It’s been a while since I’ve blogged, so I thought it was time to say Happy New Year and fill you in on a few things…
2012 was a big, brilliant year. On the whole, it was magnificent, but I can’t celebrate the good times without remembering that it hasn’t all been rosy.
The Bad: There have been some tough times since I last blogged in March – family illness, my lovely dog Phoebe passed away, and some of my closest friends have been tested to the limit.
The overwhelming sadness last year was Sam’s stepdad Mike passing away in November. He was a wonderful, funny, wise, kind and indeed one-of-a-kind man and it was an honour to get to know him over the year I had. It’s hard to accept all the utter marvellousness of life right now without wondering how something so heartbreaking and unfair can happen in amongst it all. Sam’s family have been unbelievably strong and I love having them in my life – they’re a huge part of all the good things that happened too.
The Good:
– I went travelling for 6 weeks (erm, yes, I’ll get back to you on that in more detail later…)
– I AM AN AUNTIE AGAIN! I have a gorgeous wee nephew called Charlie who is as cheeky as his name deserves. An absolute bundle of joy.
– I was shortlisted for Young Wine Writer of the Year
– I handed in my notice after 6 superb years at The Wine Society – I finish at the end of January and start my career as a freelance writer full time (so, er, if you want to hire me then please get in touch!)
I’m going to be blogging more frequently from now on on various topics, from weight-loss (I’m on Weightwatchers and firmly believe it to be evil) to my joyous travels, food adventures, and any other shenanigans I fancy telling you about.
I love a random turn of events, and that’s exactly what I got last night.
My beau Sam and his Dad decided to take me to the cinema last night to watch us a bit o’ Shakespeare in the form of Ralph Fienne’s latest flick Coriolanus.
When we arrived, however, we were met by a very anxious-looking man who apologetically informed us half of the film hadn’t arrived, meaning the show would very much not be going on.
Not to be easily distracted from a lovely evening, we instead enjoyed a free beverage or two and some Pringles (it’s not quite Shakespeare but you can make the crisps into beaks and do killer Donald Duck impressions which is almost as good).
Then, the apologetic man – who we later found out was called Steve – asked whether we’d like to see the projection room instead. Never one to miss an opportunity to geek it up, I insisted we took him up on this offer.
The projection room was small but meticulously organised. The reels were huge and still looked like they did in The Artist (so, kind of a billion years ago), and Steve explained how the movies arrive in parts and have to be spliced together.
He then showed us backstage (the cinema doubles as a theatre), the dressing rooms, the props, and told us that the theatre has a ghost of a man who died in a fire before the cinema was built, and he has seen him more than once walking up and down backstage. He calls his name sometimes. “I got the feeling he was a nice ghost, though,” Steve explains, although that’s probably just to ease the terrified look on the faces of Sam and I. We’re such pansies.
Steve is a man who clearly loves his job. He told me he’s been doing it for 20 years – only part-time, as he has a regular ‘day job’ too – but he works from 7am-11pm without a break every weekend.
Why? “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
He explained his passion surrounds the technology of getting the film into action. He loves the big projectors, he loves how much hard work it is, and he loves the giant old film reels.
“I’d love to get some real classics to show people like Mary Poppins and North by Northwest, but you can’t get many films in this format these days. They’ve fazing it out to introduce everything in a digital format instead,” he explains. I asked whether this would mean his beloved technology – and the reason he loves his job – would soon be obsolete. He nods.
“All of these machines – they were worth £80,000 when we bought them, but now they’re just going to be scrapped. By next year at the latest everything will be digital.”
I asked what he thought of the digital format instead. Diplomatically, he assures me it will be far more environmentally friendly as there won’t be tons of film reels rotting away in waste sites any more. And it will take about half the work and half the time to get a film ready for screening.
But he will miss the technology he has learned to master so efficiently. “I’m being really positive though. I’m being brave and moving with the times.”
Steve was a thoroughly decent chap (he certainly didn’t have to give us the delightful impromptu tour), and I really feel sorry that he is going to suffer at the hands of our ever-increasing technological wizardry. But I’m grateful to his kindness because I’m pretty sure that is going to be my one and only chance to see a real old-fashioned projector in action.
I’m a total geek, but my sweet little experience left me torn between my love for the old and the new. Obviously I didn’t get to watch it and so this next judgement sounds a bit daft, but I’ve a feeling that experience beat Coriolanus hands down.
The blog post was kind of whiny, self-indulgent and more than a little bit shallow, but it is one of those body-image hangups we’re all guilty of that I wanted to share, because it’s been hanging around in my brain for over half my life now.
After I wrote it, I felt better but I still didn’t wear glasses all that often, and never when I wanted to ‘look good’ (replace ‘good’ with ‘less like Professor Trelawney’ if you like. Meanies.)
Then, stuff happened. The uber-trendy (YEAH alright that’s Tinie Tempah, but he’s cool) have been wearing big old chunky frames for a good 3 years or so, but it started filtering down to everyone else, and I started hankering after a pair of specs the size of my face.
^ My delightful friend Carrie let me borrow hers while we were absolutely off our tits on free cocktails (marvellous evening, my love!) and that was it: I had to get my mitts on a pair of my own or I WOULD DIE.
So I mooched on down to Specsavers with my beau and we both tried on ridiculous glasses for about three hours until we realised we were actually there for a reason.
^The pair I eventually chose were by Gok Wan and made me feel very sexy indeed. SERIOUSLY: glasses that make me feel sexy. And I’m getting compliments all the time. It’s happened. I’m cured.
They make me want to wear glasses. I actually choose to wear them as part of an outfit. Like this one we chatted about on Twitter last week after I got inspiration from another Domestic Sluttery pal, Elizabeth (she’s rad):
Maybe you’re all thinking this isn’t exactly breaking news, and isn’t even blog-worthy, but for me, on a scale on one to pretty darn hoorayful, it’s up there.
Years of insecurity have gone up in smoke and now I’m going to frolic about in glasses and not give a monkeys whether I look like a geek or not. I’m a glasses girl and proud.
As probably my most loyal reader, I thought it was about time my Grandpa Vickers got a post all to himself. I keep telling him he should blog too (seriously, you’d love it) but this will have to do for now.
I’ve already mentioned him on here a few times, including when I shared the amazing Italian song he found for me: Papaveri e Papere. That is one of my favourite things I’ve ever discovered, but he’s shared so much more than that with me and continues to do so. So I thought I’d chronicle just a few of the ways he’s made my life awesome:
1. He taught me the piano.
One of my favourite photos from when I was tiny is my sister and I sat at his fantastic Roland piano while Grandpa teaches us a tune or two. And throughout my teens he taught me some of the best pieces I ever learned to play. I wish I’d kept practising – they were super fun. My favourite was a book of jazz duets – I always did the easy top part, and I could still never get the rhythms right, but we played them anyway and had a jolly good time.
2. Stacey Kent
Stacey Kent – I Wish I Were In Love Again
Our jazz LOLs weren’t restricted to the piano: oh no! I can remember when he used to pick me up from school sometimes, we’d listen to CDs in his car and one particular voice stood out: Stacey Kent. When she sang, it was so easy and so relaxing, it felt like being in a warm bath. Serious audio-nectar. She also sings in French – perfect, much?
3. He taught me French
Leading on nicely from Stacey Kent’s French tunes, my Grandpa is also responsible for several of my biggest moments of WIN during my school years. From Year 7 until Year 13 I learned French, and I was always one of the top of the class. In my Year 7 oral exam, my teacher gave me full marks and actually said “I can’t believe your accent when you’ve only been learning for a year!” I almost exploded with pride. This is all down to my Grandpa, who spent some time out in Paris before he was married and – unlike me and my shoddy piano loyalty – has kept practising and is still pretty much fluent today. He taught me pronunciation, he corrected my grammar, and most importantly, he chatted to me in French. It was awesome. It was also the reason I always got an A.
4. He made me a Book Thief
Just like Liesel Meminger in my favourite book, The Book Thief, I too have a series of volumes on my shelves that do not belong to me. Things like James Thurber’s short stories. Things like a collection called Other People’s Clerihews (if you don’t know what a Clerihew is you *have* to look them up, they’ll make you laugh all day). Things like a book about teaching yourself Russian. These books have been instrumental in making my life a better thing, and they’re all his. And I keep meaning to give them back, and then convincing myself I’ll read them one more time before I do. This is really a public apology, Grandpa. I should give you your stuff back!
These books also symbolise the fact that he has instilled in me my passion for English. He proofread all my essays, he shared his favourite authors and plays with me, and we still laugh about how when I was little and he asked me what I’d done at the weekend, if I said “Me and my mates went shopping” he wouldn’t let me continue unless I corrected myself, sheepishly rephrasing “Oh…my friends and I went shopping”. Yep, he made me a grammar geek. And I’m proud of that.
5. He Keeps This Blog Going
Sometimes, I feel I don’t have time to continue doing this – not know I’m getting paid for my writing, doing three jobs and trying to write another novel. But I always think of the great chats this blog produces with my Grandpa, and then I realise I have way too many brilliant things to show and tell him and I’d never remember to fit them all in our brief Sunday afternoon chats. And knowing he likes reading it encourages me to keep going, and to try and keep the content interesting and the writing as decent as possible.
He also corrects my bad habits – such as saying “I heart it” way way WAY too much, and writing too much in brackets (I’m always going off on a tangent – DAMN, I’m doing it again), and it’s refreshing because too many people are too scared to tell me where I’m getting slack, and this makes me a better writer! Plus, sometimes he’ll just give me some feedback that totally knocks me for six. Like yesterday, when he commented on a book review I’d written:
HOW AMAZING IS THAT? If that doesn’t inspire me, nothing will.
Lastly, he sends me the funniest stuff to put on here when I’m running low on ideas. Which is all the time. This blog post was originally just going to be me telling you about his latest send – super comedic pianist Slim Gaillard – but it sort of spiralled and then I realised that – much as Slim will knock your socks off – I was a whole lot more excited about telling you about Grandpa. This is also a nice way to link the end of my blog to the beginning – it’s been a long time since we’ve played his piano together, but I’m hoping Grandpa and I can have a giggle attempting to play a tune with the backs of our fingers like Slim some time soon:
So there you go. He’s ace. I don’t think I tell him often enough how hilarious, fascinating and wonderful he is. He’s like my very own Dumbledore, and I heart him big time (haha, sorry Grandpa, I couldn’t resist that. Or these brackets.)
Sunday nights are, without fail, my least favourite part of the week.
It doesn’t matter what I’m doing; whether I’m out with friends, curled up at home, or maybe even doing something remotely productive (oh, don’t laugh) – when it gets past 4pm on a Sunday I may as well dig myself a little hole in the garden and crawl inside until Monday morning because I’m useless to anyone. I get filled with such bitter melancholy, and have done every Sunday evening without fail since I was a little girl. I don’t know why, but it feels like more than the ‘back to school/work tomorrow’ grump.
So Sunday evenings are a time when I long for ultimate comfort, and subsequently turn into an old lady: listening to Alan Titchmarsh on the radio, having long baths, eating crumpets in front of nonsense on TV (bring back Strictly Come Dancing, already!), and whatever you do don’t get me talking because I become queen of whimsical claptrap.
Tonight is no different, and don’t panic but: I am all out of crumpets. There is nothing on TV. It is too hot for a bath. And Alan Titchmarsh’s show is now finished. This means all kinds of trouble, but thankfully I’ve found something else to soothe my aching soul (you see what I mean about the whimsy issue?), and it takes the form of Someone Once Told Me.
Someone Once Told Me is a photography website in which people share stories, wit, and snippets of the kind of wisdom that is blindingly obvious but that we seem to forget about in our day to day troubles. It is pure awesome.
I was going to post some of my favourite images but a. I’m not sure that’s allowed and b. There are just too many. I don’t really think there are any bad ones. So let’s just say:
Some are great because they inspire me to be brave and just do whatever it is I love doing…
I cannot stress how much this only skims the surface of just how super this site can make you feel. And don’t even begin to suggest I should do one of my own – I’m already working on it.
There are about 1500 of them so far, with new ones added pretty much every day. Go and find the one that makes you smile the most. Yeah, still with the whimsy thing. I don’t think there’s one that can cure that.
Feel free to post your own words of wisdom below…
Image taken from MeddyGarnet‘s photostream. I hope she has a lovely Sunday evening.
I keep meaning to update this blog, I have been trying every day since Sunday, but a fifty hour working week and interwebz failure have prevented me.
I’m also a bit overwhelmed, to be honest with you. I’ve lost count of the number of private messages, texts, facebook and twitter messages and comments that I’ve had about my last blog, from friends and strangers alike. Your kindness and support have made me all soppy, and I don’t really know what to do with myself.
I’ve been offered medical support, but for now I’m trying to tackle this on my own. I feel so very looked after that I don’t see how I can fail. I’m sorry to anyone I’ve worried, but you have no idea how much better I feel after finally being honest with everyone, including myself.
Lighter news: I have been channeling my inner diva this week and feeling all empowered and shit. If you haven’t seen Beyonce’s Glasto set yet, then you should: you never feel like a real, strong woman quite like how you do after seeing her do her stuff.
In particular, her song ‘Run The World (Girls)’ never fails to make me feel super powerful. Someone I know tweeted that they thought this song wasn’t accurate, and just because you say it doesn’t make it true. I agree, and I don’t think she’s implying that Obama and Cameron and the rest all have secret vaginas (except Nick Clegg. He probably does), but I think to most of us ‘the world’ we run is our own world, our own back yard.
To me, the song is more about women feeling empowered in their own environment, controlling their own lives and running their own world. It is certainly a song that makes me feel like that is something I can achieve when I hear it, even if all I’m controlling is the dancefloor…
Things that make girls feel good are awesome, especially when we’re having a bit of a ‘mare in other aspects of our lives. To this end, I also purchased this dress that I saw over on Domestic Sluttery this week. It arrived today, and I immediately changed into it at work and pranced around. As you can see:
For the record, this is my ‘OH LOOK AT THE FLOATY SLEEVES’ face, and this photo was taken without my knowledge. It just happened to be the one that made us laugh the most, so I thought I’d let you all mock me n’all.
That’s it for now, but I *will* be blogging properly this weekend. I hope to have some photos to show you of my fabulous trip to Bordeaux last month.
My parents are moving from our family home soon. Thirteen years of history have been crammed in under one roof, and now we have the unenviable task of uncramming it, sorting through it, and packing it up ready to take to a new house, and a new chapter in the family history.
A big chunk of that sorting was done yesterday, and it was quite bittersweet. I felt energised because I finally threw out so much junk I’d been hoarding since school, stuff I was only keeping because I’m a sentimental girly-woman rather than because I would ever use it or look at it again. On the other hand, however, I felt hopelessly nostalgic, and by the middle of the afternoon work had slowed up quite a bit because I spent hours cooing and oohing over every second thing I found.
To combat this sense of wonderment at everyday items, I thought I’d share three videos found in the last twenty-four hours on Twitter – three videos that actually deserve the attention I was giving to the heaps of junk around my house yesterday.
1. World Freehand Circle Drawing Champion (thanks to @Rhodri)
I don’t know if this is fake or not, and I don’t really care. It’s still pretty fantastic.
2. Einstein the talking parrot (thanks to inspiration from @qikipedia)
I first saw this years ago but forgot about it until yesterday. I don’t care what any of you say, when he says “Superstar!” I fall off my chair. EVERY TIME.
3. Space Shuttle Launch Viewed from an Airplane (thanks to @bpdobson)
Saved the best til last, obviously. This needs no introduction, it just blew my mind. (Although: the actual launch itself is mildly outshone by the pilot’s quip: “If you’re sitting on the right side of the aircraft you can see the space shuttle, if you’re sitting on the left side of the aircraft you can probably just see the people on the right side of the aircraft looking at the space shuttle.”)
Here are five excuses why I haven’t blogged more often this week. It’s okay, they’re good ones.
1. MONDAY: Ate free ice cream for lunch
Sian, editor extraordinaire of Domestic Sluttery, and I went to Covent Garden to be the first to sample the ice creams at super-sexy venue The Icecreamists. It was quite an experience. You can read the fabulous review here.
2. TUESDAY: Drank too much Gin & Elderflower
You may be finding out more about this soon, but basically it’s bloody good fun.
3. WEDNESDAY: Been to Birmingham for a Tasting with work
I spent Wednesday and Thursday in the ham of Birming drinking wine, eating Thai food and having my name publicly forgotten by my boss in front of a room of eighty people (haha, it’s okay Ewan, I forgive you!). The event was a wine tasting quiz and it was rather amusing to see the members getting all competitive and gun ho. All in all it was super fun.
4. THURSDAY: Was Liberated From My Desk For An Afternoon
“Technical difficulties” ensued once I’d returned from the Tasting, meaning I could not do my usual job for about three hours yesterday afternoon. This meant I did lots of odd-jobs, some of which allowed me to go OUTSIDE. Okay, this one doesn’t sound cool at all but believe me it SO WAS. It was actually SUNNY. I was running around outside with boxes and NO COAT ON.
5. FRIDAY: Spoke to one of my idols on the phone
I can’t say who it was, but I can say they are a LEGEND that I’ve grown up with, and it was quite a fabulous moment. They were super-lovely, too.
Today was my first day interning for Domestic Sluttery. It has been super fun so far, and I already have Big Important Tasks to complete that are making me all gooey with excitement. I’ve also already met my worst fear (and ongoing bad habit) and gone totally tongue-tied once, so at least I don’t have to worry about going blank any more because it’s already happened. Now that’s out of the way I can hopefully relax and get on with doing my best.
Ahem – that said… I tweeted earlier about how I was excited to be sharing my Nonno’s Sultana de Fleur recipe today. And then I realised I left the recipe at work, where I had been planning on sharing it yesterday. So NO DICE, PEOPLE – you will have to wait until tomorrow. Of course, this is all really just one big ploy to build suspense, and isn’t even a little bit because I’m a bit of a div. Nope.
So I’ve decided that today I shall continue the musicey-theme of the last few days and share the five songs that seem ingrained in my mind this week. I don’t know if I’m alone in having songs that seem to frame each week (sometimes each day) and keep circulating around the gap between my ears, but sod it – I’m going all self-indulgent and telling you what this week’s soundtracks are, even if you don’t even care. So there. Perhaps you could counteract this by telling me yours?
1. Michael Jackson – Man in the Mirror
Mostly because my colleague yesterday asked Sophie and I whether ‘if we were going to sit there murdering songs all day, we could at least murder a good one?’ We asked him for his requests, and this is what he came up with. All together now for the end bit (from 3:30 to be exact): “If ya wanna make the world… a better place… take a look at yaself… and make that… CHANGE – HOO!… HOO!… HOO!…HOO!” Yeah. We did awesome.
2. Jonie Mitchell – My Old Man
This is an old favourite that keeps haunting my brain cavity and doing the rounds, especially when I’m feeling all whimsical and heartachey. I especially like “He’s my fireworks at the end of the day, he’s the warmest chord I ever heard” and “He tells me all his troubles, and he tells me all my charms”. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.
3. Bruce Springsteen – Aint Good Enough For You
Since being released in November last year, this song has quite relentlessly dominated Radio 2 to the point that you start to wonder if there are actually other songs, or whether this, James Blunt’s Goodbye My Lover and Rumer’s Slow are just the only ones out there. And yet – unlike the other two – this one hasn’t got old. And even if it’s about unrequited love, it’s still extravagantly joyous to the point that I always feel a bit whizzy-roundy after I’ve heard it.
4. Jim Reeves – He’ll Have To Go
Much as I’m dying of shame as I give my sensationally passionate love of Radio 2 away here, I first heard this one of the way to work some months ago on a dreary, bleakly sunny Saturday morning, listening to my favourite ‘Sounds of the Sixties’ show. All street cred is officially out the window now, but listen to the words. There’s something so haunting about the way he’s so calm and dignified as he sings ‘Do you want me? Answer yes or no, darling I will understand.’ It’s been on repeat in the jukebox of my soul this week (YES I just typed that, DEAL WITH IT), and I think it may stay there forever.
5. Sir Mix A Lot – Jump On It
Maybe one of the worst songs ever. Probably, actually. But ever since drunkenly at a party a couple of weeks ago my housemate and I started dancing to it exactly like this:
…it has become one of the funniest things ever in the history of funny things. It is now an all-time classic in our household.
Maybe I’m missing the boat a bit here and you’ve all seen this already, but if you have you probably want to see it again anyway: this is Adele singing at the BRIT awards yesterday.
Few artists in the current British music industry are successful without a gimmick, a cult following or a production team that favours naked dancers and pyrotechnics over soul and individuality. I’m not a massive fan of Adele’s – or at least I wasn’t – but I’ve always liked her singles because her lyrics manage to speak to me at any given time and put into words what I’m feeling. I’m definitely a lyrics kind of girl rather than a pyrotechnics kind of girl – and few artists seem to manage to hit the nail on the head every single time. Adele, on the other hand, gets it spot on with every song she releases, and more importantly every song she writes. I get a little more impressed with her with each new offering.
I like her because she makes me aspire to get it right equally as often in my own endeavours. But mostly I like her because she writes things like:
“I had hoped you’d see my face, And that you’d be reminded that for me it isn’t over.”
You know you’ve found a good song when as soon as it’s finished you’re hitting the play button again.
Cake, Prattle & Soul 