Lists

I enjoy making lists. You may have noticed. Here are a few that have been floating round my mind for a while:


Things I Am Currently Enjoying:

1. Slipper season
2. Hardy's Crest "Cabernet-Shiraz-Merlot" (even if it does sound like it was named by someone who had no idea what they were talking about, so named it in a 'delete-as-appropriate' fashion)
3. Saxophoning
4. Plum coloured nail varnish
5. Abbreviating words (aka "word abbrieve.")

Things I Currently Find Inexplicably Irritating:

1. Cupboard doors unnecessarily being left open
2. The way my rug drifts across my bedroom floor
3. The boy next door who has recently passed his driving test's inability to park. (I know, who am I to talk, right? But at least I don't park DIAGONALLY across other people's drives. Sheesh.)
4. Year 9 children.
5. Children in my form who keep misbehaving. Well, one child. A lovely child. But a lovely child who is, apparently, constantly misbehaving. Oh, child...

Strange Things That Have Recently Happened:

1. A middle-aged man in Tesco's car park gave me his number. Checked to see if I was married, then told me to give him a text. Weird.
2. A year ten child at school stalks our house. Weird(o).
3. A Twitterer who I don't (think I) know, who follows everyone I follow, has retweeted me a couple of times and who also follows GLT tweeted me directly the other day. WHO ARE YOU?! I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! Weird.
4. My form wrote and performed me a song. Two of them sort of rapping sentences about me and/or things I like, while the third sang a sort of 'Jean Genie'-esque bass riff over and over again. Nice, sure, but definitely a strange one.
5. Some children at school were singing Number's Up at me before their lesson the other day. Again, nice-ish, but a bit odd. Worlds colliding and all that... (incidentally, our music video has over 1,200 hits on YouTube. How exciting!)

Things I Am Considering Doing But Probably Won't:

1. Dyeing my hair (again)
2. Getting my nose pierced
3. Going to Germany (wish I could)
4. Applying for a new job
5. Moving to London

Things I Wish I Were Better At:

1. Saxophoning
2. Time efficiency
3. Cooking actual meals
4. Reacting to my nephews' and nieces' birthdays. It's not that I forget them, it's just I don't organise myself sufficiently to get anything to them in time. Soz, kids.
5. P.D.A.

Things I Don't Do Very Well Without But Wish I Could (Do Well Without Them):

1. My phone (I hate that I put this at the top of the list)
2. Eyeliner (what am I? Year 9?)
3. My inhaler (though I do actually genuinely need that one every now and then)
4. Words of affirmation
5. The occasional dose of medicinal Dairy Milk

Anyway.

There's a selection of probably not very interesting, possibly a little insightful, definitely unnecessary factoids in numerical bullet form prose. That is not a thing. "in numerical bullet form" would have probably sufficed.


Anyway, anyway. I'm going to (maybe) do some work (possibly).



In other news:
IT'S FLIPPING DECEMBER ON SATURDAY.

How/when did that happen...?!




Oh well.

html the third

I've had this song in my head for about a week. Don't read too much into it, it's just quite catchy...

html 2

It worked!!!



Hurray!


Now I am unstoppable...

html

I am going to do an html experiment...

















Now then, has it worked...

Note to self...

Croissants are not a great bedtime snack.



Far too crumby.

A Minor Illness

My lack of voice has turned from being slightly husky and feeling pleasantly used, to the much less glamorous feeling of just being raw and inflamed.

I've been instructed not to talk too much and definitely not to sing. That could prove difficult, especially as both of those things are not only essentially my job, but also things I like to do most of the time anyway...

So I'll do my best, Minor Illnesses Nurse Lady.



On a different note, whilst calling it a "minor illness" is probably the most accurate description, it does make me feel a little fraudulent for taking the day off. Or just like a massive wimp.


But it really hurts!

I promise.

Swear down.

Etc...

weekEND

I heart weekends.

Like, really heart them.

"to heart" is not a verb.

I don't care.



So last week was not fun. Not in any way.

For the most part, I felt like I was drowning in lack-of-free-time-and-breathing-space and being suffocated by (in)explicable melancholy. My ears hurt when I'm sad. I mean, it feels like there is actual tangible melancholy pressing into my eardrums.
Is that weird?
It is a bit.
Never mind.



BUT then...

The glorious golden weekend arrived in all its glittering beauty, and my oh my was it a goodun.


On Friday eve, we had a gig in Northampton. I have never played in Northampton, and to be fair, we have definitely sounded better. (To be fairer, we did not sound terrible. Not entirely, anyway. We have just sounded better... Anyway...). It was a good evening!

A couple of wonderful friends came to watch, and after a bit of shoulder twitching, toe-tapping and beer drinking, we headed dance-wards for a bit of a (loud) Northampton-based boogie.

It was wicked. Especially if you ignore the fact my shoes and hair got covered in other people's beverages. (Put them in the wash, they'll be grand.)


So rough-voiced and a little bleary-eyed, the next morning (/afternoon) the Wonderful Friends and I replenished all the calories we had burnt off through our boogying (and perhaps added a few extra ones) with a hearty meat-based breakfast/brunch, whilst being serenaded by a local bagpipe band. As to be expected on a sunny Saturday morning/afternoon in Northampton...

Rarely has tea tasted so delicious.


We meandered around N-town a little, taste-tested a selection of choice orange juices, and headed home for another cup of tea.


After a fleeting return to Ketters, I was swiftly back in the Other Side of Northants for a practice followed by more calorie replacing. I definitely should have danced more vigorously.


And then today, I have lazily life-laundered (and, incidentally, actual-laundered) and am now settling down to get some half-decent lessons sorted for my definitely-decent students tomorrow. Mondays are my best days, lesson-wise - I also heart year 10 and year 12.


Anyway, now my jaw aches from too much saxophoning, and my fingertips ache from too much guitaring, and I have no voice from too much singing.


Wouldn't have it any other way.


Roll on next weekend!

Heavy Boots

Reasoning

Actual Reasons Why People Don't Text Back:

1. They are busy doing Very Important Things (like work and meetings)
2. They are in the shower
3. They are eating dinner
4. They are sleeping
5. They are driving
6. They are travelling, and signal has cut out
7. They are without signal in general
8. They have run out of credit/free texts
9. They are having a real conversation with someone else, and realise it's rude to text and talk
10. Their phone has run out of battery

Reasons In My Head Why People Don't Text Back:

1. I have said something so mundane, it's not worth replying to
2. I have said something a bit weird, and they are too weirded out to reply
3. I have accidentally said something that has angered them beyond belief
4. They are having far too much fun elsewhere and it would be far too dull to reply
5. They have been mugged
6. They are in mortal peril
7. They are dead in a ditch
8. They are far too busy and important to reply; replying is a huge inconvenience to them and I should probably just leave them alone
9. They are slowly phasing me out of their life
10. Replying is for plebs. Cool people don't bother.

In other news:

• I smashed my car into the school gates today
• Smashed is a very emotive word
• I scraped the side of my car on the school gates today
• My car is ok
• Mumford & Sons released their second album yesterday, and I love it
• I'm not ashamed that I love the Mumford & Sons second album, despite relatively negative reception among my colleagues
• The heating is on
• I'm wearing almost entirely mint green
• I don't particularly like the colour mint green
• Today I ate a Freddo. It was delicious.

A World of Meh

So the last few weeks have been excellent.

I mean - going back to work has actually been ok, we've had a couple of wicked gigs, I've met some brilliant new people; life has been peachy.



This week, however, I feel completely and totally rubbish.



It's as if everything I've tried to do or say this week has come out not quite right, and I seem to have run out of resilience.

Weary.




In other news, I've been writing songs for Alice in Wonderland - so far, I have approx 10 and 2 halves. They're ace.

Well, I've enjoyed writing them, anyway.


Also, this term, we have started running a funk/soul band. So far we've mostly been singing Brown Eyed Girl, which I don't really class as either funk or soul, but it's what the guitar teacher had the chords for, and it's sounding pretty good. Next week, let's get onto some Aretha, please. Or some Stevie.

(Although at present, the wind section is two saxes, one of whom is me. We clash with brass ensemble, and I've been expressly told I'm not allowed to use any brass players (/told off for even suggesting it))



Right, anyway. I feel like poo, so am going to go to Tesco and find some Dairy Milk and maybe some wine. Then I'm going to buy lots of both, and consume all of it. Maybe.



Meh.

Dear Future Husband...

The other day, I was put in a situation where I needed to be able to assist with a tyre change. I learnt how to raise the car off the ground, how to (find and) attach the spare tyre, and the importance of having suitable equipment in the car at all times.

This is not my only car-related prowess, as I am fully capable of checking and adding screen wash, oil and coolant. I mean, I can even hear when my engine needs oil now.

In my garden, my housemate is the pretty-ifier, in charge of flowers and pots and pretty things. My job is to cut the grass.


Also, when I went on holiday recently, I discovered I am quite adept at map reading and some navigation. Now, I don't have the innate 'knowledge' my mother does, which enables her to locate and relocate where she is and where she needs to be simply by, I don't know, sniffing the air, or following the earth's gravitational pull or however she does it. I can, however, read (and, incidentally, fold) a map.


All this is fine, and shows I am in some way capable and self-sufficient of sorts, blah blah.


Yesterday, however - guess what I did...



I BARBECUED.




SO, FUTURE HUSBAND...
YOU'D BETTER HURRY UP BEFORE I USURP ALL YOUR ROLES.


(ER, MY KEYPAD IS STUCK ON CAPITALS. I'M NOT BEING THIS SHOUTY REALLY...)

Blog O'clock

Absenteeism strikes again...

The last few months have passed in a flurry of gigs (both going to and playing in - of late, mostly the latter), exams (mostly (solely) preparing others there for) and general life guff.

It's coming up to Latitude season again, and I for one am HUGELY EXCITED!

(By which I mean, I'm looking forward to it a bit; it'll probably be alright.)



So, erm, turns out I have nothing really to say...

How. Dull.


Shall I share an anecdote?


Today I was in the bathroom and there was the loudest pop I have heard in quite a long time. I was plunged into darkness and silence (the light went off and the fan stopped whirring), and thought to myself, "huh, I wonder if a fuse has blown...?"

Turns out I was right. I went downstairs and flicked the switch thingy and the light worked again. Wonderful.



Shall I share another, just as high in calibre?


At last week's gig, I wore a dress (standard). I caught the train from Kettering to St Pancras, then got the Victoria Line to Stockwell. On arriving in Stockwell, I walked to the Cavendish Arms, where we were due to play. Earlier, in Kettering, I had made the decision not to wear leggings or tights, as I was determined to embrace the 'summery' evening. However, the further I walked through the estates of Stockwell, the more I realised my flimsy-dress-tightless-legs-saxophone-beladen-arms combo was not working in my favour. Many a time, the people behind me must surely have caught a glimpse of my ill-chosen underwear, and the people passing in front of me, that of my red, sweaty face.

Needless to say, by the time I arrived, the dress was more crumpled from my grabbing onto it, and my legs were more bruised by my improvised saxophone-as-dress-weight technique than I had intially intended. Immediate entry to the breezeless pub became my primary goal. Which was relatively swiftly, if a little embarrassedly, achieved.

The gig was enjoyable and the company sweet, so all was resolved.


There now; aren't you glad I'm back blogging?!




Next time (in August?), I may have more tales to share, just as enticing. Hold your breath!

Last Friday (Night)

Last Friday, I woke up with the knowledge that my weekend would be a busy one, and that I had four lessons to teach, and thirteen A level compositions to photocopy and organise.

About 5 minutes after getting out of bed, I was hit with a horrendous stabbing pain in my stomach.

I wilfully ignored it, and had a shower anyway.

Tried to have a shower.


After nearly passing out a couple of times, and having to sit on the floor of my shower to wash out my hair, I realised I probably wasn't going to be in school that day.

Not cool.


As the day passed, and the lovely triage nurse lady diagnosed an apparently unprovoked attack of IBS, I felt a little perkier. As in, I was now mobile.


By the end of the weekend, I had been driven down to Shepherds Bush, caught the train to Cardiff after breakfast the next day, and partied hard dressed in backcombed black, before going on a walk round a beautiful sunshiney park and catching approximately a million trains back home again.


I'm now thoroughly wiped out, and each day does not end soon enough, but I had a wonderful weekend.



The moral of this story is:
As soon as you are able, do.




Or something.

Anyway...


I need to finish planning more fun and games for year 13 (possibly literally).



Also, I have just realised Joni Mitchell sounds a bit like Laura Marling. Or should that be Laura Marling sounds like Joni Mitchell? Either way, I like it.


The end.

Inspirations

The book "The Secret Lives of Dresses" has inspired me to seek out all my alas-not-vintage-but-still-quite-nice dress-based outfits.

The song "Somebody I Used to Know" has inspired me to arrange it for my sixth-form choir, as something a bit funky to do in the summer term.

The activity of making paper birds has inspired me to drape homemade beauties from frames and windows in an effort to add more colour to our borrowed beige house.

The band "Giles Likes Tea" have inspired me to make music with some lovely people and to seize the adventure of gigging with them next week with both hands.



I wonder if inspirations can inspire being inspirational...?



In other news:
- I have a new pseudo-nephew in the form of my friend's baby. Yay!
- I'm dipping my toes in the Vineyard of Leicester tomorrow.
- Michael Kiwanuka tickets have arrived.
- My neighbour is friendly.
- It took nearly an hour to cut a 'square' of garden c.5x6 metres, due to
     a. the general insufficiency of the flymo
     b. the uphill nature of aforementioned square of garden
     c. the necessity to cut the edges with a short-handled, long-nosed pair of secatures... secutures... sec... garden-scissors
- Calke Abbey is beautiful.
- My calf muscles ache.



I think that's it.


I'm going to bed.

John Lennon

"Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans"

I have this quote on a t-shirt.

Then I stumbled across it in one of my dad's books I was reading last Saturday evening.



That prompted me to wear it on Easter Sunday, so I had it emblazoned across my torso on Sunday morning.



Then I stumbled across it again in one of my little sister's books I was reading on Easter Sunday afternoon.

Thrice in fewer than 24 hours.


Are you sending me a message, John?


It feels similar in sentiment to the following... "Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce." (Jeremiah 29:5)

I know they're not saying the exact same thing, but the underlying message is:
This IS Life.


There is a time for transience, and a time for moving on. There is, of course, always room for improvement, and getting better, and trying new experiences and living in different places and meeting new people and looking to the future...

This, however, is life.



This, right here, right now. This actual life, this actual moment - THIS IS LIFE.


I don't want to waste it waiting for a better one.




I don't want to miss it.

in absentia

So the last time I wrote on here, it was the day before March. Today is the first day of April.

A whole month, and nothing to show for it.


Well, let me catch you up on the last few weeks:

I went to see Laura Marling and Pete Roe, who were ace (and Timber Timbre, who was a little odd). I saw not only my Cambridge-based friend, but also my Woburn-based friend, whom I also saw the following weekend and am going to see in at least July too. Quelle luxury!

Straight after southFEST, the department was re-opened for auditions, which, after the slow start, thankfully picked up and soon we were overflowing with music-making children.

It is also Coursework Season, so on the days without auditionees, there were inevitably pockets of slightly panicky year 11s, in to work on their compositions.

It is also Eisteddfod Season, so on the days without auditionees or panicky year 11s, there were rehearsals for the bands and choirs taking part in the local eisteddfod. (Might I just add here that my choir received an admirable mark of 89/90, making them the best of all 4 choirs entered, and the best ensemble overall, of all 7 entered including the bands. Not that it's a competition. Oh wait... IT IS!)

It is also Parents' Evening Season, so on the days without auditionees, panicky year 11s or after school rehearsals, I was out of school and back again in time to talk to and about various lower school and sixth form students and their anxious parents.

It is also Reports Season, so on the days without auditionees, panicky year 11s, after school rehearsals or Parents' Evenings, I was staying late to write reports on all the year 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 and 13 students I teach (admittedly a lot of the upper school reporting is shared with my HoD, so it was mostly the 150 year 8/9 students I teach that took up the time).

Oh, I also went on a course on Monday, which required 5 hours of cover work to be set.



So, in short, standard procedure in the life of a teacher, I suppose.


Oh, I also played in a concert last night, which was WICKED. Well, it was ok. But I concentrated a LOT and made only one or two errors. The piccolo is so flipping audible, I feel far more pressure when piccoling than fluting.

Oh, and I also went to watch my beautiful sister-niece perform on two separate occasions - once singing (beautifully) in a rather mediocre school concert, then dancing (also beautifully) in a tear-inducingly professional dance show.

I also went tea-drinking and cake-eating on Thursday with a friend from the church I've recently been frequenting. There were paper birds to be made, using pages from vintage comics and old American square dance music scores. They look so great, I was far too excited. Disproportionately so. Positively gleeful.


And the sunshine has made it all so much more delightful.

In fact, I found myself thinking, as I waited for my tardy year 13s one sunny 4 o'clock, that it was fortunate for them that the sun had put me in such a good mood, as they were already half an hour late. (I grasped the 'spare' time with both hands, and set about tidying my desk, photocopying revision material, and ensuring two headphones and a splitter to each keyboard, and other menial tasks)



And Art Unplugged was one of the best we've had. It was only the third we've ever had, but it was a pretty flipping good one.





Then last week, a well respected parent-of-a-friend-of-mine spoke at church about taking time off, and time out and acknowledging the importance of rest.



My dad commented that it seemed rather unjust for him to have prepared a talk directed precisely at my dad, but he wasn't entirely correct - he was aiming it at far more listeners than just my dad.


This week has seemed just as busy, yet more manageable. I have accepted the inevitable lack of lunchtime, and yet occasionally managed to sneak up to the staff room for a cheeky five mins or so, where NO CHILD came to find me. Huzzah.


So far my Easter holiday has been mostly at school (I was there til nearly 7pm on Friday, and we played our Kettering Symphony Orchestra concert there last night too, having rehearsed there all afternoon) but I did, however, see my beautiful friend for dinner on Friday, a mere five weeks before the mass of child inside her becomes a mass of child outside of her.

Then I spent today in blissful solitude.

I read. I drank coffee. I ate Nutella. I line-dried my clothes. I rested. To the max. (And I also replied to some sixth-formers' emails. But very restfully...)


And from tomorrow, the joyous joyousness of Easter jollity begins. I will go and see my parents, then visit my big sister, then eat lunch chez my friend, (then possibly do some work), then see my collective siblings ALL IN THE SAME PLACE AT THE SAME TIME, then celebrate Easter, then possibly play in a band I have never played in before about which I am simultaneously excited and a little bit terrified, (then possibly do a little more work), then see a different friend at some point as yet undecided, (then go into school for a year 13 revision session), then have a weekend, then go back to school.


And all will be well.



Hurray for extended Sabbath-time.

I heart sabbatical.




Anyway. I'm going to watch Sherlock, drink wine, read my book and go to bed.

Yes indeed.



I'm so flipping rock n roll.

Today Makes Me Feel Like a Ninja

Also...

I love leap years.


The 29th February feels like a secret day. A non-existent day that only humans know about.

Like as if anything that happens today doesn't really count, because it's not real; it's not a real day.



On this not-real day, I have eaten a lot of biscuits (they don't count), eaten some cake (doesn't count) and drunk about a million cups of (doesn't count) tea.

I also had a little nap.



I should have taken more advantage of it.

Art Unprepared

I'm so tired, I could sleep for a week.


But! If I did that, I would miss seeing Laura Marling and Pete Roe in Cam tomorrow night, which would be VERY SAD INDEED.


I would also miss out on seeing my lovely Cambridge-based friend, and my Corby-based southFEST co-conspirator who is coming round on Friday to drink wine in belated self-congratulatory celebration.

We raised over £540 for Great Ormond Street Hospital - did I mention that? How good is that, though?!


So now I'm moving straight on into the next acoustic evening. It will be classy, vintage-esque, ill-timed yet beautiful.

I just hope some more children audition, otherwise it will be me and one sixth former strumming our guitars to an audience of cream roses, over-sized lampshades and recently restored picture frames...


Bring on the auditionees!


(please?)

The Exhilerations and Exhaustions of southFEST

So this week has been one of the most exhausting I've had in a while. One of the most amazing I've had in a while, too mind, mostly due to the first ever southFEST variety show we organised for Thursday night. It has meant a massive amount of high-level tension, and very little sleep, due to an apparent inability to switch off at all.

Let me break it down for you...

Monday:
- southFEST meeting at break
- Form assembly (i.e. no lunch time, loud rehearsals and LOTS of questions)
- After school rehearsals
- Home at approx 6pm
- Orchestra 7:30-9:45pm
- Home at approx 10pm
- Lesson planning
- Sleep circa 1:00am

Tuesday:
- Two hour year 13 composition workshop
- Break duty
- Sixth Form choir (i.e. no lunch time)
- After school rehearsals
- Going to Tesco, due to a severe lack of ANY FOOD AT ALL
- Home at approx 6:30pm
- Lesson planning
- Sleep circa 1:45am

Wednesday:
- Teaching after school
- Supervising and helping initial sound equipment set-up
- Home at approx 5:30
- 5:30: a friend arrives for dinner
- Lovely evening of dinnering and being models for aforementioned friend's Make-up Course portfolio
- Friend leaves circa 9:30pm
- Lesson planning
- Sleep circa 12:30am
(I think it was on this day that I found myself thinking "man, I can't wait for the weekend, so I can have time to do all that work I haven't done." That's not what weekends are for! Weekends are for filter coffees, and lazy breakfasts, and walks in the woods and sleeping til midday! Ah well.)


Thursday:
- southFEST DAY!
- Teaching p.1 and 2
- Break spent setting up cover lessons
- p.3 and 4 rehearsing
- Lunchtime spent clearing up and sorting
- Tutor time = form for 15 mins, then FREEDOM (I was given cover, but hadn't realised so went to do my form, who are a bit full of questions and therefore difficult to get away from. So I ran away.)
- p.5 rehearsing
- After school rehearsals
- Faffing and poster-putting-up-ing
- Home at approx 5pm
- Back at school for 6pm
- southFEST 7-9
- Set down
- Home at approx 10pm
- Lesson planning
- Sleep circa 12:00am

Friday:
- Lessons as normal (one free, p.3)
- Choir at lunch
- Home at approx 3:45pm
- Evening spent in an exhausted slump / on Skype.
- It's 20:26 and I'm seriously considering going to bed now.



But then I read things like this... and it puts my week into some perspective. (see also this).

(That child is a super star, and one of the nicest students I've ever taught)



So there you go. A manic, but pretty immense week.


And now I'm going to sleep.

Counting Dolphins

So this past week has been the gloriousness that is Half Term.

In the past, I have often had time off school ram-packed with exciting visits and adventures. Then my thesis happened, so I spent (nearly) all my spare hours on that. Since then, I have led a much more sedate holiday-life. From what I can gauge, based on three thesis-less holidays so far (Oct, Christmas and Feb), I now mostly spend them floating between Parentsville and my house, often wiling away hours in Costa with Mother, or arranging short-ish meeting-ups with a select one or two friends, rather than a few days here, and another few there, with a little frantic crossover time in between into which I squeeze a few more café visits.

(It would appear that many of the friends I used to cram into my weeks are now living in far-off lands, which makes meeting up with them a little harder than before. And by 'far-off lands', I mostly mean 'not in Harborough'. Although there are a few in actual far-off lands, like 'Japan' and 'Germany' and 'Doncaster'...)


Sometimes I find this new existence a little directionless. Other times, I find it lazily delectable.


Anyway, what this new-found laziness has allowed me to do this week, is read two and a half novels. Mostly light, frothy, relatively insubstantial novels, but novels nonetheless.

Anyway (anyway), the first I read this week was called "Breakfast at Darcy's" (you see, even the title is frothy). It's about a girl whose only living relative (I think), her aunt, dies, and leaves her a large sum of money and an (almost) uninhabited island. She can only inherit the money if she lives on the island for a year, with the company of at least 14 others. There's one man who's been living on the island since forever, and he's full of all sorts of island folklore and mythology.

One of the stories he tells is about dolphins. They are only sighted in the seas surrounding the island when change is afoot. The more there are, the more change is about to occur. (it's something to do with them being under the reign of the King (or Queen) of the island, and seeking their counsel / approval / somethingorother as things begin to change. I think.)


So then the thought came to me the other day, that I felt like I was counting dolphins.

Change is afoot.


I feel like I've been saying that a lot recently...

Maybe because of the new year, and then the new month, and now the snow is gone and spring is around the corner...



Anyway, I'm excited by the change.



Bring on the dolphins!

Out of Sight

Out of Mind.



Or does absence make the heart grow fonder?



Another of life's little mysteries...

Double-edged Sword

"And then, there's another kind of love: the cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims...
We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones..."



So I've been thinking recently about the cruelty of love.

I mean, not to sound pessimistic, or cynical or over-dramatic, or anything, but specifically how painful and unwieldy it can be.

There are all the beautiful tales of boy-meets-girl and all the real-life stories of man-meets-lady, and many of them thoroughly lovely.

But then there are the untold tales. And the tales told to a certain few. The secret stories, told in confidence and allegiance. Of love lost, and love abandoned and love unexpressed.

Then there's the love spurned, which is perhaps the cruelest.


How often does it actually work out? I mean, really?



I think I'll just take a Sherlock stance, and see the world clinically and analytically, from a safe, unloved and unloving distance.



Much easier.

01022012

February already...


If the rest of 2012 is going to be like it has been so far, it is going to be a flipping brilliant year.

Perceiving the New

This was the verse I 'got' when weighing up the options of staying in Stammo, and leaving for Ketters. I felt like I nearly missed out on a new life, and new opportunity and new future when I nearly stayed there instead of coming here, and I have to say, I'm pretty glad I came.


I'm not sure what specifically is going to spring up next, but I've been recently thinking about the amazing people and bits of life there are here already, and getting excited about what's next.


There's something a bit hard about 'forgetting the former things', especially the particularly formative 'former things' that appear to have become ingrained. I mean, the more difficult, or negative formative things. They're the ones that were important to have experienced, but the ones that it is equally important not to dwell on.



That's all, really.

Just wanted to share.

The Waiting Room.

Not quite right, but something along those lines...

Why are things sometimes difficult to verbalise?

Or difficult to verbalise well.

This Week

This week, I have been mostly listening to half-familiar new-ish artists (mostly from the Communion record label, it would seem...)

At this very moment, it is Marcus Foster, with his luxuriously husky mellowness, preceded by the eclectic Peggy Sue, whom I love (though I think I prefer their first album, based on the sound cloud on their website, peggywho.com). Through the post this week (I heart amazon.co.uk), I received the WONDERFUL Benjamin Francis Leftwich album. It is a bit same-y, I suppose, but I also suppose that is what BFL 'sounds' like, and when that sound is so very wonderful, I can't help but be glad of lots of it.

(iTunes has just shuffled onto 'Oh Susannah', by Pete Roe. I am going to see him support Laura Marling at the beginning of March, and I am WELL excited - he is my sound of summer 2011, especially 'Bellina'. LOVE IT.)


Anyway.


This week, I had a birthday. I am old.

But feeling strangely ok about being a bit old.

I am still mid-twenties. Just a bit on the later side of mid-...

Anyway, it was lovely - I saw some family, my year 11s singing to me, my form going crazy because of it being my birthday, and a terrible, terrible film. ("Haywire" - plotless, full of gratuitous thumping and loud violence, plus a bonus scene of completely unnecessary kissing that doesn't fit with any of the rest of the film. Ewan MacGregor is made to speak with a (bad) American accent, and Channing Tatum pouts a bit, before getting shot in his broken arm. Nice.)


This week, I also decided to move on from the church I've been with for the past year or so. It is just a little too far away, really. It worked for a while, but since moving to my current address, it added on about 10 extra minutes. Which isn't a lot, I appreciate that, but it just made everything feel more difficult.

But that means I have the exciting task ahead of finding and settling into a new church. EXCITING!


This weekend, I saw one of my bestest friends (the one who got married in this post). It was SO lovely to see her. We walked, mooched, boggled, drank tea, ate cake, ate soup, ate croissants, watched an obscene amount of DVD (including approximately a million episodes of Flight of the Conchords - she had not seen it. Oh, now she has!)



And this afternoon, I have spent muchmuch time compiling and beginning to tackle a mammoth 'To Do' list. Frustratingly a lot of it has to be completed using information I have on my school laptop, so I will need to complete that in all the spare time I have at school.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!


Sorry, just the thought of having spare time at school made me laugh a little bit...




Anyway, here's a thought:

I wonder if people can be broken. I mean, not bones, just like... Say, if you'd fallen in love with someone, but it didn't work out, or they didn't love you back, or whatever, and then you don't ever seem to fall in love with anyone else ever, you just stay sort of 'stuck' in love with that person - that sort of means you're ceasing to function properly because of the immovable feelings for that person. So, in effect, you're now broken, because you aren't working as you're supposed to.

Does that make sense?


What would you do? How could you get un-broken?
I'm not really sure what the answer is, or even if the problem is a real one, but it's just something I was thinking of recently.


Anyway, I'm now listening to Ben Howard. His is the sort of voice I would like to hear in the summertime, sitting with a crowd of people, perhaps with some sort of campfire in the middle of us all...



Anyway, anyway.


There is something magical about this year.


I can feel it already.

From Russia With Love

So I just looked at the stats of this blog - apparently lots of views come from Russia... I have to say, that surprised me. But in a good way.

So, hello, Russia :-)


Right now, I'm sitting in my bed, listening to Cleo Laine and John Williams on vinyl. It is SUBLIME. Her voice is wonderful. His playing is lush. BEAUTIFUL.


I just watched the film An Education. I had never seen it, but the sister of my friend plays the cello in it, so I wanted to partly for that reason, but also because it was supposed to be a good film.

It is a good film.

It has made me desire to go to Paris, to be knowledgable about art and to look beautiful. (and to get to know a man before deciding to marry him.)

It has made me desire living in a beautiful home, with pictures on the walls and postcards in the hallways, and to go to jazz clubs, and drink Martinis. I don't even know what a Martini tastes like.



I also read One Day over Christmas, which also includes a little reference to Paris.

What IS it about Paris? Do people there really only wear black clothes and Chanel perfume and drink Moet et Chandon for breakfast? Do they really walk down the Champs-Elysées and waltz in the street and make flamboyant gestures of romance?

Truth is, I think they must. Why else would all films and books represent it as such? Otherwise, that's just false advertising.



Anyway, enough pining after Paris (I said that in a French accent. You can't tell, because I typed it.) I am going to turn over Cleo and John, and allow them to serenade me to sleep (I bet they have people who do that in Paris, too).

I can feel a cold creeping up on me, so I'm going to fight it with sleep and tea and other magical methods.

Goodnight!


(goodnight, Russia xx)

02012012

Happy New Year!


Hurray for 2012.


New year, new adventures...


Bring it.






(I bought two dresses today...)