HOWLIE,'S BLOG THING

Unilad

2012-01-31T18:08:00.002Z

So, you may have heard across the course of the day about Unilad. A vile and sexist publication with whom I have no wish to increase the hits.

This is the article in question. You can take it down but you can't make it disappear, welcome to the internet.

They have issued an apology. Not that it makes it any different really. The point is that there was still an article promoting rape, and this means that whoever posted it clearly things that's "okay". (It's not.)

I could go on for hours about why this is so very wrong, but i'll leave you instead with a couple of comments from the facebook page.

And finally. A transcript of the comment I posted. For if you're still not sure that rape is bad:

‎"Lads", what you don't realise here is that we aren't going after "unilad" because we hate the site, although in my opinion it's vile and unpleasant. The problem here is that in suggesting that rape is in anyway condoned, it suggests to you that it's something you might do.

Try putting yourself in her shoes. Imagine you are the girl who's crying and saying no to a boy who's bigger and stronger than her and just won't listen.

Imagine yourself past that night, to the humiliation of the GU clinic and a police investigation. To a group of strange men who, whilst working for the best, will ask you to take off your clothes for them again and again. Yes they're photographing bruises, cuts, injuries, but it doesn't make it any better.

What about after that? When you loose your job because it was a co-worker who did it and you don't feel safe in their presence, or when you suffer years of depression, low self esteem and fear that it might happen again.

What about if every time you so much as think of the idea of having sex again it frightens you too much to say. You might have wanted a loving relationship with someone, but finding anyone who's going to be able to cope with your fears is easier said than done.

What about when you feel so lost you think that maybe you should just kill yourself, so that it won't happen a second or a third time? Or when you barely survive because it does.

There is a reason rape isn't funny. And that it's bad.

"Normal"

2012-01-30T17:07:00.000Z

Hello, long time no speak! I hope this is the start of something more organised. In which I blog more often and scream incoherently about my family less. Shall we begin?

This is what I looked like today. Aside from looking like a lady version of Mark Lamarr (in my opinion); i'd say that I look fairly "normal".

There's a point to be made here though. I've said it before and i'll say it again:

There Is No Such Thing As Normal

Here are a couple of things about me which are not Normal. Things you can't tell from looking at me.

- I have mild tinnitus in both ears, I don't recall when it started, only that I have it.

- I have an astigmatism. You might guess that from the glasses, but you might also assume I am merely short sighted.

- I can turn both my feet in towards one another and then slightly out the back.

- My septum is slightly wonky. (Admittedly you could see this one by looking, but you'd have to get right up in my face).

See? That's a whole handful of perfectly innocent things about me that aren't normal. I could extend this list further, into the "abnormal" side of me that can often frighten or upset the ill informed.

-I have mild aspergers syndrome, a condition on the Autism Spectrum

-I am not "straight"

-I am currently on medication for depression

-I once cut a chunk out of my left wrist with a pair of nail clippers. One of the most singularly painful and stupid things i've ever done with my life to date.

That's even less normal isn't it?

There's a point i'm trying to make here, which I think is something about not judging people by appearances. But i'm not sure.

The importance of laughter

2011-11-14T18:17:00.001Z

Hello blog fans, it's been a bit of a while hasn't it? Sorry about that. But I come to you with a blog! Admittedly there will be the usual lack of intelligent content, sorry about that, but this blog is to be about laughing.

Now, I laugh easily and often. Like many people I have a variety of laughs too. Sometimes I giggle, sometimes I make a really weird noise in the back of my throat a bit like a seal being stepped on, sometimes I laugh properly.

I once had my proper laugh described as being a manly pub laugh. The kind that men do (in pubs) where they throw their heads back and almost bellow out a HAR HAR HAR entirely earnestly. I like that.

I'd also like to think this makes me a good audience member, especially for things like comedy. Sometimes it takes one person who laughs loudly to coerce the rest of the audience into joining in. Sometimes you're the only one in the room quite clearly pissing themselves which can be somewhat awkward, but mostly it's good.

I've been through enough gigs now to know that it's more fun all around if everyone is laughing, and if it takes one loud laugh to boost that off, then I don't think thats a problem.

(Although it is slightly awkward if you're working on a show and people keep turning to the back because they can hear you, but that's another matter.)

What about you reader? What's your laugh like?

An Open Letter to Nadine Dorries

2011-09-01T13:18:00.003+01:00

Hello Nadine,

You seem to be fascinated with other peoples wombs. So here's a bit about mine. Currently we chug along happily enough, I feed it some pills and once a month it reciprocates with some blood and some cramps.

If anything, it looks after me a bit. When i'm not eating well or too stressed, it lets me know. Sometimes i'd rather it didn't, but the metaphorical red flag is quite handy.

You see, i'm still pretty young. I do want children one day, but not just yet yeah? Because i'm 19 and i'm reliant on medication to get me through the day. I don't think i'd make a good mother, not just yet at any rate.

Even when I do, I think i'd like that decision to be between me, my partner, and my uterus. No offence Nadine, but I just don't think you ought to have a say in what I do with my uterus. So if you could just leave us be i'd be really rather grateful.

I'm sure you'll understand, you've got a uterus too right? You can mess about with that instead.

Misha

An Indecent Proposal

2011-07-09T19:30:00.003+01:00

Im not normally one to witter on about love and marriage and all that jazz, but I recently saw someone propose and then stumbled across my mums old engagement ring (pictured) so it's on my mind.

I've had the discussion before, I know everyone is different, but I quite like the idea of the proposal in public, i've seen two happen at comedy shows and it seems really quite charming to me; although frankly I wouldn't give a damn if someone tried to propose to me. My dad proposed to my mum with a cheap silver ring on a whim. (That's the one next to the engagement ring in the picture, a representation of the original).

Similarly, rings. Some people say it should be a month and a half's salary, others don't care, what style? How do you work out your girlfriends ring size? Do you just ask and then take her to pick a ring she likes? (For future reference, I'll have my mum's thanks, if you really want to you can pay someone to repair the missing stone). Although really, it's all arbitrary. If you love someone, a piece of metal is neither here nor there, it's just a symbolic token.

There seems to be pressure nowadays to outdo the next door neighbours, be more flashy, more romantic, more everything, but it can be romantic in different ways. You could fly someone out to the tropics and do it on a beach with candles all around, or you could just turn around at breakfast one morning and go "I really bloody like you, what say we get a ring and stay together until we die or become irretrievably estranged?"

Some people say that a public proposal puts too much pressure on you, but surely if the other party has decided to propose you're probably in love enough you'd say yes whatever?

This has been a ramble about proposals, I am still wearing my mums engagement ring, which spookily enough only fits my ring fingers, won't go past the knuckle on the others.

Weird eh?

With friends like these...

2011-06-25T18:28:00.003+01:00

I have had several conversations of late, that have made me worry.

No change there then, because i'm the kind of person who worries about everything. But in particular, this comes down to the idea of the "frenemy".

Wikipedia describes "Frenemy" as: "a portmanteau of "friend" and "enemy" that can refer to either an enemy disguised as a friend or to a partner who is simultaneously a competitor and rival."

Now, this isn't perhaps the best word, but it'll do.

So, I had a conversation recently with a friend, about how other friends continually take the piss out of my clothing choices. It was he who suggested they were pretty shit friends for doing so, and if they didn't have something nice to say then they should say nothing at all. (Not his exact words, but that was the gist of it). I made a joke about them saying things like "interesting" to be polite, and he got briefly very angry on my behalf over it.

Which got me thinking.

Now, I can count on one hand the number of people who I would say genuinely appreciate my sense of style. I'm ok with that, I'm aware I dress like "an accident in a dressing up box" and that the combination of vintage purple floral dress, leopard print cardi and red doc martens (a current favourite) isn't to everyones tastes. I'm ok with that. I have my own, slightly questionable style, and I don't mind if other people aren't fond if they keep it to themselves.

That's what friends do right? They either say "you look daft but you're happy with it so i'll shut up" or they say nothing. Although i'm used to my friends saying "you look like a twat, why are you wearing that?" So maybe i've got a skewed view on these things.

Another thing, which i've mentioned before, was a conversation with a friend who effectively said "yes you're nuts, but that's why we love you" which is still one of the nicest things said to me to date. Again, I think this is what friends do? They accept you for who you are, or indeed who you're not.

This is the thing i've got to wondering; because I've got lots of good friends who accept me with my oddities and stupid dress sense and ignore the things I get up to. And others indeed, that don't.

And which ones are really the friends? Because you think of friends as being people who share your tastes and like you the way you are, but then maybe that's a modern invention. Remember at school when you were friends with people just because they were there? It didn't matter if you thought they dressed silly or they preferred power rangers when you liked TMNT's better, you just got on with it.

As an adult you get to be more selective yes, and with the internet more selective still. But you then fall into that trap of thinking that everyone agrees with you. Things like twitter are especially bad for this, I am highly aware my twitter feed is filtered through a sort of arty, liberal, comedy centric field of people. That's no bad thing either, but it leads me to doubt other relationships, which maybe isn't as good.

So who are the real frenemy's here? The people who tell me I look like a twat and like crap music but make time for me anyway? Or the people whom I can swap playlists and cardis with, and fangirl into the wee small hours about obscure music/comedy/comics.

Or maybe neither, maybe it's just a new facet of modern life?

Drunk=/=Consent

2011-05-31T21:39:00.001+01:00

I sometimes think I am oversensitive to the whole "dressing provocatively" argument where rape is concerned.

I'm not sure the word "rape" is right, so lets' stick with sexual assault, it was quantifiably that; but the night I was sexually assaulted I was wearing jeans, doc martens and a baggy teeshirt.

Yes i'd been drinking.

Yes I was in a night club.

But I've been out numerous times since, wearing far more revealing clothing and i've not been attacked, upset or had anything more untoward than a case of mistaken gender happen to me.*

Nothing ever came of it, although I did eventually go to report it to the police after urging from friends. I had so many bruises and grazes on my chest and breasts I could nearly wear a teeshirt for days let along consider putting a bra on. My self confidence was ruined and the first time I finally went out again after the incident I clung to my new friends the entire night and made them promise not to leave me for a moment.

Although we never candidly discussed it, they saw the bruises, they knew I went to the police. They knew why I was scared. They were great.

A special commendation should also go here to James who spoke to me that night whilst I lay on my own bedroom floor in a strange city, terrified and sobbing even with two locked gates and a locked door between me and him. I barely knew him, and yet he sat up till four talking to me, repeating over and over that it wasn't my fault and no-one ever has the right to make me feel that way.

And I don't think it was. This is something else I was told over and over; being drunk isn't the same thing as giving your consent to blow someone in a night club.

Let me repeat that for you.

Drunkeness =/= consent.

If you fancy him/her that much, then do them the courtesy of waiting till they're more sober.

Again, dressing "provocatively" doesn't equal consent either. A moot point because as I say I was in jeans, boots and a baggy top; but i've been out since in much more revealing clothes and had no trouble.

Short dresses don't make men rape women.

I walked back from the station in the early hours in a short dress, and the only man to approach me came and asked if I was ok. That, if anything, has restored some of my faith in humanity.

Oh and a note to the police, when helping someone, please don't victim blame.

If you and your victim agree there's nothing that can usefully be done, why not close the case without writing a 3 page statement for your victim to sign that says "I was a drunk whore and it was my own stupid fault".

Just a thought.

*shortly after christmas I was coaxed out with my newly shaved head. It was dark, i was wearing black jeans, DMs and a blazer. Easy mistake to make from behind.

You can't tell me what to do you're not my real mum.

2011-05-10T18:16:00.002+01:00

Now i've blogged before about being mumsy, and indeed about playing mum to my little brother. 9 year age gap etc etc.

Normally, it doesn't bother me, or if it has I find it amusing; but this week i've been left in charge for a whole week. Thats a whole week of school runs and cubs and dinner money and making dinners, washing up, washing clothes, cleaning the bathroom, running the hoover, segmenting your day into school runs, looking for clean jumpers, mumbling at stains, the list goes on.

Now it's not that i'm overly bothered. Living alone I wash up, wash clothes, make dinner, hoover, clean the bathroom, mumble at the cupboards etcetera. But I don't have to be mum. If I want to leave the washing up in the sink and go to the pub I can. In short, i'm missing the freedom.

Coming home has been a massive step back for me, yes it's the most logical thing in a world where the job centre are so loathe to give me any fucking money I can't afford to live in Cardiff for fear of starvation; but I don't appreciate simply going back to being an unpaid nanny. I'm sure Dad must have coped perfectly fine the last 9 months where I wasn't here? And yet I still had a text whilst I was out the other day asking if I couldn't come home a bit earlier so he could go to his girlfriends.

I'll admit I took far too much vindictive pleasure in saying no. I had plans. I was going to a gig and was booked in on the late train back. Hah.

Which is silly really isn't it? He's my little brother, babysitting is part and parcel, and yet it would just be nice to feel appreciated for it.

I'm not staying here if I can help it, I don't care what Dad says, i'm moving to London and getting a job because i'm not mum. I'm 19. I should be off, doing stupid things and drinking too much sometimes and not having to get home in time to pick the kids up from school.

I wouldn't mind if it was a job. If I was a paid au pair and it was someone elses kids but i'm not! And that's what's getting to me. I'm not a mum, nor a fucking nanny, i'm just living here as a fellow member of the household who has her own social life and things to be getting on with.

In short.

I'm not mum.

Mr Smith, I need you.

2011-04-20T18:00:00.002+01:00

There have been many touching tributes to Elizabeth Sladen, all from fans of the show. The CBBC site has some heartbreaking messages from the youngest fans of the show under a page that says "it's ok to be sad at the news". And now, i'm having a go.

I was already feeling a bit fragile last night when I heard the news. I started sobbing for a good 5 minutes before it was officially confirmed by the BBC and other such reputable sources, although, like many, up until that point I was hoping it was a cruel joke. Once confirmed, it was almost beautiful to watch, as one, my timeline filled up with sadness and tears and touching tributes to a wonderful lady. For my part, I cried for a good 45 minutes until my chest hurt, and spent the evening feeling sad.

I genuinely don't think i've grieved so much for someone since my Mum died.

It seems silly of course, I never met her, i'm too young and too skint to be particularly familiar with her classic series episodes, and i've never religiously watched the Sarah Jane Adventures, more, put them on when i've been around or watched the saturday morning re-runs with my brother. And yet, she still had a special place in my heart.

For the older generation, she was someone you could fancy, the sister you always wished you had; for mine, she was like a mad but cool auntie who you love to visit. When she first appeared in School Reunion there was no question of who she was, even if you weren't familiar with the classic series like me, (I know the stories, i've just not seen them), like the Dalek's and the scarf she was an icon of Dr Who for fans and non fans alike.

I can't do her justice here, she seemed too young, to energetic and full of life to die, and yet, as my experience have taught me, it doesn't work like that.

Goodbye Sarah Jane.
Enjoy Aberdeen.

On Being Unemployed

2011-04-11T16:44:00.001+01:00

It turns out, after 3 months that there really is only so much you can do with your time. Today for example, I watched telly, went for a walk, went to the shops, applied for jobs listened to the radio, read, played a game, tidied the room, surfed about on the internet AND trimmed my nails. It's only half 4.

There is still an entire evening of mind numbing tedium to fill.

Of course, being unemployed means I can't afford to do the kind of thing people normally do to fill an evening. Cinema? Pub? Theatre? No. Normally i'd chat to a friend maybe, share the tedium but they've all gone home for easter.

I'm seriously considering the possibilities offered by buying a cheap bottle of wine and getting smashed.

The pinacle of my day so far has been the bagel I ate for lunch.

Today however, I finally applied for Job Seekers Allowance, in approximately 10 days time, i'll receive a small amount of money once a fortnight to support myself with whilst I hunt for work.

I can do things like buy DVDs or go to the cinema again to fill my time. Hopefully i'll eventually get a job too. But just look on this, don't let anyone tell you people on benefits are scrounging or lazy. Because I can guarantee a large number of them would jump at the opportunity of your job.

I would.

I'm bored.

River Songs Hallucinogenic Lipstick*

2011-03-31T21:04:00.002+01:00

So, I had intended this to be a blog about London, in view of the fact it looks like I might finally be moving there come september. But instead I acquired some new lipstick today taking my collection up to five. So this is a blog about lipstick instead.

Lipstick is always something i've thought of as being "grown up" my mum used to wear red lipstick when she went out for an evening, and I owned one for many years that was pink and sparkly which I would occasionally wear for dress up, but otherwise never bothered with.

I had another one at one stage, bought from the avon catalogue for a reason I can no longer remember, long before I was old enough for it. I suppose it was just one of those "being like mummy" things. But anyway, I digress. Lipstick, more than anything else, has always been a "grown ups" thing to me.

I do it too, I put on lipstick when i'm going somewhere special, owning fuschia pink, dark red and a pinkish skin tone one, I often tend to wear the pinkish one as the other two don't always match. But today I acquired an orange one, and a nice pillar box red. I went straight to the ladies in the shopping centre and put the orange one on; and I immediately felt more grown up, ladylike.

It gave me the confidence to ring a number and land myself (yet another) job interview. In short, wearing lipstick makes me feel like a grown up. I'm almost excited for tomorrow, where i can pick which shade to wear.

It's just interesting, to me at least, how one little thing can have such a big effect on how I feel. It makes me feel, done, for want of a better word. I've been smearing too much eyeliner on since I decided to be a goth at 12, that's a habitual part of my morning routine now, lipstick has always been a special occasions thing.

I know that in this age of empowerment women shouldn't feel the need to wear makeup etc etc, but what if we want to? What if I want to? I like it because it makes me happy. I'm equally as comfortable stumbling out into town in raggy jeans and no makeup, but it's nice too to get dressed and done up.

Just a thought really.

*This is in fact the title of a facebook fan group, and it tickled me so much I borrowed it for the blog

It's ok to want to be Juno

2011-03-20T15:11:00.002Z

Today, my dearest blog reader, I come to you with a defence of indie. Now, as anyone who knows me even slightly knows, i'm a bit of a twee fucker. I knit, drink tea, make cakes and don't leave the tap on whilst brushing my teeth*. I listen to Frightened Rabbit and My Tiny Robots and I go to gigs to dance and they know me by sight if not by name at my favourite cafes. As I type this i'm wearing a jumper and listening to this. The point i'm trying to make, is that people might call me (gasp) a bit of an indie. And I'm happy with that.

I'm writing this defence following something on facebook, isn't it always? But bear with me. The original comment was as thus (spelling and grammar preserved):

HAtes the fact that everyone grows up. What happened to the good old days i still dress and listen to the same music i did 4 years ago. Its seems like if u wanna be a student u have to dress boring or make urself look like a Gochwang man bag indie. God i hate indie people they look like utter knobheads wit thier stupid boots lesbain hair and fat ass glasses !!! i say DEATH TO KINGS OF LEON !!!!!

Yes. Quite. Kings of Leon aside, might I ask what is so good about not growing up at all between the ages of 16 and 20? I don't know about you, but I was a bit of a wanker with questionable dress sense at 16. In fairness, I'm still a bit of a wanker with questionable dress sense, so yes. Actually, come to think of it, this is something of a moot point because i'm largely the same. I was a twee indie fucker at 16 and I still am at 18. So that's a bad point.

But I digress, to return to the defence, I've got lesbian hair and heavy rimmed glasses (they happen to suit my face shape) I live in boots all winter and I own two pairs of grubby converse. I would not be offended if you said I was an indie kid, i'd probably blink owlishly at you over my cup of tea and be shy. (Yay stereotypes!).

I'm not sure what i'm trying to say with this, maybe that if you want to be like the cast of Juno that's cool. Hell, do what you like if you're not forcing it on me. I just don't think it's cool to shout people down and dismiss whole swathes of society because you don't like the way they dress. The poster of this comment is a metal head, I personally think he looks a bit of a twat, but he's a really lovely bloke the rest of the time and so I dismiss it. So maybe that's the message of this blog. Fuck what people look like, just be nice to each other.

*I don't know that caring about the environment is very indie, but you catch my drift?

I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby.

2011-03-07T18:06:00.002Z

University is supposed to be the best time of your life. Or so they say, whoever "they" are. But for me however, my first year of university so far has been more one long protracted nervous breakdown. It's not been the best 8 months of my life even outside uni, sexual assault, death, unemployment and upset amongst friends haven't helped, but this isn't a blog about that.

I suddenly realised, on the train home today, that life is short, too short to waste on things that you aren't enjoying. I quite like teching, but on a practical level; and I could spend £500 to do a weekend crash course learning to rig and suchlike, I don't really care about frequencies or ear training or any of the academic surround to it. I'm not even sure I like teching enough to want to do it at the end of my degree let alone as one, which is something of a clincher. There's no point in doing a degree for the sake of it.

Some of you may remember my initial doubts, in which people takled me round when I wanted to drop out a month in, well, I feel it's fare to say i've given it a damn good try, and all it's done is leave me depressed, upset and suicidal. I am not over-exaggerating here, i've been on anti-depressants for a little over a month now, and whilst i've not had any suicidal thoughts strong enough to act upon, the fact i've had them at all really isn't a good sign in my opinion. On a side note, to those kind people who care for my health, I wouldn't do it again, i'm not that daft or desperate!

But this is the conclusion I came to, I think i'm definitely going to defer a year, and possibly drop out indefinitely. I intend to spend the year still living in Cardiff, because i've committed to a flat which it would be cruel of me to drop out on, and not to mention I already have a job here. I intend to spend the year working full time, so I can pay my rent and eat, and so that I can pay off my debts, to my Dad at least, and at the end of it i'll see how I feel. If I want to, I'll pick up where i left off, and finish the degree, and if not, i'll move to London and find a job, like i've always wanted to.

The plus point, is that if I don't pick it up then i'm not saddled with £18,000 or so of student debt for a degree which has so far only eroded my mental stability. Although dropping out will never look good on my CV, I want to be self employed and work in comedy or music anyway, so i'll find a way around it.

Anyway, this blog is an explanation for those of you who wanted one, and a query for everyone else. Does anyone have any thoughts for me? Did you do a degree or have you got by just fine without one? Let me know.

Baby be mine.

2011-02-20T01:13:00.003Z

It is not fashionable, at least in my generation, to want to have a baby. Women should be independent, feminist, career driven, their own women. But they should not want to settle down and start a family. It's almost as though having a baby is like admitting defeat, going "oh well, some man knocked me up, best give up my life now". (I speak in a wide generalisation of course). But generally, it seems that one cannot uphold these independent, feminist sort of ideals and want to have a baby as well.

But I do.

I've blogged before about this, stress about caring for my brother or more generally. But the thing is I know that I want, one day, to have a child. In the same way that women who do not want a baby speak of "just knowing" it. I am the same. I am equally aware that, however broody I might feel now, I don't want a child just yet. I am sensible, but at some point in the future the idea of having a baby, of being pregnant, I find incredible and exciting. How amazing is it that a cluster of cells grows inside you into a miniature human being?! I think it's pretty fucking awesome myself.

And I know, of course I do, that being a mother is more than just that. It's about sewing name tabs in, watching rugby matches and ballet performances. It's putting plasters on knees and sitting up til 2am so you can cast a disapproving look at your offspring as they stagger in the door. I feel, to an extent, as though i'm having a trial run. I look after my brother in the manner of a mother as well as a big sister some of the time, perhaps less so now I live away from home. But I still mother people.

It's something of a running joke at uni, that I mother people. I sewed up a hole in Dale's trousers for him the other day, because he'd tried and it hadn't held. I genuinely found myself muttering, "I must ask Dale to lay those trousers out if he wants me to mend them this evening." At which my flatmates laughed and said it was the most motherly thing i'd ever said. Another example, in cooking christmas dinner me and my friend Sam jokingly took the roles of "mum" and "dad". Me cooking, him dealing with the carving. And I didn't mind it, it was nice to make christmas dinner for everyone and play mum for the evening.

Ultimately, I seem to have an urge to mother people. Interestingly, people seem to have the same urge towards me, perhaps I just exude some air of needing a little bit of looking after myself. But I like to be the one to do the looking after. And so I conclude that, unfashionable though it may be, I want to be a Mother. I get this funny feeling in the bottom of my chest, in a way that makes my heart ache. I know there's time yet, there's plenty of time. And in the mean time, i'll just mother anyone else who'll let me as best I can.

This is one of those blogs without a coherent ending. So i'll stop here.

Unemployed

2011-02-08T13:26:00.002Z

As regular blog readers may have gathered, i'm currently an unemployed student. I've been unemployed roughly since last July, which is when my last job ended, and i've been job hunting with varying degrees of success ever since. I've had 2 interviews (didn't get it) 3 phone calls (mistaken identity) and a whole raft of being ignored.

It's reaching a certain level of desperation now, I get a small amount of money each month off my Dad for food, previously i've dipped into this a little in order to save money or to finance fun trips, that hundred or so pounds a month is now my only income. So at the moment I can either eat, or I can do things. This has already lead to me having to cancel several things, and a considerable amount of generalised stress.

For the past few weeks or so, i've been eating roughly one meal a day, in order to make the pasta etc that I stocked up on at the start of the month, last longer. I'm aware this isn't the best thing to do, but I owed some people some money and my sense that I needed to pay that back was more important. Admittedly, this months issues were caused more by missing a coach and having to buy replacement tickets, but none-the-less, it makes life hard. Next months will be paying back two friends, and a planned trip home which i'm damned if i'm going to give up on. I've already had to cancel one trip to see some comedy, I might cry if I have to cancel another.

I'm aware none of this is healthy, I suspect indirectly my ongoing inability to find a fucking job is contributing to my currently ballsed up mental health (more on that in another post maybe). I don't even really know what i'm getting at with this blog post. Maybe just a rant that no-one wants to fucking employ me, and that i'm tired of not being able to have food or go out. I'm not really sure.

It's stressful too, that as a student I can only take on part time employment, and yet I can't even rely on my loans, as they don't cover the cost of my rent, let alone anything else. Cue more stress! Basically, I need a job in order to continue functioning as a human being, because currently the stress is taking it's toll on my poor tired mind.

I think this blog post has become more a rant/desperate cry for employment than anything else. It should end here.

I am not Linda

2011-01-28T04:20:00.004Z

I post this with the caveat that it's 20 past 4 in the morning and I haven't slept yet.

____________________________

Sometimes I think about becoming someone different. I'll shave my head, change my name, move city, make new friends. Sometimes I want to. I've done some of those things now, I left my makeup in Cardiff over Christmas and most of my clothes, got drunk and shaved my head with a cheap disposable razor. I was half a pint away from changing my name by deed poll I swear. (I didn't). Sometimes I toy with it, when someone I don't want to talk to asks me my name I tell them i'm called Linda, I tell them i'm a visitor to the city, that I live in London and i'm a musician. That's the sort of thing I imagine Linda would do.

Leaving my makeup off and shaving my head made me realise though, that actually I like being Misha. It's a big part of me, my identity, as much as being too close to 6ft and 13st for a girl and liking indie pop and cats. A friend asked me if I was wearing contacts instead of glasses, seeing me for the first time without my usual panda eyed makeup. It made me giggle, but it also made me realise that in some ways that I am more "me" with my makeup, my hairdye my stupid clothes.

I'm not fussed, i'll go out in anything makeup or no, unshowered or perfectly coiffuered. That's cool, that's me, that's the way I am. But my Identity. That's something else, it's something that's lurked deep down in me from when I was small. I'm a dresses and boots girl. I was always the kid on the climbing frame in a flowery party dress. I enjoy jeans and a vest as much as the next girl but I like dresses too. They aren't always practical, fuck, i'm a trainee techie I know that. But i'm starting to accept i'm like that, i'm more dress up than down. I feel at my best in proper shoes and a dress rather than jeans and trainers. I like blouses and shirts as day wear and I go out in a blazer and a pair of doc martens.

It's nice to realise who I am, and at the moment i'm ripped layers, badly dyed hair, perfume and a dress for a walk to tescos, holes in the crotch of my tights. I a floppy badly cut hair, chipped nail varnish and dancing to shit music in the kitchen. I am podcasts on my ipod not music, trains, busses, spending most of my money on tickets to see comedy isntead of on food, I am all the wrong desicions and being on time to things.

I sometimes toy with the idea of pretending to be someone else, then I pretend to be Linda. Linda (I imagine) lives in London. She plays bass, frequents a local coffee shop and a record store, she wears proper headphones, has a boyfriend and a cat and a shoebox of a flat. She is tall, slim and kick ass. She is who I would be if I could but i'm not. I think if anything i'm just learning to channel my inner Linda, accepting that it's not who I am, but who I aspire to be a little bit like.

I don't even know if this makes sense.

It's early, or late, or something. I've just tided my room and i'm full of restless energy. I only wish it would make my hair grow.

(If anyones wondering why Linda? I used to know someone whose username was Mr Linda, which I always thought was really fucking awesome. Hence my love affair with the name)

It's not quite as simple as that: Weight

2011-01-15T13:09:00.001Z

Foreword: I'm writing this as an unconventional but otherwise average white cis-gendered female of a slightly too high BMI.
Please, don't kill me.

There are two sides to every argument, and therefore nothing is ever quite as simple as that. Take weight for example.

One camp says skinny is beautiful, we're talking Kenneth Tong's questionable "hoax", catwalk models, topshop* thinspiration sites. These say you are not beautiful or worthwhile if you aren't the size of a twig.

Another is anti this, they say curves are beautiful, that girls should have hips and breasts and actual stomachs.

A third says we should be happy just the way we are, fat or thin, male or female, hairy or smooth.

Don't even get me started on "real women" or "real men". We're all fucking different, some women have broad child bearing hips and some naturally are slim and have the figure of a teenage boy. Some men are big and muscly and some are small and delicate. It shouldn't need re-iterating anymore.

But the problem is it's never quite all that simple is it? Strictly we should all be in camp three. Love yourself the way you are. Yes, this is true, you should, but it's not as simple as that. At the end of the day it's about your health, you should be happy without the way you are, you shouldn't feel the need to diet to be accepted, but you also shouldn't endanger your health.

And also, what if it makes you happy? What if you choose to loose a stone by a sensible means, eat healthily, exercise well, drop that extra dress size. Should you not be congratulated for making a life choice? What if you don't want to? What if you're comfortable in your own skin? That's a life choice too, although it seems to be more acceptable.

The only real place you should be drawing the line is where it's bad for you, anorexia is bad, bulimia is bad, consciously deciding to make a change to your lifestyle in a safe manner is not. It's your choice anyway.

There is no definitive answer on this, as to whether we should be championing larger people or slimmer people, "normal people" and what is normal anyway? Really we should just show that actually there's a massive cross section of people in the world, and some are fat and some are thin and some have love handles or muscled arms or lumps or scars.

I've noticed this at uni, although we vary a bit in size, none of us are massively over weight. We're some of us perhaps pushing it on the BMI (and what bollocks that is) but we're what you might call "average" and some of them are really very cruel. I've heard people dismissed on weight alone, which is mental because I have friends outside uni who would clinically be considered to be overweight who are just as wonderful, beautiful, lovely, intelligent worthwhile people as any of those I have who aren't.

I'm equally as incredulous as the next person about people who eat so much they become bed bound, we watched a programme about a man who weight 56 stone recently, I couldn't relate to that. But I can relate to carrying a few extra pounds around the middle and not caring. The fact i've dropped a dress size whilst at uni is nice, but weighing myself proves I haven't lost a pound of weight so it's all bollocks anyway.

It annoys me when people champion one thing at the expense of another. Be happy with yourself, but don't risk your health. Do what you personally feel you need to do and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. You want to loose some weight in a safe manner? Go for it! You don't want to? That's equally as ok, you are a grown adult and capable of making your own life choices. So go for it! Have that extra slice of cake and then go for a run in the morning, or don't, have a cup of tea and a lie in instead.

I don't have a definitive answer here. I just wanted to say that you can have your fatspo and your thinspo and what have you. But it's not quite as simple as that.

*I am not commenting on topshops ethic, merely that they, like many companies, advertise with slim tall models. Unlike other companies however, they seem to stock a profusion of small sizes, leaving tall sturdy people like me, stuck if ever we find ourselves there. I don't notice it half so much anywhere else.

Stigma No More?

2011-01-12T17:47:00.000Z

I'm open about my mental health. Anyone who knows me, reads this blog or follows me on twitter knows that. Many would perhaps say too open, but I don't listen to them. The fact of the matter is that my issues with my mind are just who I am, and i'd rather people knew that and just dealt with it.

I do have aspergers syndrome, I did have subjective depression, I did cut my arms up and try to kill myself at one time. It happened to me, that's just who I am and i'd rather people accepted that.

And for the most part they do. I think it was best summed up by one of my flatmates, that is, the people who's flat I hang around in, rather than the one i technically live in. I digress, anyway, the conversation went something like this.

Me: "She looks at me like i'm properly mental."
Him: "You are, the difference is we don't mind."

Just a simple thing, but it really made my day. Because it's true, I am a bit weird, a bit special, a bit mental. And the people i've actually become friends with don't give a flying fuck either way. Most of the people i've come across don't either. They just go, "oh right, well, anyway…" and we carry on with whatever it was we were talking about.

From that it seems that, yes, maybe there is something of s stigma surrounding mental illness. But perhaps we're breeding a new generation who are less concerned by it. It's going to take some time whilst we all grow up, but hopefully we'll grow up and teach our children not to care.

New Years Resolutions Part 2

2011-01-04T20:32:00.002Z

Like a pretentious prog rock album, this is part 2 of my new years resolutions blog. What?! I hear you cry (no i'm not imagining things it's a literary conceit) Already?! Yes. Already.

You see, this year, for the first year ever, I decided to damn well get on with it and actually try and do my new years resolutions. And I am.

I've already booked a room and a couple of acts in order to put on Glass Half Full Comedy. That's resolution 2 if you didn't remember. I'll probably have a shot at MCing it myself, and I've sent out a couple of emails with regards to doing open mic spots for other people. So that's the most exciting bit.

Gosh it's stressful though isn't it? I mean, who the fuck decides as a skint student to run a comedy night on a shoestring budget? Well, Me. Because i'm a silly billy twat or something.

I'm doing ok with the others too, i've arranged to do stuff, and I made a real dinner last night. A lovely thing with spinach and lemon and creme fraiche on pasta. I'll have the leftovers for tea shortly.

I also haven't had a fag. But thats not really hard, it's when I go out that it's hard.

New Years Resolutions

2010-12-30T23:36:00.003Z

Well, 2010 has been a funny old year for a number of reasons. It's had it's ups and it's downs, and now it's damn near at a close. And so here are some new years resolutions for 2011.

1. Do More

I've noticed recently that i'm happier when i've got things to keep me busy; a night in suddenly seems so much pleasanter at the end of a busy week, rather than am oh-god-what-can-I-do? situation. Obviously comedy is a good one, but music, going out for a drink or even just trips to the bay or to the museum or something.

2. Stop using age as an excuse for not doing things

This is more an umbrella resolution for a few projects I want to do. Basically, there's lots i'd like to do, but continually stop myself with the "oh, you're only eighteen, it's not like anyone would take you seriously". Well i've decided to just go for it, it's a rare occasion anyone realises i'm only eighteen anyway, and so if I don't mention it who's to know i'm not actually 25? Anyway, the projects are largely comedy and music based in a "watch this space" kind of way, but essentially i'd like to have a shot at an open mic night, just to see if I could do it, i'm working on getting a little orchestra together, and toying with the idea of running a small night. Anyone with any constructive advice or criticism do get in touch, but if you're going to tell me i'm "too young" I might come and punch you.

3. Live Better

I don't think I eat particularly unhealthily, I don't eat well either mind. I'm ok with my weight, but I could probably stand to be in shape. Essentially this isn't an eat healthy loose 2 stone goal. It's more a, consider doing some more swimming when you can afford to you like swimming, why not have an interesting meal that'd be nice type thing.

4. Stop Smoking (Even when you're drunk and someones just offered you a cigarette and it seems like a good idea)

I think this one is largely self explanatory. No smoking, even if i'm drunk (when frankly everything seems like a great idea).

So those are my new years resolutions. What about you?

A very unfestive blog about comedy

2010-12-23T23:19:00.003Z

I've been umming and ahhing all evening, but I couldn't think of anything particularly festive I wanted to blog about, and round ups for the year are for that inbetween period before New Years and after Christmas. So this is a very unfestive blog about comedy, and why I like it.

I like all kinds of comedy.

I like comedy on TV because it makes you laugh without having to leave the house, because you can feel part of something with everyone else who watches it and loves it and you don't have to go anywhere or spend a penny if you don't want to. (Beyond the licence fee etc). I like that it is usually comedy in it's most sanitised form, because it allows you to share something with your family without the embarrassment of someone shouting CUNT at your granny.

I like comedy on the radio, because it's comedy media in it's oldest form, because you can put it on and drift off to sleep chuckling, or listen whilst doing something else and not feel you're missing out on a facial nuance or visual gag. I like radio comedy because it has to be so verbose and clever with words that it shows a vocal dexterity like no other form can, and because you cannot have slapstick comedy on the radio it has to be more clever. I like clever comedy.

I like live comedy because there's something about sharing a joke with a room full of people which incites you to laugh like nothing else will. Because different people enjoy different jokes, and because there's a rush to be had from sharing space with someone who can make you laugh so hard it hurts, but knowing that it's down to you to make it happen. If the audience doesn't enjoy it it doesn't work live, and that's wonderful. It's fun being in the firing line too, your response to a question could elicit a laugh of it's own, you could be caught in the crossfire of a football or a misaimed water pistol. It's fun.

I like stand up because it's amazing how one person can hold the attention of a crowd and make them laugh whilst telling stories or simply just doing jokes. It's just one person though, a truly one man show, in which you are entirely trusting that person to be responsible for your enjoyment for a period of time. I like that it can be slapstick or verbose, clever or simple and sometimes all of these things at once, and there might be references that you don't get or references that only you get, sometimes its a shared thing that has the whole audience laughing and going "oh yeah" and sometimes it's only a few and you feel like part of a special group. It's about intermittent eye contact and the feeling that you could be the only person in the room.

I like sketch comedy because I like to see people trying to make each other corpse, I like the glow of friendship and trust and the speed at which a scene or costume change can and is performed live. I like it when they go off script and improvise, and you can see that no-one really knows where it's going but they've spent so much time together it's ok. I like the comfort they seem to have in their own skin far more than any other medium, the willingness to come out half dressed or in drag for the sake of a joke. I like on telly, when a sketch is so carefully made up it becomes all about the merit of the sketch itself because you don't have corpsing or messing about or bad costumes on telly.

I like musical comedy, because it's the talent of doing 4 different things at once and trying to make it work, and when it comes off well it's amazing. You're singing, often playing, being funny and trying to make it all fit into a song as well, which gives such a shorter time frame than in any other area and if it works it's amazing. Often if it doesn't work it's still funny, and that's good too, and sometimes theres hidden real musical talent that lies that and makes you not care what the person is saying.

I like character comedy, the chance to see someone who'd never normally grace a stage, often talking absolute bollocks and still being funny. Sometimes so deliberately bad that it's what makes it hilarious, although if it was unintentional it would suddenly loose the charm. The glee that the performer has in their persona, because it's not them and there's so much more you can get away with when you're "just doing a character".

Most of all I like that comedy makes me laugh, makes me not care about anything for an hour or two or 10 minutes because i'm given over to listening and giggling. Comedy isn't the new rock and roll. It's much better than that.

Education For Leisure

2010-11-25T17:11:00.002Z

Today I found somewhere to live next year, the most excitingly grown up thing to happen in my life so far. And my god was it expensive. Forget tuition fees, we're desperately scrabbling for nearly a grand to secure a two bed flat next year that doesn't have mould climbing the walls.

I'm lucky though, because I can text my Dad and beg/borrow the £600 that is my share in order to pay for it. I know lots of people who can't. Forget tuition fees, it's everything else on top that makes higher education so bloody expensive. Living in Wales means i'm not affected, one of the few things that the welsh government has some governance over is tuition fees, and so, fingers crossed, mine should stay somewhere around the 3k mark over my time here. But it doesn't stop me being angry on behalf of everyone.

The more I read about the education cuts and the riots the more I wish I could do. It's not fun or pleasant to end up kettled or caught up in the crowd when all you wanted to do was march peacefully, but at least they're making an impact. People are taking notice. Stuck out here, miles from the protests I feel like I can't do a thing. Yes you can write to your MPs, but what use is that? It's not made the government listen so far.

It feels like when you're trapped in a nightmare, and no matter how hard you try to scream no sound will come out, that's how the government makes me feel. It makes me feel as though I've wasted my vote, I did vote lib dem. They seemed to be promising something different, and yet Nick Clegg has turned out to be as much of a spineless twat as the rest of them, that too is frustrating.

Perhaps it's a good thing though, for the first time that i've been aware ordinary people of my generation are giving a damn. They know their politics, they care, they're demonstrating and rioting and although it shouldn't be necessary to respond in this way it's better than apathy. We, the current first years, are clinging to the tatters of the higher education system.

We're all told you need a degree to get a job, but i've been job hunting on an almost daily basis since september and nothing. The rejection letters are getting disheartening. It seems that at present, it's not what you know but who you know. I don't know anyone, i'm lucky enough to have family who can help me out with a home, because my loans don't cover my rent let alone my living costs, and I can't get a job. Companies are laying off without hiring. It's a recession.

I don't know what the point to this blog was. Formless anger I suppose. And a bit of excitement about having a flat of our own next year.

Communist Daughter*

2010-10-20T23:59:00.003+01:00

You know that proper blog i've been promising? This is it.

So, reading Mark Watson's Blog, as I often do, todays topic particularly caught me, for reason's I can't quite explain. In particular, the question about open relationships.

If I might quote my original comment(s):

We’re back to the situation dependant thing, with a specific arrangement, say if one partner was asexual and the other wasn’t, there are needs that one might consider needing to be fullfileld that the other partner can’t. Therefore it would make sense to come to an agreement that the sexual partner could seek sex out side the relationship, removing any strain on the romantic relationship between the asexual person and their partner. I struggle to think of another occasion where it would make much logical sense, although it depends on the definition of relationship, if you were a close knit grouping of “friends with benefits” it would be an open relationship. I’m hardly one to judge, having been cheerfully single for the best part of 3 years now, but it’s each to their own I suppose eh? If they’re happy, leave them be.

Just a brief point (and I promise it’ll be brief) but lots of people have mentioned a lack of desire to “share” a partner with someone. What about friends? Do you not “share” your partner with them? It’s the kind of thing that annoys me, because I’d always pick independence over love myself./heartlesscow Anyway, just thought that was perhaps a point worth raising, i’ll piss off now

So to the first point, I genuinely think that in the right circumstances an open relationship could be made to work. We human's are funny creatures, and we can overcome just about anything. Of course many relationships will fall apart from jealousy or other factors, but then many standard monogamous relationships fall apart from jealousy, and indeed, other factors. So to that point I say, let them do what they like. Maybe it's not for you, but then not everything is for everyone. I wouldn't say it's for me, but then neither is pizza. Each to their own.

What got me thinking more was this point of "sharing". As I noted in the comment, lots of people argued against an open relationship because they wouldn't want to "share" their partner with someone else. Now I know there's a world of difference between friends and fucking someone, but the idea that you consider it sharing seems slightly controlling. I wonder how these people feel about the idea that their partner's have friends? I know most people are fine, but there are always the few who aren't.

As regular readers may have noticed before, i'm a fiercely independent person, if I spend time with someone it's because I have decided I want to, and I won't let anyone else dictate who I spend my time with. If I decide I want to do something on my own then by god I'll go and do it and fuck everyone else. I would end a relationship to keep my freedom. Is that a bad thing though? I can't comment.

But I do know if I were to enter into a relationship it would have to be an "open" one, one where each party is free to do as they please, to make their own plans and decisions. You might decide to move in together, that's fine, but you should still be able to decide to go out on your own without feeling bad for it.

To return to the original (sort of) point, I don't think an open relationship would be the thing for me, but I wouldn't rule it out, who knows what's going to happen in the future?

*As a side note, I'd just like to point out I think this title is quite witty, communism is about sharing everything right? Even your daughters.

I (don't) know where I want to be

2010-10-09T16:31:00.002+01:00

I realise i'm long over due to do an ordinary, nice blog. I'm afraid this blog is not it.

So, I've been living in Wales about a month now, and i'm heading into my third week of term as of monday, and already I don't want to be here. It's not that I don't like the city, or the people or any of that, it's all lovely. I just don't feel like uni is for me, towards the end of my a-levels I was starting to hate academia, and I thought what I needed was a rest. Apparently not.

The problem is, I know what I want to do. I want to live in London, with my cat, and work as a techie in a comedy club, maybe on tour if I was approached by someone. I signed up for the course because I thought it would be a good thing to do, i'd have studio skills as well so that I could perhaps support the live work with session engineering, and i'd learn live sound skills. The course is wonderfully practical for that, we learn to fix amps and make our own cables, all very handy. But I just can't bring myself to give a flying fuck about any of it.

I don't want to make a log book to hand in, i'm happy to keep a book of notes so I can refer to it if something goes bang at a gig, but they're forever talking about rigging fold back and miking drum kits, which isn't really what I want to do. I know in my heart of hearts that this is all useful stuff to learn, especially since I wouldn't know how to fully rig a P.A. yet if you paid me, but I just don't really want to be here.

I know that if I tried to support myself purely through the means of comedy i'd struggle, hell i'd love to try stand up but I wouldn't know how to go about it, but all this seems to need me to stay on at uni when I just want out now.

In the ideal world i'd drop out, move to London (with the cat) and take up as a junior tech with someone willing to teach me a little. I'm 18, i'm happy to be the underling who has to do the dull jobs, I can move speakers and plug in cables I just need some direction as to what goes where.

To put it succinctly academia can go and fuck itself. I want to move to a city I like and get a job. But I don't think i'm brave enough, or that I should.

This was a speculative blog brought to you by tears, snot, anger, and not being homesick.

Angry.

2010-09-18T17:44:00.005+01:00

Last night I went out for the first time in about a year and a half, to a club. I almost enjoyed myself for a bit. Then something happened. (see picture). If you can't tell from the angle, that is a picture of the bruise on my left breast this morning after last night, there's an equally magnificent one on the other side, which is at best, an inconvenience.

The problem is drink. Sober, I'm more than happy to tell any bloke to piss off for staring, and sober, most men aren't particularly letchy. And yet you involve booze and things like this are what happen. Part of it is my own fault, I get very bad at saying no when i'm drunk, but at the same time I'd rather a situation didn't arise where I'd have to. Is that too much to ask? That people can go out, have a nice time, have a bit to drink, and not find themselves having to fend off unwanted attention? Apparently so. I do wonder if it's just me, since this sort of thing doesn't happen to other people I know. But that's a self pitying route to take, and mostly it's made me angry. It may have taken an hour on the phone to remind me, but no-one should ever have the right to do that to another person without their permission.

If that's your "thing" by all means, go ahead! I'm not stopping you. But you should ask first, and it shouldn't feel like a novelty to be asked. If nothing else, think of it this way, is the person you're talking to drunk? If the answer is yes, then leave them be. It doesn't matter how much or how little they've had to drink it's clouded their judgement, and it's best just to leave them alone. Wait, and talk when you're sober instead. Then there wouldn't be people getting angry, and we could all have a nice night out with our friends to get drunk and dance and feel safe.

This has been a confused and angry blog, bought to you by a massive hangover.

Wrapped up in Books

2010-09-08T11:10:00.003+01:00

I originally posted this to tumblr, then noticed it had morphed into a real blog. So now it's here too.

I should preface this by noting that, when I tried to explain it to my Dad, he laughed at me. Ho hum.

Today I have packed the books i’m choosing to take with me to uni for the next 3 months, for the most part they’re the ones I love enough to read over and over, but can’t guarantee i’ll find in a library (more’s the shame).

But it got me thinking, that really, the books we choose to take with us to uni are the books we want people to think we read. Let me explain, that would be a wanky and pretentious thing to do if you took the collected works of Dickens, Shakespeare and a bit of Hardy for light reading. Unless that was your kind of thing. At the end of the day, if you wanted to read something that badly you could get it out the library, buy another copy, ring home and ask someone to post it to you. So the books we take with are therefore our favourites, the ones we know we will want to read sometime in the next three months, maybe several times.

Following this logic then; when people come into your room and scan your book shelves you're subconsciously saying, this is what i'm into, this is what I like to read, these are the books I love so much I deemed them worth bringing with. And in the first few weeks where you're desperately trying to find some common ground with strangers books are fair game, if someone can come in and go, OMG Hitchikers Guide is like sooooo awesome (etc) then you've suddenly got something you can talk about.

So it sounds wanky, but it's not. The books we're taking with us are telling people about ourselves. Just don't put too much thought into it, that's when it gets pretentious.

Does Your Mother Know? & Please Look After This Bear

2010-09-06T23:26:00.002+01:00

Two blogettes if you will. Because I was in the mood to blog but I couldn't quite focus.

Does your Mother Know?

An increasing number of people have said to me, in this final run up to moving out that my Mum would have been proud of me for going to uni. Touching though the sentiment is it's starting to get annoying. How do they know?! But it got me thinking, what if things had been different? If my mum was still alive and well now would I still think of her in the same way?

To quote Gutted: "Everybody loves you when you're dead". And I wonder whether maybe I don't have a false memory now of her. I don't tend to store up small petty arguments in my memory, and I can't recall every having had a big one with my mum. I've only ever had one major argument with my Dad for that matter, and so perhaps that holds some place in my mind. Essentially I worry that I only have false memories now, that I can't recall my mum just being another human.

I can't quite remember her now, I don't know what she sounded like, I know she had brown hair and hazel eyes but without a photo to prompt my memory that's all. I worry that the older I get the fuzzier my memory will get. In some ways perhaps my brother is lucky there, because he'll only ever have a fuzzy memory, nothing to lose.

Please Look After This Bear

I'm quite possibly the worst person in existence for looking after. Prone to being a twat, often antisocial and violently independent. But I feel at the moment like I need looking after.

Theoretically i'm fine at it, I can cook, clean, wash and iron, budget for a month and work the video player. But I feel like part of me is rebelling against being the grown up. I don't feel ready for it.

Really, I feel like curling up in a little ball and waiting for someone to hold me and stroke my hair so I can pretend to be small and not in charge again. I just feel funny at the moment.

MP3 Challenge - Edinburgh Handovers.

2010-08-24T17:25:00.007+01:00

1.
Kirsty
In the end I went over to the flat to meet Kirsty, where the first handover was made with ease. I did then proceed to leave it at the flat, but Kirsty kindly brought the ipod with her later and I kept hold of it that time.

2. At the Book Launch
Corey, Lora, Terry

Surprisingly Corey and Lora actually managed to find me! A shock given the sheer number of people who turned up for the book launch, score one for the Watsonian canvas bag. Handovers were made in the queue, with Corey adding Up With People - Lambchop, Lora adding Set me on Fire and Feed me to the Wolves and Terry adding a song by the Avett Brothers. There was much juggling about of things, as I had my bag, umbrella, coat, ipod, camera and a glass of champagne to deal with. (Champagne courtesy of the launch).

Corey

Lora

Terry

3. In the Caves
I leapt out here and asked the lovely Mr Tiernan Douieb to add a song, he's added NIce Guys (acoustic) by We Are Scientists. Not as exciting as Minchin, but equally as awesome.

4. Jorik
After a bit of a panic where I woke up far too late and Jorik was very understanding that I needed to have a quick shower, I met him and we headed to the scottish Story Tellers Cafe where we had tea and talked. We then went to a park and continued talking, so that the eventual handover took about 5 hours, but we did have a very nice time chatting. Jorik added Her Verdrict (sp?)

5. In a queue
I all but leapt on Steph in the queue for Chris Addison's show in order to get her contribution for the Ipod. Steph has added Lipstick Jungle by Newton Faulkner.

6. The last few! Karaoke Circus
I got Zoe and Vicky in the queue, and then Shell and Rach indoors hence the darkness of the photos.
From these ladies we got artists as varied as George Harrison and The Spice Girls (really).

Shell

Rach

Zoe

Vicky

And thats that for now!

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 12

2010-08-24T17:23:00.001+01:00

Day the 12th: 18/08/10 FINAL DAY

A mere 3 and a half hours after tumbling into bed, I found myself awake again, batting at my alarm, exhausted. But for a good reason! I finished the last of the cornflakes and checked out before heading off out to the Traverse Theatre.

- - - - -

Daniel Kitson: It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later

Kitson remains one of only two comics to make me actually cry during a show, although for a good reason. The other, incidentally, is Adam Hills, but that's another matter. Kitson's show was about moments in the lives of two people, who once passed each other getting on and off a bus, but otherwise unconnected. One story went backwards from the mans death, the other forwards from the womanise birth, using light bulbs to illustrate this. All the light bulbs were lit, but then one would become brighter to signify a "moment" beautiful stuff, as always. I had to have a little cry on the way back.

- - - - -

In the gap I enjoyed the very British pleasure of eating lunch sat in the park freezing ones arse off. As it were. Then back to the voodoo rooms to see Matt Tiller again.

- - - - -

Matt Tillers Reason's Not to Kill

This was the second time I'd seen this show, and the addition of an audience was lovely. The songs were the same but I felt I somehow enjoyed them more having people laughing along with me, either way Matt is a lovely man.

- - - - -

From there, I wondered over to see Sarah, where we went to join Nic, Michael, Kate, Sharon, Rach and Jenny in the GRV bar, before loosing kate, gaining Andrew and moving to SoCo for a last drink (for me). A lovely way to spend my final afternoon in Edinburgh before my penultimate show.

- - - - -

Wit Tank

I caught Wit Tank on a whim last year, and loved them. So I was really looking forward to this years show, and I wasn't disappointed. They've lost a member since last year, but it didn't feel like it during the show, which was as wonderful as ever. Slightly more costumes this year, but used to great effect, a definite must see for me.

- - - - -

I then trailed my way up through the underbelly for the last time, for my final show of the fringe. That Bloke from Balamory.

- - - - -

Miles Jupp: Fibber in the Heat (A Cricket Tale)

I'll be honest, I just didn't enjoy this as much as I thought I would. I was too tired, too uncomfortable, and not nearly knowledgeable enough about cricket. So instead I contented my tired brainwash Jupp's lovely speaking voice and the fact his eyes are incredibly blue. Like, really, really blue. Yes, I was tired.

- - - - -

With a heavy heart I collected my bags and fell onto the coach, the adventure over for another year. Until next time.

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 11

2010-08-24T16:50:00.002+01:00

Day the 11th: 17/08/10

Woke up latish and scrabbled things into my bag ready to leave. Headed out to Bannermans after that for the Unwrong Quiz.

- - - - -

The Unwrong Quiz

The idea is it's a pub quizwith no right answers. A very fringy pursuit with prizes ranging from balloons to courgettes. Not much else to say about that one really.

- - - - -

Popped to Tesco to grab a sandwich after that, because my cheese had started breeding and grown a worrying about of fur, before a return to Bannermans for some free sketch comedy.

- - - - -

Four Screws Loose: Late Comers Will Be Shot

I wondered along on a whim, and got lucky here. Clever, funny and occasionally disgusting sketches, in sp much as someone spitting milk everywhere will always be quite horrible. There was also a very clever sketch about talking balls, the kind of thing that makes more sense if you can see it. Good stuff, and excellent use of wigs too.

- - - - -

From there I wondered up to the pleasance dome for my next show of the day, Radio Hoohah.

- - - - -

Radio Hoohah

This was one of the shows I'd picked because it sounded quite good in the programme, sadly I can't remember what it did say, but this wasn't what I was expecting. What it was seemed to be two woman sketch comedy loosely based around a failing radio station; with clips and sound between scenes. Clearly I just didn't "get" it.

- - - - -

From there it was a mad dash down to the courtyard, where I stopped off to grab a badge from Pappy's before heading over for Alex Horne's show.

- - - - -

Alex Horne: Odds

All I was aware of before the start of this show, was that it was loosely based on gambling, and that Zoe and a pidgin had been involved. A sentence which sounds worse than it actually was. I really enjoyed the show, and Alex's method of gambling in such a way as to nearly always make a small profit tickled me. A recreation of a bet lead to a man climbing onto a sink in order to retrieve a sign saying Dover, and a girl making 100 dots on a google. Only Alex Horne.

- - - - -

After that I found a sandwich (a recurring theme here) and proceeded to arrive stupidly early for my last show. Early enough that we beat the band there. Made the final few (manageable) handovers in the queue however, so it wasn't a total waste. Even if it was really bloody cold.

- - - - -

Karaoke Circus

In my, admittedly, limited experience of it, Karaoke Circus is generally a bit special. And this was no exception! Vicky and Zoe bravely took on open spots, Michael and Jim Bob did the most amazing version of Common people I'd seen in a while, and Pappy's dismantled the stage. Bohemian Rhapsody was just an exercise in all leaping about having a lovely time. We hung about afterwards chatting, and I finally collapsed into bed at 4.

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 10

2010-08-24T16:34:00.002+01:00

Day the 10th: 16/08/10

Woke up early, went to the station to meet Zoe from where we visited her flat. Small but nice. Really lovely just to spend some time chatting again actually, after a brief bit of lunch we then wondered into Edinburgh itself, and I did a mini guided tour of the various venues and face Zoe her badge. We then went to sit in the GRV bar and play flyer face and wait for shows. Once Zoe had gone in I dashed back down to the court yard for the Penny Dreadfuls.

- - - - -

The Penny Dreadfuls

This was the first time I'd seen the Penny Dreadfuls, so I was really in for a treat. Having stolen the show in Gutted, they were really excellent as a sketch troupe in their own right in this. Also an incredible attention to sticking to their chosen colours. Yellow pants and socks anyone? Really brilliant though, I only wish I'd made the time to see them before.

- - - - -

From the Dreadfuls I took a slow amble over to Assembly and made another ipod "handover" with Steph whilst in the queue for Chris Addison's show.

- - - - -

Chris Addison

Having tweeted about spending the afternoon in A&E Chris came out on crutches for comic effect, before revealing that he didn't need them, and explaining what had happened. Which was that he had jumped down 8 steps at once on the stairs to answers the door and landed a bit funny. Fool. THe rest of the show was a loose compacting of the show he did on tour, which I didn't mind because I enjoyed it so much the first time.

- - - - -

From there Sarah and I went to grab a drink to kill some time and had a lovely chat in a proper old mans sort of pub. Lovely way to spend a few hours, and then it was back out into the rain, her to the stand and I to the Speigel Tent for Fullmooners and political animal respectively. I did get lost, and run into Rach enroute, but we made it in the end.

- - - - -

Maxwell's Fullmooners

Oh Mooners, you mental pissed up thing. The only show where the audience is playing catch-up to the acts. John Bishop, some Dalai Bloke (who was he?) Beardyman, and Al Murray were all excellent, Lady Carol was lovely as usual as was Sir Tim. Maxwell was in full sword wielding glory, and the audience were pissed. If you've done Fullmooners you'll know what it was like. it's too hard to explain here. Howled my throat sore and stumbled into bed some time after 3am.

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 9

2010-08-24T16:19:00.002+01:00

Day the 9th: 15/08/10

I woke up far too late to meet Jorik, who was lovely about it and happy to wait whilst I dived through the shower and raced out to meet him with sopping wet hair. We spent a happy few hours drinking tea in the Scottish Story Tellers CAfe, made a successful ipod handover and then grabbed a sandwich and went to sit in Nicolson Street Gardens. Stayed there for hours chatting about comedy which was nice, until it was time for me to move for Hills' show.

- - - - -

Adam Hills: Mess Around

We were aware when we arrived and took up the entire front row by ourselves that it was likely something would be said. And it was. Well you'd want to pass comment if your entire front row was a group of ladies between 18 and 43. In the end we crowd surfed an eleven year old. As you do.

A better explanation of what happened can be found on Adam's blog:

http://www.adamhills.com.au/blog/

- - - - -

With time to kill I grabbed some food in Tesco and ate that outside the dome whilst waiting for Alex Zane's show and getting intimidated by the other people in the queue.

- - - - -

Alex Zane: Just one more thing

I went to see Alex's show on the basis that i'd seen a good preview. the Show had some good moments, but it didn't really felt as though it tied together right. Good, but still in need of just a little bit more work. Lots of great moments though, and well worth a look,

- - - - -

Final show of the night was back over in the gilded balloon for me. Nice venue, too many stairs.

- - - - -

Comedy in the Dark

This was a great idea in theory, but didn't really work that well in practise. The room wasn't completely dark, so you could still mostly see the acts, and I wasn't overly fond of the bill. The only one I really enjoyed was Joe Lycett, who was the only slot I managed not to doze through. The problem is that this really easily emulates listening to the radio in the dark, which I normally only do when i'm about to go to bed, so my brain automatically switched off. Ah well, worth a shot.

- - - - -

I did briefly visit the dome to chat with people, but opted for an early and sober night and headed off fairly early to go to bed.

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 8

2010-08-22T17:06:00.004+01:00

Day the 8th: 14/08/10

After a gloriously late start and a call to Lauren to defend my honour, I met Goose, Kirsty and Helen for a sit down and a chat before my first show of the day.

- - - - -

Flanders and Swann: AGNother GNew AfterGNoon

I'll admit I went to see this largely on the strength of the basis that I like Tim and the logic that I quite like music. Helen was there because of a genuine love for the works of Flanders and Swann. Either way we were the youngest pope there by about 30 years, but that didn't matter to us. I really enjoyed the songs, and Tim and Duncan did them justice which is good. Wonderful stuff.

- - - - -

We then found ourselves with time to kill, so we passed some of it doing the puzzles in an abandoned copy of the sun, and adventuring for a toilet. The next trick was to find where they'd put the hut this year for my next show, which Helen kindly walked me to.

- - - - -

Tom Craine: Choirboy to Addict and Back again

I hadn't seen Tom Craine before, and so I was excited to. He's a likeable bloke with a good storytelling style, which is always a bonus when you're reaching the point in the fringe that you're starting to flag slightly, I really enjoyed it. *

- - - - -

From there I headed up to the caves again to meet the others for Josie Long's show.

- - - - -

Josie Long: Be Honourable!

Josie started off with a very peculiar character, of a scary rude astronaut, which my poor tired brain struggled to process. She then launched into her usual lovely self, talking about a man who photographs his breakfast, people who made a real difference and politics. Truly lovely feel good stuff.

- - - - -

After Josie's show Helen and myself headed straight to Tiernan's show where we met up with Heather to wait.

- - - - -

Tiernan Douieb: Littlest Things

Tiernan had kindly thought ahead and handed out paper plate fans to us all as we came in, which were an utter godsend in the hot and muggy room. Tiernan's show was a lovely one, about the small things that make peoples day, and how he felt he had failed his friends and needed to change that. A truly heartwarming show.

- - - - -

From Tiernan's show we moved on to the Assembly, where it seemed as though all of twitter was there for Gutted.

- - - - -

Gutted: A Revengers Musical

Originally we'd booked this on the strength of it being War and White who had written it, so finding out Michael was in the cast as the (title role) of Vicar was an added bonus. We couldn't decide if he camped the performance up a bit because he knew we were there or not; but either way it was wonderful. Gutted itself is excellent, lots of fake blood and some really brilliant music. The Penny Dreadfuls were a particular favourite, I personally like to imagine Thim Tick's outfit was from his wardrobe rather than an actual costume, I suspect he eyeliner might have been his choice, that made me smile. Really wonderful stuff.

- - - - -

From Gutted we drifted to the Dome bar where we sat drinking until Crosby appeared and then found a friend who signed us into Brooke's where we moved to a considerably more comfortable sofa to continue drinking and people watching until we were ready to fall asleep on the sofa, before finally crawling home and collapsing into bed at 5am.

*i'll be honest, this description makes me want to punch myself in the face, hard.

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 7

2010-08-22T16:35:00.001+01:00

Day the 7th: 13/08/10

Woke up feeling achy but better, and decided to head over to the voodoo rooms to see Matt Tiller's free show.

- - - - -

Matt Tiller's Reason's not to Kill

Alarm bells ought to have rung when there was no-one really queueing 5 minutes before the advertised start time. Matt came to let us in and actually recognised me, which was nice if unexpected. And so it looked like it was going to be an audience of three. A member of the venue staff then appeared to throw the other two people out, as they were under 18, albeit very apologetically. They just aren't licensed to have under 18's on the premises. And so the audience of three became just me. Matt was still really funny, and made me laugh in spite of my own personal awkwardness at the situations. Then afterwards we went for coffee and a chat which was nice.

- - - - -

After that I had a bit of a mad dash back across town for my next show, which I made in the nick of time.

- - - - -

The Dog-Eared Collective: Joyride

This was a really nice idea, but one I struggled a bit to get on board with. It didn't help that the small audience seemed, if anything, determined not to laugh once. My own laughter was never going to carry the room, I almost delta like I need to apologise on behalf of us all afterwards, but they soldiered on and it was enjoyable enough. At the end of the day comedy is subjective, you can't like everything.

- - - - -

From there it was up to the guilder balloon, where I grabbed a sandwich and ended up chatting to my Grandma,, which was nice. I then headed into the Balloon itself for Princess cabaret, a show booked on the basis of their brief stint at last years 24 hour show.

- - - - -

Princess Cabaret

A mixture of skits and songs loosely narrated by this was the "after" of "happily ever after". Sleeping Beauty, asleep for a hundred years entering a more modern word with medieval attitudes, Ariel with her fishes inability to blink. It's worth going to just for the final song, which ensures you'll never be able to look at the disney princesses in the same way again.

- - - - -

From there it was a brief nip across the road to The Medina, which is a fucking weird venue. It's done out like a proper medina cafe with cushions that are nested around low tables so that you have to sprawl on them in a nonchalant fashion. This is fine if you're in a proper medina drinking mint tea, odd for a comedy show. Something else worthy of note, is that Suman did respond to my twitter request for some gaffer tape for my shoes, but sadly I couldn't find him in the limited amount of time I had before Tara's show.

- - - - -

Amateur Transplants: In Theatre

I went to see these on the basis of having heard good things from Nic, and they seemed like a laugh, A little bit off at first, but I "got" it fairly quickly. Well known songs with different lyres, a personal favourite being a song about windows 95. Great stuff.

- - - - -

After that another and dash to get back to the Gilded Balloon for Tar's show. Also, Andrew Collins was there, and ended up sat behind me in the show, which I found weirdly distracting as he has a very recognisable laugh.

- - - - -

Tara Flynn: Big Noise

After an initial moment to remind myself that Tara was using backing track rather than trying to play and sing I really enjoyed this, sadly I did have one or two lapses in concentration, but that was entirely down to my own tiredness in a warm room again, and nothing at all to do with Tara who was excellent.

- - - - -

I then proceeded to get slightly lost trying to take the shortcut back into the underbelly, but without being able to remember exactly what it looked like or where it was. But I managed it, and joined the others in the queue.

- - - - -

Sammy J: Skinny man, Modern World.

For this years show Sammy was going more back to basics. Just him and his piano (keyboard? can't remember) Which was nice. A slightly less tightly themed show meant we got some lovely chat around the songs, and some hilarity over Sarah W's shirt (will fuck for biscuits). Im a couple of dangerously lovely moments I thought I might cry, to wrenching at a horrid story about foreign objects found in ones person. Another excellent show from Sammy.

- - - - -

We then hung out afterwards to say our brief hello's to Sammy before the others got ready to head to the Axis of Awesome and I went to try and grab a ticket. As it was they had some left, so I did and joined the others over in the Gilded Balloon.

- - - - -

Axis of Awesome and Friends Sing Songs… and Friends!

Until this show I'd never seen the Axis of Awesome live. A terrible oversight many would argue, but it happens. I was only really familiar with the boys for their four chords song, so it was nice to go into a show with an open mind. And I real enjoyed it. "Friends" were Geraldine Quinn (in spandex), Jason Cook (high on coke, (cola) and recommended to me only that morning_ and The Boy with Tape on his Face; by far the weirdest. He made one man pretend to strip, a woman to be a lion (pretend that is) and Goose to do pottery. Very strange stuff. We finished the night with a truncated but enjoyable rendition of the aforementioned 4 chords song.

- - - - -

From there we went to what is fast becoming our usual haunt in the pleasance dome, to drink and chat and per at girls. (Alick's fault). Then an almost early night of three am.

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 6

2010-08-22T15:59:00.001+01:00

Day the 6th: 12/08/10

After only 5 hours sleep my body decided it might be a good idea to be awake again, so I breakfasted on cornflakes and ibuprofen and headed down to see Andrew Collins' free show.

- - - - -

Andrew Collins: Secret Dancing

I think I enjoyed this more because it was Andrew, there were lovely and very fun moments, but it was occasionally a little disjointed. However, Andrew made a packed out room full of people laugh by effectively standing still on stage so fair play to him!

- - - - -

After that, a luxury! Time togo home, have some lunch and rest. Not quite enough time to nap some more, but lovely nonetheless. It did of course however, piss it down the moment I left to meet Sarah. We actually met Nat before the show and had a lovely chat, then Mikaela (who I met on my first day) joined us too.

- - - - -

Nat Luurtsema: In my head i'm a hero

I absolutely adore Nat, and I really loved the show.It starts off very light but with a darker turn (for want of a better description) But still lovely, and I loved it, I don't think i've ever agreed with a show more. Unfortunately I can't really write too much about it without spoiling the jokes.

- - - - -

Desperately trying to avoid the rain, I walked down to the courtyard with Mikaela to await our next shows. Ginger and Black for her, Delete the Banjax for me.

- - - - -

Delete the Banjax

One of the few successfully flyerings last year lead to me seeing Delete the Banjax's show on the free fringe and loving it, so I was more than happy to pay money to see them again this year. And they didn't disappoint. They're just so lovely and full of energy, I didn't notice my back had gone again (the perils of a hostel bed) until half way through, and it was good enough to distract me from minding until the show was over.

- - - - -

A trip back out into the rain where I found Mikaela again and grabbed a drink to try and assuage my back pain until Goose kindly turned up with ibuprofen, which worked much better.

- - - - -

Pappy's: All Business

I was initially surprised that Pappy's were in such a big room (when I saw them in Cov we were in the studio) but then remembered what Matt had said about the likes oft them and Herring being practically famous here, but not the rest of the year. THey definitely deserve it, and this years show was excellent as usual. Hilarious and inventive, although I may never be able to eat mayonnaise again now.

- - - - -

Another break where we said hi to the boys and then hung about chatting, drifted over to the ark and ran into the girl from the lock in and her now returned friend which was nice. Then I sadly had to leave them for my final show of the day.

- - - - -

Storytellers' Club

I was entirely on board with the idea of this, and indeed when the bloke who tried to flyer me for this heard I'd already got a ticket said I looked like "exactly the kind of person who'd like it". The idea was lovely, I enjoyed the story element and te way of doing it, I was just tired and struggling to get comfortable which spoiled it a bit for me. I'd love to go again without a back ache or the desire to just curl up and fall asleep to the stories.

- - - - -

Detoured home via the caves to see if there was a lock in, but ran into Matt who told be it had been cancelled, so I crawled home and fell into bed.

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 5

2010-08-22T15:43:00.002+01:00

Day the 5th: 11/08/10

Started off with a trip up to the pleasance dome to meet Aislinn, Katie, Sam and others to accost strangers to write in Mark's book. Something I was surprisingly successful at. After that we headed off to find everyone else for the book launch.

- - - - -

Mark Watson's Unusually Enjoyable Book Launch

Having been told via text from Zoe to "launch that book like a mother" we joined the back of a stupidly big crowd where we couldn't really see or hear anything. This was then solved by the fact we were next to a building site. One of the blokes offered Mark a hard hat so he could get up on the gantry. Corry arrived shortly afterwards with a megaphone and we were able to set underway the first reading. After that we attempted to head to the pleasance courtyard, this was about the only point where having been at the back led to us being at the front, but we were quickly over taken and when we passed for Sammy to write in mark's book we got so far behind we had to jog through the train station to get caught up again. Sammy, incidentally, is a really lovely bookie, and still remembered me from the Coventry show, which was nice. Just about made it to the pleasance after a few near death experiences with a road and some busses, where we did some more not quite being able to hear until sammy took the second reading. After that, we were meant to head to the alley by the GRV, but all we heard was alley, and so at the end of the queue again we followed blind. About this point the two ipod handovers somehow managed to find me and made themselves known, so that we could make the handovers later. Shortly after this a splinter group of us turned the wrong way and got lost. Not knowing where we were meant to be heading we carried on up to the royal mile whilst I frantically tried to phone people and hoped they'd pick up. Of the few that did sadly no-one was able to help, so we improvised our own reading on the Royal Mile. I did about a page, remembered what Mark had said he was going to do and read that instead, I think this might have been the point I picked up two strangers by accident. From there we phoned Zoe and headed on down to princess street. We managed to pick the wrong Waterstones first but the kindly staff there pointed us in the right direction and so we set off again. We managed to beat the others there, although only just, and so we had a sit down while we waited. Eventually everyone else arrived and Mark did the final reading, quite by chance the one I had started to do on the Royal Mile, I reckon this means i'm physic. We joined the queue, drank champagne and I was thanked for my reading by a couple who I think were the ones we'd found on the royal mile, and then hugged Mark. There was lots of not-quite crying in the handing over of the book, from me at least, before we headed back out into the rain, vibrating with happiness. (my exact words to Aislinn and Katie at the time). It should be noted that the TYSIC MP3 handovers were made in the queue.

- - - - -

Stopped off with Sarah for dinner, who then proceeded to feed me and give behalf a bottle of wine, which we drank out of tea cups. I'm resolutely pretending this was a bohemian thing to do, and not just because there were not glasses anywhere in the kitchen. After that it was time for Jon's show.

- - - - -

Jon Richardson: Don't Happy, Be Worry.

I do adore Jon's standup, and this was no exception. The hour flew by with a happy haze of wine and laughter. Jon does grumpy to a hilarious tee. The only problem is there's little else to write, because I genuinely can't pick out any specific favourite bits over others without spoiling the jokes.

- - - - -

After that Helen and I had to dash off to get over to assembly where we met Heather for Herring's show. On the way we had a really interesting conversation about how sexuality shouldn't define you. Culture and conversation!

- - - - -

Richard Herring: Chris on a Bike, the Second Coming

I hadn't seen this before, so got to enjoy it as a new show. Which is always good. I do like Herring's stand up, treading the fine line between knob jokes and being really smart, and this was no different. Again I can't pick out a favourite bit, because it was all excellent, although I did enjoy the "begat" and "which was the son of" sections immensely.

- - - - -

We then headed over to the dome for belated birthday drinks with nice before the final show of the night.

- - - - -

The Horne Section

The drink was possibly a bad idea, because I ended up needing a wee for most of the show. Lovely stuff however, with an excellent band and the guests were Alun Cochrane, Jon Richardson, Tim Key and Oompah Brass. Alun was Alun, Jon was perky and Oompah's tuba player was in danger of being violently sick. Possibly my favourite moment however, came at the end. Everyone was on their feet clapping and singing along, and someone handed Jon a tambourine, which, to give him his dues, he did play, but sat down and grumpily.

- - - - -

Went back into the pleasance dome after that, where we carried on drinking and accidentally molested Jon, then got talking to some of Oompah brass, nice guys. Finally made it into bed at 5 am, all time record for me, but it was an excellent night. Was also introduced to vodka, lime and lemonade. Yum.

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 4

2010-08-22T15:18:00.003+01:00

Day the 4th: 10/08/010

Started off reasonably early to go and get a ticket to the lock in, with the cage intention if seeing Collins' Secret Dancing show, but in the end I went round to the feeter flat to get The Package off Kirsty. Cue ceremonial handing over! Had happy few hours drinking tea and chatting before promptly forgetting to take it with me when we went to Kevin Eldon.

- - - - -

Kevin Eldon is Titting About

Helen and I arrived, not entirely sure what to expect but having heard good things. I think Helen perhaps had slightly more idea than me, but that's by they. An excellent combination of characters and stand up had us gasping for breath, a personal favourite being a song called "my CD's jump". On the way out we found BEx, so we headed back together, ready to find the Sarah's for Oompah Brass at the GRV.

- - - - -

Oompah Brass: The A-Z of Oompah

I saw these guys last year as my first show of the fringe, doing the credit crunch musical, and really enjoyed it. A 5 piece Oompah brass band playing amazing arrangements of pop songs. What's not to like? They really are incredibly talented musicians, and having seen them telling the story of the credit crunch last year I was interested to see how this year's show would work. Brilliantly is the answer. Two of the band's members presented the songs, using the idea of letters of the alphabet as aspects of oomph, with songs to demonstrate. Excellent stuff and well worth seeing.

- - - - -

A brief tup to the flat to try and pick up the ipod again, only to discover Kirsty had taken it out with her, so I headed off again for my next show.

- - - - -

John Robins: Nomadic Revery

A title which makes very little sense as is, and even less in the context of the show. A nice show though, covering why kids should be more innocent and Robins' early sex life (amongst other things). I enjoyed it, but it suffered a little in my perspective because I was cold and tired.

- - - - -

After that I remained in the Tron, braving their dodgy loos before Ellis James' show.

- - - - -

Ellis James: Day Tripper

As was finally explained at the end, Ellis had originally intended this to be a show about day trips he'd been on, but then thins had happened to him. The show was interspersed with "diary entries" which was a nice touch and added to the narrative (for want of a better word, god i'm a wanker*). Enjoyed it, but again I felt I was too cold and tired to really appreciate it fully.

- - - - -

After that I met up with Kirsty and re-collected the ipod again, before she kindly walked me over to the stand for Alun Cochrane's show.

- - - - -

Alun Cochrane: Jokes. Life. And Jokes About Life.

As I observed to Kirsty, on the way over, whenever I book something at the stand, I find myself wishing I hadn't bothered, because it's such a long walk, and especially since i'd already been there once that day. but Alun Cochrane is worth it. As it was I got a surprisingly good seat considering the queue started going in when I was still on the other side of the road. There again not everyone wants to sit on the front row, and one seat on it's own is is usually easier to find than three or four together. Cochrane's show was similar to last years, whimsical observations that make you laugh. This year however was the addition of some "proper jokes" one liners and the like picked out of a box, Again I felt bad, because although I really enjoyed Alun's show I was tired and so perhaps not as vocal with my laughter as usual.

- - - - -

Headed back to the hostel after that to eat my sandwich and take my tights off, having picked holes in the knees, ready for Fordy's lock in.

- - - - -

Fordy's Lock In

This was infect my first Lock in. Got chatting to another frill in the queue outside who'd also come on her own, so we became gig buddies and sat together for the lock in itself too. Saw Crosby whilst waiting, who teased me for coming to see the show when Tom was on but not him. As I pointed out I saw him for several hours only the day before, A dull exchange you might think, but enough for the guy in front to whim round wince Matt had gone and go "Oh my god you know Matt Crosby?!" Like it was cool and exciting. I digress. (it is ;)) The lock in itself was good, although tame compared to what people had told me of previous shows. Chris STokes played barman with Tom Parry and Pat Monaghan(sp still? I don't fucking know) as guests. Patrons? Very weird since the last time I saw Pat it was at comedy for kids with the small human. He doesn't drink though so he didn't really change. Just swearer than at the kids show. I think the questions were about weird habits and dying on your arse. I can't remember. Good show, afterwards I parted company with my gig buddy and ran into Sarah.

- - - - -

Sarah was looking for Matt, and we couldn't get back in to check so I told the door man i'd forgotten my umbrella and he let me nip back in to get it. This works as a girl because of course your friend will also go with you. And you don't have to have anything to show for it because you'd put it in your bag. (The only reason I've included this bit of banality was because it amused me at the time). In the event he wasn't indoors but we found him outside where we were introduced to Pappy's tech James and invited for a drink. Spent a happy couple of hours in Bannermans talking and drinking before discovering that drunkenness gains an entirely new edge when you're trying to deal with cobble stones and a hostel.

*somewhat worryingly, the original diary is full of asides like this, like some schizophrenic discourse with myself. Hmm.

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 3

2010-08-21T15:28:00.001+01:00

Day the 3rd: 09/08/10

Moderately early start to head up to the voodoo rooms, hangover notwithstanding.

- - - - -

Andrew J Lederer

As it was I met Martin and Andy outside before Sarah and finally Matt (Crosby) appeared. I saw Andrew at Anthology last year, and truth be told I found him to be a tad frightening. Not much has changed, although he's perhaps slightly less intense. The show was loosely themed around 9/11 which was an interesting premise, but one that was stuck to only in the loosest sense. Lovely time had afterwards drinking coffee and having a chat.

- - - - -

A quick dash through the rain took me to The Space @ Venue 45 for what I had thought would be whimsical stand up, and turned out to be a student play. Hmmm.

- - - - -

How to be an Imaginary Friend

An interesting idea, a man who still has an imaginary friend at 25 meets a girl who does too. There's some shagging or something and they all lived happily ever after. I'm aware it sounds scathing, but that's all I really recall. it was ok, dragged a little in places, but enjoyable otherwise.

- - - - -

A slightly dryer trip down to the caves where I accidentally flyered someone for the show I was about to see. There were a couple asking the lady on the door who wasn't sure, having a flyer in my pocket he had given me for his lunchtime show earlier I offered it to them to see if that helped.

- - - - -

Matt Tiller's Awkward Situation

Matt actually recognised me from the earlier flying and asked my name, which was nice; told him about the aforementioned flying incident which he found funny. Excellent set of comedy songs, all about, as the title implies, awkward situations. At one point I ended up getting pulled on stage to translate a song because I can sort of speak french. Didn't actually need toe able to it was just a way to get someone up. He seemed really surprised when I acquiesced without a fight, i'm just too much of a comedy fangirl to say no. Anyway, great show and a lovely man, highly recommended.

- - - - -

In an almost unprecedented fashion (WTF self?!) I actually had time to run back for some dinner. Shock! Horror!

- - - - -

Helen Arney's Songs For Modern Loving.

Continuing the musical theme, I headed back down to the caves for Helen Arney's show. I actually got chatting to the girl on the door, (who had amazing gold boots) as she was the same one from Matt Tiller's show, so that was nice to paste time whilst waiting. Excellent songs fromHelen, I particularly enjoyed Jonah and the Snail, which I'd already heard. Sadly had to dash off straight after to get to Carl Donnelly's show in time, but found long enough to say hi quickly and grab a hug. Yay hugs.

- - - - -

Carl Donnelly: How do you solve a problem like Carl Donnelly?

Found Linzy, Helen and Sarah at the last minute ready for Carl Donnelly's show. I'd seen Carl before, compering at Godiva, and so knew pretty much what to expect from him. And that was what I got. Which it has to be said made really quite pleasant hour. I was feeling bait crap, and it was nice just to have a bit of light hearted whimsical chatter that made me laugh. Nothing too challenging or thought provoking, which sound silk a criticism but it really isn't. I really enjoyed the show.

- - - - -

After that we mooched up to the pleasance dome to kill some time before our respective late shows, and so fun was had tackling the crosswords and puzzles in pick me up. (Life! Death! Prizes!) After that, (and nearly walking right into Tim Key) We went out separate ways, they to The Horne Section and I to Comedy Countdown.

- - - - -

Comedy Countdown

From what I heard afterwards from Sarah it was very hit and miss, but I obviously caught it on a good night. We had Toby Williams (?) rather than Dan Atkinson hosting, but he did an excellent job nonetheless. James Sherwood and Marcel Lucont (sp?) in dictionary corner, Hardeep Sing Kholee (sp again?) as "Carol" and an incredibly cheery young bloke as the clock whose name sadly escapes me. Stuart Goldsmith and Sarah Millican were the contestants. I actually failed to recognise Sarah initially when we were coming in, but when I did it was a pleasant surprise. `i think a lot of the atmosphere came from it being a good crowd, who were happy to oo and ahh in pantomime fashion over the letters. A personal favourite moment was Stuart's defines for the word "Agay" as in Ajar. The door is ajar, the man is agay. Made us all laugh at anyrate. Excellent stuff.

- - - - -

Spotted Aislinn so we had a chat before going our separate ways so I could stagger home and into bed.

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 2

2010-08-21T15:05:00.001+01:00

Day the 2nd: 08/08/10

I had set an alarm to give me time to get ip and shower, but as it was I woke up early, so I headed out and grabbed an apple and some juice to call breakfast and mooched off to true out one of the invisible dot telephone boxes.

- - - - -

Emergency (by Mark Watson)

As we were made aware on the blog, Mark recorded this in the back of a cab, which when filtered through the telephones handset was, off. Potentially the oddest thing was Mark's accost. Which started out as his, and then slipped into a cross between geode and brume as far as I could tell. The story itself was good, Mark telling us, in character, how he had become renowned hoaxer The Phantom and why he had stopped. Well wrk feeling a bit of a tool for 15 minutes, stood in a slightly pink phone box. There are a few others I'd like to check out later too.

- - - - -

After that, still too early, I decided to head to Hunter Square anyway to eat my apple and wait, but as it was Sarah was early too, so after some over the top hugging I tagged along to go and help drop the bags. We picked up tickets, chatted and went to telco, then came back to the hostel for lunch and a nap. As I write Sarah is fast asleep on my bed, i'm sitting on the floor, and through the open window someone is playing acoustic guitar. Currently the theme from the Godfather. Creepy. So far the hostel has proved nice enough. I'm lucky enough to have ended up with a bottom bunk, hurray for not having to faff about with ladders and creaky bed frames! My bed is Smoking in Addictions which made me laugh .Each room has a theme and the beds are named accordingly. Other themes include ducks, starwars and littles misses. I wonder what the beds in there are called. Only problem i've had so far is with how odd the showers are. THe other bit beyond the curtain isn't dry, or big enough to get dressed in, so you have to dive across in a towel and get dressed in the loos. Also they're operated by separate hot and cold taps, which is a fiddle in itself, but means that once you've had it running for 10,15 minutes to wash, then the hot tap is painful to the touch to, y'know, turn it off. Very odd. Other than that minor weirdness, it's fine. Stored most of my food in my locker to be on the safe side, and because there's no space, but I put some milk and things in the fridge,and I don't think it will get knicked. Which is a nice feeling to say the least. Must wake Sarah in 5 minutes or so to drop her food and grab tickets before we see Michael and Robin;s shops and then the Gent's Review Recording. Tonight; Idiots of Ants, Mark (Watson) himself and something free because I balled up and forgot to get a ticket to lady garden. I am an absolute tool. But first a wee. As always.

- - - - -

Robin Ince and Michael Legge: Pointless Anger, Righteous Ire

Woke Sarah and we headed to the GRV to meet the others for Robin and Michael's show. As it was Michael was outside so when we arrived we had a chat and a hug and discussed comedy bingo. Met up with Nic, Sarah W, Linzy, Helen, Barry, Martin, Tom, Andy, and others just before hand, ready for the show. And what a show it was! Never have I seen two men combine amines and anger more successfully, particularly interesting to watch the colour RObin went whilst shouting. Sort of scarlet. One womanise after was something to do with bikes and one way streets, but we never did white work out what. Either way some very excellent shouting.

- - - - -

After that we hit the pub for the Gent's Review Podcast. Lots of booze was drunk, good chat had and I may have accidentally flashed my pants at people (I did). Nothing new there then.

- - - - -

Idiots of Ants: The Red Button

Somewhat the worse for wear I headed down to the pleasance Courtyard for Idiots of ants. Slight technical hitch to begin with but the boys soon sorted it out, and the rest of the show was great. A particularly funny sketch involved puppets, and yours truly, but I won't reveal what happened. Spoilers! Well worth going to see, an ace show all in all.

- - - - -

After that a mad dash to get ace, then grab Mark's present and get to Assembly in time.

- - - - -

Mark Watson: Do I know you?

Met Mark before hand and, after a bit of panic, found Sarah, Goose, Helen and Linzy too. Ace show, as always, from Mark. There wasn't even a kangaroo, chasing, business guy and most of the other material I'd seen at previews. Excellent stuff. Sadly I missed a chunk in the middle, as I had to run out to be sick. Entirely my own silly fault, drinking on an empty stomach. In some ways perhaps it was fortuitous that if it had to be in anyones show it was in mark's, because at least I could explain and apologise. Did feel bad though, for worrying him and the others. Had a lovely chat and gave Mark his present afterwards, and got a well deserved ticking off for not looking after myself. Wondered home with Sarah and went to sleep.

Edinburgh Fringe 2010: Day 1

2010-08-21T15:03:00.004+01:00

The following blogs are copied up from the book/diary I kept during this years fringe, peculiar formatting, terrible grammar etc have been maintained.

Day the 1st: 07/08/10

Do you ever stop to wonder how you look to other people? I was considering that on the coach, how odd I must ooh. A lone young woman, on her way to Glasgow with a heavy bad and appalling travelling clothes. And now too, writing this sitting on the bench outside the castle public loos. Chatted to two strangers this morning. A man called Imran who told me about judgement day and told me to meet him there tomorrow. (I won't.) And a man from Edinburgh now living in Thailand home for a visit. I liked him best. We talked about music. Journey uneventful apart from the usual knee breaking shenanigans when the chap in front tried to lay his seat back. I the end he did it when we stopped for a wee and I got off. Cunt. And I twisted my knee getting back on, so not only was I deprived of legroom I was in pain too. That's all I , I shall read some more of Elven before I go to see Robin Ince I think. And continue to hide form the rain.

Robin Ince: Carl Sagan is my God. Oh and Richard Fineman too.

First show of the fringe! And an excellent one it was too. With one thing and another this was the first time I'd seen Robin do stand up live, and I wasn't disappointed. Since + Comedy = Hell yeah! Robin read from various books, including Carl Sagan and Richard Fineman, as well as a lovely victorian book called: My Microscope. Guests were Helen Keen; on why Nazi's and Satanists were key to the apollo missions, Baba Brinkman, with a rap Beowulf and a lovely stand up mathematician whose name I think was Matt something. Excellent stuff and it was lovely to see Rose and make new friends too. Hurray for hugs!

- - - - -

Brief trip back to the hostel to check in, watched some pipe bands and dumped my bags before dashing over to the Dragonfly. Possibly mistakenly, I bought myself a cider and settled in.

- - - - -

Adam and Phil: Mild Peril

It seemed like such a lovely idea, and it could have been so much more. it was the first show so perhaps a few more runs will hone it, but as it was the jokes were too whimsical to work, and alone their respective stand up didn't really work for me, but then I was falling asleep.

- - - - -

Plans to go back for a longer nap were scuppered by running into Tiernan on my way out, who accidentally convinced me to stay for Quiz in my Pants.

- - - - -

Quiz in my Pants

I can't recall the names of everyone, but I do know Tiernan was there as was a lady called Laura Lexx who was lovely. Lots of IBS jokes, some incredible pants and an opportunity to accidentally show off my knowledge of Galileo (which got be called Galileo lady for the remainder of the show). Highly recommended, especially if you like Quantum Leap or the Backstreet Boys.

- - - - -

After that it was a case of nap or die, so I staggered back to the hostel to have a brief sleep before it was time to go again.

- - - -

Tim FitzHigham: Gentleman Adventurer

A wonderfully shambolic show from Tim, as always. He rambled, he played us some guitar, there was powerpoint, there were slides Paul Byrne had snuck in unexpectedly of muppets an, on one occasion, and for no apparent reason, a naked lady. When there was a call for someone to do the flag, I bravely (or should that be foolishly?) volunteered. Essentially I had to pull on a string and then unravel it whilst Tim played the bugle down my ear. Loudly. awww!moment when we got to see a picture of his daughter (who growls at dogs, shouts at the sea, eats sand and shits bricks). She is a cute child. Another moment of amusement for me was when he mentioned "my friend andrew" in an anecdote, who did (as suspected) turn out to be Andrew Maxwell. Who else would ski down a mountain and then crash? Excellent show, and a very odd venue.

- - - - -

After that I met up with Goose, Linzy and Helen at the Assembly (George Street) via the most circuits route possible. Linzy and Goose left us to see Herring, so Helen an I went to grab food and have a chat before we headed to the Gilded Balloon.

- - - - -

H Anthony Hildebrand: Why is a Lettuce?

As I said to Helen afterwards, I couldn't say it wasn't what I 'd expected, because I hadn't really expected anything. But I suppose if I had it would have been more along the lines of strange stand up. Everything had an electronic backing track controlled by a machined I didn't recognise, and he started with a weird half rap/song/spoken word piece that, at best, confused me. The show was a mixture of poems, whimsical jokes and flip chart pictures. Some bits I enjoyed more than others, but it was more amusing funny than laugh out loud I felt. Again however this could have been due to feeling so tired and ill that I didn't enjoy it so much, and it did come after Sir Tim, which I adored. It just had the feel of a lunchtime show more than a late night one to me.

- - - - -

On the way out I somehow spotted, and recognised, Tara Flynn's husband Carl, and on mine and Helen's wonderings saw all 3 members of Wit Tank. All but crawled home after dropping Helen off at Cockburn Street, and fell straight into bed.

the howlieT Guide to: The Edinburgh Fringe

2010-08-05T16:44:00.002+01:00

Jumping on the Fringe Tips bandwagon, here are mine!

Pack spares of everything. If you don't get wet, you'll end up melting in a puddle of sweat, and probably desperately wanting a quick shower before the evening bout, this doesn't work if you don't have clean clothes to put on.

Booze is expensive. But you're allowed to take bottles into venues, I stuck with water last year, being underage and all. This year I intend to buy a bottle of JD and a bottle of coke and fill up a small bottle each evening. Well, some evenings.

It will rain. Bring a coat. And an umbrella. And expect it to rain. It's scotland. As I was told by a cheery scottish man last year, "We have a saying here, if you can see Leith, it's about to rain, if you can't see leith, it's already raining." He may have said the forth rather than leith, I can't remember.

Bring more money than you think you'll need. You'll end up spending it anyway. And the cash machine queues will be mental.

Wear comfy shoes, bring plasters, support socks etc. No matter how hard you try you can't get anywhere without going up hill and down dale. Your feet will hurt to fuckery. As will your legs. Especially if you're tall, because there's no leg room in most of the venues.

Make sure you're either going alone or with someone who won't make you want to punch them in the face two days in. Self explanatory really.

Watch out for your bag.

Remember that the Royal Mile is called that, because it's a mile long.

Flyerers will impede your progress, plan accordingly.

Almost all the locals will sound scary. Don't worry, they're generally fairly pleasant people. It's just the accent.

That's all really. Have fun!

Tunisia 2010 - A Holiday Blog

2010-08-01T14:24:00.002+01:00

This is typed up from the notebook cum diary I kept on holiday, I didn't just write this in it, but other crap too. It should be noted that I wrote all of these late at night, when i'm most prone to bouts of sadness and/or homesickness. Several were written under the influence of red wine (varying qualities) and a couple under the influence of hopeless self pity. Read with this in mind, I honestly did enjoy the holiday overall, although I resented it slightly for several reasons, mainly having not budgeted for it, and having to have jabs when i'd been promised no jabs. I digress, read at your own risk. Let the epic blog commence.

Day 1 18/7/10

Already I miss being at home. I miss knowing how the money works, I miss understanding people, I even miss the shite weather. I miss fluff and (depressingly) I'm really missing the internet. My head is full of shite i'm used to being able to text or tweet or spew out at people. There's only so much one can sit and read. Moan aside however Tunisia has been nice although i'm not sure how I will survive another 9 days here, I find it so exhausting.

I'd really quite like just to walk along without being accosted by people on the sell. Some of them are only kids! it just tires me. The hotel is lovely, although the concierge tried to proposition me. A lied on my behalf (in french) and said I had a boyfriend in England. I intend to stick to this story whilst here, if only to keep people off my case.

There are however horses here, pulling elegant flowery carriages on the beach front. And cats. For an English (almost) country girl there is a great calm to be found in the smell of warm horses. I have been watching carefully, they do not seem ill used.* I miss home.

Day 2 19-7-10

A better day today, slept late and had a lovely breakfast. Good coffee here. Wandered around the medina, then headed to the beach briefly. Med both warm and very, very blue and therefore not "real" sea to my mind. High tide less than a foot above low tide etc. Road train to Hammamet then haggling in the old medina, small human shite at haggling so had to prompt him so he could buy a white camel he'd set his heart on. (A toy not a real one!) 10d down from 20d. Probably could have got it lower, but hey ho. Others haggled better, but with a bit off atherly help i've picked up a gorgeous multicoloured scarf for 3d. I'm too nice to haggle it turns out. Little else to report, had some lovely red wine, some AMAZING blue icecream "schwingum" flavour. Weather still lovely, saw more horses and cats, mentally I still worry as though it's the 18th Centrury. Liberal (almost) middle class guilt FTL! Saw a horse with a docked tail today**, wasn't aware people still do that. Only one though, and it seemed comfortable enough. It's hot but there are very few flies and the horses do not seem to work in the ehad of the day. Also saw a "Kahled Shop" that spelling. Wonder if it sells mutants? Wish I'd been to look. I'm going to pretend it did.

Day 3 20-7-10

Can it really only be day three? I want to go home. Woke up feeling shite and stayed that way. Poorly of tummy and head, as it were. We went on a pirate ship adventure, which I suspect i'd have enjoyed more if I wasn't feeling hot and sick. Such is life. There was the opportunity to jump in and have a swim, but it was a bit deep for me. Unfortunately i've struggled to enjoy today, which I put down to feeling crappy and homesick. On the plus side, in my one girl attempt to sample the more peculiar ice cream colours and flavours, I tried Kiwi and Orange. Orange tasted synthetic but orangey, like a lolly. Kiwi was weirdly apply, again in a synthetic way. I'll be honest, right now I would kill for a quern sandwich and a coke. (cola) Coke is easily possible, quorn less so. Interestingly, having decided that as I have contra over meals I would eat as little meat as possible, i've become more adverse to it. Maybe it's because the medina seems to have a constant aroma of lamb, something which I've never been able to stomach, but even the thought of it makes me feel sick. Unfortunately one is incredible limited for veggie food in Tunisia. Still, I try. To bed now, with someone butchering R.E.M. at the karaoke in the background.

Day 4 21-7-10

Felt shit, slept till lunchtime. Had a wonder to the shops, ended up getting purple harem pants. Gloriously comfortable if not fashion forward. Discussed whether or not being able to tell whether someone is gay by their ability to wiggle their hips. THis is of course, bollocks (and he wasn't). It's been a dull day, I feel bad being bored on holiday. I want to go home.

Day 5 22-7-10

God i'm so bored. That's bad isn't it? To be bored on holiday. The problem is there's relatively little to do "activity wise". I'm so not suited to doing nothing. I tried at home, even with TV and meals etc to break the monotony. I could sit at home reading and feeling uncomfortably warm. I digress. Went to the beach today, but of course it was too hot to do much. We did make a sand castle though, and I had a little paddle in the sea, too nervous to go in fee though. Also managed to get a patch of sunburn on my leg too.

Went for a posh meal, taxi driver however was the highlight. Emergency vehicle trying to get through? Why not tuck in behind it to beat the traffic. Traffic not moving? Drive down the hard shoulder instead. Even more interesting on the way home with no sea belts and Louis Armstrong on the CD player. (CD - Classics in the key of G) That's all really. I miss home.

Day 6 23-7-10

We are now reaching what I like to refer to as the "fuck off" stage of the holiday. That is, the point at which I want everyone in the near vicinity to fuck off. Another beach day today, so somewhat full. Highlights were holding a baby turtle, and purchasing a giant peach. It's not rupee yet, but i've hidden it in the room with me to ripen so that no-one else can nick it. Went to the dinner show spectacle tonight, probably would have enjoyed it more if it weren't for the combined head and tooth ache. The belly dancers were good though. On a down note I broke my sunglasses :( a new temporary pair have been purchased, they are a vision in brown! They'll do the job until I get home again however. Been feeling a bit introspective today, I miss my mum.. It's been nearly 3 years now. I want to go home, even if the peaches here are amazing.

Day 7 24-7-10

Today was much better. Slightly dull start of sitting by the pool again, but this afternoon we went on the "African dreams" trip. Safari park and a meal. Lovely wondering about seeing various animals, particularly the lion cubs which were incredibly cute. The tigers were pretty cool too, absolutely massive. Meal was goo, Zulu dancers and Tunisian traditional as well as some belly dancing. I got roped in for the drum lesson, although admittedly I've played before with school. And most surprisingly everyone got up to dance at the end. Lovely. Got chatting to a scottish girl on the way home, from our hotel which was nice. It's just been refreshing to do something different and talk to someone else. I don't miss home so much today. Just the cat.

Day 8 25-7-10

Not a vast amount to report. The small human is unwell and I am somewhat sad and sore of wisdom tooth. Finally got to eat my peach today. Which it transpired was infect a nectarine. But it was still really yummy. So that was good. Went to Hammamet again, riding on the Tuk Tuk was fun. Some random bloke asked me to sleep with him, then offered me money to sleep with him. I said no and ran away. I guess i'm ever so slightly flattered though to be considered sleepwithable? That's all really.

Day 9 26-7-10

Today seems to have past in a vast haze of nothingness. Spent a little of my money today on a tea light, a bowl and some bracelets for the llama quartet. Bit of time on the beach, had some ice-cream, standard stuff. It seemed nice enough at the time, but then I feel suddenly sad and drained now, and it doesn't seem quite so important. Today it was been 4 years since Olivia died, tomorrow, 3 years since mum died. Yesterday was Stephen Fry's birthday. I don't feel sad, just drained. I miss my mummy. Tomorrow, El Djem.

Day 10 27-7-10

I'll be honest, I was quite surprised this morning that feeling sad wasn't my very first thought of the day. In fact I was most of the way through my cereal before it hit. But then there was a period where I was surprised to wake up feeling happy at all. Anyway; ruins at El Djem were interesting. Really well preserved and some lovely mosaics too . Monastir was nice too, but by the time we got to Susse I was bit ill. Either way I did a surprisingly good job of enjoying myself and staying distracted. It's only really now that i'm on my own I really want to cry. Three whole years?! This time three years ago it seemed unlikely I was going to make i t to 18. I didn't think I wanted to. And yet i'm here, having a nice day. Anyway, we fly home tomorrow, so a holiday round up! Or something.

Books Read: 4.5

Comedians/Comedy Routines Referenced**: 12 (ish)

Propositionings: 3

Icecreams: 7

Time spent annoyed with family: 3 hours

I can't think of anymore. I'm ready to go home.

*Really, that was what I wrote. I hate me too.

** I say referenced, it was mostly mentally. I tried saying things out loud to the family a couple of times, but got very little response.

A London Weekend Adventure

2010-07-15T17:05:00.004+01:00

So i'll try to keep this brief, more of an aide memoir for me than anything else.

Saturday started far too bright and early with the small human waking me at 20 past 6, but as it was it took nearly 3 hours to get sorted anyway, so I suppose it was ok really. Anyway, a mere 3 and a half hours later we fell out of the door, dressed, breakfasted, clean and loaded up like pack ponies. Well, I was at any rate. The journey passed without any real incident, apart from a massive ticket queue at euston which left us nearly half an hour late to meet the Watsonian's for the picnic.

Either way, Watsonians were met and the picnic place was traveled too, several confused phonecalls were made trying to track down late comers, and generally establish what was going on, but before long we'd found everyone, set out blankets and food beneath a tree and proceeded to have a lovely afternoon. Dull I know, there's not much other than that to report however. We ate, chatted, a ball was kicked about, we made something and wrote a blog entry. There were rogue crickets.

Sadly I couldn't stay forever, and so left to drop off the small human, and grab some dinner before Fullmooners. Mooners was marginally more eventful, met up with the Lj crew, almost all of whom i'd never met before, who were universally lovely. We had drink, chat and a teensey little bit of fan girlying, but in fairness they were dancing. There was nearly arson when someone lit a paper lantern which promptly floated off into a tree, and general worry for Sir Tim's safety when he climbed the scaffolding to fish it back out of the tree. The acts were all ace, Lady Carol, Steve Hughes, Abandonman & Adam Bloom, not to mention Sir Tim and Maxwell. Oh and an incredible hat for Paul Byrne, it really was quite something.

The nightbus was conquered, (with some help from Tabi, Rose and Chris, thanks!) and so I survived for the next day.

Precious Little Party started with a bit of confused helloing and trying to put names to twitter avatars, sorry to Jack and Graham for my utter failure there, I'll be honest I was just chatting with absolutely no idea who you both were initially. Lots of dodgy jokes and laughter, and lovely to meet everyone if only briefly, I only wish I could have stayed longer! Dashed back to grab the small human and return on the train once more, back to Coventry, exhausted and happy.

Small Things

2010-07-13T23:26:00.003+01:00

This week Mark challenged us to make the world a better place. Here's the small things I've done so far.

-Organised a picnic. Heather reckon's it counts for bringing more happiness into the world. I certainly enjoyed it.

- Cleaned up some crumbs. Me and my brother had sandwiches on the train for tea, I didn't make a mess, he did. Knowing how much it annoys me at work I swept the crumbs off the train table and into my hand, and put them back into our box, saving someone a job.

- Left a message. The pictoral proof is still on my camera, but I wrote Have a nice day on the top of an abandoned free paper on the bus in biro.

- Helped a lady. In fairness I would have immediately stooped to help her pick up the leaflets she dropped anyway, especially since they were halfway under the bus, and it couldn't leave without her moving them. But in view of the week I feel it counts.

ADDED:

-Helped children. It was induction day yesterday, and I was able to help a couple of kids. One just needed directing to the sandwich rooms, so I pointed him in the right direction and asked a teacher to take him up. The other was a girl who's trousers had ripped and needed to ring her mum to ask for some new ones. I took her to the college office, spoke to her mum for her when she couldn't do it, sat with her while we waited and then made sure she had her bag and found a teacher who was able to find her some lunch before she headed back to lesson.

Again I'd have done it anyway, but I like to think it counts.

There is a london adventures blog in the pipeline, honest.

People are strange

2010-07-06T21:27:00.004+01:00

I've always been a fan of the kindness of strangers. Don't get me wrong, i've been taught all about "stranger danger" like every other person of my generation. You don't take sweets from strangers. Etcetera. But at the end of the day I grew up in a village, where you either knew everyone; or they were a harmless old lady.

A lovely example of this was with my brother during the holidays, he and a friend went across the road to play whilst me and a friend got on with some work. Since it's a fairly busy main road I told him and the friend just to wait on the other side if they wanted to come back, and i'd keep checking to see if they were there. In a short gap where we stopped to fill in a spreadsheet or similar we were disturbed by a tap on the window, my brother and his friend back over the road. Initially I was horrified that they'd crossed a busy main road on their own, but was informed a nice man had crossed them over. Since they were unharmed and fine I decided not to worry.

Now there's every chance the "nice man" in question was a man who lives up the road from us, I think he's called Tony. He has a dog (a black one) and seems like a nice bloke. I delivered his paper for a bit but I've seen him and know him from chatting enroute for years. It's also quite possible it was someone else entirely. I don't know. Anyway, I digress. I believe in the kindness of strangers, and it's done me good so far.

What's interested me most is with the advent of twitter, and my turning 18, who worries about me when I go out. My own Dad is incredibly laid back, very much a "yeah, have fun, text me and let me know where you are" kind of person. Interestingly it's relative "strangers" (hence the blog title) or friends through the internet, who care most about my safety late at night. You know who you are, and it's wonderful. Most of my favorited tweets are those that relate to people just, caring. I don't think the context matters all that much, also is always nice to know there are people out there who want to know you've got home safe. It's just nice. But it's also score one for the kindness of strangers. Because they worry more than my close family for my health. It's nice. Thank you strangers. Thank you for caring.

Karaoke Circus 30/06/10

2010-07-05T20:52:00.002+01:00

A belated, and hopefully not too long scribble, on the subject of Karaoke Circus.

Now it's been nearly a week, and I've had quite a bit to drink since then (leavers do) so I hope you'll all forgive me for suggesting you look on youtube or flickr for pictures etc to give you a better grasp on the night than I can.

Needless to say I really enjoyed it, it combined to of my favourite things; live music and comedians. And despite the fact we were all slowly melting it was still brilliant fun. I'll admit I wasn't entirely prepared for how unsettled I was by Foz or the Baron, i'm not scared of clowns as such I just find them creepy; but the way the face paint was melting off didn't really help. However, I got over my initial unsettledness and apart from that I loved the night.

That's all I've got to say really. It's good, if you're in Edinburgh try and grab yourself a ticket to the show up there, and if not watch out for the next one.

In Defense of Crap TV

2010-06-28T23:00:00.003+01:00

Now, I like crap TV.

I'm fairly sure you, yes you there, reading this crap, like a bit of crap TV.

Everyones got their own favourites, I love films that are rubbish but earnest, they think they're so important and worthy and they aren't. And I like the odd sitcom, a bit of crap drama. At the moment i'm really enjoying big brother. But at the same time I don't get the appeal of the X factor or Britain's got Talent, not even to watch "ironically". But I digress, this is a defense of crap telly, not a list of crap telly I quite like.

The thing is crap TV holds it's own unique places in society, if you're watching with someone else it's something that's safe to talk over, it gives you an opinion, common ground with new people. Even if no-one else is involved it's a nice way to switch off, crap TV demands nothing of you, you don't have to engage with it, form an opinion, read words or even really focus. It just fills in the void in your head to keep you from thinking too much so you can turn off and relax.

If you've got nothing else to do it fills in a bit of your evening, that's another point to crap TV. Yes you could watch a documentary, read a book, do something creative. But not everyone is in the mood all the time. It's each to their own very much, but on a personal level I like crappy TV just to fill in the time, keep me busy and allow me to zone out for a bit.

This blog post will now meander to a close, because i'm watching Big Brother, and falling asleep. Vive la caca television.

A Whilstlestop Tour of Birmingham

2010-06-26T23:14:00.004+01:00

Tonight I made a 2 hour (give or take) round trip to Birmingham, to spend 10 minutes with the lovely Matt Crosby on his Twitter Man Challenge. It's explained better here by Matt, but loosely he was letting twitter make his decisions. I'm not sure of the intervening steps, but he ended up on a train to Birmingham, so I stupidly offered to hop on the bus and go to meet him.

Made it there in just under an hour, so having arranged to meet by the bull I strolled up there to wait. It's always a fun place to wait if only for the spectacle of various people trying an failing to get on top of it. There's a knack to it, if you know how. Anyway, I digress.

The time arrived and I got a tweet to say Matt had made it as far as Debenhams and was lost, I offered to go to Debenhams, but promptly confused it with BHS and went 5 minutes in the wrong direction. I did try to stop a lady for directions, but she ignored me, so I asked a man who was both friendly and helpful, and pointed me in the right direction. Annoyingly, just where i'd been.

Of course it wasn't that simple, more confused tweeting as to which part of Debenhams (spread over three floors with several exits) lead to me being able to see Matt through the window, but not entirely sure how to get down to street level. So I dithered some more. Luckily (if that's the word) a kindly group of boys tried to help, and then to get my number. On a side note the one who asked me asked not "are you single?" but first, "are you married?" (no) then "do you have a boyfriend" (also no). Luckily, Matt was on his way up, so just as I was starting to wish I'd ignored them they shoved off.

Having established we had 11 minutes until Matt's train left we dashed to the bull to take photos, before dashing straight back to the train station.

We parted again, and I headed back home. A silly way to spend a saturday night? Yes. But a fun one too.
(by the way, I know my hair looks odd, it's henna, not me in need of a shower)

I want to be wanted.

2010-06-21T20:49:00.004+01:00

This is a sad angry blog. You don't have to read it.

I don't feel like I belong anymore, since my Mum died. Suddenly i'm not normal anymore, I don't have a mum and a dad. I don't even get to see one or the other at weekends, it's just gone, nothing. Suddenly i'm the adult female of the house, playing mum to my little brother and saying I can't go out because i'm babysitting.

I feel less like I belong since my Dad got a girlfriend. It's not that I don't like her or her two kids, I do. But I don't feel like I belong. They're all about average height, naturally very skinny, very girly people. They do normal things, they like going to town and going on bike rides with friends, they dress normally, wear subtle make up and don't dye their hair. They use fake tan and wanted to have white walls in their bedrooms and polished floorboards.

I'm not like that. I'm big, tall, broad shouldered and a little bit fat. I've got big tits and a big arse, I've had my hair more colours than you would thing hair could be. I have my bedroom walls 4 different colours and a bright rug hiding hideous brown carpet tiles on the floor. I'm 18 but I still have a mass of cuddly toys and toy horses nestled around the room.

They like boys, they like going out, they watch crap telly and they aren't afraid of change. I get uncomfortable if someone puts the pepper pot back the wrong way, I'd rather stay in with a book I don't prefer boys or girls, just whoever catches my eye. They're too nice too, the girls don't drink, don't smoke, don't do any of that shit. They don't have mental health problems, they've never had those kind of issues nothing.

I self harmed, I smoked for a while, got drunk for the first time at 15, got so pissed and high on my own prescription medication that I lost my virginity ot my exes best friend at 15. I tried to kill myself, I still have problems. I will always be autistic, i'll always struggle with my mood.

They don't know what it's like to loose a parent, their Dad is around the corner, absent but there. On the end of a phone. My mum isn't.

They eat meat, cook proper meals, do things the posh way. I grew up on chicken nuggets and jelly. I don't really like meat anymore, but it's too much on an inconvenience to Dad to accommodate that, so I just put up with it.

It's not that I mind being who I am, i'm okay with being a slightly chubby autistic bisexual half arsed veggie with a questionable taste in clothes and what I do with my free time. I'm okay with being different to them, but I want to feel like I belong.

Every weekend near enough Dad and the small human go to their house. I don't usually. Not that I don't like them, but I don't feel like I belong there. If I stop over I sleep on a blow up mattress by the sofa, I don't have anywhere as such to go. But mostly I just don't want to, I thrive on familiarity and routine, and going there upsets my routine; not to mention I quite often have plans, a riding lesson or a desire to see a friend here at home. So I get left behind, I don't mind so much, I like having the house to myself.

I feel abandoned though, informing Dad I have a riding lesson used to mean he'd hold off going til saturday lunchtime so I could have a lift, now it's a case of oh take your bike. I've never had lifts places, my mum died just as I was starting to go out, so someone had to be at home to look after the small one. I'm used to it, but riding was the one constant for the past 13 years where i've pretty much been guaranteed a lift there and back, if nothing else. Maybe it's just the change in routine that's upset me.

I'm moving out in september, to go to uni. I understand my bedroom can't be locked up and left untouched until I come home for christmas, i'm okay with that. But I had sort of assumed it would stay my room. This all started from Dad saying I could repaint my walls, and then saying no when I said I wanted blue or purple. He wants white or cream. I am not a white or cream person. And I feel like this is where I've lost him, when he started saying it had to be a colour guests would like so he could use it as a guest room while i'm away. I'm still going to be at home 50% of the year! What was he planning to do before I suggested I might paint it myself anyway? I'm starting to think he planned to get rid of me then just come in and do it himself. My room has always been just that, mine. My mum and (I assumed) my Dad said I could have it whatever colour I wanted, have it as messy as I wanted because it was my room and they didn't have anything to do with it.

Apparently not anymore, suddenly it's a guest room that I just happen to be allowed to stay in when I come home. I wanted to feel like it was still my room when I came home for holidays, like it wasn't just somewhere I'd left a few old books on the shelves and a few pairs of summer sandals I had no call for until it got warmer. Now it seems like that's it. I'll pack my things up in september and when i'm forced to come home at the ends of terms for the next 3 or 4 years i'll be a stranger in my own home. I'm not sure how much longer it'll be here. There was talk of moving in together. That won't feel like home.

He often talks about “our leicester house” but it's not “our coventry house” it's just home. Or Coventry. There's furniture being bought for the leicester house, chosen together (but without me) in preparation for moving in together. It's all tasteful wooden dining tables and brown leather sofas. If there's one thing in life I hate it's a leather sofa. I feel like i'm being erased, like if I have a room at all at the new house I'll be made to paint it cream and have a white bedspread like every fucking one else.

Even their cats are nice, girls, well behaved, bought as kittens. Fluff is mine really anyway, a big scraggy lump, rescued from the RSPCA and until recently suspected to be a mongrel. I suspect i'll get the cat when they move out. But I don't mind that.

The problem is I just don't feel wanted, don't feel comfortable around them. I feel like free babysitting. The holiday arrangement, whereby I “work” selected days babysitting in return for money, that's fine. It's the rest of the time, the “oh i'm going out will you watch Ben?” I don't mind on a practical level, I don't go out much and Ben is quiet. Practically it just means that Dad isn't in the house. But it annoys me on principle. I'm almost weirdly pleased that when I leave in September he'll suddenly find himself unable to do such things.

We're not a communicative family, so this won't work it's way on to my Dad. In a sense I don't want most of it too, it'll only make life more awkward and difficult. I'm ok with that, I just want to feel appreciated sometimes, and wanted. Is that too much to ask?

With extra special thanks to (and in no particular order) @waytowastetime @BexBitchDrummer @h2osarah @GardenerMellors @RatherTooCold @linseychaplain @PatrickAureas @MagpieMarbles and @zoefell for metaphorical hugs, tissues and pick me ups this evening.

P.S. I've written about 90% of this blog raging and crying, I haven't read it back, I just want to post it and get it out my system.

One of the Boys

2010-06-19T21:41:00.002+01:00

Sometimes I think I might like to be a boy. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy being female. I like wearing make up and putting pretty clothes on sometimes, I like doing my hair and the way wearing heels makes me legs look longer. I'm not a girly girl, but I am a girl. I was the kid who was half way up the climbing frame in a dress and petticoats. But I do still sometimes think I'd like to be a boy.

If a boy puts on girls clothes it's more of a shock, the other way around and it's often assumed she's going for a "boyfriend chic" look, or that she actually has nicked them off her boyfriend; the same with hair lengths, although to a lesser extent. Boys with long hair provoke more reactions than girls with short hair (at least in my experience). So for a while I wanted to be a boy so that I could shock people more, provoke a response. I found ways of doing it as a girl, but it would have been quicker as a boy.

I've also felt at other times that even just dressing normally boys seem to get it easier. A pair of trainers, a few pairs of jeans and some teeshirts. I know that if I wanted to I could dress like that, but I feel like I should make more of an effort, I think thats just my brain rather than any innate girlyness though, but in my head it's a boy thing. Boys just wear whatever they want and don't worry. At least in my head, i'm aware that in the real world it doesn't work like that.

As it stands I tend to act like "one of the boys" with friends, I get on fairly well with them and I can hold my own in amongst the jokes about wanking and the discussions on whether or not Lady Gaga is hot. I think that's probably the best inbetween to have really. I get to wear pretty dresses and I get to talk about cars too.

Love Cats

2010-06-08T21:18:00.004+01:00

Now as anyone who's spoken to me, read the crap I write or generally been in the near vicinity of me for any length of time will know, I love my cat. He's a large black and white rescue cat, roughly 5 years old, educated guess says he's a Norwegian Forest Cat by breed, but we're not sure. And I love him very much. I'm not some psychotic cat lady, although I have been known to chat to him whilst pottering about. I've also, in more stressed moments been known to shout, plead and try to reason with him, but that's another matter. I've fallen over him onto him and accidentally kicked him in the dark. Black cats and dark rooms do not mix.

In return he brings me dead things occasionally, bits my feet, elbows, fingers, wrists and on one memorable occasion nose by way of affection. He gets in the way, watches me on the loo, occasionally tries to share my shower and mostly sleeps by my feet or next to me depending on where I am. In short he's a cat, he's a nice cat, and apart from his peculiar habit of occasionally nipping people in what I assume he fondly things is an affectionate manner he's pretty damn cool. He even rushes to the door to greet me when I come in from school. When I got back from Edinburgh last year he was sitting in the window as I walked up the path, he rushed to the door to greet me, and immediately became like a second shadow for a good few weeks afterwards. I'll miss him when I got to uni.

My favourite thing however is the kind of mutual love we have for one another. And I know he prefers my company out of the three of us in the house as I've mentioned above, when we come home it's me who gets rushed up to. I'm well aware it's probably cupboard love, i'm in the house most often so I feed him most often. Sometimes Dad jokes he knows I picked him, because when we went to the RSPCA to choose a cat his was the cage with a big felt tip sign on it saying "i've been here 2 months please take me home" and I fell for him. He used to have an orange stripe at the top of his nose like the bridge on a pair of glasses, but it's grown out. Again I digress. We have the kind of relationshop where we'll go out of each others way to sit together, but not necessarily pay attention. If he's been sleeping on the sofa under the window when I go to sit down with my breakfast of a morning he'll swap sofas to sit next to me. I always sit in the same spot, next to the lamp on the other sofa.

Similarly if I leave the door or indeed if I just go upstairs he'll come upstairs and lie on the end of my bed. (as in the picture) near to my feet. Sometimes he tucks himself into the arch of my foot which is lovely but tickles, especially when he purrs. The important thing though is there's a bit of mutual enjoyment got from being together, if he gets up i'll tickle behind his ears and then go back to what i'm doing and that's fine for both of us. It's the equivalent of looking up and saying hi before returning to what you were doing. I've come tot he conclusion if I ever share a house with someone I'd like that kind of relationship. A Hello yes I'd like to be near you but we're both doing different stuff and that's cool.

Maybe i'll just continue to live with cats. I love my cat.

(He's called Fluff if you were wondering, we didn't change it)

Frank Turner & Andrew Maxwell

2010-06-02T22:07:00.003+01:00

It's a blog double header! Another way of saying I got behind, so this blog will cover both the musician Frank Turner and the comedian Andrew Maxwell. Simple, right?

Frank Turner - Birmingham 02 Academy 27/5/10

So having not seen any live music in a good 6 months, the last being Carter USM back in november (blog: here); so it made a pleasant change to go out and see someone doing musical things that I wasn't in charge of. Starting the night in rock and roll fashion eating my sandwiches on the bus we made it to the venue in plenty of time to stand about sticking to the floor and drinking slightly warm tap water from plastic cups. As a venue the new 02 academy (formerly the carling academy) is fine but the drinks prices haven't dropped at all, hence the water. Interestingly as well there seems to be some kind of phone signal blocking for anyone not on O2, but that wasn't too much of a problem, sometimes it's nice to drop off the radar.

Anyway, after a bit of standing and then the support band, who I believe were called Straight Lines, and were ok but not to my taste, Frank took to the stage. Having spotted him in the corner near us watching the support I felt we'd got a reasonable judge of his character, and when he shambled out with his guitar and asked us to let him know if his new tattoo started bleeding I had the feeling I was right. Now I couldn't tell you the specifics of the set, only that it was wonderful, and that one man with one guitar did an incredible job of keeping the energy up. There was a wonderful harmonica solo from a man picked from the crowd who really went for it, dancing and everything. I do like people willing to join in.

At one point he broke a string so we got a lovely story about escaping from kettling whilst he restrung the guitar, which made me smile and more than adequately filled the gap. Personally I quite enjoy things like that, partly because you often get wonderful little tangents, and partly because it's always fascinating watching musicians work. Sadly of course it couldn't last forever, but on the bus home there were inexplicably two elder gentlemen in full hiking gear. This wouldn't have been so odd, but we were in Birmingham city centre, at 11 at night. Very odd.

Andrew Maxwell - Warwick Arts Centre 30/5/10

So after a bit of confusion, a few issues with the sunday busses and a post eurovision hangover we went to see Andrew Maxwell. A late start due to traffic was just the start in a whole series of weirdness, it took him a good 5 minutes to get onto the stage, after he apparently forgot his name in the middle of the welcoming hyperbole. And it got stranger from thereon in. Having acknowledged there weren't enough people in the room for him to need a mic Maxwell claimed he'd forgotten to book a support act (can anyone confirm this?) and so the first half was mostly given over to audience chat. We discussed eurovision, cheese, ethnic minorities in the room, a man who was sometimes a lebanese woman but was actually a fork lift instructor. As well as covering the fact it was weirdly like a village meeting. This lead to the discussion of a fictional bypass and whether or not it should go ahead, and what this would mean for the newts. Seriously.

The second half began in a smilar fashion but Andrew dragged a broom out from backstage with him, and although he did then shamble into something of a set he continued to "sweep" the stage for the rest of the evening, apart from when he dropped the broom and nearly whacked himself hard between the legs with it. A very entertaining second half then just sort of petered out, there was no real finale unless you count his decision to review us as an audience, and ended with Maxwell shuffling awkwardly backwards out. Overall a very enjoyable, if incredibly weird, evening.

And that concludes the blog double header. Watch this space for more nonsense and stuff.

Mark Watson's Football Shambles

2010-05-24T19:48:00.008+01:00

So yesterday, in spite of the heat, I trailed off to London to go and do comedy fun again. The coach ride was surprisingly pleasant, the aircon on all the way. Uneventful apart from the man infront having a damn good go at breaking my legs in order to lay his seat back more. Note: I'm 5'9, most of my height is in my legs and as such my knees are jammed up against the back of your seat. You can't lie it back! Anyway, I digress.

After the distinctly odd experience of stepping from the cold to the warm in reverse I survived a distinctly horrible tube journey and went to lie on the grass in Green Park for a bit.

This was where the first "event" of the day happened. Flopping on the grass, minding my own business my attention was caught by the man next to me. See if you can guess what he was doing? No? Wanking. People have suggested perhaps I should be flattered, mostly I was just unsettled. Anyway, I turned my back on him and flopped about some more before going to Covent Garden to meet Emmy.

Sandwiches were eaten on a patch of grass and then we took a wonder over towards the Leicester Square Theatre ready for the Football Shambles. It should be noted at this point neither of us knew what the time was and were therefore a good hour or so early. Wondering away to look for somewhere to sit we then ran into Mark himself who invited us in, so we spent the hours wait hovering about watching people set up, and occasionally being struck by giggles at the oddness of the situation.

I had prewarned Emmy that odd things like this quite often seem to happen to me at comedy gigs (see other blogs) other such things have involved nearly calling Adam Hills dad, and asking Andrew Maxwell and Sir Tim for directions. As you do.

It should be noted I've slept since last night, so will be relying on the pohnpei soccer twitter feed which was manned for the evening by the lovely Mr Tiernan Doueib to jog my memory.

After a wonderfully shambolic start, 10 minutes late, there was an introduction to the introduction. In theory there would be a video explaining everything as the opening, but since there was no sound Mark had to take to the stage to explain this. We therefore got what was effectively the "DVD commentary" from Paul and Matt to introduce us to the show. Shortly after with more waffling messers Simon Bird and Tom Rosenthal were sent off into Leicester Square to bring us back a footballer. Or, "Find a Footballer" if you will. (Blog fans see the last edinburgh blog)

A bit of football chat revealed that only me and Matt's mum had never seen an entire game of football. The argument of my being from Coventry falls a bit flat, because Coventry's last big win was in the late 80's, and I wasn't born til the early 90's. In my lifetime Cov have always just been a bit shit. As an aside to this I can tell you my mum and her brother watched that match on telly, because it was the day their Dad (my Grandfather) died and they had nothing better to do.

My only reasoning for having never seen a football match is that for 9 years I was an only female child, my Dad is more into his cars than any kind of sport, so I just never "got" it. I've never seen an entire game of football, not even on telly, or even the world cup; but I have been to the Goodwood Festival of Speed, Run to the Sun 07 and passengered in the corvette twice for the Coventry Festival of Motoring. I digress.

The first set of the evening came form Sean Walsh, bearded, hairy and charmingly awkward with a set that culminated in an incredible slow motion re-enactment of letting someone out of the back of a three door car at the traffic lights. An incredible piece all from a man who I can't help thinking looked a little bit like a human lion. Maybe Parsley the lion from The Herbs. (I'm a very friendly lion called Parsley...)

After that came a review of the auction, and we go to see a football in a case with signatures on it. One of the lots, it all made some kind of sense at the time. I think. There was probably more waffling here too. Like I said, I've slept.

After that came Matt Forde. Now I'm most used to having heard Fordey on Jon Richardson's show being cheery and polite, radio safe. So it was odd enough to see him in the flesh and odder to hear him start off swearing and quickly descend into telling us some truly filthy stories. The first story was actually quite a nice one, the other two you really had to be there for.

Another challenge was set to two people whose names I can't for the life of me remember. I think one might have been called Joel. Sorry! Anyway, they were challenged with trying to find more people to come and join the audience, which they did!

After a brief interval to dash to the loo and grab some more water we returned for a second half. At this point we found out Dr Evan Harris was there, and then proceeded to bring the ebay auction live to the room. This resulted in a Burnley duck "talking to us" Eventually going for about £25, and the signed soccer AM ball eventually going for about £46. This did at one point result in the wonderful phrase (when Mark was asked if he'd sign the ball too somewhere around £40) "Sign it? I'll wank over it!" Or something to that effect, again, you had to be there.

Also around this point Tiernan got to move to the stage to continue tweeting the show live, as well as handle ebay matters.

The next set came from John Robins, who ambled on stage, announced he was shit faced, told me he could see my vagina then asked me for the time in quick succession. Whilst I was wearing shorts, and slumped a little to see I don't think you could really, not even my pants, at least I do hope not. After this initial oddness and a bit of crotch waving in our general direction Robins settled into telling us another filthy story about a cock ring that had no real punch line and yet was funny anyway. You had to be there really.

After this saw the conclusion to the Find a Footballer challenge, Bird and Rosenthal reappeared having excelled themselves. They found Lesley from Chipham Town, Craig from Bristol Rovers and Jason Cundy who once played for Chelsea. This excited lots of people, but I have to admit meant very little to me. We then had a phone call from Stuart Robson (again others were excited) .

Some amazing ball juggling then came from a man called Frances Vu, something even a non-football person like me can appreciate. He was truly impressive, Jim Rosenthal then took to the stage and was "flabbergasted" by his skills. The idea of Frances being in the england squad was then put forwards.

It was at this point I sadly had to make a run for it, with Emmy kindly agreeing to accompany. Our attempt to sneak out was foiled by being in the centre front row so as we went I apologised to Mark who was very understanding and gave me a half hug on the way out. Given the height of the stage this was really quite impressive. As he explained our plight we really did run up through the theatre and out into the muggy night.

As it was I made it onto the train with minutes to spare, but not without running through Leicester Square, and then sprinting across the concourse at Euston. A narrow margin, but I made it. Slumped on the train home with some coke to keep me awake exhausted and happy. With a suicidal taxi driver apparently trying to break the sound barrier I was at home and in bed by 1am. Special dispensation indeed.*

If you'd like to donate to help the Pohnpei team get to Guam then contact: pohnpeisoccer@gmail.com

*it occurs to me I haven't explained this, in commenting people find it odd that I sometimes go to London for one evening just to see a show Mark said it was like special dispensation.

Daniel Kitson - 66a Church Road.

2010-05-21T16:24:00.002+01:00

So in an attempt to distract and cheer myself up I went out last night to see 66a Church Road.

And god it was good.

Heartbreaking and hilarious by turns with truly incredible little models to illustrate the story of the flat around which this show was based it's definitely one of the cleverest things I've seen for a while. Anyone familiar with Kitson will know that it wasn't the sort of thing that made you laugh til it hurt. But it was funny.

The opening speech, explaining the origins of the word nostalgia was beautiful in a way that made my chest hurt, and yet immediately after I was laughing as Daniel himself wondered out and began. A vision in tweed and brown, but looking surprisingly tidier than I've seen previously. The thing is, this isn't the kind of show I feel I can review or explain, only just say that it was amazing.

I think I'm sort of, on the same page as it were, with Kitson. I would have wondered around talking to the flat, failed to move on. And I'm not ashamed to say I did well up a few times, but then that's me. If you get the chance go and see it! You won't regret it.

Incidentally if anyone can remember the exact wording of the opening piece let me know please?

Anyway, after a lovely night out I finally met twitterers Shiv and Richard and we went for a drink and a chat. And that was lovely too. A lovely night all in all. Now i'm off to lie in the sun.

The howlieT Guide to Nights Out.

2010-05-16T23:14:00.002+01:00

I did the going out thing on friday and actually enjoyed it, so here's my guide to nights out the howlieT way.

-Make sure someone else organises the night out, party or similar this is vitally important.

-Spend most of the week before hand and a large part of the actual day grumbling about it and wishing you hadn't agreed to go. The grumpier you feel about the entire enterprise the better. If possible find someone else going and moan to them about it.

- Get suddenly and stupidly excited a few hours before hand, rush around deciding what to wear. you aren't actually at home yet, just rushing around doing other things and trying to pick an outfit mentally.

- Get home, shower leisurely and put some booze in the fridge, intend to enjoy this slowly so you're pleasantly merry before you go out.

- Spend ages getting dressed whilst simultaneously doing four other things. Pick an outfit then spend ages deciding on trivial things like tights or leggings? Suddenly realise it's late and throw on whatever is nearest then run down stairs in heels to drink booze whilst your nail varnish is still wet.

- Abandon leisurely drinks plan, down too much booze too fast and fret.

- Stumble onto bus feeling sick and willing nail varnish to dry, wonder what the fuck possessed you to wear heels. Wait for friend to join.

- Find a sainsbury, purchase cheap and nasty booze. WKD, Smirnoff ice or similar, take with onto another bus.

- Dismount bus, drink cheap booze too fast at the bus stop. Join party enter club or similar.

-Buy a drink, drinks some more! Take pissed up pictures, go to the toilet too much, get lipstick all over your teeth trying to reapply, repeat.

- Leave, go to sainsbury again, buy more cheap booze. Whilst en route run onto roundabouts, take off shoes and tights, walk barefoot, swear at self for wearing heels.

- Find a field, down cheap booze, wee behind trees. Hide booze in bush.

- Put shoes and tights back on, return to party, club etc.

- Buy more drink, drink lots. Dance with people, hug people and declare undying love. Eat whatever you can find. Make more trips to the loo. Smear lipstick everywhere.

-The end should now arrive, leave and decide that the possession of cigarettes is the single best idea, and equally the most important thing in the world. Return to sainsburys.

-Discover Sainsbury to be shut, even the garage, return to the bush where the booze was left earlier. Remove shoes, remove tights. Carry shoes and place tights in bag.

-Whilst walking run onto every possible round about, shout lots about how you should so go out more often. Say innit lots and then laugh at yourself. Take your shoes off and on intermittently as your feet hurt or go numb.

-Find booze, wee in bushes again, conclude that it is too dark to remain in field, take booze and start walking.

-Find a new field, loose half of friends, sit in field and down more booze. Stare at the stars, enthuse about how fucking amazing stars are like only the drunk people can. Get really quite cold and damp, remember how fucking disgusting warm strongbow is. Your friends may choose this point to randomly start snogging. Tactfully ignore them, enthuse some more about space.

-See cop cars, hide badly. At this point the logical part of your brain will point out that a. you're over age, b. They probably wouldn't be coming after you at 50 mph with the sirens on, and c. You're in a field and could run away. Ignore the logical part, hide and giggle.

- Decide to go home, ditch the booze, attempt to climb up and down hills and walk through long grass in heels, fall over several times, find a pavement, twist your ankle again and take shoes off for a bit.

- Proceed to walk home the long way, take shoes off and on at intervals as above. Discuss everything you can think of. Cancer, who fancies who, death, are they snogging, cancer, the bloke who just ran past, death, cancer.

- Roughly three and a half hours have now elapsed. Arrive home, say vehemently that you will savlon your feet in the morning, down water, clear the spare bed for friend. Fall into bed. Sleep.

Mistakes.

2010-05-10T20:59:00.003+01:00

So this blog from the lovely Mark Watson has got me thinking, about mistakes.

My longest running mistake has been caring what other people think. Even when I was tiny I'd worry about going to parties, because parties meant party food, and taking what you wanted. So I used to take a tiny amount of things I liked and then pretend I was full. The only reason for this was that I was utterly terrified of being considered greedy. I don't know why, for the most part I was always a fairly skinny child although I ate normally.

It still bothers me a bit now, I feel massively awkward when we do the food shopping, or if I ever have to order food. And yet I work in a canteen, I know that I don't judge people for what they eat and neither do my colleagues. Occasionally we express incredulity that these kids seem to buy only a cookie for the entire day. Do they not get hungry? But we don't judge. So I'm getting better with that, but not much. I've long since stopped worrying about what people think of my appearance for the most part. Although if a group of kids burst into laughter as I walk past I still feel somewhat paranoid.

Another mistake I made in life I think was not saying goodbye. I wish I'd stopped and said goodbye to my Mum when I could.

Moving onto a lighter tone I wish I'd not made the mistake of being the slightly phsyco ex at 15/16. When you're that age it seems like the most important thing at the world but I just couldn't see at the time that it wasn't. So that was another mistake, not holding myself together better at the time.

The biggest mistake I've made is worrying too much generally, I think I need to try and stop and just take things more in my stride.

What about you? What are your biggest mistakes?t

Turning 18/Another London Adventure

2010-05-07T22:30:00.002+01:00

So yes, on Wednesday I did the birthday thing and turned 18. Which was exciting.

Being 18 hasn't proved to be all that different to being 17, except maybe that I feel like an adult now. I had an odd moment the tuesday before glancing in the mirror in the pub loos, where I suddenly realised I looked like an adult, a young woman with every right to be in a pub; not some child pretending to be old enough. That's it really.

And now onto the London adventure.

I left my Grandparents in soutgate just after lunch and got the tube to Holburn for a visit to the British Museum. I was suitably pleased with myself for actually finding the place, and spent a happy few hours wondering around the Egypt, Greece and Rome exhibits. Left to find a drink and moved on to the National Portrait gallery for a bit. Also very nice, but portraits seem to be largely full of boobs cocks and jesus I found. However I did get to see the Whistlejacket painting. I'm far too amazed by it, I mean, it's a life size painting of a horse! How cool? I digress.

After that spent a while in Trafalger square people watching then went to see the baby ducks in St James' Park. Got lost and managed to walk from there to Victoria from which I headed to Islington for comedy fun times!

After a bit of confusion and a bit of walking the wrong way I found Vicky and we went into the Compass. Drinks were got and we headed upstairs, it's a lovely little room but with only 5 or 6 of us in it felt warm, and it wasn't getting any cooler. Got out the cake to hand around and got chatting to the bloke sat near us muttering to himself which was nice. I also had my cookery skills complimented and generally spend the 45 minutes or so before hand having a drink and handing cake around to everyone. It then transpired the bloke we'd been chatting to who I thought looked a bit like Alex Zane, was Alex Zane. That means I either looked like a prat or incredibly cool with my calmness, one of the two.

A lovely first half from Alex himself, Tiernan Douieb, Matt Green, and James Acaster. I'm afraid I can't remember the details but they were all lovely and good fun. We also discovered a Bond Villain-esque Russian Doctor, a Colliery band Drummer a PR lady and her date who was also in PR and so much fun there was had. A quick interval mostly spent getting more drinks before the second half.

I ended up taking part in a quiz of made up band names agains a man whose name I think was Alex, (the aforementioned colliery band drummer) I think at one point I was winning, but it all got confused. This also indirectly led to me getting a round of applause for the cakes, which was nice. Incidentally Tiernan owe's me a drink for this.

A lovely second half then followed from Nat Luurtsema, Pete Firman and Tim Key. More firsts all around, since bar Tiernan I'd never seen any of the acts before, which was enjoyable. It hit 11 and they finished up and Vicky and me made our apologies and ran, just in time to make our respective last trains home. I wish I could have stayed to mingle but I needed to be on the train home or I'd have been stranded.

Of course the best laid plans of mice and men don't work out like that. And the train had to be diverted at Rugby because someone had stolen the signal cables. Cue an hour sat at the station waiting for a replacement coach. 3am I finally fell into bed, legally 18, exhausted but happy.

Today.

2010-05-01T17:06:00.003+01:00

I had a sudden thought today, that made me wonder why anyone fights to stay alive, to progress, have families, make a mark. It all seems silly. I'm happy now, and it occurred to me that it might be nice just to stop now, happy. It wasn't any desire I wanted to act on, just a thought. If I stopped now, just stopped. Died. That would be it. I'm happy. I've achieved things I have friends. If I carry on who knows what might happen? I might get sad, people might not like me, disappointments might happen.

Arguably they might not, people might stay liking me, I might stay happy, things might go my way. But even if that somehow happened it's all finite. You grow up, work, love, maybe have kids, retire, die. It's a dead end. We only fear dying because we don't know what it's like. It might be quite nice. I like to imagine it's like a deep and dreamless sleep. You drift off one day and just don't wake up, unaware of anything. It just seems odd that we keep on going knowing that it's all go to end. I suppose that's what makes us human.

Pretend Mum

2010-04-14T16:05:00.002+01:00

I'm nearly 9 years older than my brother, 8 and a very big bit, as close to 9 as to make very little difference and so if anyone asks I just say 9 years. He turned 9 this year, i'll be 18 in just a couple of weeks. Now events have conspired that I am effectively playing "mum" for a few days. Dad is in wales overnight and there was no-one to come and join us. Not a problem, I can cope although the day suddenly seemed very long when I realised there was no Dad coming home to break it up a bit.

But we'll be fine.

I've just had an odd moment though, Ben is upstairs with a friend, i'm sat downstairs doing some work and pissing about on the net. And I genuinely found myself thinking, people will be home from work soon, i'll have someone to talk to. That's right, over the space of a day I appear to have accidentally morphed into a stay at home mum. Now its fine, because come tomorrow evening Dad will be back, and next tuesday i'm back off to school, back to normal. It just temporarily amused me that I was having a "not seen anyone when will people come home to talk to" moment.

I'd like to think I've been a good pretend mum today, I've given him lunch, helped with his home work, let him have a friend round, hoovered the carpet, washed up, put the rubbish out and let him have a little nap because he was tired after a sleep over. The house might not be spotless but its the tidiest its been in a few days, Ben is happy and I'm just thinking I might go and pop a load of washing on. I'm also feeling bad for not doing it earlier in the day now the weathers gone nice, I could have put it out on the line. In short I am being horribly domestic.

I've got no plans to have kids of my own just yet, I'd like a few more years of freedom first. But I think when it does arrive, all the practise I've had being a pretend mum, I think i'll be ok.

(In related news I reckon its only a matter of time before I tell Ben to do something and he turns around and shouts "You can't tell me what to do you're not my mum!")

The Little Things.

2010-04-08T23:37:00.002+01:00

Today I took my brother to the park this morning, we walked up the lane and we chatted and that was nice. It was sunny and gloriously warm despite only being early April and I had my shorts on, we stopped to roll up his trousers.

As we came to cross the bridge to go to the park we were discussing what kind of dinosaur chickens were most related to. He thought it might be a pterodactyl because they're like birds. I said it was a raptor because of how they walk. Then I did a raptor run to explain my point and it made him laugh.

It was the highlight of my day.

Doctor Who

2010-04-04T11:41:00.002+01:00

This isn't going to be a review of last nights episode. (Although wasn't it bloody good?) But no, no spoilers here. Instead, vaguely motivated by Staggering Stories latest podcast and by the lovely Mr Mark Watson's latest blog I thought I'd make a vague attempt to explain what it is about who that I like.

So, I guess I came to the new series at the right age for it about 12 at the time, and so I sat down and watched the first episode with my friend. We actually wondered off part way though to have pudding, but it was good enough that we took our bowls upstairs to watch it on my very geriatric telly. (Incidentally I still have the same geriatric telly, which is getting on to be about 9 years old now) And there was just something about it that drew me in.

I'm a bit of a sci-fi/fantasy fan anyway, I enjoy the silly lingo and the conjecture about warp drives and airlocks, I've read The Hitch Hikers Guide more times than I can count. I think it's the sort of thing that requires you to suspend your belief a bit; of course the TARDIS is bigger on the inside why wouldn't it be? That sort of thing. Some people who don't like sci-fi generally like Dr Who however, especially in its current incarnation. I suspect that's a testament to its writing and general appeal. If you strip away the monsters and aliens its a family drama with excellent comic timing. It just also happens to be sometimes set in space.

So maybe that's what the appeal is, as a nerdy fan there's also the draw of the sense of community. Like football fans as one will chant together to support their tea, so who fans are capable of bursting into song (I am the very model of a gallifreyan buccaneer). You don't even have to be massively familiar with the classic series to get the sense of community. Plenty of conversations mean that, despite having only seen An Unearthly Child I still get the urge to refer to things like Warriors on the Cheap as opposed to of the Deep.

So maybe that's what I like about who, it can be as consuming and friendly as you like, you just have to choose how far you want to immerse yourself in it.

Falling in Love Again

2010-04-02T11:00:00.003+01:00

I've been making an effort recently to fall in love with music again. A statement I feel I should try to explain.

I wasn't always that "into" music. I had a few CD's when I was younger, the ones everyone had, B*Witched, Spice Girls, Steps, S Club 7 and The Cartoons. Oh and inexplicably a CD of abba covers, I still have that one. But other than a few sound tracks from shows (The Lion King and Joseph) it was a rare occasion I'd have them on. I didn't get what I think of as my first proper CD's til I was nearly 12.

The kick start for this was getting a £20 HMV voucher for winning some school poster competition, I think the poster was about the Tsunami at the time. Anyway, we' d been made to do it and I'd ended up winning so I went into town with my Dad to spend my voucher, I knew vaguely what I wanted, I'd seen a couple of adverts and quite liked them. As it was I ended up swapping vouchers with Dad, who had the same amount but for Virgin. And so I bought my first CD's. Those, if you're interested, were Snow Patrol - Final Straw and The Zutons - Who Killed the Zutons? I've still got both although I've played my Zuton's CD to death, it's got a scratch on it. And so that began my flirtation with music.

Over the years my attitude to its changed as I've got older. In darker periods I could use it to drag me down further, (it was about this point I developed a liking for Evanescance) although my problem with music has always been that it gives me too much time to think. In a gig or just sitting with it on my brain drifts off and that's not always a good thing. My other problem was always being swept along by the musical scene of whoever I was friends with. So when we all determinedly abandoned the mainstream I got into listening to far more My Chemical Romance than I think is strictly safe. Whilst I still have a sort of nostalgic fondness for them, and the 13 year old me who felt so hard done by at school, it's not really my thing.

And crawling past that now I don't need to like something to belong, I just listen to what I fancy. Which is a combination of classic rock and obscure indie at the moment. I've even ordered myself a couple of CD's this month, and I bought one last month. It's a nice feeling, I've fallen in love with music again.

I've made a playlist too, of tracks I bloody love right now.

There's here:

Falling in Love Again

What's wrong with the animals?

2010-03-30T17:32:00.002+01:00

Over the past couple of weeks we've been trying to get organised for an event at school. Part of this has involved trying to sort out a charity, something we've done grudgingly for reasons I won't go into here. Anyway, in asking the group of us and then the year 11 group we're working with the resounding response was immediately "no animals". Which got me thinking, why? What is it about our four legged friends that people so resent about helping? I asked a few people who volunteered that it was because "if you spend the money on animals its not going on people is it?" Well no, but that's beside the point.

Each to their own, but I would personally argue that surely animals are more in need of charity, they can't ask for help, they can't get government bail outs, they need people to look out for them. I accept there are those who, given the choice, might pick a human charity over an animal one because of something that's happened to them. I'm always willing to find a few pence for the cancer charities because of my family history, but that doesn't mean I think we ought to be discounting the animals.

Now I should state that I put some of my money towards animal welfare myself, our cat is a rescue cat; rehomed from the RSPCA and I've "adopted" a horse at Redwing's for years now. In return for the money I get the occasional photo and letter "from" the pony himself. That part is aimed more at the younger kids, but it still makes me smile, I have the pictures up around my room. So that's my take on it, I don't think I can be accused of hypocrisy for suggesting animal charities are just as important as human ones.

Anyway I'm no longer sure where I'm going with this blog, tell me your thoughts?

A Letter to a Younger Self (10 years)

2010-03-27T20:09:00.002Z

Dear Misha,

You're 7 now and quite probably looking forward to your 8th birthday, it'll be a good one i'm sure, I can't remember what happened though. Your arm will be healing well now, or is it just healed? At any rate you're getting ready to go back to riding. You will regain your confidence, although it's something you'll always struggle a bit with. You've got a little brother on the way, although you don't know it yet, and for all the times he gets on your nerves you're going to love him just the same. He's like having a tiny, living, breathing doll around at first; Mum and Dad will think its wonderful you're so keen to help out, but it's fun isn't it? Especially because you can hand him back when you get bored.

Speaking of Mum, make the most of all the time you have with her. Tell her regularly how much you love her, store up memories and try to get behind the camera yourself sometimes to take pictures of her and Dad. When the time comes, hold her hand and say goodbye, don't' run. You'll know when it happens. Don't blame yourself afterwards, you'll do all you can.

The next few years aren't going to be the best time of your life, year 6 will be an island despite the horrors of being one of the first girls to go through puberty. Accept it, come to terms with periods and bra's as soon as you can and it'll all be easier. Year 8 will be a revelation, it'll get better from there. There will still be dicks and rude people, but you'll have friends. When Jade laughs at you and asks you if you want to bum James waiting to go into music, tell her its none of her business. Don't worry about fitting in, you've got aspergers syndrome but you won't find out for years yet. Enjoy being different, when you make friends and Blue Banana opens up shop you'll get better at being different, it won't matter to you any more.

You're going to go through several rough patchs, talk to someone instead of bottling it up and hurting yourself. It's not good for you, you'll be sad and there will be terrible times, but you don't need to do that. If you can't help it, tell someone sooner. Mum will be surprisingly supportive and will help, Dad will never quite manage it, but putting yourself into councilling is a good step. When you hit your lowest patch, don't take the drugs, put yourself to bed, cry, scream and rage, anything. But don't do that if you can manage it, if you do you won't realise for a long while just what a lucky escape you've had. Tom is lovely, but he's not worth that.

There will be Conor too, and he will be genuinely special, you won't realise it til afterwards, but when it ends let it go, don't be the phsyco. There are other boys, it's not his fault, what comes after will make that seem calm by comparison. (Keep your knickers on). You're going to go a little bit off the rails, quietly so. You'll learn the merits of vodka in coke bottles and hiding from the cops, and that's a good thing, you're never going to get seriously hurt from it, and it gives you a taste of something else, you're no longer just a good girl and that's a good thing.

Clubbing will never be for you, learn that sooner rather than later, you're going to prefer sitting and having a quiet drink and a chat in the pub, and if you can explain that to people they're less likely to hassal you. It's just not your thing. The friends you really like will understand. On that note, stick with Adam, he'll be good to you. He's a good friend.

Things are going to be up and down, but technology will come on in leaps and bounds, your mental health will stablise and at the end of it, when you're me, now, it's not been so bad after all. You can do it. Just hold on.

Lots of love

Me x

Getting Older

2010-03-21T12:09:00.002Z

It's just over a month now til my 18th birthday, which is all kinds of exciting and terrifying. I know that traditionally you're meant to wait for your mid 30's at least before attempting a mid-life crisis, so maybe this can be my quarter life crisis?

It just strikes me as bloody weird that I've gotten this old all of a sudden, when did that happen? It keeps catching me unawares at other times too; there's full length mirrors on one wall in my Dad's room, I'll be in there innocently seeing if my socks are dry and scare the hell out of myself with my own reflection. Not because my reflection is especially scary, but because in my head I think of myself as looking much younger than I do, and to suddenly be confronted with the reflection of a young women rather than a girl catches me by surprise.

The same thing keeps happening in school, I sit at the back of the room in history, and sometimes (when everyone's focused) it surprises me how grown-up everyone looks, we've outgrown the school. Its a weird feeling. But back to being 18, its odd planning to go to shows and gigs in the summer and thinking, Oh I could buy a drink for myself whilst i'm there. Or will I have passed my test by then? I can't drink if i'm driving. And it's bloody weird. I think I'd like to go back to being 8 again instead of nearly 18. It would be easier.

Ten Year Self Improvement Challenge - One Week On

2010-03-11T14:23:00.002Z

I'm not promising to update on this weekly, or even monthly, just occasionally.

Anyway here's what I've achieved in the first week of TYSIC.

-Learnt to play the accompniment to Mull of Kintyre on my guitar

-Went to the house of someone I don't know that well for a bit

- Had lunch with people I don't know very well in rehearsals

- Helped strangers on the bus.

Small steps right?

Watch this space.

An event.

2010-03-06T15:06:00.002Z

I've decided to post this. It's sad, don't read it if the pitiful state I let myself get into is likely to upset you.

Three Christmases ago I reached the lowest point of my life so far. It was the first Christmas after my Mum died, I’d been dumped twice in 3 months, and I was coping badly with it all. And so I tried to commit suicide. Stepping back I can say it’s the single stupidest thing I’ve ever tried to do, I’m enormously glad I didn’t succeed, I haven’t turned into one of those manic “every day is gift” type people, I’m just quietly pleased to still be alive.

I can’t really explain what was going through my head that night, only a sort of blank, lonely emptiness so strong it hurt. It sounds ridiculous and clichéd romanticism, but that’s what depression feels like, whether it’s clinical or subjective, it’s about a crushing sense of something and sometimes its pain and sometimes its hatred and sometimes its loneliness, and sometimes it feels like everything that’s wrong at once. It’s horrible. I was spaced out at best during this period, taking Prozac in a tiny dose, quetiapine in an equally tiny one and melatonin in a higher one. The combination helped me sleep and flattened out the worst spikes of my mood but combined with the listlessness of depression made me a flat, disinterested person to be around. To put this in perspective when the first boy asked me out I was on a high for weeks, an extreme manic high which prompted comments from friends such as “it’s nice to have happy Misha back” I felt alive then. But of course in this period what comes up, must come down, and a high that big was only ever going to have a big crash.

And so I found myself sitting alone trying to get drunk off half a bottle of fake WKD. It worked, I was full of mood stabilisers and antipsychotics on which one isn’t meant to drink, it makes you drunk faster and incredibly sick afterwards, but I was trying anyway. And the idea just sort of struck. I didn’t really thing it through, just emptied out a sheet of quetiapine into my hand and downed them with the drink and sat there for a bit. No forward planning, no carefully thought out placating note, just a split second decision. What came afterwards was scary.

It didn’t hurt, but I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, much too slow, the slightest movement felt like wading through treacle and I panicked. For reasons I shall never understand I initially tried to find something sugary to eat, maybe hoping to boost my heart rate, but I couldn’t get any of my limbs to work properly so I abandoned that. I got as far as picking up the phone for an ambulance before my crippling sense of fear at phone calls kicked in, and so I crawled upstairs, sprawled on the bed fully dressed and struggling to breathe, and passed out.

Waking up the next morning was odd. There was no revelatory “I’m alive! Hurrah!” moment, just a thick head and a sense of confusion. Why had I only just woken up at 2pm? Why was I still fully dressed? Oh yes, that was why, anyway. I got up, went about my daily business, decided my hair needed re-dying and never quite got around to showering before I went into town. The pleasure that I hadn’t managed it came later, as my mood lifted and I started to take an interest in the things around me again. But that was the turning point, from there on in I’ve never had a mood crash that bad since. I don’t want to, it’s frightening, feeling that low. The real turning point was when I started to imagine what I wanted to do in the future again at one point I couldn’t imagine what I might do with next week let alone in 10 years time. And so it passed, with the help of physiatrists, medication and group counselling I got better, I survived. I guess I was lucky. I suppose in my head I’m writing this for the people out there who overdose, or try to hang themselves or cut their wrists as a cry for help. Don’t do it, because if it all goes wrong then you won’t be helped, you’ll be dead. And I don’t think most people who try to commit suicide really, truly, want that.

Ten Year Self Improvement Challenge

2010-03-03T18:05:00.003Z

So I've signed myself up to take part in Mark Watson's Ten Year Self Improvement Challenge (TYSIC) more about that here. As part of that I got involved in making a fan forum, and that's here. But that's another matter, back to TYSIC.

So my main goals for this are:

- Be more out going

-Be more optimistic

- Learn to play the guitar.

So those are the big ones, the ones I'm going to work on over the next 10 years, hopefully slowly making progress as each day passes by. Within reason of course. But aside from this I have some little goals for the next 10 years too. These aren't things I can work on because they're not that sort of thing. And so these are:

-Get a small tattoo

-Get my act together

-Go to uni

-Move out of Coventry

-Live in London

-Get the two piercings i'd like in my ears

-Procreate (or be planning to)

-Get a job I enjoy

-Go to Edinburgh again (and again)

-Keep up my flute playing

-Take more pride in my appearance

So that's that then. It start's tomorrow. 10 years. I'm terrified.

How do you spell that?

2010-02-25T17:54:00.002Z

As the title may or may not suggest this blog is going to be about names, or in particular my name.

Now for my age, generation, ethnicity, location etc I have quite an odd name. (17, early 90's, white british, middle class area of coventry if you're interested) Misha, an elongated ee sound where the I is to pronounce it although one of my grandparents as been pronouncing it wrong for as long as I've been aware. Recently it's come sort of into vogue, there's Mischa Barton and Mischa Paris; although to my mind they spell it wrong and it just leads to more creative fuck-ups of my name than before. But for the most part i'm the only Misha. I've come across other Misha's (spelling unknown) but I've never met them.

But for the most part I quite like my name, there are times when I find myself reciting "m-i-s-h-a no it's not pronounced how its written" that I find myself wishing I'd been called Sarah or something more simple. (On a digression Sarah, along with John and Hannah was one of the names I've always struggled to spell, couldn't tell you why) But mostly it's nice, being the only Misha is always good when you're in a group, it gets you remembered. On one memorable occasion my name was odd enough for someone I admired to remember I was on the facebook fan page; score one for silly names! (see relevant blog post about Sammy J) The great thing there is that your name never changes, you don't need to have postbox red hair permanently to be remembered as the one with the funny hair, because you don't change your name from time to time. I'll always be "Misha oh yeah you're the one with the interesting/weird/silly name" (delete as appropriate)

I don't know how well it'll stand up as I age though, possibly because its my name I don't know that it would suit an adult, or a grandma. To my mind Adults and Grandma's are called things like Sue, Lynn, Mavis and Eunice. But then maybe that's a generational thing, we've got a generation below us of Angel's, Summers and Chardonnays, trends will change and they will age and they'll fit in. So I suppose that's one to wait and see over. Technically I'm nearly a legal adult. Mummy Misha? Maybe, one day. We'll see.

For those interested the choice of my name was quite romantic. Right up until a few weeks before I was born I was going to be Charlotte, a Charlie. And then my mum found what became my name in a book(A Danielle Steele novel, not so romantic), the two main characters being Misha or Mina. She asked which my Dad preferred and he said Misha. The spelling was what they thought would be most logical. And so I was going to be Misha Charlotte, although my dad wanted Victoria my mum disagreed. And then I was born, and Dad leant over the fish tank (crib thing you have on maternity wards) and said "Hello Misha Victoria" and it just stuck.

Anyway, that's a little ramble about names. And here it ends.

Sad News

2010-02-21T21:58:00.003Z

I found out today that my Grandma's husband died.

And it made me feel sad, but not for reasons I can explain. I haven't managed to cry yet, I still feel sort of spaced out about it all. But I feel sad on her behalf. If I've ever thought I have a terrible habit for people dying around me then she's got it worse.

Her first husband died before I was born. Then my mum, her youngest son nearly died a few years ago, and is clinging on because of modern medication and something akin to will power.

Her sister is dying slowly of lung cancer, but they're fighting it. Her niece has months to live. And now her second husband has died too.

It's just unfortunate, but I think I feel more upset on her behalf. It's unexpected, he was old but not particularly on deaths door or any thing like that. It's just another blow for her. I don't know what to say.

Jason Wood died this weekend too, aged 38. I didn't know him but I did catch his act at Godiva this year. As I mentioned in the blog at the time, I didn't really know what to make of his act, but he seemed like a nice bloke. I found myself shedding a few tears into the washing up over that, just because it was unexpected and people dying young is sad.

So all in all it's been a crap weekend for mortality.

Richard Herring @ Warwick Arts Centre

2010-02-19T22:00:00.003Z

So nearly a week ago now it was Valentines Day, and like a proper lonely single ton I went out to see Richard Herring at the Warwick arts centre, because there's nothing like comedy fun times to stave off the valentines blues.

Now i'll admit now I didn't scribble my usual notes and it's taken me a week to get around to writing this so it's not going to be the most detailed blog I've ever written, not to mention that at the time I've writing I've been up for 2 days straight on 2 hours sleep, but that's another story. The basic gist of the show covers whether you can reclaim the toothbrush moustache back for the purposes of comedy, and other variants on the theme thereof.

An entertaining enough show, but it made you think enough that it was only really giggles, rather than proper laughing to the point of struggling to breathe, partially I think because you found yourself laughing at something but at the same time thinking "you know he's right..." I don't think that room helps either, it's not acoustically great so you can't really hear if anyone else laughing along with you, which is a big part of live comedy, but it was an enjoyable night none-the-less and I decided to be sad and get my programme signed.

Despite spelling out my name for him he managed to screw it up, so the alteration meant I got a kiss,and then a note saying it was a kiss, not an X so that was nice and made my evening.

Personally I'd reccomend going to see the tour, but be prepared to be made to think.

I wanna hold your hand...

2010-02-13T16:41:00.002Z

I've always thought that The Beatles had it right with that song. I think that when you fall in love with someone you aren't instantly thinking "I want to shag you" or even "I'd like to have kids with you" simply just that, "I want to hold your hand." Anyway, reading this:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/feb/13/control-freak-love-jon-richardson

from the lovely Mr Richardson has got me thinking again. I've been single for just over 2 years now, a relatively short time in the grand scheme of things, but an awful lot longer than the majority of my friends, it's the age, but I've stopped caring, I've got used to being on my own most of the time, I like my own company.

I think that another problem with this is I'm both fiercely independent and fiercely passive. I'd far rather go somewhere on my own so that I can do what I fancy doing, than actually push for something I'd like in a compromise with someone else, if I go somewhere with other people then I don't do compromising, I do, "whatever you fancy" and if it happens to line up with what I fancy then that's just a bonus. But yes, i'm incredibly independent, I don't need to be needed, to an extent being needed scares the living day lights out of me, but that doesn't mean I don't occasionally want or need someone. The problem is that a relationship is a two way street and so therein lies a problem, if I found someone like me maybe, but then i don't think it would work, I'd only end up feeling guilty with someone willing to be the way I needed them, and it would fall apart.

I think what I'd like is something that I can no longer remember if I actually saw or just imagined, but ideally I'd like the sort of person who would hold my hand on the way to the train station, but then be comfortable to sit and read a book or listen to music during the journey. The thing is that requires a certain level of being comfortable with someone that I'd struggle to reach. I'm aware that being mildly autistic i'm going to have a harder time of it that the average person, I overthink everything, emotions confuse me at best and I get stressed as hell if things aren't where I left them.

To put this in perspective, 2 christmases ago I got some new slippers, I put my old ones at the end of the bed, 2 years on I've managed to loose one slipper (because they were out and being used) but the pair I put away at the end of the bed were right where I left them. I need that kind of certainty in my life, and if other people are around the might move things. I don't like it when people move things.

At the moment however i'm still quite comfortable with how I am, the idea of holding hands on the bus or having someone to wake up with is nice, but not half as nice as the appeal in staying in bed with crappy hair because you want to and won't see anyone, or in being able to go to the loo with the door open because only the cat is in the house. Basically I'm not comfortable around people, although I'd love one day to procreate etcetera. I suppose it's something I'll have to work on, but in the here and now I'm comfortable with it. Come back to me in another 5 years and see if I'm still saying that.

Mr Chris Addison - Warwick Arts Centre

2010-02-08T21:50:00.003Z

Two blogs in one day?! Shock and horror! It won't happen again I promise.

Anyway, I went out last night with my friend Adam to see the lovely Mr Chris Addison.

He admitted straight off that he'd been out of stand up for 5 years, and that this was the 3rd date of the tour, so I felt strangely privileged to be sat there watching it; which is of course daft because I'm sure he'll be doing more after this, but all the same. I digress.

A very enjoyable first half covering exciting matters like sport, which lead to us spending the entire interval reminiscing about the teacher who taught trampolining in P.E. and his man boobs. There was also a lovely bit of improv for a girl with "funny eyes" who'd had to give up trampolining because her glasses always fell off trying to do a somersault. (He said she sounded like a font, this went down really quite well)

The second half was a bit vaguer but just as wonderful, covering why The Daily Mail isn't actually printed on ink, and why his wife is the most tolerant person he knows. (I personally think all partners of comedians are like this.) And a frighteningly true point about ugg boots.

A personal favourite moment will only make sense if you know where the arts centre is, but I'd say he hit an alltime speed record for taking the piss. Walks on with Hello "warwick" *wink wink*. That's got to be the fastest anyone's ever walked out and asked why precisely the Warwick Arts Centre is in Coventry. Anyway, there's no point relating this in detail, it was just funny as a local.

A final highlight to the evening was his return to the stage at which he admitted he didn't actually have an encore and so invited questions. These covered what was your degree? Was Mock the Week fun? Was it scary meeting Tony Sorprano? And Will you do me a favour?

The answers were of course suitably entertaining if in content mundane (yes mock the week was fun, no there's no gossip) but he still managed to make it funny. There were several points in the show where I thought that if I laughed anymore I was going to quietly hyperventilate, this in my book being a good thing.

Over all a really enjoyable night, go and see him on tour I say. Do it.

An Insight.

2010-02-08T11:23:00.002Z

I was talking to my grandparents this morning and they revealed they'd been married 57 years, for all the tend to snipe and tease each other it seems to be almost constantly in good humour. They aren't what I'd call lovey dovey, I don't think I've ever seen them hold hands. They're just two very independent people who clearly enjoy each others company enough to have spent most of their lives together, and raised three children.

Just now I went downstairs to make a cup of tea, they were both sat reading. Not together or half reading half chatting. Just sitting silently on opposite sides of the room reading their books. But they seemed happy and comfortable doing it. Content to be near to each other but not necessarily doing something together.

I hope I get like that one day, it seems like a nice way to be.

Night Terrors.

2010-02-03T20:49:00.002Z

I've got myself properly spooked at the moment, so I'm hoping that "sharing" it might help. Let me explain:

My Dad's in Sweden for two weeks, so the grandparents are over taking a week each to look after me and the small human. I've also got two interviews coming up, as well as a couple of major deadlines I'm not really ready for. So I think it's fair to say I'm feeling a bit shook up and unsettled.

Anyway, I keep having weird terrors that my grandma is going to collapse and I'll find her and not know what to do. This is silly for several reasons.

1. Whilst she has previously had a heart attack the likelihood of it re-occurring is slim.

2. Even if that did happen I would know what to do.

But this is really unsettling me, I frightened myself just coming home from school on Monday in case something had happened. And this morning when her alarm went off (not recognising the sound) I thought it was one of those personal call alarms for elderly people living alone. (This was before I convinced myself she'd have mentioned if she had one)

So it's daft really. But it's quite upsetting.

Hopefully it will pass. I'm hoping this will help.

Two Memories.

2010-01-28T23:11:00.002Z

It's my brother's 9th birthday today, I was 9 when he was born, which is weird.

I'd like to blame it for the two (unconnected) memories of my parents which suddenly came to mind today.

One.

My dad learnt to plait hair on my barbies, I had really long hair when I was little, and it needed plaiting every night so it wasn't a complete bird's nest in the morning. At it's longest, it was 2 inches off my waist. I really wanted it long enough to sit on but I never quite managed it. Anyway, Dad's friend, Tony, had two daughters, much older than me, who taught us both how to plait. Needless to say he got it faster than me, and quite often plaited my hair at night. He used to tie the sash on my party dress as well, because he was better than my mum at getting the bow even.

Two.

Shortly after my Mum died I got really angry with her. She died of a blood clot reaching her brain, the same way someone I went to school with had died the year before. When the girl I knew had died, my mum had told me she wouldn't have been in pain, she'd have just had a headache, and then gone to sleep, and not woken up. Maybe she would have, but when I saw her wake up briefly she said it really hurt. Maybe pain is relative, maybe it was really hurt in an ow i've got a bad headache way, but it didn't seem half as peaceful as she'd implied, and I was angry.

I realise now that I was barely 14 at the time, and she just wanted to protect me (I think) but i was still angry.

See? Totally unconnected, I just wanted to put these down to share with someone.

Pappy's - Warwick Art's Centre

2010-01-24T19:19:00.002Z

So last night I went out for the first time in a month to see the lovely sketch group Pappy's, and for once it was near me, being at a local venue, the Warwick Arts Centre. (but more on that later)

Anyway, not entirely sure what to expect, other than having had it highly reccomended by friends I took my seat and waited. That's not to say I didn't know what to expect at all, but sketch comedy varies in format, some people launch straight in, others don't. Anyway, with a brief introduction it was explain that the first half would be a "warm up" of sorts, followed in the second half by the world record attempt.

Anyway, to attempt to pick it apart would be stupid, and next to impossible, so I'll skim through a few favourites.

There was some really quite amazing corpsing and inventive improvising in Marty, Mim and Julius. I started out thinking how impressive it was that Matt was managing to sing in an accent (easier said than done) before Tom leapt out through the back curtain wearing an incredibly short, revealing "toga" shouting loudly. he did try quite admirably to put in some local references (coventy cathedral), but then distracted himself talking about getting to Warwick Arts and why was it called Warwick Arts if it was in Coventry?

For anyone who's interested it's Warwick Arts Centre, because its Warwick University, why Warwick university is actually in Coventry no-one seems to actually know, especially since we already have a Coventry University, but I digress.

Anyway, I can't remember the exact details, only that there was plenty of adlib about Beyonce and an apple, as well as an ill advised lunge and dance which flashed most of the audience a bit. By the time that one was over poor Matt looked extremely panic stricken.

Another personal favourite was the character of Dean, a dinosaur. This is hard to explain, it's one that you really need to see to understand, needless to say when Dean as trying to drink from the water bottle and soaked himself in the face, most of the audience went "awww". I'm reasonably sure there was actually a round of applause at the end when Dean went back to the other dinosaurs, but again I could be wrong. I've slept since then. Anyway.

The recurring character of the Quaker went down well, mainly because the first time he came on Tom ran off to get ready on the wrong side, leaving poor Matt and Ben to try desperatly to fill before he leapt out half dressed and just about wetting himself laughing. Cue more desperate corsping and general daftness. Further appearances went better, if messily, but properly dressed ending up with us all doing the quaker dance to help boost the totaliser. By that point I was enjoying myself too much to care, and the three people to my left seemed willing to run with it, so we really went for it, whilst the young couple of my right side were a little more cautious, personally I thought it was a good dance, although 2 people in the front row didn't join in, and were suitably mocked for it.

Other good reccurring characters were the worlds tallest man and the worlds smallest lady, although at one point the worlds tallest man had to "lie down" in order to finish a scene because he was tired. Also the worlds smallest lady having a balloon to explain why she was floating a few feet above the ground. However the "denouement" as it were to this plot line, was one of the favourites. Tom merely had to keep his balance (and concentration) in a shirt, whilst Matt ran out in socks and what appeared to be a jumper, not actually long enough for modesty, so in the end he hid behind the sheet-shirt; although why that was more embarassing than running out in the first half wearing just a pink frilly tutu I don't know.

Another favourite was a sketch involving hearing through your mouth, I missed what happened here, only that because they were so close together Tom appeared to lick/kiss Ben at one point, before making a joke about discovering he was bisexual, Ben looked a bit horrified, but took it in good humour. Poor man.

In spite of some really quite terrible puns the cutlery, bowling pin robbery made me laugh and to finish off with another real favourite, a sketch which I think was called Old Louis, although I could be wrong. Essentiall playing with the idea of musical body parts (again its a more visual one) and reprised by the dinosaurs I really liked it, and if anyones who's seen it is able to tell me what the song is it would be much appreciated.

Anyway, dragging the blog to a close, I really enjoyed this, and if you've not seen it or got plans to see it then I urge you to.

A nice dream.

2010-01-17T18:34:00.002Z

I fell asleep on the bus yesterday, it's not something I'm particularly in the habit of doing. Falling asleep on public transport isn't generally my area of expertise, I've dozed on trains before, and I did drop off completely the last time I got a coach, so completely the driver had to come and wake me up, but it was 3 in the morning by then, so I think it's justified. Anyway, I digress.

I dozed off on the bus, because it was rainy and I'd forgotten my ipod, so too headachy to read and with nothing to see out the steamed up windows I shut my eyes and dozed. It's a good hours journey at best, and therefore quite a safe bus to fall asleep on without missing your stop. Anyway, another digression, because the point is, I had a lovely day dream on the bus.

It's one I've mused on before, the idea of organising and running a gig with a line up I wanted to see, it sparked off after the last Btec gig, (enjoyable but stressful) a relatively tiny thing, but I wondered what it would be like to do for real. And then it left my mind until now, when we're doing the same thing again but on a larger scale for our Btec "final major project". So I guess that was what was on my mind, subconsciously, dozing on the bus to Birmingham.

The idea I had was much the same, except for something a bit more variety based, music, comedy, maybe some magic, that sort of thing. In the day dream it was to raise money for autism research, because something that terrifies me is the idea of having an autistic child and not being able to cope. (See last post) I'd roped in people I knew and people I admired, heaven knows where I'd got the money from in the dream. It was at the warwick arts centre. It was a nice day dream.

But then it got me thinking, surely I could actually do this? I've done it before. I did almost all the admin for school. I think the only thing holding me back would be the costs. Essentially you have to stump up a certain amount of money before hand, which you then recoup through profits from ticket sales etc. If that can be done you're safe. That's what would stop me, not having enough to pay deposits etc, and the fear of not making enough money to pay back people. Never mind the worry that if it was a charity event that I might not even make enough to give any to charity.

So I suppose it'll stay a day dream, but a nice day dream nonetheless.

Future Echo's

2010-01-13T19:23:00.002Z

I've got work to do, can you tell? I'm also suffering from a massive bout of existential angst tonight, having watched a couple of video's on youtube about the vastness of space. If I might quote the wonderful Mr Douglas Adams:

"Space is big, vastly, mind-bogglingly big. You might think it's a long way down the street to the chemist, but that's peanuts to space..." the hitch hikers guide to the galaxy.

And anyway, that's got me thinking, aside from the fact I'm a speck, upon a speck, within a speck, within a multitude of other specks. But that doesn't make me any less important within my personal universe, it's the ordinary people that are important. Just leading their lives, having kids, getting drunk at weekends, having arguments and making up, getting cold waiting for buses or making scientific breakthrough's. And from this I drifted into wondering about my own future.

I'd like to do all the normal stuff one day, find a house, have kids, maybe even get married or at least live with someone, but that sort of terrifies me. I quite like children, not badly behaved ones, nice ones, but the idea of having some of my own is a terrifying concept. It's not one I intend on following through with for another 9 or 10 year's at best, but all the same. What if something happened to one of them? Or to me? I think I'd be more afraid of dying and leaving my kids behind more than anything else. Something else which worries me is that they could be autistic like me. Is it genetic? I don't worry for them, but more for our relationship, could I cope in the face of someone who's behaviour I fully understand but can't help?

I think that would be the worst, how can you hope to explain to your child it's not good to stay in a fixed routine when you struggle to convince yourself? I'm not sure why I find it such a terrifying idea, I suppose (as I've always thought) it's why I couldn't be in love with someone like me. Don't get me wrong, I have a friend who suffers a similar level of aspergers syndrome to me,and I love her to bits, but I couldn't live with someone as wobbly and unpredictable as me. I need more secure people in my life, to absorb my weirdness from time to time. So perhaps it would all work out, but the mood i'm in this is what's on my mind, and it sort of terrifies me.

(I'm not pregnant, don't worry, I haven't been near a male with so much as my jumper off in years.)

The Art of Not Fangirling (too much)

2010-01-11T17:32:00.002Z

Now I'm proud to say I'm not really a proper fan girl. I won't deny I've been known to make frankly embarrassingly high pitched noises of excitement in the comfort of my own room, on the odd occasion I've done it with friends, but never to the object of the "squee".

For one thing it's not my thing, if I admire someone I'd far rather (attempt) to tell them in a well reasoned and articulate way than squeak in their faces. I'm just not a naturally squeaky person. Aside from that, you generally get a much better response if you approach someone and ask very politely if they'd possibly mind signing your ticket, than if you run up screaming in their face.

I can state this from practise, "Could I possibly trouble you for a scribble" sparked a whole chat with a musician I very much admired (and yes, fancied a bit) a few year's back. I still have the setlist in question blu-tacked to my wall.

But surely that's what you'd prefer? Interaction is what most people crave with someone they admire, that and a reminder, yes it's nice to ask for a photo and a signature, but at the same time it's really lovely too standing and having a talk. I'm not saying it's not okay to go and have a giggle and squeak to yourself, or even to chat to your friends about how much you fancy said person, if that's your thing.

It's just that it's not my thing.

Be polite, that's best.

Dancing

2010-01-08T13:09:00.002Z

I thought about doing a round up of last year sort of a blog, but I feel the moment has passed. I'm not blogging about the snow either, because we've all got some, and it's nice but painful if, like me, you can't keep your feet. No, this blog is about dancing.

I don't mean proper dancing, with set routines and silly outfits, or club dancing with the weird touching and grinding against strangers. I don't like them, I mean happy dancing. The kind of dancing you do when a song you like comes on in the pub, maybe you've had a pint so you don't really mind if you look a bit silly. Or when you're at home at you just decide to dance around the room. That kind of dancing.

I quite like dancing with people too, I wouldn't say i'm good at it, but I can generally avoid actually treading on someones toes and so long as you don't mind the fact I have no natural sense of how to move to the beat, and that generally my dancing isn't what you'd call overtly sexy, that's okay. I'm in the mood to go dancing at the moment, but there's no-one else at home to dance with and I don't really want to go dancing on my own, and all my joints still hurt from falling over, but that's another matter.

Anyway, I think this is the kind of dancing that should be encouraged, you don't need to actually know the song, just have a try, find a partner, bend your knees and shuffle about, and have fun.

Another Trip To London: Mark Watson

2009-12-19T11:44:00.002Z

The morning started off at the scarily early hour of quarter to 7 for me, mainly so I'd have time to do things like shower and grab breakfast before dashing out to the bus at 10 past 8 for a half 9 coach.

Yes, I did decide to get the earlier bus just to be on the safe side. Anyway, spent most of the journey with a nice, fluffy bearded man dozing off on my shoulder, admiring the several inches of snow that made the motorway actually look quite pretty; before arriving at Victoria with an hour to kill before Goose arrived. Had lunch, wandered around, was cold, etcetera. Goose arrived, we went to the tube station, laughed at the man who looked like Jesus in ladies clothing and waited for Linzy.

Found Linzy, had food, visited Christmas Markets, and then we decided to head off to the SoHo Theatre, a mere 4 hours early, to wait for Mark's show. En-route a book of arrow words, cross words and a couple of trashy magazines were got, and so that filled in several hours as we tried to finish them. (A favourite was a cross word with ambush and alley coming off the same "A")

Mark arrived, hugs and presents were exchanged and then we pottered off upstairs to wait, leaving him downstairs. As you do.

Earth Summit

The first of the two shows and we started with a slightly more serious affair. Well, actually we started with 24 Hour Show flash backs. The screen was there, stupid things were done, and mark had the same tee-shirt on (autistic? Moi?) Anyway, the lecture was both fun, and interesting, although I think the communal highlight was the picture of the rabbit next to the kitten. A bit of me wants that picture to use as a background on my computer, it made me smile so much. Also three blokes all running out to wee in quick succession, that made us giggle too. The lecture itself was interesting, although the short time frame meant it was mostly stuff I had a very vague understanding of from the news and a bit of googling. I'll have to try and find the time to watch An Inconvenient Truth now, seems like it might be interesting, even if Al Gore does look slightly odd.

Work In Progress

After a break in which I cleverly forgot to take my coat out of the theatre, and two kind audience members ran down the road to retrieve a sandwich for Mark, we headed back in for the work in progress show. As far as I remember, it was roughly the same as the set we saw at the One Night Only show in Edinburgh. Man on train and China story were definitely in there, but I don't remember the bit on Derren Brown, think that might have replaced something about small boys weeing on each other. (see previous blog: http://howliesblogthing.blogspot.com/2009_08_01_archive.html)

A lady whose name I can't remember was drafted up to write notes with on the laptop, more 24 hour show flashbacks there since it was still connected to the big screen, and did an admirable job of it. Plenty of jokes about magners pear, (100% pear!) Amusing end with a conclusion to the story of The Lemon Man, which I personally think would work well as the actual ending, but probably doesn't have the right tone for a proper show.

Honourable mentions to the practical joke about a kangaroo, you really did have to be there, and the man who went to get water half way through. Again with the edinburgh flashbacks, it was an uncomfortably hot room the studio.

Also to the shouty people outside who we shouted back at, that was fun too.

Hung out afterwards to collect some more stuff for The Lovely Plan (shh its a secret!) and a bit more of a chat whilst I trembled wildly having not really eaten, then we went our seperate ways.

Ended up in Nando's for a bit since it was open, and sat around chatting for an hour or so before pottering away to the tubes, did fine until I got to Victoria when I got out of a different door to the one I went in and got lost. Had to ask directions from a couple of blokes and ended up striding down a back road before eventually ending up in the right place. Struggled to find my way into the coach station before just walking through the coach entrance and falling onto the bus.

By that point I was desperate for a wee, but hadn't found a loo (or any food for that matter) so determined to wait until we were on the motorway and go on the coach. As it was I dozed off as we hit the motor way, and didn't get to go til I got home. Honorable mentions again to the coach driver who'd obviously registered I needed to get off at Cov when I asked him if it was the right coach, who came and woke me up, and to a very friendly taxi man who took me home and to whom I gave a 40p tip. 40p you cry? Yes, I have him £11 and told him to keep the change because I was tired and wanted my bed.

So was it worth the round trip of 8 hours? Definitely.

Equal Rights?

2009-12-10T19:17:00.003Z

I was listening to The Pod Delusion today as I waited for the bus, and one of the items on it was about the heterosexual couple Tom Freeman and Catherine Doyle who tried to get a civil partnership. When I'd heard this story initially, I have to admit I dismissed it as being just, well, a bit silly. But having the time to listen properly to their side of the story I got the feeling that actually its a bit more interesting than I previously thought.

The gist of it is, that the couple wish to get a civil partnership, rather than to get married, so as not to alienate their gay friends. Now immediately this strikes me as foolish. Let's imagine for a moment they win their legal battle, heterosexual couples can now choose to have a civil partnership rather than a marriage. Surely that's a backwards step? Because now heterosexual couples have two choices, but homosexual couples are still limited to just the one. Admittedly this is better than not being able to "marry" at all. But surely what they should be campaigning for is a law change to allow everyone to just marry. No civil partnerships or other nonsense like that. Just a marriage. Maybe not necessarily a religious one, but a marriage none the less.

Clearly that would be far too sensible. No, instead we must campaign for straight couples to have civil partnerships. Maybe that's the answer, but only if we can have proper gay marriage too. Then people all have the freedom of choice.

This blog is bought to you by Baileys and PMT

Sensation.

2009-12-04T19:23:00.002Z

I've been meaning to write this for some time now, but I've just been reminded of something this evening that bought it back to my mind. So in order to procrastinate the 3 essays I have in for next week, here's a blog on sensations.

As long as I can remember i've always quite liked the way things feel, I had (and indeed still do have) a blanky, woolen, square, holes in it, and it has silky corners (and at one point I presume edges). It's falling to bits now, but I still sleep with it, and when I get stressed or upset i'm still prone to doing what I did as a child, I seek out the corners and rub them between my finger and thumb, because they feel nice and it makes me feel calm. But mostly I like the way it feels.

But then I always like the way things feel, I could rhapsodise for hours about the sensation of new socks and when you put a hoodie on for the first time and its still soft and fluffy inside. I'm terrible, I try my best now not to touch soft toys because I can be enormously won over by how they feel. Another element of this comes out if I'm out shopping, I'd always assumed it was normal to run your hands across clothes that look like they feel nice. Silk blouses and posh faux fur coats and the like are my favourite. But any clothes are nice. But apparently not, most people don't run their fingers through the soft things in department stores and clothes shops, M&S is a good one for this, old lady clothes feel nice.

Anyway, I digress; it got me thinking, that if not everyone does this, then maybe not everyone feels it in the same way? So I did some googling. This turned up that being very sensitive to sensation is a trait of the aspergers syndrome, which explains why a brief touch on the arm can feel like the best kind of electric shock, (it's a nice feeling, don't ask) and why being caught in a crowd can feel like it hurts. But it doesn't get me any closer to explaining the sensation of "things". It's sort of like all the best stuff, getting into bed when you're cold, stroking the cat, sinking into a hot bath or stepping under a shower when you've been travelling for hours. But all at the end of your finger tips. At least, that's the best way I can describe it.

Either way, I think that's one of my favourite things about being who I am, I might find people confusing, and phone calls near impossible, but its more than made up for my the wonderful breath of how things feel.

Oh dear Facebook.

2009-11-29T17:38:00.003Z

This came up today on my facebook feed. It says "If 1,170,000 People Join, My Girlfriend Will Marry Me."
And how depressing is that? Assume for a moment it's true, I think surely if you need that many people to join a facebook in order to get your girlfriend to actually agree to marry you, I think something has gone horribly wrong with your life. Even if its not true its still depressing, because people are joining this group. And why?! Since the change to the facebook layout I've seen a whole plethora of stupid vacuous facebook groups appear. But this one really takes the biscuit. It's just stupid, and sad.

That's all.

Adam Hills

2009-11-24T17:25:00.003Z

So on sunday night I went out for the second bit of comedy based fun in a week. (Practically unheard of!)

As far as the show goes I direct you back to my blog on it from Edinburgh.

http://howliesblogthing.blogspot.com/2009/08/day-5-16th.html

(No I can't spell Inflatable)

So i'll just cover the little "asides" for which Adam has been trying to make time for this tour.

He started off by sending one of the stewardesses out to buy drinks for two people whose bus had been late, as well as "something for herself" they all looked a bit bemused, but eventually went with it, whilst Adam proceeded to terrorise a 17 year old boy on the front row. First he got the boys parents to kiss, which oddly enough got a round of applause, he then stared very hard at the boy (sat by his sister) and said something about really scaring his parents. Apparently I was on my own in that I thought Adam was offering to kiss him. Technically perfectly acceptable but perhaps slightly shaky ground. Turns out actually he was making an incest based joke, which I didn't get until afterwards. Oops.

He then proceeded to try and set the boy up with a girl on the other end of the row called Romy, which sadly failed, before launching into the show. A badly placed @mention in my interval tweet (I didn't think he'd actually read it!) lead to finding out the x-factor result to annoy a lady taping (sorry, Sky+ing) it, and him then trying to set me up with "The Boy". Also failed, but Abbii gave me a hug and so all was well. I'm reasonably sure that it was here that the tangent about his wrist band came, it went as thus.

Essentially a couple on the front were trying to read what it said, so he explained that when he'd got engaged he'd felt a bit left out, Ali got a nice sparkly ring and he had nothing, so she'd got him a nice leather wrist band to wear. He'd then managed to loose it in a hotel shower, and so had bought himself another one, before loosing that too. So she'd got a big bag of black rubber ones so he didn't need to take it off in the shower, and if he did and then lost it, it didn't matter. Lovely I thought. And then it was on with the rest of the show.

The ending once again made me cry, although mostly because the light caught fire. He looked a bit bemused that no-one was being particularly respectful during a very moving bit until someone told him, and then proceeded to wonder whether it was infact his friend who'd died, "just dropping in". Now i'm no big believer in life after death, but that got me and I welled up a bit, it was just a lovely idea that she'd have the comic timing to set the light on fire at that exact moment.

For the encore we got things i'd genuinely never heard before, and its one of those odd things, but I forget hoe great totally new jokes are. Like, not even alluded to ones. Brilliant. Including a really great bit about how he decided he wasn't gay. Towards the end of the interval was a lovely chat with a man on the second row who turned out to be a professor from Minnesota (sp?) who was visiting, and a bit of a sing along where he established what era people were from. He seemed genuinely surprised by the response one song got (its the one that goes, "there I was just a walking down the street, singing hey I diddy, diddy dum, diddy do" can't remember the title) which is a big school disco favourite around here. We also got a lovely rendition of Take on Me, which is one of those songs I inexplicably love.

Overall a really wonderful night that had me in fits of laughter and struggling for breath by the end.

Wonderful.

Eddie Izzard - Birmingham NIA

2009-11-19T19:48:00.002Z

Last night I found myself pottering over to Birmingham to go and see Eddie Izzard. The last minute plans of mice and men, (and many thanks to Vicki).

This was the first time in a while I've been to a gig totally on my own, that is to say, not meeting someone there. Nothing at all wrong with that but it was quite odd to be sat there in my seat in the interval, not pottering off down the front for a chat. But that's by the by, because there was a world of entertainment to be had tweeting at the big screens. It's nice waiting for tweets from friends to come up (there's a bit of a delay) and quite fun spotting your own, but twice I saw messages on the big screen I'd not already read on my little one, which was really lovely. It was like taking twitter to the gig with me. An amazing idea.

As for the show itself, I really enjoyed it. It was very Eddie, you can't isolate out particular jokes because its too rambly, too inane. We got a little snatch of "i'm covered in bee's" which was wonderful, (Beekeepers and test pilots are the calmest people in the world, pulse rate of 7...) Other wonderful bits about the jazz chicken, dogs kneading bread and of course, God. Him up there. I had a good view, but the large screen of him behind kept distracting me, I tended to watch that for the facial expressions more, because for me that's how I"get" jokes, by concentrating on the face of the performer.

Sadly I had to leave before the end, eventually deciding that getting the last bus home was preferable to seeing the end and being stranded in Birmingham til 6ish the next morning. So yes, hardly an in depth review but I'm not in an indepth reviewing mood. Really wonderful evening, wish i could have seen it all.

Carter USM (Or why there's solidarity in a crowd)

2009-11-16T14:24:00.002Z

This weekend I went with my Dad to see Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine at the Brixton Academy. I really enjoyed the night although I'm still suffering with bruises now 2 days on. I'd be lying if I said I could accurately recount the gig, I had 4 pints of cider and threw myself in with the front of the crowd.

For anyone who knows their way around the Brixton Academy, I was between the front and the first bar the entire time.

Anyway, started off about 3 or 4 rows in with Adam (Colin, a friend of my Dad's, son) but pretty much lost him as it started. I'm pretty sure I held him up a couple of times as he got crowd surfed overhead, but with one thing and another I spent most of the actual gig on my own being buffeted around at the front. It's quite interesting to be a teenage girl in a crowd mostly made up of middle aged men, because if you get knocked into them they actually check you're okay rather than just shoving you back. I got knocked to the floor twice and both times I was dragged back up on my feet within seconds, both times the people checked I was okay, which I was, but that was nice. I did my fare share of helping to drag people back up too, its sort of like karma.

There were security guards at the front, whose job seemed to comprise catching crowd surfers, spraying water into the mouths of people who waved at them, and shining torches into the crowd if anyone fell. On one occasion one of these checked if I was okay, although in fairness at that point I was feeling floppy and needed the water. Now i'll be the first to admit this is the first and so far only occasion I've been up the front at a big gig of any kind, and I'd do it again, I hurt now, but it was a laugh, I briefly made friends in that crowd. A nice bloke whom a joined in trying to make some space for us all to breathe, a lovely girl who apologised incase she'd accidentally groped me.

Anyway, I digress, I really enjoyed the night. I just need a few months to recover before I'd do it again.

Herd Immunity

2009-11-10T22:01:00.004Z

So the Swine Flu vaccination programme has begun in the UK, to me it seems like too little too late. People have died. But there again, its better than nothing, already the most at risk groups are being contacted and offered the vaccination, and that's a good thing. But it set me thinking. This is the second vaccination to be offered recently which (if i'm offered it) I shall probably turn it down.

In the case of the Swine Flu jab I conclude that I'm young and healthy, I've got a good immune system and no underlying health problems. (Watch me end up catching it now.) And its not worth it. I turned down the cervical cancer jab, it wasn't that I was worried about the effects (although I wasn't certain) it's that I'm scared. I saw the pictures of Jade Goody, that scared me less than the concept of a simple jab.

Let me explain. I have a severe injection related phobia, I'm not brilliant with needles generally, although I did have my nose pierced. People ask me how I can manage that by simple shutting my eyes, but not an injection, the answer is beta blockers, adrenaline, and the fact that its a totally different thing. I'm not sure what it is that so terrifies me about the idea of someone injecting something into me, I've got only vague memories of it hurting, almost invariably caused by my struggling to get away, there's no reason for it. It's a phobia. I can honestly say my heart is beating just a little faster thinking about it.

The last injection I had (discounting when I had my teeth out, for which I had vallium and Gas & Air, just for the anaesthetic) was the Meningitis C. At the age of 8 my Mum and the nurse struggled to hold me still, in the end I got most of the way off the chair with my Mum sitting on me just so between them they could brace my arm. That was at 8, can you imagine the possible damage I could do now at 17, being considerably bigger and stronger? I wouldn't want to be responsible for injuring someone in a blind panic. This is all hypothetical of course. I'm so dead set against it you'd probably have to physically carry me, kicking and screaming, to the doctors.

Another injection that somehow bypassed me was the one you're meant to have in year 10. We were never given the Heaf Test, I honestly have no idea of the last time I had a tetanus vaccine. I've been told I ought to go to the doctors and get tested. It won't happen. What if I need a vaccine?! See above.

I'm not against vaccines, they're marvellous things, they save lives and have eliminated diseases that even my parents generation regularly got. Scarlet Fever to name but one. There's also other wonderful side effects like Herd Immunity. Now herd immunity is particularly of interest to me, because where possible its something I'm really rather relying on in not having these vaccinations. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, I just felt the need to ramble.

Being Friends

2009-11-07T13:12:00.001Z

I forewarn anyone reading this now that this blog is likely to be long, I've been thinking about it since last night, and I had a shower this morning, so I've had plenty of time to muse. Anyway, are you sitting comfortably? Then let's begin.

I was sent this to read last night, initially as an email but now as a blog. And it's got me thinking. I'm a big user of so called "social networking". (Which I personally feel to be a stupid term.) To an extent I think that's down the being a 21st teenager, and I'm sure my little brother will be different yet again. Broadband was something that we didn't get until about 3 years ago in this house, and in just those three years tons of things have changed. So perhaps the best place to start with my thoughts on social networking is to start with when I began.

I stumbled into something called Horse Land quite by accident, I'm sure its changed since I was there, but essentially you cared for horses which were represented by some stats and a picture of your choosing. From there I went on via someone looking for "dark mares" into RPGing, and Heavens Valley, a forum based RPG. It was my first experience of a forum and of online friends, and I can still remember the url. Sadly it doesn't exist any more, which is a shame. Fun aspect aside I started to make friends here, we'd chat and have parties on the forum, but we also connected with each other a little bit on myspace, aim and msn. I even once swapped numbers with a girl on there who became a really good friend of mine. I don't speak to her now.

After that I made the shift into forum's proper with RYL. It was there for me, with people willing to talk and help out in a non-judgemental way at a time when I felt like no-one else could. Obviously along side these I've always had Myspace and Facebook, but I've never used them to meet people I don't already know to a degree. I don't go on RYL any more, but I did make friends from it. There were people there with the same dodgy sleeping patterns or mental states as me, for example when my Mum died it was to RYL I turned, and there was a flurry of other people who'd had similar experiences who were able to calm me down, talk me out of things I might otherwise have regretted. In a sense I owe my life to them.

Again I don't speak to a lot of them anymore, but there are a few people who've transcended the forum, and I don't use it now, but we're friends, proper friends. This was also my first expereince of meeting internet people. RYL have meets, very carefully supervised and overseen by at least one adult, the rules are clear and so its quite safe. Most of the ones I've been too are in the local area, but one or two were down in London, and I enjoyed those. Those were the ones where we were friends getting together, and not just people who happened to live close to each other.

After that came my current obsessions Angry-(Feet) and of course Twitter. I've actually had a twitter account for ages, but I didn't really get into it until earlier this year. But this is starting to raise questions. I try to compartmentalise my internet life, Livejournal is for a very specific group of people, its heavily guarded and I use a user name on there that I share with nothing else, everything else I use is fairly open, and is grouped under either howlie, or howlieT. But even then things are seperate, so Facebook tends to be for school friends, people I don't chat to that much, twitter for online friends, people I like better essentially. I've all but stopped using msn.

But them problem here arises in what to call them. It sort of depends on the people too. For example there are people on their whom I know in my day to day life, those are friends, simple. There are people I know from the forum, we all use it to chat about mundane things, and to an extent they too are friends. But then I feel some of them I know better than others. But what to call them? Friends seems to personal, but the acquaintances too formal. This is something that comes up with other people I've gotten to know through twitter.

Or if I'm being particular about it, comedians. I know it sounds daft but these are people I admire, and so there's that little bit of you that feels somewhat special if the email comes through saying the other person is following you back on twitter. Daft really, but we're all only human. But if you then meet these people it puts you into a very strange world. There are people I've met plenty enough times now to say I know really quite well, obviously I recognise them but in turn I get recognised back, but then it makes it more difficult to know what to say. Its the same thing, is friends too personal? Acquaintances still seems too formal. Admittedly this is only a problem if you're talking to someone else about the person in question.

Heading off tangentially this came to mind about a month ago when I went out to see a comedy show with a friend. The lovely Mr Tiernan Doueib was MCing and we've met before, also needed to sort something so he popped out in the interval to chat and we sorted things, the friend in question with me said it was cool that I was "friends with famous people". And so that was when I started wondering if friend is the right word. But I digress, now to digress in a different direction.

I'm still undecided as to whether social networking is a good thing or not. Facebook i'm really quite ambivalent about, I use it to stay in contact with people from school, and to occasionally read blogs. I also sometimes use it when I need to write a message that's longer than twitter allows. Twitter is for people I like as friends, rather than people I have to interact with through proximity. There's also the element that the people I go to school with just don't have the same interests as me, they don't have the interest in comedy or any particular opinion on politics or science, at least not that I've noticed. Originally there was a whole bit in here, but I lost it and haven't got the energy to re-type it. It mostly related to wanting an adult conversation from time to time.

But is social networking a detriment to human contact? I don't think so. Back in year 8 I had a big group of friends, we hung out all the time together, went places, chatted, texted. But then we drifted apart, I'm not against going out, I'd happily go out several times a week if it was to go for a drink and a chat, or to see a gig or an open mic night. I'm just not interested in going out clubbing, is that so bad? Unfortunately I don't have the cash to go out regularly, because there's not much in Coventry, so I have to save up and go further afield. I'm also not that comfortable with having people in my house, or with being in other peoples houses, I'm not good with people, and so that's where twitter and the like come in.

Anyway, I've digressed, and this is shorter than the original, but without a snappy ending I think I'll just stop here.

The Last of Ready For This.

2009-11-01T16:25:00.003Z

At roughly 2 oclock yesterday afternoon I worked out (whilst in the shower) how to re-jig my finances so that I could afford to go to the last show on Tim's tour. At 4 oclock I got permission from my Dad. By 6.30 I was on a train platform twitching. After pretty much jogging all the way from new street station, (and managing to run through the middle of a fight, as you do) I grabbed my ticket from the box office and stumbled into my seat on the very back row of the stalls. I needn't have worried about the time, since he started late anyway, but hey ho.

It was a totally different view from anything else I've had on this leg of the tour, being central, but on the back row of the stalls, meant I could really appreciate the light show (and Tim's very over exaggerated facial expressions) although it turns out you still get blinded by some of the roving spot lights, even that far back. He started off admiring some costumes in the front row, and playing with their knife which had fake blood in it, and worked in the same way that those naked lady pens do (or so he claimed)

He actually got a round of applause for playing with the mic stand, which amused me but I felt was a little over the top, and had fun making sections of the audience "woo". This worked particularly well when the section he pointed out for quite a manly woo, seemed to be populated entirely by firemen, which Tim did pass comment on.

Other fun events were the heckler who shouted "more boobs" prompting the chorus of Confessions mid way through darkside, a little bit of repetition in darkside while he waited for the smoke machine to kick in, which you have to be a bit stalky to have noticed, numerous observations about how the venue looked like a cruise ship, a couple of impersonations of a ships horn and Tim claiming to have no idea where he was.

White wine in the sun as a lovely ending, and his thanks to people made me want to well up a bit too. Hung around afterwards and had a little fan girly moment, updated my picture with him :)

I also ran into my form tutor of 5 years and her friend Sarah, which was really lovely.

Overall an amazing night.

(Can you tell I didn't make notes when I got in?)

Matters of the heart and mind.

2009-10-30T18:17:00.004Z

I had a really disappointing lunch today, that was in itself almost doubly worse, because the lunch itself was disappointing, but then it was disappointing because it meant lunch was crap. Lunch is my favourite meal of the day, because it usually involves sandwiches, and its the only meal of the day I ever really like. Breakfast is the balancing act between not eating too much (fattening) and eating enough that you aren't hungry by 9 am. And Dinner. Far too much hassal. Anyway, that's another matter entirely, because this blog, is about love.

I was thinking about this, I've been thinking about it for several days in fact, because there's lots of different kinds of love. And, contrary to the popular belief of those aged between about 9 and 15, you can love someone and not want to jump them. Not to put too fine a point to it. There's the love you have for friends, that kind of warm and all consuming feeling that means you're usually willing to forgive them, even if they annoy you, and that warm fuzziness that you get from in jokes and long chats about shared interests. And that's a nice kind of love.

There's the kind you have for your parents, it's sort of expected, but its strong all the same. Everyone knows the stereotype of gangsters and supposedly "hard" people getting into fights over insults to their mums. I think within that there's different kinds of love between your Mum and Dad. Not in a bad way, its just because they're different in their attitudes towards you, and so your attitudes towards them are different, its not a bad thing.

I'm fairly sure there's a different kind of love you have for your own children. I haven't got any, but I still have weird incidences of parental love for my little brother, because we've got such a big age gap. And there's the love you have for your siblings, a sort of annoyed, sometimes genuinely pissed off but mostly quite fond feeling.

There's that weird love you get for people you admire, you don't even have to know them to feel weirdly proud of pleased when you see them doing well. That's like a feeling in your chest, the warm heart in the mouth love feeling. You don't even need to fancy them, its almost parental feeling that.

There's other kinds of love too, the love for humanity, or for strangers in the street. Over all I think everyone loves the people they know, and many they don't, just in different ways.

A London Weekend Adventure

2009-10-28T10:17:00.002Z

So this weekend just passed I found myself back adventuring in London, over the course of Friday to Monday I took in some more Minchin Live, Comedy Club 4 Kids and a little bit of sight seeing.

Hammersmith Minchin Live

So the day started with a brief respite, I didn't have an english lesson which was lovely, so I went home to rest up before I had to leave. Headed out in good time to get the coach, but then the bus was delayed and I only just made it. Coach driver was a cheerful and friendly bloke and the journey went without incident, even fitted in a little nap. Arrived in London and promptly got lost on the district line which was a new experience, saw three interesting blokes on the tube, one who looked like Mark Watson without a beard, one who looked a bit like Chris Cox and one who just looked like an owl. Anyway, arrived in Hammersmith, found people and had pre show chats and drinks.

Now for the show itself. After a bit of pre-show soup on my part it began. Ready For This was a little bit lighter as usual, which was interesting because normally its a bit like sensory deprivation. Prejudice still got an excellent reception in spite of the fact I think most of the people who were there probably knew the punch line. It's still one of my favourites, and was interesting to be able to see the keys from my seat this time around.

First talky bit started with Tim just walking up and down shouting "woo" because there were screamy cheerey people, and he was having fun, that went on for quite a while before we go the actual stand up bits. I'm fairly certain it was about here someone heckled over the end of a punchline, and Tim shouted at him, then threatened to take his leggings off (yes leggings, wet look ones, we didn't know where to look) but my notes are too scatty so I could be wong. I Love Jesus worked particularly well, especially with the addition of "In this secular, rock venue". Plus there's always something fun about hearing 3000 odd people singing "I love jesus." I can't remember for certain, but I think someone wolf whistled as Tim put on the boot for The Good Book, which is another favourite of mine.

In the lead up to If I Didn't Have You, Tim got distracted by the security guard's radio going off, and he leapt off the stage to tackle the man until he got the radio, which he then proceeded to run away back onto the stage with. He then tried unsuccessfully to work it before giving up and returning it. After that he tried to get a response by making very low pitched sounds into the mic as the man had his back to the speakers, before he realised the man was wearing headphones. After that he observed it was a bit like, Choose your own adventure, and now we had to have the feminism part. If I Didn't Have You came off without a hitch and Confessions went well too.

Canvas bags was fun if painful on the eyes (if anyone can tell me which Tim felt the need to wear fluorescent pink pants...) needless to say that the leggings left little to the imagination, and as seems to have become a theme the pyros scared the hell out of me, even though i was expecting them this time. Spent the interval drinking more soup and chatting, which marks the first time I've heard the interval song in its entirety. Lovely catching up with people, and chatting to those I've not met face to face before was nice too, not to mention the backstage twitter chat. Something about Nando's I think.

Heading into the second half Tim had wisely chosen to change into skinny jeans which was a certain relief. I had a feeling the bear for Bear's Don't Dig On Dancing was a plant, and when four or five other bears rushed out to join in mid way through my suspicions were confirmed, but it was incredible watching Tim stood on a chair replete with keytar as a troupe of bears danced around in front of him. Wonderful, utterly wonderful. Song for Phil Daoust got a good reception from a crowd who would probably have cheerfully gone out and attacked him. If You Really Loved me also got a good response. (As you can see the notes waned about this point).

Storm is still one of my favourites, although as Tim jokes it does come at an unfortunate point in the show, since invariably I'm usually dozing off by this point. It's terribly unfortunate but I am tired, and I don't normally become alert again til the encore. Darkside is another favourite, and the new pyro's were wonderful, flashing multi coloured flames anyone? Marvellous. There was a half standing ovation for the end, but then a reappearance for White Wine in the Sun heralded a proper standing encore afterwards, but I'm skipping ahead.

White Wine in the Sun is always beautiful, and always makes me want to cry a little bit, but there was one moment of amusement. As he sang the bit about his daughter he sort of smiled to himself, because of course he has a son now too, and that amused me. Post show we ended up hanging out for a good hour or so chatting before saying a quick hello to Tim, and running for the tube, broken footed and tired. I honestly couldn't walk properly all weekend having worn my silly red boots.

Comedy Club 4 Kids

Haven't written any notes for this, so it'll only be short. Richard Sandling was excellent as MC (there'll be no bum bombs here) I can't remember the last name of the first act, only that her first name was Lou, and she told an excellent story about being rescued in Australia and sticking her bum in the life guards face. A few excellent younger people, whose names I've also forgotten, this is why I should make notes. And finally Patrick (can't spell his last name so phoneitcally) merr-nerr-han. He crowd surfed a chair against a Dad, who ran up the stairs, and did an incredible musical montage on post man pat with a toy cat on a string, which was my personal favourite. Oh and I had to carefully steer my little brother past a sex shop on the way home, that was interesting.

Sight Seeing

Pretty much the standard stuff, walked alot, got crippled, saw Trafalgar Square went along south bank, through st james' park etcetera. All good fun and a lovely end to the weekend.

Apple (Mac)

2009-10-21T20:52:00.003+01:00

Another blog I hear you cry? Yes. Because tonight I learnt something interesting.

Do you know why the logo for Apple is an apple with a bite out of it? Or why its called Apple in the first place? If you do, give up now, skim to the bottom of the blog, if not, read on:

During the second world war there was a man called Alan Turing, he was a mathematician, logician, cryptanalyst and a computer scientist. He was also an incredibly intelligent man, and he was gay.

During the war he worked at Bletchly Park, breaking German codes for British intelligence, but during his lifetime homosexuality was illegal, and considered a mental illness, and so when the war ended he was unable to rise any higher.

He later killed himself, supposedly by injecting cyanide into an apple, from which he took a bite. Whilst it is true that he died of cyanide poisoning, and that a partially eaten apple was found beside him, no-one ever tested the apple for cyanide, and so the story remains uncertain.

It was however based on this that Apple computers came to be, a tribute to Alan Turing, and the logo, is based on the story.

Now if we discount briefly how horrifically he was treated, and how terrible it is he felt the need to commit suicide, its almost a happy ending, I think he'd have liked it that his death moved into computer history. Albeit in an indirect way.

(Probably ought to point out the company deny this story, but I think its a nice one)

Mental Health Days

2009-10-20T21:53:00.002+01:00

Today I had a Mental Health Day. In more senses than one, but first I'll explain precisely what a "mental health day" is.

When she was younger my mum worked full time as a psychiatric nurse, I don't know the exact details but I think her and friends lived either on sight at General Hospital or very close. Either way, when I was about 14 my mum told me of this concept of "mental health days" which, as she joked, were for preserving your own mental health. Essentially, its the practice of having a day off, even though you aren't physically sick, in order to just have a rest, set your mind at ease and not have to worry. Because it happens, you might have a weekend, but then spend it all doing mundane things like cleaning, or food shopping or jobs. A mental health day is one where you don't, you're "ill" so you can't really go out and instead you just have a rest at home.

For me Mental Health Day's can also be days where my mental health is a bit fragile. Whilst I could probably battle on through with it, sometimes I don't really want to, and I know that in the end I won't be able to focus very well, so if it works I don't go in. Today I had a mental health day, I could have coped, if I'd been forced to, but I wasn't able to force myself, I didn't feel I'd be able to cope well enough to get anything out of the day.

And I was thinking about this, whenever I've done it before I've claimed illness or a migraine, something innocuous that doesn't involve explanation, and this evening I thought no. Because that wasn't what happened, what happened was that I got to the bus stop, got struck by the desire to cry, realised I couldn't cope with interaction and came back home again. So if anyone asks me tomorrow where I was today, I'll tell them. I was having a mental health day.

Underbelly Laughs Tour - October 17th

2009-10-18T16:56:00.002+01:00

Yesterday was definitely an emotional roller coaster, I started the morning by jumping 2'9 at riding:

http://twitpic.com/lwws2

Then had a terrible attack of the sad in the evening.

Before heading out to meet my friend and her mum to see some comedy :)

Originally it was meant to be Abbii, Lauren and Me, but sadly Abbii was ill, so Laurens mum came instead.

MC for the evening was the ever lovely Mr Tiernan Douieb, who managed to fall foul of some drunken idiots in the audience, but in fairness the, bed'uth Bedworth thing is quite local knowledge, that and the apparent hatred for anyone not from Coventry, but that's just normal. And the ring road, but thats another matter.

First act for the evening was Phil Nicol (sp?) who was good but sweary, which was a shame but some of the more in depth jokes shot straight over the heads of alot of the audiance, so he did seem to fall back on knob gags and using the word cunt as much as was humanly possible. But then you have to appeal to the common denominator, i'd consider going to see him again in a different environment I think.

Second up was Nick Doody, who got our vote as favourite of the three. Favourite was a bit about atheists, which 5 people (including myself) all applauded loudly, and no-one else seemed to get. He did a good job of keeping peoples attention without resorting to knob gags too much, which is always nice.

Quick pause for an interval in which to wee and hand over cheese etcetera, before heading back in, tired and sleepey, for the final act of the evening Mr Mitch Benn.

I think they'd got the order right this time, since Mitch's songs were less demanding on my rapidly waning focus, which sounds like a bad thing but isn't. A comedy song is different from stand up comedy because it might take an entire song to get to the "puchline" so its almost like a little rest. Loved the bit about "Real Doctor Who Fans" of the variety who build Darleks (and then sulk in them) because I know many, half wanted to ask if he'd ever met Salvador on the convention circuit, but wasn't brave enough.

Headed home at the relatively reasonable hour of 1 am to crash out on Laurens sofa and fall asleep to red dwaf.

Kissing x

2009-10-16T15:26:00.002+01:00

I'd just like to take a couple of lines to thank those who commented on my last blog, there were some truly fascinating things there. If you've not done it yet, why not do it now? (Well, read this first, then do it) Anyway, on with the blog!

This one is on the subject of kissing, or more specifically, xing.

Now, if I ran the country my guidelines would be this (because I'd be a benevolent dictator clearly) you should only put kisses at the end of texts, emails etcetera, if you'd be prepared to kiss the person you were sending it to. To explain, here's a breakdown of what things mean (to me):

x - A peck on the cheek, friendly, non sexual.

xx - Kiss on the mouth, still fairly friendly, could be sexual depending on who its sent to.

xxx - This ones entirely dependant on who its sent to. If its your parent or a good friend, kiss and a hug, but otherwise I'd say this is the textual equivalent of a snog.

Well I hear you cry, don't you ever put kisses at the end of things? Yes, I do. But I follow my own rules.

And if I put a kiss on the end of a twitter message, its because I'd feel comfortable kissing anyone from my twitter stream on the cheek.

That's all really.

Anything more than three is frankly overkill, unless you're a child.

Stalkerisms

2009-10-12T17:47:00.002+01:00

I was having a conversation this weekend about being remembered, and it got me thinking along these lines.

Now I've got close to 200 followers on twitter, I'd estimate that about 150 of these are awake, alive real people, on twitter regularly etc. But the fact still remains that 150 odd people are interested in what I have to say. And I'd like to know why.

In the same way I'm eternally fascinated with why people remember who I am as a person, I'm intrigued as to why people appear to find me interesting, I don't find me interesting.

If you'd like to leave an anonymous comment and let me know why, please do. And if you'd like to follow me for a bit and then give me your verdict, thats cool too (@howlieT)

Mind you I'm equally as interested in why people remember my name or face, so you can tell me that too if you like.

We Need Answers

2009-10-08T16:25:00.003+01:00

So after a slow start to the day I found myself on the train to London. Here came the first amusement of the day, I challenge anyone not to find a train called the Virgin Invader funny. Yes. Fairly uneventful ride apart from a trip to the loo, why do they have to replace normal locking doors with an electronic sliding wall? Is it just to add a whole new dimension of stress to your wee? Anyway, arrived at Euston without any further issues, bought a tube ticket and promptly got lost for the first time ever.

I say lost, I got off at Angel instead of Kings Cross, but got all the way to the barriers at Angel before I realised my mistake. Headed back down and backtracked to Kings Cross then on to Covent Garden without too much of a problem, apart from needing the loo again. Arriving at Covent Garden I realised that what had begun as a couple of drops on rain as we pulled into Euston had become a full on down poor. Lovely. Got stopped in the door way by a charity lady, decided she could have my details if she wanted, but then she looked genuinely startled when i said my date of birth, apparently I looked over 20.

Made it down to the market, embarrassing umbrella up and wondered around a bit before finally finding a public loo. Lovely. Then proceeded to spend the afternoon/evening drifting about Covent Garden and then Camden. Bought myself some earrings and a sandwich, all in all a nice evening despite the weather. After that I headed off on aching legs towards 1 Stephen Street and the BBC.

Long wait, thankfully under the overhang starting off with Simone and Linzy but then joined later by Kate and Anna, generally stood around chatting and got sore legs for an hour or so, and then it was time to go in. Punctuation fun was had after running into Mark en-route out from the loo because I used the words "I just saw Mark coming out of the ladies toilets"* to which Anna wanted to know if it was him or me that was coming out of them. Be careful how you punctuate people ok?!

After that it all sort of blurred a little, with Tiernan dashing on and off stage as the warm up, during which we found a law teacher with a rabbit fur hat, a water treatment man and a man with a sort of a beard. We also discovered a deficit of bears in the room, and two people from AQA itself. Much amusement was had over having to shoot pick ups because someone had sworn, a personal favourite was re-doing an entire question replacing the word bollocks with testicles. Mind you there's something hilariously funny about the word testicles anyway. Around that was an ego trip, slides for every occasion and the discovery that if you hear a joke enough times in a row you enter a sort of strange hysterical phase where it becomes really quite funny again. An embarrassing moment courtesy of the alarm on my phone going off, which is madness. Because it will go off, even if the entire phone is turned off, unless you take the battery out. Now I'd bought along my watch to reset it afterwards, but because it was in my jacket pocket rather than the large holes masquerading as my skirt pockets after I switched it off I forgot this extra step. Needless to say I swore, fumbled and quite probably blushed scarlet.

Camilla Dellarup and Terry Christian were both great as guests, but Terry does look frighteningly like my Uncle Mike, as soon as I can find a picture I'll post them up for comparison. I won't say who won, you'll just have to watch the show for that. And so, an enjoyable night behind us we headed out into the night where I immediately had train problems. By train problems I just missed the earliest possible train by two minutes, no matter thought I, I shall get some food and get the next one in an hour. But no, normally the ticket people let you through on an earlier train if you're booked on the one after, not this lady. I know its only her job but it didn't make me any happier about adding another 2 hours onto my journey. I'd only booked late late as a just in case measure because normally I can go for an earlier train. Pah.

Finally crawled into bed at 20 past 1 in the morning, exhausted, semi crippled, but happy.

*To explain, because of the angle of the door to the loo, if there was a queue you stood with it open, this meant that everyone in the foyer bit could see into the bathroom, which isn't much. Some sinks, a row of cubicles. Anyway, was there when we spotted Mark who said hi, before observing it was a bit odd, did have a brief chat outside of loos. He wasn't deliberately hanging about near the loo on purpose.