups. They weren’t even too bad – okay, so I was a bit dizzy afterwards, but I was nowhere as ill as I usually get after going on that type of thing.
I enjoyed most of the rides I went on, actually. A special mention goes to The Buffalo Coaster, the first coaster that I have ever been on! That one was Wayne's fault, not Krissy or Kelly's. They were in the queue already and they were going to let me off. It was Wayne who grabbed me and dragged me into the queue.
Mean git.
Okay, so it was a rollercoaster for kids.
Apart from a couple of sharp bends and dips, it was pretty simple - no loop the loops, no big slopes, nothing drastic. It was, however, the biggest ride I had ever been on, and so I was bricking it while waiting in the queue to be allowed on. As it happens, I needn't have worried. It was absolutely fine - I even found myself enjoying it! We enjoyed it so much that we ended up going on it twice! I got thrown around a lot, especially on the second go, and was screaming more in pain than enjoyment or terror as I earned bruise after bruise after bruise. But hey, they’ll go soon.
I’m glad he did drag me on there. Even if I was shitting myself in the minutes before the ride set off.
Splash Canyon was the only other ride we went on twice. The first time I went on it, I was with the full group, the second time I was just with Wayne. I loved it as much the second time as I did the first, although I sustained more injuries in it. There was a very scary/funny moment when we got caught between two currents and were in danger of getting stuck on the course, but (with some help from a boat behind us) we managed to break free. The injuries came towards the end of the ride.
There’s a camera poised to get photos. We wanted one, but if we had been in our original seats, we would have got a shot of the backs of our heads. So, when we saw the camera, we dived for seats that would mean we would get an okay picture.
The flash went off.
And suddenly the rapids meant the boat jerked off to the side. I was caught unaware, and flew off the seat, landing hard on the steps that lead into the boat. And then it jerked again: I earned another bruise when my arm smashed into the side of the boat.
At least the photo was good!
While not particularly thrilling and despite me being completely crap at it, the Golden Nugget Shoot Out was lots of fun. We were in a little cart; Kelly and Krissy in the front, Wayne and me in the back. Have you been to Cadbury’s World before? If you have, you know there’s a ride through a trippy land of dancing coca beans.
This ride was kind of like that, but it was far less terrifying.
In the front of the seats were guns, and you had to use the guns to shoot targets that were all over the place. Hitting the target meant that the item the target was placed on would move.
Wayne, having played lots of games before, came first. Kelly came second, Krissy came third…I came last. Yay, go me!
One of the less brilliant rides of the day was Excalibur. Can it even be described as a ride, when it was neither interesting or exciting? I don’t know. I do know it was pretty damn awful, but Krissy had warned us about that before. Her reasoning for going on it anyway? “You’re at Drayton Manor, you have to go on as many rides as you can!”
Fair enough, Krissy.
The best thing about the ride was some of the quotes that came out of it.
*sees ducks*
Wayne: Look! Real wildlife!
Us: …
*boat turns a bit and we see a bloke by the trees*
Wayne: A real, authentic fat man!
Us: *sporfle*
The most exciting part of the ride wasn’t part of the ride. Nor was it particularly exciting. It was scary, but not in the normal themepark type way.
There was a duck in front of the boat, and we were *this close* (imagine a very small measurement) to running him over.
When you say that about a ride, you know things are bad.
Very similar to Excalibur was the very underwhelming Pirate Bay. Based on Pirates of the Caribbean, the main difference (apart from it being based on a battle and not the story of the Round Table) was the complete lack of ducks.
And a lot more pirates in suspicious positions that you don’t really want to think too much about.
The absolute shittiest ride of the day, though, was the Haunted House. The sign out the front promised much:
THE SCARIEST PLACE UNDER ONE ROOF.
As is usually the case with such things, this was a wild over estimate – I have been on scarier donkey rides at Skeggy beach. (Admittedly they aren’t UNDER ONE ROOF, but still.)
After a several minute wait, you go into a small room and watch a cliché filled film about some bad actors pretending to be paranormal investigators. They disappeared, and have never been seen again. Therefore this scientist dude wants more people to go in and check it out. The attendant turns the telly off, and opens a door, leading you through. Lights flicker on and off.
It could be scary if you are the biggest wimp in the entire universe.
Suddenly all lights go out. There’s screams from up front. I look around, no idea what the hell’s meant to be scary. My gaze goes upwards, and I’m looking at the ceiling. A very poor skeleton flies above us, so quickly that most people don’t have a clue what they’re supposed to be looking at.
The lights flicker back on again. We’re lead through a door at the end of the hall.
We emerge into a large room with three paintings on the wall. ‘Behind’ one of them is a puppet skeleton with a thick German accent that makes it difficult to understand what the hell he’s going on about. I think he said something about never being able to escape his house unless we find the Inner Sanctum. The atmosphere might even have been slightly scary, if it wasn’t for the bored looking attendant at the side of the room playing on his phone!
Anyway, straight after the puppet’s finished talking (with much Evil Laughter™ from him and laughter from me) we’re broken into two groups. One group goes through a door on the left, one goes through one on the right.
Both doors lead straight into the Inner Sanctum.
Possibly the simplest escape from a haunted house, ever.
We sit down, are told to hold on tight…and the walls spin around. Okay, so it makes you a bit disorientated. But, more than being scary, it was absolutely bloody hilarious how bad it was!
The only part of the day I completely hated was the zoo. I was reading the signs as I went around, and the number of animals whose natural habitats were in deep forests and yet had only one small tree in their cage was depressing. Plus, I hate zoos anyway. I spent half the time walking around fighting the urge to break down in tears for the poor creatures.
But I won’t talk about that in this post. It’s too depressing and cry-worthy to talk about in a post that should be happy. For the most part, it was an absolutely amazing day with three of my best friends, and was well worth the 19 quid I paid to get in. I would go again any time, and am already thinking about arranging a trip there with my brother sometime!
Thursday, 20 May 2010
Stories Widget
How amazing is that? I found it (okay, so I was linked to it. So sue me) on Neil Gaiman's site, http://www.neilgaiman.com/works/Books/Stories:+All+New+Tales/
I have enough books to be going on with at the moment, but I will certainly be looking at this when I have finished my current load.
Tuesday, 18 May 2010
Best thing since anything. Ever.
Dear Internet
Thank you for providing me with something that I believe could, very possibly, be the best thing since sliced bread. Okay, so you took a strange method. You gave the link to one of Carl's friends, who passed it on to Carl, and I was sitting next to him when he received the said link. Anyway, thank you. Now, if you would kindly organise some sort of method for me to get it, I would appreciate it.
My wish list:
One brown suit: http://tinyurl.com/2w9j86s
One golden rod overcoat: http://tinyurl.com/n8q5fk
One swirly tie: http://tinyurl.com/32h2dy2
Lots of love,
Me
PS: I would also like the Time Lord who belongs in the clothing to turn up at my door at some point, and take me on some adventures around the Universe. Oh, and Wayne should be allowed to come with.
Thank you for providing me with something that I believe could, very possibly, be the best thing since sliced bread. Okay, so you took a strange method. You gave the link to one of Carl's friends, who passed it on to Carl, and I was sitting next to him when he received the said link. Anyway, thank you. Now, if you would kindly organise some sort of method for me to get it, I would appreciate it.
My wish list:
One brown suit: http://tinyurl.com/2w9j86s
One golden rod overcoat: http://tinyurl.com/n8q5fk
One swirly tie: http://tinyurl.com/32h2dy2
Lots of love,
Me
PS: I would also like the Time Lord who belongs in the clothing to turn up at my door at some point, and take me on some adventures around the Universe. Oh, and Wayne should be allowed to come with.
Not so secret any more...
Finally, after months of remaining secret, I have been Ratted Out. Discovered. Found. Well, not really, seeing as it was my commenting on a post that brought about my being found, but having someone (admittedly only you, Wayne) reading this and knowing me...it's a scary feeling, being public for the first time ever. Before, it was a kind of "My Eyes Only" kinda thing, now other people will get wind of me.
And I am very nervous when I know people are reading what I write.
I don't understand why, really. I mean, the few people I have allowed to read stuff I write say what I write is good, and I obviously think it's okay, seeing as I am taking a course in it at University. But, compared to most (although not all) of the people I know, I can't write for toffee. I'm not good at creating weird and wonderful plots like Wayne, don't have fantastic characters like Calum, and, unlike Krissy's, my dialogue is baaaad.
I'm not saying that I think my stuff is appalling compared to theirs, just that it is distinctly average, the kind of thing you look at and read, but have no desire to read again.
Could I blame it on the house I was brought up in? Creative thinking has never been encouraged: Mum and Dad always wanted me to be a lawyer or something to do with hard facts, something that would bring in the money, fast.
I'm not clever enough for that.
I'm barely clever enough to put my shoes on the right way round in the morning and even then I sometimes struggle. Academic subjects are not for me. Putting words down on paper in a more or less interesting way - that's my forte. So why don't I let people read my stuff? I wish I could, I wish I had a bit more confidence in what I write; my work will only improve and develop if I dare to put the shields down and let people tear it to shreds. Is that what I'm afraid of? People realising I'm the rubbish writer my parents believe me to be, that I'm too rubbish to be at University and for me to be chucked out?
Or, rather than blaming it on the parents, should I completely take the blame myself? Is it my own fear of being laughed at that stops me from letting people read what I write? I know that, even writing this, I am thinking about deleting portions of the blog - not because they are particularly badly written, but because I can imagine people laughing at me for it.
It's rather infuriating, really.
Anyway; after that rant, I am off to bed. Goodnight, and I'm sorry for the Kim-is-in-whiny-mode post. Hopefully it'll not happen too often.
And I am very nervous when I know people are reading what I write.
I don't understand why, really. I mean, the few people I have allowed to read stuff I write say what I write is good, and I obviously think it's okay, seeing as I am taking a course in it at University. But, compared to most (although not all) of the people I know, I can't write for toffee. I'm not good at creating weird and wonderful plots like Wayne, don't have fantastic characters like Calum, and, unlike Krissy's, my dialogue is baaaad.
I'm not saying that I think my stuff is appalling compared to theirs, just that it is distinctly average, the kind of thing you look at and read, but have no desire to read again.
Could I blame it on the house I was brought up in? Creative thinking has never been encouraged: Mum and Dad always wanted me to be a lawyer or something to do with hard facts, something that would bring in the money, fast.
I'm not clever enough for that.
I'm barely clever enough to put my shoes on the right way round in the morning and even then I sometimes struggle. Academic subjects are not for me. Putting words down on paper in a more or less interesting way - that's my forte. So why don't I let people read my stuff? I wish I could, I wish I had a bit more confidence in what I write; my work will only improve and develop if I dare to put the shields down and let people tear it to shreds. Is that what I'm afraid of? People realising I'm the rubbish writer my parents believe me to be, that I'm too rubbish to be at University and for me to be chucked out?
Or, rather than blaming it on the parents, should I completely take the blame myself? Is it my own fear of being laughed at that stops me from letting people read what I write? I know that, even writing this, I am thinking about deleting portions of the blog - not because they are particularly badly written, but because I can imagine people laughing at me for it.
It's rather infuriating, really.
Anyway; after that rant, I am off to bed. Goodnight, and I'm sorry for the Kim-is-in-whiny-mode post. Hopefully it'll not happen too often.
Friday, 14 May 2010
A Day Out: Stratford Upon Avon
Spoiler alert!
If you live under a Shakespeare free rock, blissfully unaware of Romeo and Juliet (or if you’re wanting to see the play and want to remain unspoiled), then I wouldn’t recommend reading any further as there’ll be some stonking huge spoilers.
--
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life,
Who misadventured piteous overthrows,
Do with their death bury their parents strife.
Everyone knows the story of Romeo and Juliet. A pair of whiny kids from a pair of families that hate each other end up thinking “I’d fuck that” and end up causing havoc, misery, and much death in Verona. The play has never been my favourite. So, when my boyfriend chose it as the one we went to see when we went to Stratford upon Avon, I had to stop myself from letting out a groan of dismay. I understand his reasoning (it’s the only one he remembers studying, and so is familiar with the text) but all the same, I could think of better plays to see. Well, not really, as I haven’t read any of the other plays that were being shown, but any was better than Romeo and Juliet!
That didn’t stop me from getting excited about it, though. It was his first ever proper experience at the theatre, and I couldn’t wait to find out what he thought of it.
We arrived at Stratford upon Avon early afternoon, and after a quick visit to the B&B to drop off our overnight stuff (the hosts weren’t there, so we ended up carrying it with us anyway), we headed into the town centre. Showing him around, I felt rather like a schoolgirl showing off her newest toys, jubilant at knowing more than he. Childish, I know. But forgive me; it’s not very often that I know more than him.
He thought it was gorgeous, although he wasn’t particularly excited by the old houses. As a re-enactor of the Jacobite Rebellion, the thrill of seeing old houses has worn off by now. I’m glad I’m not like him…I love old houses, and knowing that the wood/stone under my hand is old, made in a time so completely different to now. I still wouldn’t queue for hours and pay loads of money to go in one, though. I can’t imagine that going round Shakespeare’s house to be that thrilling. I always imagine the tour guide to be saying “And here is the outhouse where it is believed that Shakespeare went to take a dump. He kept his stash of porn just here.” It would be followed, obviously, by the “ooooh”ing of the people who paid to go on the tour, and then the frantic flashes of cameras.
Possibly not how it goes, but hell, I bet it’s 100 times more interesting.
A few hours and after a very unsatisfying dinner (for me, anyway) later, we headed back to the B&B. The man was sitting outside the house for us and gave us a very warm welcome. We were shown to our room, and, after the exhausting day that he had (ha!) Wayne proceeded to fall asleep. I joined him in the Land of Nod after a bit.
We woke at half 6 and had to leg it down to the theatre. The play started at 7.10 and, although we were only 20 minutes away from the town centre, we wanted to go in the shop and get some things first. Thankfully we made it to the theatre, took our seats, and looked forward to the play. I quickly discovered a major problem with the seat I was sitting in: while it would have been a fantastic view, it was obstructed by a pillar going up to the Gallery (we were in the Circle). Wayne’s seat was much better, and I have learned a valuable lesson: don’t go for a seat at the side of a section. I learned another lesson a few moments later: don’t leave your phone at the B&B when you go out! In the few minutes before the play, I drove Wayne mad by checking, double-checking, triple-checking (and even quadruple-checking) to make sure it wasn’t somewhere on my person, ready to go off as soon as the play began.
Then the lights went down, and a guy wandered onto stage, plugs for an mp3 player in his ears, looking thoughtful as he passed through the gate at the back. Then the play began: three men, two from the house of Montague, one from the house of Capulet, strode forward, slow-motion and, staying slow-mo (an effect that seemed to be favoured in the play), bit his thumb.
“Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?”
The fighting that followed it was impressive, with a very cool (although somewhat peculiar and unneeded) display of pyrotechnics, as one of the members of the brawling families threw a match. The training involved for the fights must have been incredible – as well as fucking hard work. You have to feel for Jonjo O’Neill, the actor playing Mercutio, for bad swordplay in the first fight would be looked over, for who can expect lower ranking people to be perfect in fighting? In his scene, which comes later, Mercutio is showing off his ability to fight, so people will criticise it more. Not that it seemed to bother him too much, for the fighting was just as brilliant and unstagey (that should do be a word) as the rest of the fights.
I get ahead of myself. Before I talk about Mercutio (wonderful though he is), I suppose I ought to talk about Romeo and Juliet, the titular couple, the star-cross’d lovers, the pair of unlikeable twerps.
Romeo’s like one of those irritating emo things that wander our streets, always looking on the bad side of life *whistles*. His puling and puppyish devotion to Rosaline, immediately dissipated when he sees Juliet, just makes me want to smack him. I feel rather like (or so I imagine), Friar Lawrence when Romeo’s threatening to kill himself.
Juliet, while a bit more tolerable than Romeo on account of her being a child and so given to flights of fancy, still irritates me. Possibly that has something to do with my hatred of her giving up her life so easily, though, and my placing my modern day morality into a play of Elizabethan values.
(Perhaps I ought to stop doing that.)
Neither of these opinions changed during the play, for better or for worse. Juliet was more childlike than usual, playing with a yoyo in her first scene and, at the party, excitedly leaping away from Romeo wearing a Cheshire cat grin as she declares “You kiss by the book!” (To the delight and laughter from the audience who, I suppose, were expecting the adult in a child’s body calmness that we usually get from the textbooks.)
Romeo was as irksome as ever, though fantastically played by Sam Troughton, who gave it his all. He really went for it, really relishing his part. Given that it’s one of the most famous of the Shakespeare plays, he had every reason to. Mariah Gale (Juliet), while not as immersed in the role as Troughton, pulled off a convincing fourteen year old. She seemed far too comfortable and at ease pulling back her skirt to show off her thigh for someone so young, but I’ll let that go. She does speak like an adult throughout the rest of the play (mostly), so I’ll pretend that her tutors gave lessons in the art of seduction.
In fact, as I remember, there was only one display of bad acting from the ensemble, and that was from Christine Entwistle (Lady Capulet). In the few lines she gets in the play, was out acted by the torch Romeo carries into the tomb. She seemed to be more wooden, more disinterested, than any other actor or actress and any emotion seemed to be completely overplayed. Take when Nurse calls her to Juliet’s room, for example. Upon discovering her daughter ‘dead’, she hitches up her skirts and runs around and around the stage, looking around like she’s trying to work out where Juliet’s spirit may have gone, so she can capture it and put it back in her child’s body. Yes, I know this is a directorial decision, but still, it shouldn’t have caused me to bite back a laugh. Even Lady Montague, who has even fewer lines than L. Capulet, managed to drum up a better performance. Perhaps Entwistle was having a bad day, but her acting was completely laughable, in my book. Which is annoying, because she was in a previous play I went to see (As You Like It – RSC 2009) and was brilliant as Phoebe.
Another thing that the play didn’t change was my love of Mercutio, that hot blooded male who is as sharp and clever with his tongue as he is with the sword. From clever word play and subtle puns to outright crudeness and depravity, the audience seemed to love his every word. It being a world apart from his role in As You Like It (where O'Neill plays the Romeo-esque character (albeit with less moping)), the actor seemed to give his role everything. He was well rewarded by the audience's reception to him: he earned the biggest laugh of the night when, “conjuring” Romeo, he started imitating swimming through someone’s arse. The Serious Shakespeare Fans (you know the ones – the old, stern-faced fellows who sit in the Stalls, faces stony, unmoving, even during the funniest of scenes) looked disapproving, but everyone else thought it was hilarious. Another particularly funny bit from him came when he launched into “You’re [Nurse is] a whore” to the tune of The Old Bamboo from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Complete with dancing.
For all the Serious Fans can look disapproving, I love the fact that the ensemble kept the Elizabethan style humour, although they had to emphasise it a little to make modern audiences appreciate it. And that’s one thing I loved about the play; it didn’t take itself too seriously. When Romeo and Juliet died, there was emotion, sure. There was a hush upon the seats as we watched the events happen, as things unfolded the way we knew they would. But, before all that, they weren't afraid to have a bit of fun with it, like it was a sacred text.
However, nothing can be perfect, and there were a few decisions that I wasn’t too impressed with. There was a very classical feel to the play - a small band to punctuate moments with music, a simple set, at the end there was an opera singer, and traditional clothing. Mostly. For some unfathomable reason, Romeo and Juliet were parading around in parkas and modern day casual wear while sharing a stage with people in full get-up. I would say this is to show how the leading characters are worlds apart from the other characters, apart from the end when the feuding families are forced to adopt their children's loving natures towards each other. This interpretation, however, is diminished by the fact that the alchemist (who provides Romeo with poison) also wears modern day clothing. If the interpretation I came up with is correct, would that mean that the alchemist holds the same good values, despite prizing money over anything else?
I could let this slide. The ultimate piss-take, however, comes in the final scene. While the modern clothing can be overlooked, what he did with the final scene completely pulled you out of the moment of tragedy. What should be a sombre, painful goodbye, a lesson to the Montagues and the Capulets, left me wondering "what?!!
After Romeo and Juliet have died, in enters an amused looking Inspector and two PCs interviewing the “suspects”. All the (still living) characters returned, apparently travelling a few hundred years into the future and donning modern dress. There was no reason for the modernisation, and, for that, it is marked down slightly.
Overall though, it was well worth the money that I spent on it, and I highly recommend it, even to the people who wouldn’t consider going to the theatre fun.
We returned to the B&B, happy after a brilliant day. After a cup of tea, we went to bed, knackered after a long day.
Play: 8/10
Trip all together: 9/10
Cost: £130 (ish) for two people (including train tickets).
If you live under a Shakespeare free rock, blissfully unaware of Romeo and Juliet (or if you’re wanting to see the play and want to remain unspoiled), then I wouldn’t recommend reading any further as there’ll be some stonking huge spoilers.
--
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life,
Who misadventured piteous overthrows,
Do with their death bury their parents strife.
Everyone knows the story of Romeo and Juliet. A pair of whiny kids from a pair of families that hate each other end up thinking “I’d fuck that” and end up causing havoc, misery, and much death in Verona. The play has never been my favourite. So, when my boyfriend chose it as the one we went to see when we went to Stratford upon Avon, I had to stop myself from letting out a groan of dismay. I understand his reasoning (it’s the only one he remembers studying, and so is familiar with the text) but all the same, I could think of better plays to see. Well, not really, as I haven’t read any of the other plays that were being shown, but any was better than Romeo and Juliet!
That didn’t stop me from getting excited about it, though. It was his first ever proper experience at the theatre, and I couldn’t wait to find out what he thought of it.
We arrived at Stratford upon Avon early afternoon, and after a quick visit to the B&B to drop off our overnight stuff (the hosts weren’t there, so we ended up carrying it with us anyway), we headed into the town centre. Showing him around, I felt rather like a schoolgirl showing off her newest toys, jubilant at knowing more than he. Childish, I know. But forgive me; it’s not very often that I know more than him.
He thought it was gorgeous, although he wasn’t particularly excited by the old houses. As a re-enactor of the Jacobite Rebellion, the thrill of seeing old houses has worn off by now. I’m glad I’m not like him…I love old houses, and knowing that the wood/stone under my hand is old, made in a time so completely different to now. I still wouldn’t queue for hours and pay loads of money to go in one, though. I can’t imagine that going round Shakespeare’s house to be that thrilling. I always imagine the tour guide to be saying “And here is the outhouse where it is believed that Shakespeare went to take a dump. He kept his stash of porn just here.” It would be followed, obviously, by the “ooooh”ing of the people who paid to go on the tour, and then the frantic flashes of cameras.
Possibly not how it goes, but hell, I bet it’s 100 times more interesting.
A few hours and after a very unsatisfying dinner (for me, anyway) later, we headed back to the B&B. The man was sitting outside the house for us and gave us a very warm welcome. We were shown to our room, and, after the exhausting day that he had (ha!) Wayne proceeded to fall asleep. I joined him in the Land of Nod after a bit.
We woke at half 6 and had to leg it down to the theatre. The play started at 7.10 and, although we were only 20 minutes away from the town centre, we wanted to go in the shop and get some things first. Thankfully we made it to the theatre, took our seats, and looked forward to the play. I quickly discovered a major problem with the seat I was sitting in: while it would have been a fantastic view, it was obstructed by a pillar going up to the Gallery (we were in the Circle). Wayne’s seat was much better, and I have learned a valuable lesson: don’t go for a seat at the side of a section. I learned another lesson a few moments later: don’t leave your phone at the B&B when you go out! In the few minutes before the play, I drove Wayne mad by checking, double-checking, triple-checking (and even quadruple-checking) to make sure it wasn’t somewhere on my person, ready to go off as soon as the play began.
Then the lights went down, and a guy wandered onto stage, plugs for an mp3 player in his ears, looking thoughtful as he passed through the gate at the back. Then the play began: three men, two from the house of Montague, one from the house of Capulet, strode forward, slow-motion and, staying slow-mo (an effect that seemed to be favoured in the play), bit his thumb.
“Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?”
The fighting that followed it was impressive, with a very cool (although somewhat peculiar and unneeded) display of pyrotechnics, as one of the members of the brawling families threw a match. The training involved for the fights must have been incredible – as well as fucking hard work. You have to feel for Jonjo O’Neill, the actor playing Mercutio, for bad swordplay in the first fight would be looked over, for who can expect lower ranking people to be perfect in fighting? In his scene, which comes later, Mercutio is showing off his ability to fight, so people will criticise it more. Not that it seemed to bother him too much, for the fighting was just as brilliant and unstagey (that should do be a word) as the rest of the fights.
I get ahead of myself. Before I talk about Mercutio (wonderful though he is), I suppose I ought to talk about Romeo and Juliet, the titular couple, the star-cross’d lovers, the pair of unlikeable twerps.
Romeo’s like one of those irritating emo things that wander our streets, always looking on the bad side of life *whistles*. His puling and puppyish devotion to Rosaline, immediately dissipated when he sees Juliet, just makes me want to smack him. I feel rather like (or so I imagine), Friar Lawrence when Romeo’s threatening to kill himself.
Juliet, while a bit more tolerable than Romeo on account of her being a child and so given to flights of fancy, still irritates me. Possibly that has something to do with my hatred of her giving up her life so easily, though, and my placing my modern day morality into a play of Elizabethan values.
(Perhaps I ought to stop doing that.)
Neither of these opinions changed during the play, for better or for worse. Juliet was more childlike than usual, playing with a yoyo in her first scene and, at the party, excitedly leaping away from Romeo wearing a Cheshire cat grin as she declares “You kiss by the book!” (To the delight and laughter from the audience who, I suppose, were expecting the adult in a child’s body calmness that we usually get from the textbooks.)
Romeo was as irksome as ever, though fantastically played by Sam Troughton, who gave it his all. He really went for it, really relishing his part. Given that it’s one of the most famous of the Shakespeare plays, he had every reason to. Mariah Gale (Juliet), while not as immersed in the role as Troughton, pulled off a convincing fourteen year old. She seemed far too comfortable and at ease pulling back her skirt to show off her thigh for someone so young, but I’ll let that go. She does speak like an adult throughout the rest of the play (mostly), so I’ll pretend that her tutors gave lessons in the art of seduction.
In fact, as I remember, there was only one display of bad acting from the ensemble, and that was from Christine Entwistle (Lady Capulet). In the few lines she gets in the play, was out acted by the torch Romeo carries into the tomb. She seemed to be more wooden, more disinterested, than any other actor or actress and any emotion seemed to be completely overplayed. Take when Nurse calls her to Juliet’s room, for example. Upon discovering her daughter ‘dead’, she hitches up her skirts and runs around and around the stage, looking around like she’s trying to work out where Juliet’s spirit may have gone, so she can capture it and put it back in her child’s body. Yes, I know this is a directorial decision, but still, it shouldn’t have caused me to bite back a laugh. Even Lady Montague, who has even fewer lines than L. Capulet, managed to drum up a better performance. Perhaps Entwistle was having a bad day, but her acting was completely laughable, in my book. Which is annoying, because she was in a previous play I went to see (As You Like It – RSC 2009) and was brilliant as Phoebe.
Another thing that the play didn’t change was my love of Mercutio, that hot blooded male who is as sharp and clever with his tongue as he is with the sword. From clever word play and subtle puns to outright crudeness and depravity, the audience seemed to love his every word. It being a world apart from his role in As You Like It (where O'Neill plays the Romeo-esque character (albeit with less moping)), the actor seemed to give his role everything. He was well rewarded by the audience's reception to him: he earned the biggest laugh of the night when, “conjuring” Romeo, he started imitating swimming through someone’s arse. The Serious Shakespeare Fans (you know the ones – the old, stern-faced fellows who sit in the Stalls, faces stony, unmoving, even during the funniest of scenes) looked disapproving, but everyone else thought it was hilarious. Another particularly funny bit from him came when he launched into “You’re [Nurse is] a whore” to the tune of The Old Bamboo from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Complete with dancing.
For all the Serious Fans can look disapproving, I love the fact that the ensemble kept the Elizabethan style humour, although they had to emphasise it a little to make modern audiences appreciate it. And that’s one thing I loved about the play; it didn’t take itself too seriously. When Romeo and Juliet died, there was emotion, sure. There was a hush upon the seats as we watched the events happen, as things unfolded the way we knew they would. But, before all that, they weren't afraid to have a bit of fun with it, like it was a sacred text.
However, nothing can be perfect, and there were a few decisions that I wasn’t too impressed with. There was a very classical feel to the play - a small band to punctuate moments with music, a simple set, at the end there was an opera singer, and traditional clothing. Mostly. For some unfathomable reason, Romeo and Juliet were parading around in parkas and modern day casual wear while sharing a stage with people in full get-up. I would say this is to show how the leading characters are worlds apart from the other characters, apart from the end when the feuding families are forced to adopt their children's loving natures towards each other. This interpretation, however, is diminished by the fact that the alchemist (who provides Romeo with poison) also wears modern day clothing. If the interpretation I came up with is correct, would that mean that the alchemist holds the same good values, despite prizing money over anything else?
I could let this slide. The ultimate piss-take, however, comes in the final scene. While the modern clothing can be overlooked, what he did with the final scene completely pulled you out of the moment of tragedy. What should be a sombre, painful goodbye, a lesson to the Montagues and the Capulets, left me wondering "what?!!
After Romeo and Juliet have died, in enters an amused looking Inspector and two PCs interviewing the “suspects”. All the (still living) characters returned, apparently travelling a few hundred years into the future and donning modern dress. There was no reason for the modernisation, and, for that, it is marked down slightly.
Overall though, it was well worth the money that I spent on it, and I highly recommend it, even to the people who wouldn’t consider going to the theatre fun.
We returned to the B&B, happy after a brilliant day. After a cup of tea, we went to bed, knackered after a long day.
Play: 8/10
Trip all together: 9/10
Cost: £130 (ish) for two people (including train tickets).
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
The things you do when bored...
It's an interesting thing, boredom. Well, it's not, but it does drive us to do some interesting things, and you Google/Bing/Yahoo/Random Search Engine things that you would never think of using as search terms any other time.
Take earlier today. I was sitting in the DRS (Derby Radio Station) studio, most definitely not bored (some brilliant 60s tunes were being played and I was in the delightful company of Wayne) but my mind drifted, and I decided to follow up a conversation we had on air and look up odd ice cream flavours. I came across this jewel.
http://www.who-sucks.com/food/101-frightening-ice-cream-flavors-from-around-the-world
(Not safe for people with taste buds)
If you feel like being ill, or would like to find out some of the more adventurous (read: stark raving mental) things that the Japanese have unleashed upon the world, please take a look. And remember - they're all real. Including the horse flesh one.
Tasty.
Take earlier today. I was sitting in the DRS (Derby Radio Station) studio, most definitely not bored (some brilliant 60s tunes were being played and I was in the delightful company of Wayne) but my mind drifted, and I decided to follow up a conversation we had on air and look up odd ice cream flavours. I came across this jewel.
http://www.who-sucks.com/food/101-frightening-ice-cream-flavors-from-around-the-world
(Not safe for people with taste buds)
If you feel like being ill, or would like to find out some of the more adventurous (read: stark raving mental) things that the Japanese have unleashed upon the world, please take a look. And remember - they're all real. Including the horse flesh one.
Tasty.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
