I admit it. I have had some weird celebrity crushes in the past. Whatever, I'll hold my head up high proud that I do not like the same people everyone else likes. David Beckham? no thanks. Daniel Craig? silly swimming trunks. Morten Harket? I prefer Mags... you get the picture.
So, here for you are some of my most embarrassing celebrity (although the term can be used losely...) crushes. In no particular order:
1 - Adam Woodyatt - yes that is Ian Beale from Eastenders. Circa '87 if you will.
2 - Spider from Corrie.
3 - Peter Barlow from Corrie.
4 - Peter Duncan of Duncan Dares/Blue Peter fame.
5 - Danny from NKOTB. What can I say I favoured the underdog.
6 - Rick Astley.
7 - Currently it's Super Hans from Peep Show.
8 - I think I took quite a shine to Roy Castle he of Record Breakers...? maybe not, the mind plays tricks...
9 - Sanjay from Eastenders. Soaps seemed to be a hotbed of hunks (?) in my early teens...
10 - Dieter Brummer in Home & Away, actually that's not embarrassing he was lush. Oh heck, I maybe quite liked Clive from Neighbours...
So there we have it...
Oh c'mon, stand up and be counted, what were yours?
Thursday 30 December 2010
Thursday 16 December 2010
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...
Love it or hate it, you can’t avoid it now that Christmas is just around the corner! So it seems timely that I should blog about Christmas but what with the writing of cards, the tedium of wrapping presents (for the record mine look like Stevie Wonder did them aided by Ray Charles), food shopping and the endless round of nights out and festive meals I ain’t got the time… instead you’ll have to make do with a sort of stream of consciousness affair of random Christmas memories, traditions and thoughts. So get comfortable and pour yourself a large Bailey’s while you’re at it grab a handful of
I do enjoy a walk on Christmas Day, something the other half can’t seem to comprehend. Even if we just had an amble round the block we always went for a walk on Christmas Day to “walk off the lunch” – well probably a few sprouts or a carrot. One year Dad made us look for reindeer prints from Rudolf. We looked very hard…
My Sister and I were not allowed to get up on Christmas Day until we had heard the heating kick in and the boiler firing up. As soon as one of us heard it we would wake the other ‘I think I heard it?!’ we would then go and take our stockings to Mum & Dad’s room to open them up. One memorable year they were on camp beds in the cupboard under the stairs due to a full-house that year of both sets of grandparents. My Sister had a terrible sweet tooth even then so most years she kicked off Christmas Day by devouring a fair bit of chocolate and then felt sick. She never learnt. (It was almost most definitely her then who couldn’t wait to eat the chocolates off the tree so ate some then stuffed the wrappers back into other wrappers to make fake decorations as not to get found out…)
As we weren’t that well off when I was a kid Mum would quite often make us presents which we were always delighted with. I still have the little bean filled rabbit toy, modelled on Miffy, named Snowball. She’s lost most of her mouth and she could do with a good wash but I still treasure her. But the best present by far were the ‘bedsits’ Mum had made for our dolls out of a large cardboard box. These had featured on Blue Peter and Mum stayed up at night to make them long after we went to bed. A bag of off cuts from Laura Ashley were employed for the soft furnishings. A large decorative postage stamp made a good painting and matchboxes were magically turned into chests of drawers with the aid of some wood-effect sticky backed plastic and paper fasteners. The only thing that took the shine off these presents were when family friends, The Heads, used to pop round in the evening for drinks and nibbles and their two children would dismiss our unique crafted gifts by pissing all over them (not literally) with tales of their new Star Wars toys, Casio keyboards, BMXs etc. We never wanted for much to be honest as long as I got my new packet of felt tip pens I was a reasonably happy bunny.
We were allowed a cheeky Babycham and lemonade on Christmas Day at lunch. At New Year we were allowed a Snowball. I bought both of these concoctions for my 80s party earlier this year and the latter was rendered disgusting…actually let’s say abominable… the abominable snowball? See what I did there? The Babycham was passable and I have a fair bit left so it seems the right thing to do this year to quaff it on Christmas Day.
I have never seen The Queen’s Speech. Never have, hopefully never will.
I have only ever once gone out on the lash on Christmas Eve and even then had to be back home and tucked up in bed before midnight. Too many friends have stories of getting so wasted and spoiling the big day. It’s never appealed. I’ve had a few messy 23rds of December, but that’s acceptable. These days my Christmas Eve tradition is to go home as soon as I can from work watch Love Actually, do some baking and usually exchange presents with my friend accompanied by some mulled wine. The idea of going on a complete bender just doesn’t seem right.
My favourite Christmas song is ‘Christmas Wrapping’ by The Waitresses. ‘Stop the Cavalry’ is passable too. There haven’t been any really good Christmas songs for ages!
Pick N Mix teas were a feature of childhood Christmases. Yes, ok, that’s leftovers to you and me. Calling them that made them more palatable. As you can imagine it was the cold cuts of meat with salads, bread and butter and of course…pickles! I loved pickled onions as a child and still do. Since I’ve left home I have bought pickled onions, red cabbage, beetroot and piccalilli every Christmas because in my mind they are synonymous with Christmas. Often they are still skulking in the back of the ‘fridge come Easter. Despite my fondness for dried fruit I am not a huge fan of Christmas cake or the dry and dreaded Stollen. I prefer chocolates or a good Yule log if it’s going. Quality Street is my preference, especially the green triangles. I had to fight my Granddad for these as a child but now… they’re all MINE. And whoever invented the giant green triangles…well give that person a medal! Alongside birthdays and the summer holiday Christmas was also the time of year we were allowed fizzy drinks. There was Coke and lemonade but also limeade, cherryade (ugh!) and my favourite, cream soda. I had some of this on holiday recently (ok as a mixer with vodka) and it’s still good stuff.
Having a Mum who was also an infant school teacher was not always a good thing. Whilst my peers discussed their morning advent calendar finds in the playground; my advent calendar was never a shocker due to the fact that Mum had made my sister and I a calendar from old Christmas cards which was wheeled out annually. Thus what was behind the door every day was no great surprise. I got my first commercial, chocolate advent calendar at the age of 19. The other Christmas stalwart was the pasta Madonna. I am almost ‘LOL’ as I type this. Imagine, a figurine of the Virgin Mary made entirely of different types of pasta. No, not something dreamt up by Dali but made by my Mum. You have to try and use your imagination here. It was sprayed silver. I wonder where it is? I wonder if you can get a low-carb version these days.
The school Christmas disco was a much hyped up event which always left me feeling as deflated as the balloons that decorated the school hall. My friend Susan and I would plot for literally weeks about what we were going to wear (if I say ‘body’ you know what era we’re talking about…) and scoured the little chemist by the big Sainsbury’s for all sorts of amazing make up we were going to plaster on. At the age of 34 I still can’t master liquid eyeliner. The reason for this is that we both usually had an object of desire in mind that we were going to try and win over at said event. It always backfired. Most of this time we actually fancied the same boy and were inconsolable when he chose to dance with neither one of us one year at the disco. Many years we sat on the sidelines waiting to be asked to dance, like the wallflowers in Grease, and it never happened. We both say to this day that the opening bars of Slade’s “Merry Christmas Everybody” are quite depressing as they signified the end of the disco and not being asked to dance…again…!
I haven’t eaten meat since I was 14, save the odd drunken pork scratching or misjudged item at a buffet. My family were vegetarian too so Mum used to go to town on a vegetarian option. This usually involved blood, sweat and tears on her part and wrangling with sheets of filo pastry after a fair few sherries. I remember the festive cracker which was essentially a nut roast topped with cheese and spinach and…pastry. And something dubbed ‘The Martin Platt’ again a concoction of nuts and vegetables and…pastry; this time in a plait formation. Mmmm yum… these days I am just happy with a plate of vegetables to be honest as long as there are sprouts.
I'd love to hear your traditions and rituals...?
Sunday 12 December 2010
Book worm and proud of it...
No-one ever asks you what was the first book you bought? It’s always records (am really showing my age here) but seldom books. Of course I can’t actually remember the first book I bought. But books have always been around. I was extremely lucky to be surrounded by books from a young age. My parents are incredibly intelligent and well-educated people and my Mum in particular has always been an avid reader. Dad reads a bit more since retirement and in any case we’re not sure he is eligible to get books from the library as there’s the small matter of the unreturned Reggie Perrin book he has had since 1984…*
Books have always been an enormous part of my life and have now become my bread and butter as I have worked for a number of different publishers and a bookshop since I left University. Ergo I now proudly boast an enormous collection of books, many of which I didn’t have to pay for or got hefty discounts on.
I remember as a child lying in bed looking at the shelves of my parents’ books which were kept in my room (I’m guessing every other bookshelf in the house was hemorrhaging books so they had to use mine) and making up plots for the ‘grown up’ books that I was yet to discover: The Diary of Samuel Pepys (his surname pronounced ‘peppies’ in my mind), Lord of the Rings (I decided that was written by J.R.Tokking?), that Shakespeare book looks a bit big, not sure I’ll bother with that one. I decided to learn Latin from the weighty tome on my shelf. I think I learnt the word ‘via’ and that was as far as it went.
As a child I devoured books, they were my drug I couldn’t get enough. Every Saturday I was taken to the town library to get my fix. I think I was allowed four or five books which I had usually read by Sunday afternoon. Then there was the long stretch, my cold turkey, until the following Saturday when I could get some more. Astrid Lindgren’s Bullerby Children, Orlando the marmalade cat and Brambly Hedge were among my favourites. I never ‘got’ Dr Seuss and remembering being hugely disappointed one weekend when I’d squandered my school library choice of only one book on the dreary ‘Horton hears a whoo’.
At infant school as part of our varied and taxing timetable we had activities. This meant you could go and play in the sandpit or water trough or, if the weather was inclement, indoor play such as playing in the Wendy house. I saw all this as boring and pointless. I never played Mummies and Daddies in the Wendy house. Instead, I used my leisure time to either read more books in the library or to write my own! Yes, as a precocious six year old I harangued my teacher (Mrs Bridge) into giving me my own special exercise book so I could write my own book. The chronicles of the ‘Cat Family’ eventually spanned three separate exercise books. They’re still knocking around somewhere. Maybe I’ll send them to a publisher.
Junior school bought new excitement with the Wise Owl book club. A system where you could purchase stickers for 10p and save them up in a special card to exchange for a shiny new book. This was also the era my peers and I discovered Judy Blume and I used to sneak some of the more adult themed titles from my sister’s shelf.
Other favourites I remember from childhood were: The Munch Bunch and The Garden Gang series, Mr Men (Mum hated us reading these), Beatrix Potter, Russell Hoban’s ‘Frances’ books, The Mog books, The Giant Jam Sandwich, Flossie Teacake, Grimble, The Fib, Goodnight Mister Tom. Ann of Green Gables bored me and I abhorred Enid Blyton.
Secondary School English lessons were uninspiring as we waded through books I had usually read many years before. I also didn’t see the value in reading out loud to the class. Sorry can’t be arsed. Out of school I traded my pocket money for books I did want to read. Even if it was the Sweet Valley Twins series.
English was always my best subject at school so it was inevitable that my University degree would be in English Literature. Towards the end of my degree I started to mentally compile a list of books I could read ‘for fun’ once the degree was finished. This ended up being a huge amount of chick lit to rest my addled brain tempered with a fair bit of Irvine Welsh. I also discovered Jonathan Coe and rediscovered Ian McEwan. Had a brief flirtation with Martin Amis and a soft spot for Lisa Jewell. I rarely make time to read ‘the classics’ anymore.
I can’t just have one favourite book of all time so my joint favourites are The Handmaids Tale by Margaret Attwood and The Buddha of Suburbia by Hanif Kureishi. Recent favourites have included Room, The Post Birthday World, We Need To Talk About Kevin, Time Traveller’s Wife, Louise Wener’s Different For Girls, One Day, The Emperor’s Children, What I Loved... I tactically avoid the latest blockbusters and you can jolly well keep Harry Potter. And I still haven’t finished Shantaram after carrying it round about 8 different countries.
I also own an enormous amount of cookery books, a.k.a food porn. I can count on one hand the number of dishes I have actually made from these books but I do enjoy thumbing through them for inspiration. Or, usually just looking at the pictures when I am on a diet and feeling hungry. Nigella’s Domestic Goddess one is especially good for this purpose.
I am now the member of a book group which is good as it is challenging me to read outside of what I usually pick. The first book was crime/thriller which I have always emphatically steered away from.
E-books scare the bejesus out of me. It took me long enough to get a DVD player. I know they are the way forward but they are just not for me. No thank you. I’d probably still be using an abacus in lieu of a calculator and two yoghurt pots and some string rather than a mobile phone if I could get away with it.
(* I realise this anecdote would be so much better if it was an unreturned George Orwell book…)
Sunday 24 October 2010
The dog ate my homework...and I er, left it on a bus
Ok, I hold my hands up I have been crap of late with this here blog.
Reasons, excuses; call it what you will but since I last blogged the following things have prevented me updating this:
1) that great new job I was bragging about went t*ts up after 8 days so I had to find a new one.
2) I found a better job instead but it took me 6 weeks
3) Aforementioned better job took me to Deutschland for my first week
4) I moved house! yes I did
5) I had to put house together (er, well I didn't have to build it, per se, but you understand)
6) Sky Internet are shite
7) BT Internet are even more shite
8) My hands got chopped off
Ok...so number 8 is a fabrication...
Watch this space, I WILL be back. Indeed I will.
Reasons, excuses; call it what you will but since I last blogged the following things have prevented me updating this:
1) that great new job I was bragging about went t*ts up after 8 days so I had to find a new one.
2) I found a better job instead but it took me 6 weeks
3) Aforementioned better job took me to Deutschland for my first week
4) I moved house! yes I did
5) I had to put house together (er, well I didn't have to build it, per se, but you understand)
6) Sky Internet are shite
7) BT Internet are even more shite
8) My hands got chopped off
Ok...so number 8 is a fabrication...
Watch this space, I WILL be back. Indeed I will.
Monday 6 September 2010
Back to school!
I bloody hated school. There, I've said it. "Best Days of Your Life" and all that pony. Yeah right, not when you end up going to one of the worst secondary schools in the area and your swear word vocabulary was extended within your first few days there, you got mocked for talking"posh" (no, I talk properly) and for the first three years you get teased for being fat. Great stuff... it's okay the therapy has been working (joke).
I can see that my behaviour and attitudes as a pupil was definitely a blueprint for my adult life in the workplace. I just wanted to get on with it, keep my head down and get my work done. I didn't bang on about how great I was, nor was I especially verbose or difficult. I wasn't a teachers' pet and I think I managed 5 years at the school without some of the teachers knowing who I was. I was occasionally reprimanded for my sarcasm (I am sure you're shocked) and for those of you who actually know me it won't come as a surprise that more often than not I was in trouble for my uniform, make up and jewellery.
I was trying to think what I actually did get into trouble for at school and have managed to compile this list of heinous crimes:
1) My one and only detention was a mere threatened detention for drawing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Heroes in a half shell!) instead of doing science.
2) Every day I was told off for wearing more than one earring per ear. Ironically by a teacher who had two earrings in each lughole.
3) My friend Susan and I managed to get Doctor Marten boots BANNED... but get this, only banned for girls to wear them! in the end they conceded and agreed we could wear them under trousers but not with long skirts.
4) Bollocked for ripping my cauliflower into florets rather than using a vegetable knife. It's no wonder I wasn't sent to the headmaster straight away for this terrible offence.
5) The same teacher was apoplectic with rage when I broke the sewing machine needle (possibly she had anger management issues.)
6) Bellowed at in PSE as the teacher thought my friend and I were laughing at A.I.D.S "God help you girls if you think this is funny!". We were actually cringing and pulling faces at the mention of 'cherry red blood' which was symptomatic of having H.I.V (I think, I suspect we weren't listening but we certainly didn't find it funny...)
7) Accused of cheating in a history test as myself and my friend Michelle got the same mark. She had actually copied me but the teacher blamed me as she disliked me. I later shamed her (oh god, or did I bully her? the mind plays tricks...) into a public apology. I loved history and fancied doing it at A-level but as she predicted me a D grade at GCSE I thought it wasn't possible. I got a B grade and took great delight in making sure I caught up with the teacher on the presentation day to tell her I got a B. "Oh, well done what was your predicted grade?" "D". In your face Mrs Childs. IN YOUR FACE.
8) Paxo gate: our geography teacher looked the spit of a character in a Paxo stuffing advert at the time and was constantly ribbed over this. My friend was definitely teacher's pet as we used to sit together and do identical work. She would always get 10/10 and me 9.5/10 for the same work. I also thought that he didn't actually read or check the work, merely awarded the mark depending on his fondness for the student. I decided to test my theory by inserting the word 'paxo' a few times into my work. Sure enough we handed our exercise books in. My friend was awarded another 10 and me another 9.5. I decided to challenge the mark and said "Sir, did you actually read my work?" when he claimed he had I said "Well you couldn't have done as I put the word 'paxo' in it and you didn't notice!". Luckily he took this with good humour but also said he was dropping the mark to a 9!
And there you have it. Definitely a rebel without clue in those days. I rarely did P.E which is pretty ironic considering I start a personal training course this week. I think the P.E shirking will have to make a separate blog though.
I even shunned the "Leavers Ball". This wasn't on the grand scale that you see these days, it was a more modest affair in the sports hall. I think it was just a disco and some food but everyone was going to town getting posh frocks and finding a date. Er, no thanks. I boycotted the ball and went into town with two other school friends. We dined at Pizzaland (thinking we were terribly sophisticated) then blagged our way into "Martines" nightclub with fake ID. With hindsight it was probably blatantly obvious we were underage as we turned up at around 9pm and were probably the only patrons for at least two hours. We supped some Diamond White and had a bit of a dance until someones Dad came to pick us up at the Cinderella like hour of 11.30pm.
Conversely I loved Sixth form and adored my time at University, because you were treated like an adult there and were also learning things you actually wanted to learn. I dropped maths and sciences as soon as I was able and have never indulged in team sports since.
So yep, so called best days of my life. I beg to differ...
I can see that my behaviour and attitudes as a pupil was definitely a blueprint for my adult life in the workplace. I just wanted to get on with it, keep my head down and get my work done. I didn't bang on about how great I was, nor was I especially verbose or difficult. I wasn't a teachers' pet and I think I managed 5 years at the school without some of the teachers knowing who I was. I was occasionally reprimanded for my sarcasm (I am sure you're shocked) and for those of you who actually know me it won't come as a surprise that more often than not I was in trouble for my uniform, make up and jewellery.
I was trying to think what I actually did get into trouble for at school and have managed to compile this list of heinous crimes:
1) My one and only detention was a mere threatened detention for drawing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Heroes in a half shell!) instead of doing science.
2) Every day I was told off for wearing more than one earring per ear. Ironically by a teacher who had two earrings in each lughole.
3) My friend Susan and I managed to get Doctor Marten boots BANNED... but get this, only banned for girls to wear them! in the end they conceded and agreed we could wear them under trousers but not with long skirts.
4) Bollocked for ripping my cauliflower into florets rather than using a vegetable knife. It's no wonder I wasn't sent to the headmaster straight away for this terrible offence.
5) The same teacher was apoplectic with rage when I broke the sewing machine needle (possibly she had anger management issues.)
6) Bellowed at in PSE as the teacher thought my friend and I were laughing at A.I.D.S "God help you girls if you think this is funny!". We were actually cringing and pulling faces at the mention of 'cherry red blood' which was symptomatic of having H.I.V (I think, I suspect we weren't listening but we certainly didn't find it funny...)
7) Accused of cheating in a history test as myself and my friend Michelle got the same mark. She had actually copied me but the teacher blamed me as she disliked me. I later shamed her (oh god, or did I bully her? the mind plays tricks...) into a public apology. I loved history and fancied doing it at A-level but as she predicted me a D grade at GCSE I thought it wasn't possible. I got a B grade and took great delight in making sure I caught up with the teacher on the presentation day to tell her I got a B. "Oh, well done what was your predicted grade?" "D". In your face Mrs Childs. IN YOUR FACE.
8) Paxo gate: our geography teacher looked the spit of a character in a Paxo stuffing advert at the time and was constantly ribbed over this. My friend was definitely teacher's pet as we used to sit together and do identical work. She would always get 10/10 and me 9.5/10 for the same work. I also thought that he didn't actually read or check the work, merely awarded the mark depending on his fondness for the student. I decided to test my theory by inserting the word 'paxo' a few times into my work. Sure enough we handed our exercise books in. My friend was awarded another 10 and me another 9.5. I decided to challenge the mark and said "Sir, did you actually read my work?" when he claimed he had I said "Well you couldn't have done as I put the word 'paxo' in it and you didn't notice!". Luckily he took this with good humour but also said he was dropping the mark to a 9!
And there you have it. Definitely a rebel without clue in those days. I rarely did P.E which is pretty ironic considering I start a personal training course this week. I think the P.E shirking will have to make a separate blog though.
I even shunned the "Leavers Ball". This wasn't on the grand scale that you see these days, it was a more modest affair in the sports hall. I think it was just a disco and some food but everyone was going to town getting posh frocks and finding a date. Er, no thanks. I boycotted the ball and went into town with two other school friends. We dined at Pizzaland (thinking we were terribly sophisticated) then blagged our way into "Martines" nightclub with fake ID. With hindsight it was probably blatantly obvious we were underage as we turned up at around 9pm and were probably the only patrons for at least two hours. We supped some Diamond White and had a bit of a dance until someones Dad came to pick us up at the Cinderella like hour of 11.30pm.
Conversely I loved Sixth form and adored my time at University, because you were treated like an adult there and were also learning things you actually wanted to learn. I dropped maths and sciences as soon as I was able and have never indulged in team sports since.
So yep, so called best days of my life. I beg to differ...
Sunday 8 August 2010
The Rave up of the Century... allegedly
I've been clearing up the garage this weekend and much to my amusement I have come across this, possibly my first ever attempt at journalism... the below is extremely cringeworthy.
Title: The Rave up of the Century!!!
On Saturday 22nd June 1991, I, Rachel Natalie Woolgar and my friend Susan Clair Matthews went to see the most gorgeous, talented, sexy, intelligent and grooviest rapper in the world, but his show was cancelled so we had to see Vanilla Ice instead (Only jokin' fans!!!)
We left Basingstoke at around 5.15pm to get to Wembley Arena in plenty of time for the 8pm show. We were both dressed in similar outfits (Levis T-shirts, jeans and trainers). I was excited and nervous but I don't know how Susan felt. I mean it's not every day you get to see somebody famous, someone whose pictures are on your walls, whose music you listen to, someone whose wild lifestyle is constantly in magazines and newspapers.
It didn't take long to get to London and soon we were trying to find the arena (don't worry Susan we weren't lost!) by about 6.30pm (ish) we were both trying to hide our excitement and nervousness as we went to join the long queue on the 'Blue Side'.
After passing various food stalls, we queued up behind three "Scabby McFlabbies", the queue seemed endless! I never realised the Ice man had quite so many fans! As we've moved along at a snail's pace I felt alarmed at the prospect of going a bit weird and OTT when Vanilla Ice came out on stage!
At around 6.55pm we were finally in (We had managed to escape the perils of being filmed by a film-crew) and having to part with our much valued tickets. Luckily you get half back as that is the only existing memory I have.
Merchandise next, there were daggy white T-shirts (£13) happenin' black T-shirts (Also £13) rather flimsy and rip-offy pendant thingymejiggs (£7) baseball caps (a rather un-respectable £13) and big, glossy posters (£4). Susan bought the nice type of T-shirt (Black) and we were away.
A Wembley steward showed us to seats 7 and 8, row L. We were in block 22 which to our surprise had a rather good view. Sitting down we realised we had an hour to kill till the support act were on (Riff) so after parting with our coats and then putting them back on again we went to the toilet.
After being shown to our seats (Again!!!) we sat around for a bit longer and then we decided to go and get some frozen yoghurt. Susan got a large strawberry one and after debating whether to get vanilla or not I decided to get a 'regular' strawberry one (NNNNNNOOOOOO topping!!!). This time we were not shown to our seats (Must've recognised us!) and after Susan thinking she was "Going to go for a Burton" we were both seated yoghurts and all in our seats.
It was now around 7.45pm, we were no so hyped all we could do was giggle rather hysterically and poked fun at the so-called "dudes" infront of us! As something to do we decided to work out where Rachel and Katherine had sat for their NKOTB concert: Huh! so much for seeing Joe's blue eyes! Their view must've been terrible (Well what do you expect at a NKOTB concert?)
I can't remember what we did till 8pm but I can remember getting more and more excited! When Riff came on I think I must've gone ape! Using Susan's "Opera glasses" we got a good view of the group, they were young black Americans, most of their songs were acapella numbers, very dancey. They were really good, and I think they could go far. They finished at around 8.30pm.
Susan and I had had quite a boogy to Riff's music and were getting really tense and hyped for the main attraction. I remember saying to Susan a few days before "Do you think you'll scream?" she'd said "No!". But at about 9.05pm on Saturday 22nd June 1991 as Robert Van Winkle, his funny clothes, dancers and brilliant raps came on stage I wasn't going to hold her to that!
As he started his first song ("Ice is workin' it", I think, I can't remember) I found I couldn't move, I couldn't believe he was on stage! I don't think Susan could either because she was crying!!! But soon we had calmed down and we were well into the music, I couldn't stop screaming! I thought I'd feel a bit of a plapper screaming - but everybody bar the adults and boys were screaming!
Using Susan's glasses I took in his outfit, a flashy American flag jacket and some stripey sequined shorts. No doubt he wore his usual pair of Nike trainers and his "#1" necklace.
The songs he played were: Ice, Ice Baby, Stop that Train, Hooked, Ice is workin' it, Life is a fantasy, Play that funky music, Satisfaction, Rollin' in my 5.0, Havin' a Roni and something that sounded a bit like 'Rosta Man' but wasn't!
Now I shall write a bit about the above songs.
"Ice Ice baby" was really good - the first time he just started the 2nd verse and then the audience just finished it for him! He told us he'd done lots of shows in lots of towns in lots of countries and was amazed we knew all the words! (I personally think this was bull- I mean, who doesn't know the lyrics to that song!!!??? Still it was pretty good.)
"Stop that train" always one of my fave songs, despite the pervy lyrics!!! it was exceptionally good live. "Hooked" was excellent, the groovy sax solo sounded really good (Whilst queueing up earlier we'd heard the saxophonist practicing this.) "Ice is workin' it" can't really remember much about this as I was screaming my head off all the way through, I'd never really thought of this as one of his better songs, but as always it sounded better live.
"Life is a fantasy" even if this song is of the strictly pervy nature it was pretty happening. "Play that funky music" my third best V.I song sounded hip and ultra groovy as Vanilla Ice and his posse launched into the 7" version of his top twenty hit.
"Rollin' in my 5.0" I hadn't even heard this one before and I'd heard it wasn't too good, but that must be a matter of opinion as I think it's really good! "Havin' a Roni" Vanilla Ice to audience ; "Are there any single women out there tonight?" Audience, especially a certain person whose initials are R.W "Yyyyyyyyeeeeeessssssssssss!!!". If I'd known then what a 'Roni' was I wouldn't have screamed so loud! This number finished off the show, it was a little longer than the album version (which last 1 min 09 secs) and the audience went wild!
As for the other song - what the hell was it??? Can't really comment on that one, 'cause I don't even know what it was called!! In between all those songs we were introduced to the V.I.P posse who demonstrated their dancing and rap techniques. We also had a competition! Who out of the left, right and middle could scream the loudest!!! I think we were the middle and we certainly gave it all we had in the screaming department!!!!!!
One thing that'll always stick in my head was the bit when V.I got us chanting: Vanilla Ice : "When I raise this arm (his right) I want all the women to shout "GO ICE! GO ICE GO!" and when I raise this arm (his left) I want all the men to shout "GO, GO, GO, GO HUUUURRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!". The 'Hurrrrrrggggghhhhh' consisted of thrusting one's groin forward, tres pervy! In fact it was all the chanting (Pump it up, pump it up London! Jus' wave yer hands in the air and wave 'em like you just don't care, Go white boy go white boy go!!!) that made it what it was, a brilliant night.
As he left the stage ("I'm outttaaaaaa here!") at about 10.45pm my only criticisms were: It was over, it didn't last long enough and he didn't play my favourite "I love you".
So it was back down the steps in a throng of people along the corridor and out the main entrance to find Susan's Dad by the "Number 2" pillar (Easier said than done!) however we were soon seated in the car amongst a lot of traffic. It was all over, but at least we had many happy memories (and ringing ears) !!!!!
Copyright Rachel Natalie Woolgar, June 29th 1991.
Jesus wept...
A few things to note: A 'Roni' was apparently slang for a virgin - delightful.
I am not exactly sure on what level a T-shirt can be happenin'.
Who the hell were Riff?
I loved the over use of exclamation marks even back then.
I am really not sure why a career at the NME did not beckon after this...
Title: The Rave up of the Century!!!
On Saturday 22nd June 1991, I, Rachel Natalie Woolgar and my friend Susan Clair Matthews went to see the most gorgeous, talented, sexy, intelligent and grooviest rapper in the world, but his show was cancelled so we had to see Vanilla Ice instead (Only jokin' fans!!!)
We left Basingstoke at around 5.15pm to get to Wembley Arena in plenty of time for the 8pm show. We were both dressed in similar outfits (Levis T-shirts, jeans and trainers). I was excited and nervous but I don't know how Susan felt. I mean it's not every day you get to see somebody famous, someone whose pictures are on your walls, whose music you listen to, someone whose wild lifestyle is constantly in magazines and newspapers.
It didn't take long to get to London and soon we were trying to find the arena (don't worry Susan we weren't lost!) by about 6.30pm (ish) we were both trying to hide our excitement and nervousness as we went to join the long queue on the 'Blue Side'.
After passing various food stalls, we queued up behind three "Scabby McFlabbies", the queue seemed endless! I never realised the Ice man had quite so many fans! As we've moved along at a snail's pace I felt alarmed at the prospect of going a bit weird and OTT when Vanilla Ice came out on stage!
At around 6.55pm we were finally in (We had managed to escape the perils of being filmed by a film-crew) and having to part with our much valued tickets. Luckily you get half back as that is the only existing memory I have.
Merchandise next, there were daggy white T-shirts (£13) happenin' black T-shirts (Also £13) rather flimsy and rip-offy pendant thingymejiggs (£7) baseball caps (a rather un-respectable £13) and big, glossy posters (£4). Susan bought the nice type of T-shirt (Black) and we were away.
A Wembley steward showed us to seats 7 and 8, row L. We were in block 22 which to our surprise had a rather good view. Sitting down we realised we had an hour to kill till the support act were on (Riff) so after parting with our coats and then putting them back on again we went to the toilet.
After being shown to our seats (Again!!!) we sat around for a bit longer and then we decided to go and get some frozen yoghurt. Susan got a large strawberry one and after debating whether to get vanilla or not I decided to get a 'regular' strawberry one (NNNNNNOOOOOO topping!!!). This time we were not shown to our seats (Must've recognised us!) and after Susan thinking she was "Going to go for a Burton" we were both seated yoghurts and all in our seats.
It was now around 7.45pm, we were no so hyped all we could do was giggle rather hysterically and poked fun at the so-called "dudes" infront of us! As something to do we decided to work out where Rachel and Katherine had sat for their NKOTB concert: Huh! so much for seeing Joe's blue eyes! Their view must've been terrible (Well what do you expect at a NKOTB concert?)
I can't remember what we did till 8pm but I can remember getting more and more excited! When Riff came on I think I must've gone ape! Using Susan's "Opera glasses" we got a good view of the group, they were young black Americans, most of their songs were acapella numbers, very dancey. They were really good, and I think they could go far. They finished at around 8.30pm.
Susan and I had had quite a boogy to Riff's music and were getting really tense and hyped for the main attraction. I remember saying to Susan a few days before "Do you think you'll scream?" she'd said "No!". But at about 9.05pm on Saturday 22nd June 1991 as Robert Van Winkle, his funny clothes, dancers and brilliant raps came on stage I wasn't going to hold her to that!
As he started his first song ("Ice is workin' it", I think, I can't remember) I found I couldn't move, I couldn't believe he was on stage! I don't think Susan could either because she was crying!!! But soon we had calmed down and we were well into the music, I couldn't stop screaming! I thought I'd feel a bit of a plapper screaming - but everybody bar the adults and boys were screaming!
Using Susan's glasses I took in his outfit, a flashy American flag jacket and some stripey sequined shorts. No doubt he wore his usual pair of Nike trainers and his "#1" necklace.
The songs he played were: Ice, Ice Baby, Stop that Train, Hooked, Ice is workin' it, Life is a fantasy, Play that funky music, Satisfaction, Rollin' in my 5.0, Havin' a Roni and something that sounded a bit like 'Rosta Man' but wasn't!
Now I shall write a bit about the above songs.
"Ice Ice baby" was really good - the first time he just started the 2nd verse and then the audience just finished it for him! He told us he'd done lots of shows in lots of towns in lots of countries and was amazed we knew all the words! (I personally think this was bull- I mean, who doesn't know the lyrics to that song!!!??? Still it was pretty good.)
"Stop that train" always one of my fave songs, despite the pervy lyrics!!! it was exceptionally good live. "Hooked" was excellent, the groovy sax solo sounded really good (Whilst queueing up earlier we'd heard the saxophonist practicing this.) "Ice is workin' it" can't really remember much about this as I was screaming my head off all the way through, I'd never really thought of this as one of his better songs, but as always it sounded better live.
"Life is a fantasy" even if this song is of the strictly pervy nature it was pretty happening. "Play that funky music" my third best V.I song sounded hip and ultra groovy as Vanilla Ice and his posse launched into the 7" version of his top twenty hit.
"Rollin' in my 5.0" I hadn't even heard this one before and I'd heard it wasn't too good, but that must be a matter of opinion as I think it's really good! "Havin' a Roni" Vanilla Ice to audience ; "Are there any single women out there tonight?" Audience, especially a certain person whose initials are R.W "Yyyyyyyyeeeeeessssssssssss!!!". If I'd known then what a 'Roni' was I wouldn't have screamed so loud! This number finished off the show, it was a little longer than the album version (which last 1 min 09 secs) and the audience went wild!
As for the other song - what the hell was it??? Can't really comment on that one, 'cause I don't even know what it was called!! In between all those songs we were introduced to the V.I.P posse who demonstrated their dancing and rap techniques. We also had a competition! Who out of the left, right and middle could scream the loudest!!! I think we were the middle and we certainly gave it all we had in the screaming department!!!!!!
One thing that'll always stick in my head was the bit when V.I got us chanting: Vanilla Ice : "When I raise this arm (his right) I want all the women to shout "GO ICE! GO ICE GO!" and when I raise this arm (his left) I want all the men to shout "GO, GO, GO, GO HUUUURRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!". The 'Hurrrrrrggggghhhhh' consisted of thrusting one's groin forward, tres pervy! In fact it was all the chanting (Pump it up, pump it up London! Jus' wave yer hands in the air and wave 'em like you just don't care, Go white boy go white boy go!!!) that made it what it was, a brilliant night.
As he left the stage ("I'm outttaaaaaa here!") at about 10.45pm my only criticisms were: It was over, it didn't last long enough and he didn't play my favourite "I love you".
So it was back down the steps in a throng of people along the corridor and out the main entrance to find Susan's Dad by the "Number 2" pillar (Easier said than done!) however we were soon seated in the car amongst a lot of traffic. It was all over, but at least we had many happy memories (and ringing ears) !!!!!
Copyright Rachel Natalie Woolgar, June 29th 1991.
Jesus wept...
A few things to note: A 'Roni' was apparently slang for a virgin - delightful.
I am not exactly sure on what level a T-shirt can be happenin'.
Who the hell were Riff?
I loved the over use of exclamation marks even back then.
I am really not sure why a career at the NME did not beckon after this...
Friday 6 August 2010
Adventures in chairland...the chapter ends
Just a v.quick excuse for a post this week as I fear that there is SO much going on right now (when is there not...?) that I may get a bit behind with my 'one a week' commitment to blogging. I have got next week off but ... there has been a significant development with the move and it looks like we will be moving house in just under two weeks. Same week I start the new job. So I think the next few weeks are going to be a bit hectic whilst I try and declutter 10 years of crap from my house. It's the kitchen cupboards tomorrow (there's a tin of BEAR in there, of all things) and today a huge bag of clothes was left out for the NSPCC. Although to be fair, a sack of clothing cleared out of my wardrobe is about as effective as chucking a deckchair off the Titanic. But still.
So, just under two hours to go at 'the job'. 'The job' that got me out of a hole after not working for six months (halcyon days full of endless trips to the gym and Starbucks, oh yes and the Job Centre.) but 'The job' that has also threatened by mental health somewhat the last few months as I felt increasingly stuck in somewhat of a career cul-de-sac. I have scored a bottle of Moet and a posh plant for the new gaff.
And so back to publishing. During my 18 month hiatus from publishing I have questioned whether I really wanted to go back into it, or if I was just clinging to it because it's all I've ever known/done since University. During my interview at the new place I realised how enthusiastic (geeky?) and animated I became as I talked about publishing, book shops, selling cycles, retailers vs wholesalers etc and also how right it felt to be surrounded again by books in display units, dump bins and, even better, spilling out of crammed bookshelves. I felt like I'd come home.
No doubt I will blog about it so watch this space...
So, just under two hours to go at 'the job'. 'The job' that got me out of a hole after not working for six months (halcyon days full of endless trips to the gym and Starbucks, oh yes and the Job Centre.) but 'The job' that has also threatened by mental health somewhat the last few months as I felt increasingly stuck in somewhat of a career cul-de-sac. I have scored a bottle of Moet and a posh plant for the new gaff.
And so back to publishing. During my 18 month hiatus from publishing I have questioned whether I really wanted to go back into it, or if I was just clinging to it because it's all I've ever known/done since University. During my interview at the new place I realised how enthusiastic (geeky?) and animated I became as I talked about publishing, book shops, selling cycles, retailers vs wholesalers etc and also how right it felt to be surrounded again by books in display units, dump bins and, even better, spilling out of crammed bookshelves. I felt like I'd come home.
No doubt I will blog about it so watch this space...
Tuesday 27 July 2010
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Ok I’ll ‘fess up that the topic of this blog was inspired by someone who is far more talented and entertaining than I could ever be Ladies & Gents meet : http://thedollsays.wordpress.com/
So The Doll’s blog kinda got me thinking about the Sundays of my youth. Cast your minds back to when Sundays were ‘a day of rest’ and there was nothing save for maybe your local corner shop open. It wasn’t really that long ago I think Sunday trading started (in 1994 or thereabouts). Hence Sundays were ‘boring’ when you were a child and retail opportunities and fun were on lockdown.
For me a typical Sunday as a child went something like this: swimming at the Westfield Lido with Dad and older Sister, sometimes Mum would come to watch from the viewing gallery. I say watch but whenever my sister and I were desperate to catch her eye to show off some fancy new acrobatic move we had just invented she was far more interested in thumbing through her ‘Ideal Home’ magazine. Next on the agenda was the Sunday Roast. It was always chicken because at the time chicken was cheap. That meant that the next few night’s dinners were also chicken based. Mum even used to boil up the carcass to make soup. I did grow up in the 80s honest, not the 40s! You can also see why my transition to vegetarianism was an easy thing with only dry old chicken to satisfy any carnivorous urges. It was also the one day of the week we got ‘proper pudding’ rather than the ubiquitous Neapolitan ice-cream or Super mousse.
After the delicious lunch my parents would then thumb through the vast range of Sunday papers and supplements. This is still a staple in their Sundays! This was of course pre-Eastenders Omnibus era so there was sod all on the television. If we harangued and whinged enough then there may be a small family outing after lunch. Nothing too riveting I can assure you. Usually a walk round a local garden, garden centre or stately home that sort of thing. All very dull and middle class but sometimes a tea room or ice lolly might feature that made it worthwhile. More often though an argument between Mum & Dad as they got lost en route or couldn’t find a parking spot.
If the weather was inclement there was no chance for one of these beanos. Instead Mum would tackle a pile or ironing in front of a ‘boring’ black and white film and Dad would polish the shoes ready for school and work. I am sure he did other stuff too but my memory is just of him polishing shoes.
Things brightened up around 5 o’clock on a Sunday evening. No, not because of Songs of Praise but because that was when most weeks you would sit, cross legged on your bedroom floor worshipping at your little tape deck/radio combo taping your favorite songs from the Top 40! Oh yes, this rite of passage didn’t pass me by and I think it was not that long ago I last threw out some tapes labelled as ‘Top 40’ ! You see I didn’t tape over them the following week, oh no, I catalogued them and kept them ad infinitum incase, you know, I just had the urge to hear ‘Camouflage’ by Stan Ridgeway or ‘History’ by Mai Tai. In the days before Spotify this is what we had to do! For quite some time I had a separate LW/MW radio balanced atop a small portable cassette player in order to achieve my quest. Sound quality was shite but at least I could still hear my beloved charts whenever I wanted to. This was the future!
Attempts to record the Top 40 were often interrupted by the drudgery of the weekly bath and hairwash. I know. Once a week! Ew gross! But it seems that this was the norm and not some soap dodging laziness on my part. Once the hair had been washed and your eyes no longer resembled that of a rabid dog once the shampoo had been fully rinsed out, then you were sated with a ‘snack tea’ as the main meal had already been taken at lunchtime. I know what the ‘snack tea’ consisted of as there is photographic evidence of it somewhere. With my Sister and me resplendent in those very long old fashioned nighties, which were de rigeur in the early 80s, with newly washed wet hair tucking into plates of sandwiches (possibly marmite), Sainsbury’s own brand crisps and Penguin biscuits with beakers of milk and squash to hand.
And then you really had to face facts that: Gulp! It was school again tomorrow. Doom! I remember being allowed to stay up until 8.35pm on a Sunday so that we could watch the end of ‘Howard’s Way’ so once you’d watched yet another episode with Ken Masters sporting some dodgy pastel coloured sweater trying to get off with yet another young girl you were packed off to bed. I will always remember that ‘Mastermind’ was next up on the beeb with its’ ominous and rousing theme tune. If you were in bed and you heard the closing theme tune to that segueing to the theme to ‘That’s Life’ you knew you really were in trouble as you hadn’t managed to get to sleep yet!
So there you have it, a charming insight into what Sundays used to be like before nearly everything opened. In writing this I think I do feel some sadness that now Sunday is essentially just another day rather than a little bit special. Although of course I enjoy the fact that you can go shopping to places that sell things other than plants and ornamental pots!
So The Doll’s blog kinda got me thinking about the Sundays of my youth. Cast your minds back to when Sundays were ‘a day of rest’ and there was nothing save for maybe your local corner shop open. It wasn’t really that long ago I think Sunday trading started (in 1994 or thereabouts). Hence Sundays were ‘boring’ when you were a child and retail opportunities and fun were on lockdown.
For me a typical Sunday as a child went something like this: swimming at the Westfield Lido with Dad and older Sister, sometimes Mum would come to watch from the viewing gallery. I say watch but whenever my sister and I were desperate to catch her eye to show off some fancy new acrobatic move we had just invented she was far more interested in thumbing through her ‘Ideal Home’ magazine. Next on the agenda was the Sunday Roast. It was always chicken because at the time chicken was cheap. That meant that the next few night’s dinners were also chicken based. Mum even used to boil up the carcass to make soup. I did grow up in the 80s honest, not the 40s! You can also see why my transition to vegetarianism was an easy thing with only dry old chicken to satisfy any carnivorous urges. It was also the one day of the week we got ‘proper pudding’ rather than the ubiquitous Neapolitan ice-cream or Super mousse.
After the delicious lunch my parents would then thumb through the vast range of Sunday papers and supplements. This is still a staple in their Sundays! This was of course pre-Eastenders Omnibus era so there was sod all on the television. If we harangued and whinged enough then there may be a small family outing after lunch. Nothing too riveting I can assure you. Usually a walk round a local garden, garden centre or stately home that sort of thing. All very dull and middle class but sometimes a tea room or ice lolly might feature that made it worthwhile. More often though an argument between Mum & Dad as they got lost en route or couldn’t find a parking spot.
If the weather was inclement there was no chance for one of these beanos. Instead Mum would tackle a pile or ironing in front of a ‘boring’ black and white film and Dad would polish the shoes ready for school and work. I am sure he did other stuff too but my memory is just of him polishing shoes.
Things brightened up around 5 o’clock on a Sunday evening. No, not because of Songs of Praise but because that was when most weeks you would sit, cross legged on your bedroom floor worshipping at your little tape deck/radio combo taping your favorite songs from the Top 40! Oh yes, this rite of passage didn’t pass me by and I think it was not that long ago I last threw out some tapes labelled as ‘Top 40’ ! You see I didn’t tape over them the following week, oh no, I catalogued them and kept them ad infinitum incase, you know, I just had the urge to hear ‘Camouflage’ by Stan Ridgeway or ‘History’ by Mai Tai. In the days before Spotify this is what we had to do! For quite some time I had a separate LW/MW radio balanced atop a small portable cassette player in order to achieve my quest. Sound quality was shite but at least I could still hear my beloved charts whenever I wanted to. This was the future!
Attempts to record the Top 40 were often interrupted by the drudgery of the weekly bath and hairwash. I know. Once a week! Ew gross! But it seems that this was the norm and not some soap dodging laziness on my part. Once the hair had been washed and your eyes no longer resembled that of a rabid dog once the shampoo had been fully rinsed out, then you were sated with a ‘snack tea’ as the main meal had already been taken at lunchtime. I know what the ‘snack tea’ consisted of as there is photographic evidence of it somewhere. With my Sister and me resplendent in those very long old fashioned nighties, which were de rigeur in the early 80s, with newly washed wet hair tucking into plates of sandwiches (possibly marmite), Sainsbury’s own brand crisps and Penguin biscuits with beakers of milk and squash to hand.
And then you really had to face facts that: Gulp! It was school again tomorrow. Doom! I remember being allowed to stay up until 8.35pm on a Sunday so that we could watch the end of ‘Howard’s Way’ so once you’d watched yet another episode with Ken Masters sporting some dodgy pastel coloured sweater trying to get off with yet another young girl you were packed off to bed. I will always remember that ‘Mastermind’ was next up on the beeb with its’ ominous and rousing theme tune. If you were in bed and you heard the closing theme tune to that segueing to the theme to ‘That’s Life’ you knew you really were in trouble as you hadn’t managed to get to sleep yet!
So there you have it, a charming insight into what Sundays used to be like before nearly everything opened. In writing this I think I do feel some sadness that now Sunday is essentially just another day rather than a little bit special. Although of course I enjoy the fact that you can go shopping to places that sell things other than plants and ornamental pots!
Tuesday 20 July 2010
Musings, or, an excuse of a blog
I've been trying to think of something to blog about in the last week but alas, I am suffering from writers' block. There are far too many thoughts whirling round my head relating to my last blog and a weekend of intensive carb consumption, wine and sunshine has not assisted.
So instead, here are a few random things for your delectation that are inhabiting my noggin.
I did a core workout so severe yesterday that today it is a struggle to use a hole punch. That may sound odd but the hole punch here is no ordinary hole punch, oh no! this is a behemoth hole punch indeed! you have to stand up to use it and hence use a lot of your body weight to punch holes in things. Hence the twinge in my abs earlier. If this hole punch was, say, a sportsman it'd be David Haye! It's ok, I just won't file anything... who cares I AM LEAVING.
I am going to Wagamama's tonight with my friend Laura. Despite the fact that I have probably been to a Wagas on average every other month for the past five years I have, of course, looked at the menu on line to plan my scoffing. Futile really as I nearly always have the Yasai Chilli Men. I love the fact that most restaurant and coffee shop chains now put their menus online! I also love it when Nutritional Info is included. Suffice to say this has now ruled out Starbucks Peppermint Mochas for life and likewise 70% of the Pizza Express menu.
When did ice cream get so bloody expensive? I was rinsed nearly £5 for a measly scoop of Turkish Delight flavour in a plastic cup and a scoop of Mint Choc Chip in a slightly fancy chocolate cone over the weekend.
I am also momentarily distracted by this: http://www.pauls-boutique.com/default.aspx?scid=4&wcid=15&wscid=76
That is all.
What's going on in your brains?
So instead, here are a few random things for your delectation that are inhabiting my noggin.
I did a core workout so severe yesterday that today it is a struggle to use a hole punch. That may sound odd but the hole punch here is no ordinary hole punch, oh no! this is a behemoth hole punch indeed! you have to stand up to use it and hence use a lot of your body weight to punch holes in things. Hence the twinge in my abs earlier. If this hole punch was, say, a sportsman it'd be David Haye! It's ok, I just won't file anything... who cares I AM LEAVING.
I am going to Wagamama's tonight with my friend Laura. Despite the fact that I have probably been to a Wagas on average every other month for the past five years I have, of course, looked at the menu on line to plan my scoffing. Futile really as I nearly always have the Yasai Chilli Men. I love the fact that most restaurant and coffee shop chains now put their menus online! I also love it when Nutritional Info is included. Suffice to say this has now ruled out Starbucks Peppermint Mochas for life and likewise 70% of the Pizza Express menu.
When did ice cream get so bloody expensive? I was rinsed nearly £5 for a measly scoop of Turkish Delight flavour in a plastic cup and a scoop of Mint Choc Chip in a slightly fancy chocolate cone over the weekend.
I am also momentarily distracted by this: http://www.pauls-boutique.com/default.aspx?scid=4&wcid=15&wscid=76
That is all.
What's going on in your brains?
Wednesday 30 June 2010
Hello 18 year old me...
I've been clearing out my loft recently. I found an absolute treasure trove of concert tickets, letters, postcards, cuttings etc from around 1995-1998. One of the things I stumbled across was a sheet of paper written by my classmates from my A-level English Lit class on the last day of term. We all had to pass around a sheet of paper and privately write what we thought of one another...within reason.
Here are my responses from June 1995:
*You have a dry, witty sense of humour that has kept me clutching my belly for many hours in English and also at work - Scott's socks ha ha!
* Rachael (sic) is a quiet member of the group, but extremely nice girl to have in the group - very brainy as well!
*Rachel tells funny stories and is also full of ideas
* A hard worker, always with good ideas - I apologise for being such a lazy git when in your group
*I'll remember your sense of justice and outrage about the way women are treated or portrayed - lovely
*Good luck you indie freak. I like your reddish hair colour, it's cool
* Good luck yes I love the hair colour it is really nice
*You were easily the best looking girl in my Media Studies class and I hope I didn't annoy you too much
*Sorry I bought the same T-shirt as you. I love your hair colour
*Cheers Echobelly your sunny disposition will be sorely missed by me at least. See you on the bus sometime
*I like your hair. You're friendly and lovely. P.s your Elastica t-shirt is cool
*Mia amici! a hip taste in T-shirts and hair colour. A funky Italian failure - cool!
*I love the way you always listen to my moaning and worrying without slapping me and telling me to shut up - thank you!
*Cheesy cheesy pants! I love you Rach, you make me laugh you dirty bugger! Vaseline forever, send me your pants through the post. I love you!
*I must say I love the colour of your hair! Its so bright and vibrant! reflecting how you seem to me. I don't think you've done any really memorable things but I'm sure I'll remember you, all the best
*I've known you for ages and for any comments referring to life in V5 at Richard Aldworth see any previous autograph books! Its been nice sitting next to you, good luck in the future, only a few weeks left at WHSmith's!
So there you have it, a valuable insight into what my peers thought of the 18 year old me. I'd just like to issue a few disclaimers: I have NO idea what my hair colour was everyone was raving about although I suspect it was Wella colour mousse in 'Chilli Pepper' as that was my favourite. My hair was often the sort of colour Florence Welch's is now albeit on a cheaper budget. As for being the 'best looking girl in Media Studies' this wasn't the coup it may seem as there was only three of us!
The person who wrote the comment about me being outraged about portrayal of women was actually my A-level English teacher. R.i.p Joanna Kime. Diagnosed with breast cancer whilst we took our A-levels in 1995 she died in 2001. She gave me the confidence and self belief that I was good enough to do English Literature at University. An excellent teacher and role model.
Embarrassingly I can still be spotted on the bus so nothing new there...
Here are my responses from June 1995:
*You have a dry, witty sense of humour that has kept me clutching my belly for many hours in English and also at work - Scott's socks ha ha!
* Rachael (sic) is a quiet member of the group, but extremely nice girl to have in the group - very brainy as well!
*Rachel tells funny stories and is also full of ideas
* A hard worker, always with good ideas - I apologise for being such a lazy git when in your group
*I'll remember your sense of justice and outrage about the way women are treated or portrayed - lovely
*Good luck you indie freak. I like your reddish hair colour, it's cool
* Good luck yes I love the hair colour it is really nice
*You were easily the best looking girl in my Media Studies class and I hope I didn't annoy you too much
*Sorry I bought the same T-shirt as you. I love your hair colour
*Cheers Echobelly your sunny disposition will be sorely missed by me at least. See you on the bus sometime
*I like your hair. You're friendly and lovely. P.s your Elastica t-shirt is cool
*Mia amici! a hip taste in T-shirts and hair colour. A funky Italian failure - cool!
*I love the way you always listen to my moaning and worrying without slapping me and telling me to shut up - thank you!
*Cheesy cheesy pants! I love you Rach, you make me laugh you dirty bugger! Vaseline forever, send me your pants through the post. I love you!
*I must say I love the colour of your hair! Its so bright and vibrant! reflecting how you seem to me. I don't think you've done any really memorable things but I'm sure I'll remember you, all the best
*I've known you for ages and for any comments referring to life in V5 at Richard Aldworth see any previous autograph books! Its been nice sitting next to you, good luck in the future, only a few weeks left at WHSmith's!
So there you have it, a valuable insight into what my peers thought of the 18 year old me. I'd just like to issue a few disclaimers: I have NO idea what my hair colour was everyone was raving about although I suspect it was Wella colour mousse in 'Chilli Pepper' as that was my favourite. My hair was often the sort of colour Florence Welch's is now albeit on a cheaper budget. As for being the 'best looking girl in Media Studies' this wasn't the coup it may seem as there was only three of us!
The person who wrote the comment about me being outraged about portrayal of women was actually my A-level English teacher. R.i.p Joanna Kime. Diagnosed with breast cancer whilst we took our A-levels in 1995 she died in 2001. She gave me the confidence and self belief that I was good enough to do English Literature at University. An excellent teacher and role model.
Embarrassingly I can still be spotted on the bus so nothing new there...
Sunday 20 June 2010
Seafood Terrorism
In 2003 I found myself suddenly single again following the breakdown of a four year relationship. By way of coping with my new found singledom I decided to embrace a concept that was previously alien to me...that of going out 'on the town' on Friday or Saturday nights with your other single mates 'on the pull'! Usually this was just me and my workfriend, Cara, but sometimes other ladies tagged along too. I was single for about 18 months and in that time some of the things that happened to myself and Cara were often classified under the heading "you couldn't make these things up" and we often joked about how we should write a book about some of experiences.
Well, the book never quite got underway so instead I am going to recount some of the bizarre and amusing incidents on my blog. So here is the first chapter, ladies and gentlemen I present the concept of seafood terrorism...
On one of our many drunken nights out Cara had met a chap called Gary, a few dates had happened but in the end they settled on er, what I shall politely call "an arrangement". This arrangement had been going on for a few months when we bumped into him in town. We wrongly assumed that at the end of the evening the arrangement would, well, 'be arranged'; but for some reason that night it was not to be.
In the morning Cara awoke to find a text from him asking if "your friend REBECCA is single?". Cara being the totally top bird that she is asked me if I was interested. Er, hello? hang on a minute... he's been seeing YOU? why is he asking about ME??? you just don't do that right? right?
Naturally both Cara and I were incensed about this, not least because he didn't even know my name and started to joke about what revenge we could wreak on him. One thing we started joking about was the urban myth about the woman who put prawns in her cheating husband's curtain pole so that they rotted in the summer and caused quite a stench with him being totally vexed at where the aroma was emanating from. Cara and I joked that Gary was too good for king prawns and that we'd have to use crabsticks instead.
Some weeks passed and we found ourselves at a 40th birthday party at a pub which happened to be very near to where Gary lived. A buffet was involved. The buffet featured crabsticks. We had been drinking beer and felt devilish and lo, the plan was hatched. On our next outing to the buffet we secreted 4 or so crabsticks a piece into our handbags wrapped in a napkin.
When the party was over we sneaked around to where he lived, calmly opened up his letterbox and lobbed the fishy treats through. Giggling like schoolchildren we then ran as fast as we could away from the scene of the crime.
The funny thing was Cara actually got a call from him that evening!
So there you are, revenge is a dish best served cold. But if it's seafood then perhaps some brown bread and a nice wedge of lemon.
No names have been changed to protect the (not so) innocent.
Well, the book never quite got underway so instead I am going to recount some of the bizarre and amusing incidents on my blog. So here is the first chapter, ladies and gentlemen I present the concept of seafood terrorism...
On one of our many drunken nights out Cara had met a chap called Gary, a few dates had happened but in the end they settled on er, what I shall politely call "an arrangement". This arrangement had been going on for a few months when we bumped into him in town. We wrongly assumed that at the end of the evening the arrangement would, well, 'be arranged'; but for some reason that night it was not to be.
In the morning Cara awoke to find a text from him asking if "your friend REBECCA is single?". Cara being the totally top bird that she is asked me if I was interested. Er, hello? hang on a minute... he's been seeing YOU? why is he asking about ME??? you just don't do that right? right?
Naturally both Cara and I were incensed about this, not least because he didn't even know my name and started to joke about what revenge we could wreak on him. One thing we started joking about was the urban myth about the woman who put prawns in her cheating husband's curtain pole so that they rotted in the summer and caused quite a stench with him being totally vexed at where the aroma was emanating from. Cara and I joked that Gary was too good for king prawns and that we'd have to use crabsticks instead.
Some weeks passed and we found ourselves at a 40th birthday party at a pub which happened to be very near to where Gary lived. A buffet was involved. The buffet featured crabsticks. We had been drinking beer and felt devilish and lo, the plan was hatched. On our next outing to the buffet we secreted 4 or so crabsticks a piece into our handbags wrapped in a napkin.
When the party was over we sneaked around to where he lived, calmly opened up his letterbox and lobbed the fishy treats through. Giggling like schoolchildren we then ran as fast as we could away from the scene of the crime.
The funny thing was Cara actually got a call from him that evening!
So there you are, revenge is a dish best served cold. But if it's seafood then perhaps some brown bread and a nice wedge of lemon.
No names have been changed to protect the (not so) innocent.
Thursday 10 June 2010
My love affair with SATC: is the Honeymoon over?
So, finally, last night I got to see SATC2! you may recall in a previous post that seats had been booked in advance? yes, seats had been booked in advance but when we turned up last week one of said seats was broken! so after wheedling a free cinema voucher out of the staff and still on a cheap Cosmopolitan buzz we had to retire to La Tasca and seek solace in the delights of their strong Sangria. After that, the evening went decidedly un-glam with my friend devouring a Burger King (I had a coffee in a paper cup in there and had to ask to be let into the toilets) and then us hanging around the bus station like people half our age. I pressed my face up against Subway for a bit as that was all that was open. Not exactly downtown Manhattan, can't imagine Carrie et al doing that, but anyway...
Last night's attempt to see the film was more successful. Cocktails were still quaffed but this time, crucially, so was more food so we weren't half cut this time as we arrived at the cinema. This is not going to be a whole film review, per se, as I feel the media has been saturated with that for the past few weeks. This blog merely follows up from it's predecessor on the same subject referencing SATC in my own terms and what it means to me.
The film takes place two years after the last one left off so we get to see what has been going on in our beloved gals' lives. Without being too snidey I feel some surgery; SJP never had those breasts before and Kristin Davis looked a bit startled/manic as if she has overdone the Botox, but anyway... Carrie and Big (or are we calling him John now?) have been married for two years and so are adjusting to life as a newly married couple. This was particularly resonant for me as I have been married almost two years and it is indeed a period of adjustment (not necessarily in a bad way.) My husband and I (to quote dear Queen Lizzie) are still unsure if we will start a family and there is a scene in the film where Carrie has to justify to some nosey old bint at a wedding that it may 'just be us two'. This struck a chord as I find myself having to do this on an almost weekly basis as it is just assumed that babies will follow swiftly after you've said your "I dos". Your fertility seems to be every Tom, Dick and Harry's business and even in 2010 the idea that you may go against the grain and possibly not procreate is met with bemusement, bafflement and embarrassment (usually your own).
The other part which actually made me LOL, to use common parlance, was Big's penchant for watching "The Deadliest Catch" on the newly acquired giant flat screen television in the bedroom. My dear husband is also a fan of this programme, which by and large seems to be the same episode every time I have seen it. Good to know that even fictitious husbands are guilty of this!
Unfortunately the majority of the film is set in the 'New Middle East' in what I can only describe as a 'romp' through badly stereotyped Abu Dhabi. The girls descend on the city on Samantha's PR Junket and arrive proffering baggage a plenty and I'm not just referring to the hundreds of pieces of luggage they arrive toting. It is through this "Carry On (Carrie on?) through the Desert" style sojourn that the film and SATC 'inc' starts to lose the plot Big style (ha ha did you see what I did there?). With the exception of Miranda, the feisty females seem to revert back to the old neuroses that I thought they'd long shaken off a few series ago. I won't go into all the ins and outs of what was wrong with this portion of the film but cliche and stereotypes abound. I expect for some of the non-passport owning American audience this is exactly what they imagine foreign lands to be like - Shame on you writers!
It was entertaining enough if you take it for what it is, I wasn't expecting a huge plot twist or a clever narrative. It wasn't Hitchcock or Kubrick but neither was it trying to be! I won't ever give up on SATC. I loved the original series. The first film was quite good. The second film is ok. I believe there is a 3rd film planned but one can only imagine how further the characters will be assassinated in that...
In summary my friend Paula said "I took quite a lot from the SATC series in relation to my own life and what I wanted from it. I felt quite a connection to the character of Carrie. Although I can't deny that I enjoyed the movie, the cheesiness and cliche has completely shit all over the true meaning".
I couldn't help but wonder...if she was right?
(True fans may also be interested to read this:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2010/may/23/sex-and-the-city-film-terrible )
Last night's attempt to see the film was more successful. Cocktails were still quaffed but this time, crucially, so was more food so we weren't half cut this time as we arrived at the cinema. This is not going to be a whole film review, per se, as I feel the media has been saturated with that for the past few weeks. This blog merely follows up from it's predecessor on the same subject referencing SATC in my own terms and what it means to me.
The film takes place two years after the last one left off so we get to see what has been going on in our beloved gals' lives. Without being too snidey I feel some surgery; SJP never had those breasts before and Kristin Davis looked a bit startled/manic as if she has overdone the Botox, but anyway... Carrie and Big (or are we calling him John now?) have been married for two years and so are adjusting to life as a newly married couple. This was particularly resonant for me as I have been married almost two years and it is indeed a period of adjustment (not necessarily in a bad way.) My husband and I (to quote dear Queen Lizzie) are still unsure if we will start a family and there is a scene in the film where Carrie has to justify to some nosey old bint at a wedding that it may 'just be us two'. This struck a chord as I find myself having to do this on an almost weekly basis as it is just assumed that babies will follow swiftly after you've said your "I dos". Your fertility seems to be every Tom, Dick and Harry's business and even in 2010 the idea that you may go against the grain and possibly not procreate is met with bemusement, bafflement and embarrassment (usually your own).
The other part which actually made me LOL, to use common parlance, was Big's penchant for watching "The Deadliest Catch" on the newly acquired giant flat screen television in the bedroom. My dear husband is also a fan of this programme, which by and large seems to be the same episode every time I have seen it. Good to know that even fictitious husbands are guilty of this!
Unfortunately the majority of the film is set in the 'New Middle East' in what I can only describe as a 'romp' through badly stereotyped Abu Dhabi. The girls descend on the city on Samantha's PR Junket and arrive proffering baggage a plenty and I'm not just referring to the hundreds of pieces of luggage they arrive toting. It is through this "Carry On (Carrie on?) through the Desert" style sojourn that the film and SATC 'inc' starts to lose the plot Big style (ha ha did you see what I did there?). With the exception of Miranda, the feisty females seem to revert back to the old neuroses that I thought they'd long shaken off a few series ago. I won't go into all the ins and outs of what was wrong with this portion of the film but cliche and stereotypes abound. I expect for some of the non-passport owning American audience this is exactly what they imagine foreign lands to be like - Shame on you writers!
It was entertaining enough if you take it for what it is, I wasn't expecting a huge plot twist or a clever narrative. It wasn't Hitchcock or Kubrick but neither was it trying to be! I won't ever give up on SATC. I loved the original series. The first film was quite good. The second film is ok. I believe there is a 3rd film planned but one can only imagine how further the characters will be assassinated in that...
In summary my friend Paula said "I took quite a lot from the SATC series in relation to my own life and what I wanted from it. I felt quite a connection to the character of Carrie. Although I can't deny that I enjoyed the movie, the cheesiness and cliche has completely shit all over the true meaning".
I couldn't help but wonder...if she was right?
(True fans may also be interested to read this:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2010/may/23/sex-and-the-city-film-terrible )
Sunday 30 May 2010
In praise of colleagues
For those of you who don't know I currently spend 75% of my working week in an office on my own. Initially this concept appealed to me as I can be a miserable old sod sometimes and am great with my own company. I also thought how irritating colleagues can be and also how distracting, so I thought it was the ideal set up. 9 months later it has fast lost its' appeal, especially when so many of my friends have started new jobs in buzzy, busy offices.
When I landed my first office job almost ten years ago my first department was 'okay' but they didn't really get me. I'd say something witty or scathing and it was usually met with a 'tumbleweed' moment! Also the office manager was obviously in the throws of some sort of eating disorder and would comment "that's 4 now" or other such remarks as you went for the tin of chocolates! Hmmm. A nice enough group of people but I didn't really fit in.
Eighteen months later I was promoted to a similar role for the Export dept. From day one I slotted right in and realised I didn't have to tone down my sense of humour and could say what the hell I liked and even better than that people thought I was damn funny!
Pub club on a Friday was a regular highlight. Putting the world to rights over a hearty, usually chip based feast and then returning to the office usually 2.5hrs later, having come the longest possible route back from which ever public house we had patronised. Sometimes we would swing by the cake shop or more often a newsagent to get some treats for the afternoon. Whatever time we waltzed in the old maxim always applied "Too late to start anything now" and a glorious afternoon of snacking, arsing around, visiting the BT3A website ensued. For a period of about 18 months I was more often than not also going out on the lash/pull with one of the other ladies that worked there so we'd usually start plotting our night out.
Lorry watch was another popular past time in this department,as we overlooked the Sainsbury's depot. You got extra points for a Prestons of Potto lorry but not many for a Vitacress one. These were emblazoned with the slogan "Watercress makes a meal" um, I beg to differ?
I count myself lucky to have worked with such an amazing bunch of women and I am still in touch with them all with some of them being some of my closest friends.
Unfortunately I was passed over for promotion a few too many times (ha, I did actually do some work in case you're wondering so it wasn't because of that!) and had an ongoing issue with my salary so had to leave and head off to the big bad city to work for another publishing house. Again I found myself working with a good gang and made some more chums.
As soon as I joined I was inducted into the cult of Cake Friday where there was a rota and everyone had to take it in turns to bake. Although some people did cheat and buy it in instead. It was highly competitive and actually quite stressful! Having to find something to make that hadn't already been done and also trying to transport the bloody thing in on my 1 hr 20 commute proved tiresome! At the end of each rota there was also a Cake Idol scenario where we had to vote who had made the best one on that round, essentially a popularity contest. Apparently the politics around Cake Friday haven't changed, I've been told, and some of my ex-colleagues got there knickers in a real knot a few weeks back when gasp! they thought the new girl had forgotten to bow to cake Friday and were apparently debating this extremely loudly 'oh my god I can't believe she hasn't remembered' etc! Moments later a picture perfect Victoria Sponge was proffered so they literally had to eat their words...
End of month drinks were also a feature on the last Friday of each month. I didn't manage to go to many of these due to my commute, or I was working from home or had another social engagement to get back to. Wads of cash were put behind the bar by the company and it usually got very messy!
And now it's just me, myself and I. I always have to make the tea, there are never any goodies and there's no one to go to the pub with. Which is annoying as there is a very nice one a stone's throw from my office. It's really beginning to get me down and is one of the many reasons why I need to get the hell out. I guess it's not all bad... I did most of my paperwork for my fitness assessment at work, I've read books and magazines, drafted blogs, painted my nails, arsed around on Facebook & Twitter, watched things on I-player and even had a few crafty power naps at my desk. Swings and roundabouts I suppose...
When I landed my first office job almost ten years ago my first department was 'okay' but they didn't really get me. I'd say something witty or scathing and it was usually met with a 'tumbleweed' moment! Also the office manager was obviously in the throws of some sort of eating disorder and would comment "that's 4 now" or other such remarks as you went for the tin of chocolates! Hmmm. A nice enough group of people but I didn't really fit in.
Eighteen months later I was promoted to a similar role for the Export dept. From day one I slotted right in and realised I didn't have to tone down my sense of humour and could say what the hell I liked and even better than that people thought I was damn funny!
Pub club on a Friday was a regular highlight. Putting the world to rights over a hearty, usually chip based feast and then returning to the office usually 2.5hrs later, having come the longest possible route back from which ever public house we had patronised. Sometimes we would swing by the cake shop or more often a newsagent to get some treats for the afternoon. Whatever time we waltzed in the old maxim always applied "Too late to start anything now" and a glorious afternoon of snacking, arsing around, visiting the BT3A website ensued. For a period of about 18 months I was more often than not also going out on the lash/pull with one of the other ladies that worked there so we'd usually start plotting our night out.
Lorry watch was another popular past time in this department,as we overlooked the Sainsbury's depot. You got extra points for a Prestons of Potto lorry but not many for a Vitacress one. These were emblazoned with the slogan "Watercress makes a meal" um, I beg to differ?
I count myself lucky to have worked with such an amazing bunch of women and I am still in touch with them all with some of them being some of my closest friends.
Unfortunately I was passed over for promotion a few too many times (ha, I did actually do some work in case you're wondering so it wasn't because of that!) and had an ongoing issue with my salary so had to leave and head off to the big bad city to work for another publishing house. Again I found myself working with a good gang and made some more chums.
As soon as I joined I was inducted into the cult of Cake Friday where there was a rota and everyone had to take it in turns to bake. Although some people did cheat and buy it in instead. It was highly competitive and actually quite stressful! Having to find something to make that hadn't already been done and also trying to transport the bloody thing in on my 1 hr 20 commute proved tiresome! At the end of each rota there was also a Cake Idol scenario where we had to vote who had made the best one on that round, essentially a popularity contest. Apparently the politics around Cake Friday haven't changed, I've been told, and some of my ex-colleagues got there knickers in a real knot a few weeks back when gasp! they thought the new girl had forgotten to bow to cake Friday and were apparently debating this extremely loudly 'oh my god I can't believe she hasn't remembered' etc! Moments later a picture perfect Victoria Sponge was proffered so they literally had to eat their words...
End of month drinks were also a feature on the last Friday of each month. I didn't manage to go to many of these due to my commute, or I was working from home or had another social engagement to get back to. Wads of cash were put behind the bar by the company and it usually got very messy!
And now it's just me, myself and I. I always have to make the tea, there are never any goodies and there's no one to go to the pub with. Which is annoying as there is a very nice one a stone's throw from my office. It's really beginning to get me down and is one of the many reasons why I need to get the hell out. I guess it's not all bad... I did most of my paperwork for my fitness assessment at work, I've read books and magazines, drafted blogs, painted my nails, arsed around on Facebook & Twitter, watched things on I-player and even had a few crafty power naps at my desk. Swings and roundabouts I suppose...
Friday 21 May 2010
My love affair with Sex and the City
SATC2 opens next week and I am very excited. Tickets have been booked and pre and post Cosmopolitan swigging has been planned. Normally I am not a huge fan of chickflicks and romcoms and I suspect that if the SATC films were not spin offs of the much adored (by me) HBO TV Series I probably would wipe my hands of the films completely and opt for watching something much more gritty instead...
I can hold my hands up and say that I am not a bandwagon SATC fan. I was there from the start. I saw the pilot advertised on Channel Four and thought I'd give it a go. I had never been a huge fan of American comedies (Frasier is 'quite good' and Friends is 'ok' IMH) but decided to give it a go anyway. I can't remember how C4 chose to trail and brand the programme but however they went about it it appealed to me as a 22 year old woman (sigh, so young...). From the start I was totally captivated and enraptured by it. The sheer glamour! The amazing outfits! The cocktails! Exposing how ridiculous men can be! Great - bring it on! chuck in some glorious location shots of NYC, some hilarious one liners, the odd bit of eye candy along the way and they got me...
By the time SATC aired it's 5th series in the UK (2003) I was suddenly single and thrown into the chaotic, thrilling, chaotic, frustrating and sometimes quite lonely world of singledom and playing the dating game. Whilst in the past the programme had always amused and entertained me I now found that I could really empathise and identify with some of the situations that happened in the show. I was rapidly finding out for myself how inconsistent men could be and experiencing first hand the mine field that is dating (that's a whole other blog). I even found my own Mr Big who made me act irrationally and out of character and whom I lost not only my heart but my head to for a while.
Once the show finished in early 2004 I had to have something to get my fix so looked into getting the complete box set. This was available supposedly as limited edition at Christmas 2004. I missed the boat and was desperate to get hold of one. In the end I tracked one down on Amazon, it was second hand but never been opened. I am not going to disclose what I paid for it. When I think of it I am quite ashamed. I just had to have it. Of course it soon got reissued and you can pick it up for about £40 now. Oh...and at the time I didn't even own a DVD player. Yes, true fan/addict delete as applicable...
I think what I notice more and more when I watch repeats and my beloved DVDs is how spot on the show is about the nature of women's friendships. Our best friend can be our hero one day and villain the next. We are pleased for her yet sometimes jealous and resentful too. There will be inevitable moments of schadenfreude. We will judge them, worry about them, forget to call them, sometimes put men before them, but also we will always be there for them and God help any man that hurts them and lets them down. I think the relationship that got this spot on was the one portrayed by Carrie and Miranda, especially how angry Miranda gets every time Carrie gives Big another chance. I love the scene in the last ever episode when the girls meet Big at a restaurant in order to get him to go to Paris and "go get our girl". The three women are sat down at a table already talking about Carrie and how concerned they are. Enter Big, he is greeted by a genuine and warm smile from Charlotte and then cut to Miranda and Samantha who are shooting him "that look"! the one that me and my girlfriends reserve and employ when we see some low-life out and about in town who has hurt one of our ladies!
And the outfits! I have always been slightly experimental with my look but I think since SATC it has made me give even less of a f*** about wearing what everyone else is and has certainly influenced my wardrobe, even if I have to be more Primark than Prada. Whilst watching the repeats I mentally note items I will try and source online or on the high street. Of course I am more like SJP with a thyroid condition so unfortunately I can not get away with a lot of the outfits she wore in the show. But God damn I wish I could, especially those metallic gold boots! yowzer!
There's an article in this month's Glamour magazine by the journalist Zoe Williams slating the film for its' pure and unadulterated consumerism and also hinting that it was 'women bashing'. Relax, Zoe IT'S A FILM! and are you not au fait with the concept of SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF. This is escapism! it's not supposed to be a cutting edge documentary on feminism or on the economy. Yes if we took some of the messages and themes in the series and the film too seriously I can see how things could be misconstrued and distorted. But also, da da da...revelation... just because you are a strong woman and a feminist this does not make you immune to having relationship problems and dilemmas and sometimes you are going to need to share these with your girlfriends, we can't spend all our time dissecting highbrow topics. Sometimes we do need to talk incessantly about men, sex and relationships to try and make sense of this crazy world... It's cheaper and more accessible than therapy, non?
And as for the spending... if these were four women on the dole (or whatever the New York equivalent is...) and they were all blowing their loot on cocktails and designer shoes then yes we could sit back and tut and judge but hello? bar Charlotte these women work for a living and are high earners. What they choose to spend their hard earned cash on is their look out...is that not empowering enough for you Zoe?
I can hold my hands up and say that I am not a bandwagon SATC fan. I was there from the start. I saw the pilot advertised on Channel Four and thought I'd give it a go. I had never been a huge fan of American comedies (Frasier is 'quite good' and Friends is 'ok' IMH) but decided to give it a go anyway. I can't remember how C4 chose to trail and brand the programme but however they went about it it appealed to me as a 22 year old woman (sigh, so young...). From the start I was totally captivated and enraptured by it. The sheer glamour! The amazing outfits! The cocktails! Exposing how ridiculous men can be! Great - bring it on! chuck in some glorious location shots of NYC, some hilarious one liners, the odd bit of eye candy along the way and they got me...
By the time SATC aired it's 5th series in the UK (2003) I was suddenly single and thrown into the chaotic, thrilling, chaotic, frustrating and sometimes quite lonely world of singledom and playing the dating game. Whilst in the past the programme had always amused and entertained me I now found that I could really empathise and identify with some of the situations that happened in the show. I was rapidly finding out for myself how inconsistent men could be and experiencing first hand the mine field that is dating (that's a whole other blog). I even found my own Mr Big who made me act irrationally and out of character and whom I lost not only my heart but my head to for a while.
Once the show finished in early 2004 I had to have something to get my fix so looked into getting the complete box set. This was available supposedly as limited edition at Christmas 2004. I missed the boat and was desperate to get hold of one. In the end I tracked one down on Amazon, it was second hand but never been opened. I am not going to disclose what I paid for it. When I think of it I am quite ashamed. I just had to have it. Of course it soon got reissued and you can pick it up for about £40 now. Oh...and at the time I didn't even own a DVD player. Yes, true fan/addict delete as applicable...
I think what I notice more and more when I watch repeats and my beloved DVDs is how spot on the show is about the nature of women's friendships. Our best friend can be our hero one day and villain the next. We are pleased for her yet sometimes jealous and resentful too. There will be inevitable moments of schadenfreude. We will judge them, worry about them, forget to call them, sometimes put men before them, but also we will always be there for them and God help any man that hurts them and lets them down. I think the relationship that got this spot on was the one portrayed by Carrie and Miranda, especially how angry Miranda gets every time Carrie gives Big another chance. I love the scene in the last ever episode when the girls meet Big at a restaurant in order to get him to go to Paris and "go get our girl". The three women are sat down at a table already talking about Carrie and how concerned they are. Enter Big, he is greeted by a genuine and warm smile from Charlotte and then cut to Miranda and Samantha who are shooting him "that look"! the one that me and my girlfriends reserve and employ when we see some low-life out and about in town who has hurt one of our ladies!
And the outfits! I have always been slightly experimental with my look but I think since SATC it has made me give even less of a f*** about wearing what everyone else is and has certainly influenced my wardrobe, even if I have to be more Primark than Prada. Whilst watching the repeats I mentally note items I will try and source online or on the high street. Of course I am more like SJP with a thyroid condition so unfortunately I can not get away with a lot of the outfits she wore in the show. But God damn I wish I could, especially those metallic gold boots! yowzer!
There's an article in this month's Glamour magazine by the journalist Zoe Williams slating the film for its' pure and unadulterated consumerism and also hinting that it was 'women bashing'. Relax, Zoe IT'S A FILM! and are you not au fait with the concept of SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF. This is escapism! it's not supposed to be a cutting edge documentary on feminism or on the economy. Yes if we took some of the messages and themes in the series and the film too seriously I can see how things could be misconstrued and distorted. But also, da da da...revelation... just because you are a strong woman and a feminist this does not make you immune to having relationship problems and dilemmas and sometimes you are going to need to share these with your girlfriends, we can't spend all our time dissecting highbrow topics. Sometimes we do need to talk incessantly about men, sex and relationships to try and make sense of this crazy world... It's cheaper and more accessible than therapy, non?
And as for the spending... if these were four women on the dole (or whatever the New York equivalent is...) and they were all blowing their loot on cocktails and designer shoes then yes we could sit back and tut and judge but hello? bar Charlotte these women work for a living and are high earners. What they choose to spend their hard earned cash on is their look out...is that not empowering enough for you Zoe?
Oh dear I am getting a bit riled now, maybe I need to swig a Cosmopolitan? either that or calm my nerves by purchasing the latest pair of Jimmy Choos...
Wednesday 12 May 2010
We only do two tattoos
Currently I have five tattoos which I have had done in the last ten years, but as those of you who also have tattoos know; they are curiously addictive and at the moment and can't help but think there might be room for another...somewhere.
Before I divulge about what I have and where I just want to share an amusing anecdote from my childhood (which also formed part of my speech at my wedding). I was never a girlie little girl and when I was four I was taken to see Father Christmas at a department store in town. When he asked me what I wanted for Christmas I told him, very earnestly, The Fisher Price Garage. This being the early 1980s he laughed at me and I felt quite upset that I would not be opening said gift on Christmas morning. Anyway I did receive the Garage but in order to realign gender stereotypes I was also the ungrateful recipient of a baby doll. On opening it I informed my Mum "it's got an ugly face" and rapidly lost interest in it to play with the lusted after garage. By Boxing Day the unfortunate doll had been drawn all over with my new felt tip pens and then became known by the moniker of 'Tattoo'. I think my parents should have known then...
After having multiple piercings in my ears (3 in my left and 5 in my right, used to be 6) and then my nose and my navel I ran out of areas I wanted pierced, I briefly flirted with the idea of eyebrow and lip piercings but am very glad I changed my mind. In 'those days' (we're only talking late '90s early '00s) there was a limit to what one could get pierced! "In my day" there was no back of neck, handweb and the like. It seemed extremely outre to see someone with a piercing above their mouth for example. As a fan of piercing I do personally think it has gone a bridge too far (and no! I refuse to acknowledge that is because I am old!) I think all these facial piercings look really messy and dirty!
So after a stint with henna tattoos and transfers I thought it was time to start getting the real deal. Here are my five tattoos...
1 - butterfly on right shoulder (2000)
First ever tattoo, just chose it from a book at the tattooists (Ian's in Reading) rather impressively passed out whilst having it done. Love being able to show it off in racer back vests.
2 - 3 stars on lower back (2001)
Designed it myself (oh so talented lol) but based loosely on Wonder Woman's outfit and also would like to point out that back then stars were quite unusual as tattoos, really! another Ian's of Reading tattoo. Fainted again. Some people call these lower back tattoos 'Tramp stamps' hmmph! Although I still like the design I think in hindsight a different design in this location would've been better. Nice shot of my muffin top lol.
3 - rainbow and star on stomach/hip (2002)
First tattoo in colour, semi designed it myself by morphing two different tattoos together from a book at Ian's. Again I fainted - wuss. I should've known what to expected by now. Again excuse the muffin top!
4 - flowers on left foot (originally in 2004, redesigned and redone in 2007)
When I had the first tattoo done it was a single black flower and I was told that feet were hard to do and not many tattooists would do feet. This has definitely changed since then! This was done at Area 51 in Basingstoke. I warned the female tattooist that I had fainted before so was treated to a very relaxing experience: sprawled out on the couch eating chocolates to keep my blood sugar levels up! great! However, this tattoo wasn't that great and was very pale I even had it redone the following year. By 2007 it was looking really crap so I got a totally new design over the top. This was designed literally as we went along by Duncan at Area 51. I love it and love the summer when I can show it off more. I think it's quite sexy!
5 - stars on side (2009)
Surprisingly wasn't as painful as I thought considering the top big star is on my rib cage (ok fair point I am quite well upholstered there...) I think I may one day get this star filled in or add to it but at the moment am happy with it. This was done by Steph at Poison Ink in Basingstoke.
For my next (final?) one I am thinking birds! possibly on my right ankle. We'll see...
Friday 7 May 2010
Hung, drawn and quartered or Things can only get better?
Hmmm, what is this? I was determined not to blog about the election but due to er "time constraints" this weekend (I am spending all Sunday doing a running course in London!) I am somewhat lacking in other ideas this week...forgive me.
Rather than devote my blog to the frankly disappointing (but not surprising) events of the last 48 hours I will instead turn the clock back some 13 years *makes noises and actions they used to do in Wayne's World to signify time travel*
In 1997 I was 20 and halfway through my degree at APU, Cambridge (now called Anglia Ruskin University, oooh get you!) and able to vote in my first ever real grown up general election. This was the time of 'New Labour' and of course the height of Brit Pop, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the two went hand in hand as you saw Noel Gallagher at Number Ten fraternizing with Mr Blair. As a student voting Labour was as expected as experimenting with mind expanding drugs, shopping at Oxfam, skipping lectures, existing on Pot Noodles and toast and sporting tie dye. In fact, it was probably illegal to vote anything else if you were a student. For the record I wasn't pretending to be a New Labour supporter just to stick two fingers up at my middle class background, I have been raised to be a bit of a lefty (with slight support for the SDP as was, all those years ago). My parents read The Guardian don't you know! and although I don't recall my parents being overtly anti-Thatcher I also knew that they did not like or support her...
Oops, going off on a slight tangent here...I was reminded last night whilst watching Channel Four's rather marvellous alternative election evening (love love love Charlie Brooker, can't he be PM?) and they had some voxpops from comedians etc on there. One of whom was recalling how as a child he thought that voting was private and not something that you broadcast around who you voted for. I think that I too was brought up this way and to this day there are probably only a few close friends I would ask outright who they voted for. I suppose I can probably guess their allegiances anyway and if any of them are closet Tory they can consider themselves off the Christmas card list (although I have a sneaky suspicion my husband voted for them...fuming...). Yes I suppose I have always thought that asking people that was akin to asking them their wage packet, anyway, back to 1997... just to put you in the picture I am very thin (too thin) and have hair which is an interesting shade of red/orange before it was made fashionable by Florence Welch, a penchant for 2nd hand clothes, sultanas and wearing too much lipstick. I have a serious (and God was he serious!) boyfriend called Paul and I am house sharing with four girls plus one of their insufferable boyfriends.
I would like to say that I bothered to stay up all night in the SU Bar knocking back pints of Fosters as the results rolled in to experience the jubilation first hand of the new and exciting government, but like a loser I went to bed instead. However, on waking and tuning into Radio One I was ecstatic and overjoyed at the news of Blair's victory and elated and proud that I had made a difference. I remember donning my Union Jack "Brit Babe" t-shirt especially! (This may've been the era of New Labour but it was also the unfortunate era when the Spice Girls influenced high street fashion!). We all felt extremely optimistic and that we had played a part. For me this was the first Labour government I could remember. We generally believed, like the D:Ream song adopted for the campaign, that things could only get better. Well did they? hmmm not in the long term...
Years later, Yes I am still a "Lefty" but I have lost faith in So called New Labour along the way. They did not deliver what we hoped and expected. Thankfully I missed out on tuition fees at University. There is no true right or left anymore and that's what has made the nation so confused at who and what to vote for. I did my homework for the election this time but still vacillated between my old Labour roots and the Lib Dems. I am glad that I did stick by my Lefty guns though and didn't vote Lib Dem as it would appear(at time of writing) that a vote for Clegg is going to go to ol' shiny chops anyway.
Rather than devote my blog to the frankly disappointing (but not surprising) events of the last 48 hours I will instead turn the clock back some 13 years *makes noises and actions they used to do in Wayne's World to signify time travel*
In 1997 I was 20 and halfway through my degree at APU, Cambridge (now called Anglia Ruskin University, oooh get you!) and able to vote in my first ever real grown up general election. This was the time of 'New Labour' and of course the height of Brit Pop, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the two went hand in hand as you saw Noel Gallagher at Number Ten fraternizing with Mr Blair. As a student voting Labour was as expected as experimenting with mind expanding drugs, shopping at Oxfam, skipping lectures, existing on Pot Noodles and toast and sporting tie dye. In fact, it was probably illegal to vote anything else if you were a student. For the record I wasn't pretending to be a New Labour supporter just to stick two fingers up at my middle class background, I have been raised to be a bit of a lefty (with slight support for the SDP as was, all those years ago). My parents read The Guardian don't you know! and although I don't recall my parents being overtly anti-Thatcher I also knew that they did not like or support her...
Oops, going off on a slight tangent here...I was reminded last night whilst watching Channel Four's rather marvellous alternative election evening (love love love Charlie Brooker, can't he be PM?) and they had some voxpops from comedians etc on there. One of whom was recalling how as a child he thought that voting was private and not something that you broadcast around who you voted for. I think that I too was brought up this way and to this day there are probably only a few close friends I would ask outright who they voted for. I suppose I can probably guess their allegiances anyway and if any of them are closet Tory they can consider themselves off the Christmas card list (although I have a sneaky suspicion my husband voted for them...fuming...). Yes I suppose I have always thought that asking people that was akin to asking them their wage packet, anyway, back to 1997... just to put you in the picture I am very thin (too thin) and have hair which is an interesting shade of red/orange before it was made fashionable by Florence Welch, a penchant for 2nd hand clothes, sultanas and wearing too much lipstick. I have a serious (and God was he serious!) boyfriend called Paul and I am house sharing with four girls plus one of their insufferable boyfriends.
I would like to say that I bothered to stay up all night in the SU Bar knocking back pints of Fosters as the results rolled in to experience the jubilation first hand of the new and exciting government, but like a loser I went to bed instead. However, on waking and tuning into Radio One I was ecstatic and overjoyed at the news of Blair's victory and elated and proud that I had made a difference. I remember donning my Union Jack "Brit Babe" t-shirt especially! (This may've been the era of New Labour but it was also the unfortunate era when the Spice Girls influenced high street fashion!). We all felt extremely optimistic and that we had played a part. For me this was the first Labour government I could remember. We generally believed, like the D:Ream song adopted for the campaign, that things could only get better. Well did they? hmmm not in the long term...
Years later, Yes I am still a "Lefty" but I have lost faith in So called New Labour along the way. They did not deliver what we hoped and expected. Thankfully I missed out on tuition fees at University. There is no true right or left anymore and that's what has made the nation so confused at who and what to vote for. I did my homework for the election this time but still vacillated between my old Labour roots and the Lib Dems. I am glad that I did stick by my Lefty guns though and didn't vote Lib Dem as it would appear(at time of writing) that a vote for Clegg is going to go to ol' shiny chops anyway.
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