Hungarian Goulash.
I'm tired, so I'm afraid that's going to have to fill my quota for today.
Wednesday, 14 January 2009
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
A New Leaf
It is my New Year's Resolution to do a bit of writing on something every day, even if it's just a long-ish email to someone. This blog counts, mostly because it's easy and I realised today that I spend every lunchtime sitting at my desk eating my lunch and wondering what to do at my computer that isn't work. Expect constant updates on my favourite soup flavour.
Ideally, I'll try to manage something on one of the many writing projects I seem to have set myself in an attempt to break out of the office and into the world of international literary renown. Realistically, the only writing work I've ever managed to complete has been for school or University, so it's going to be a challenge. Hopefully, writing something every day will help. But as my lunch hour's over already - shouldn't have checked Facebook first - maybe only a little.
Ideally, I'll try to manage something on one of the many writing projects I seem to have set myself in an attempt to break out of the office and into the world of international literary renown. Realistically, the only writing work I've ever managed to complete has been for school or University, so it's going to be a challenge. Hopefully, writing something every day will help. But as my lunch hour's over already - shouldn't have checked Facebook first - maybe only a little.
Sunday, 11 January 2009
Spick and span
I have turned into a tidy freak!
All my life I have been an extremely untidy person, I'm not that fussed about mountains of dust, could count the number of times I've hoovered without taking my socks off, and am so used to not being able to find things that the place where something SHOULD be is always the last place I need to look.
But for some reason, over Christmas, I got cleaning fever. First, I bought some new furniture for my bedroom, which meant some clearing out, a flatpack day, and now places where I can actually keep my belongings without needed to pile them up all over the floor. Then, with Gran coming up for Christmas, extensive cleaning was necessary throughout the house, and finally my mum bought some new furniture, which meant even more clearing out and hoovering in places that we've not seen since we moved in fourteen years ago.
Today, I should be writing something for a competition deadline on Friday, but instead I've got everything out from under my bed, hoovered up the clods of dust and cobwebs, thrown most of it in the bin, and replaced the few things I want to keep in organised boxes. Maybe this new leaf is not such a great thing.
Now I'm a bit sick of it, so I'm going to trawl Facebook for some good photos to put in the frames I recently discovered.
All my life I have been an extremely untidy person, I'm not that fussed about mountains of dust, could count the number of times I've hoovered without taking my socks off, and am so used to not being able to find things that the place where something SHOULD be is always the last place I need to look.
But for some reason, over Christmas, I got cleaning fever. First, I bought some new furniture for my bedroom, which meant some clearing out, a flatpack day, and now places where I can actually keep my belongings without needed to pile them up all over the floor. Then, with Gran coming up for Christmas, extensive cleaning was necessary throughout the house, and finally my mum bought some new furniture, which meant even more clearing out and hoovering in places that we've not seen since we moved in fourteen years ago.
Today, I should be writing something for a competition deadline on Friday, but instead I've got everything out from under my bed, hoovered up the clods of dust and cobwebs, thrown most of it in the bin, and replaced the few things I want to keep in organised boxes. Maybe this new leaf is not such a great thing.
Now I'm a bit sick of it, so I'm going to trawl Facebook for some good photos to put in the frames I recently discovered.
Thursday, 25 December 2008
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
If I'd told my five year old self that I'd one day be going to sleep with a stocking full of presents in the room, perfectly content not to open them until morning, it would have seemed like the ramblings of some complete lunatic, someone who had spectacularly failed to grasp the basic concept of the single most exciting event of the year. But that is what I am just about to do - having insisted upon having a stocking, even though I am, strictly speaking, a touch on the old side for one.
I spent probably about six Christmas Eves in complete sleeplessness, giddy with anticipation. The worst time was at my Great Uncle and Aunt's house, when I was convinced Father Christmas wouldn't know where to deliver my presents. I couldn't see that my parents had already tucked them away at the end of my bed, and lay awake, sobbing exhaustedly.
These days, there is nothing mystical or secretive. I sit up until my mum knocks on the door and comes in with the stocking, we have a chat and she dumps it at the foot of the bed, then I go to sleep like any other day and almost forget about it when I wake up. Strangely, I do still insist on showing my parents everything I got in the stocking, as if they hadn't seen it during the wrapping process about 12 hours previously.
I can't remember when I stopped believing in Father Christmas. I do remember having a conversation with some friends when we were about 9 or 10 - I'm pretty sure we knew the truth back then, but we weren't quite giving up on him, and were discussing the whole thing in quite a rational way. The evidence I had to offer to the debate involved waking up and finding my dad putting the presents out. He hastily patted me on the head and muttered something about "just checking he'd been", but it must have sewn a seed.
Out of all of us, I think I was one of the ones who wanted to carry on believing the longest. Even now, there's something a bit magical and illogical about it that I love, despite the trauma this time of year used to cause, and the obvious glaring facts to the contrary - I had a little start earlier, just for a fraction of a second, when I realised I hadn't arranged a mince pie and sherry, or Rudolph's carrot, and had to check myself. And I still won't hear a word against the tooth fairy. I don't believe there's any way my parents could have carried out the tooth/coin exchange, under my sleeping head, and even the fact that my mother still holds a pot with my baby teeth in isn't changing my mind.
I spent probably about six Christmas Eves in complete sleeplessness, giddy with anticipation. The worst time was at my Great Uncle and Aunt's house, when I was convinced Father Christmas wouldn't know where to deliver my presents. I couldn't see that my parents had already tucked them away at the end of my bed, and lay awake, sobbing exhaustedly.
These days, there is nothing mystical or secretive. I sit up until my mum knocks on the door and comes in with the stocking, we have a chat and she dumps it at the foot of the bed, then I go to sleep like any other day and almost forget about it when I wake up. Strangely, I do still insist on showing my parents everything I got in the stocking, as if they hadn't seen it during the wrapping process about 12 hours previously.
I can't remember when I stopped believing in Father Christmas. I do remember having a conversation with some friends when we were about 9 or 10 - I'm pretty sure we knew the truth back then, but we weren't quite giving up on him, and were discussing the whole thing in quite a rational way. The evidence I had to offer to the debate involved waking up and finding my dad putting the presents out. He hastily patted me on the head and muttered something about "just checking he'd been", but it must have sewn a seed.
Out of all of us, I think I was one of the ones who wanted to carry on believing the longest. Even now, there's something a bit magical and illogical about it that I love, despite the trauma this time of year used to cause, and the obvious glaring facts to the contrary - I had a little start earlier, just for a fraction of a second, when I realised I hadn't arranged a mince pie and sherry, or Rudolph's carrot, and had to check myself. And I still won't hear a word against the tooth fairy. I don't believe there's any way my parents could have carried out the tooth/coin exchange, under my sleeping head, and even the fact that my mother still holds a pot with my baby teeth in isn't changing my mind.
Thursday, 11 December 2008
Hey, you, get off of my chair!
When I started this blog, I thought it would be easy to keep it up. I'd thought for ages "I'd love to keep a blog, if anything I'd update it TOO regularly, hahaha". Then I actually started a blog, wrote about three posts and then got bored. Because you need something to make it actually interesting - a theme, like music, or film reviews, or knitting patterns; a life filled with excitement, or at least lots of sex, or the ability to present things through good, perceptive and thoughtful writing.
I've spent the past few weeks putting off my next post while wondering which of these paths I would attempt to venture down to save it from becoming a dull and narcissistic ramble.
But I'm brought back by a rant.
My office chair is broken - it's been quite wonky since it was put together by one of my boss's children over a year ago, but then I go away to Rome for three days (which was very nice, by the way), come back, and it's completely destroyed. It's so lopsided now I have to brace myself against the desk to keep myself in it and cling onto drawer handles if I so much as sneeze. So I swapped it with a co-worker's. She's only in for a couple of hours a week while I'm here for 10 hours some days, she totters about on six inch stilettos most of the time so she can't complain about a bad back and, most importantly, she's a bitch. Who I should have known better than to compete with. I had about half an hour of the most comfortable sitting of my life, then pop out for a five minute lunch break and when I get back she's here and she has, of course, swapped them straight back.
I know it was me who started it, but the way she said "I've swapped your chair back - it seems to be broken" the minute I walked in has made me livid. And now I'm even less comfortable than I was before.
I've spent the past few weeks putting off my next post while wondering which of these paths I would attempt to venture down to save it from becoming a dull and narcissistic ramble.
But I'm brought back by a rant.
My office chair is broken - it's been quite wonky since it was put together by one of my boss's children over a year ago, but then I go away to Rome for three days (which was very nice, by the way), come back, and it's completely destroyed. It's so lopsided now I have to brace myself against the desk to keep myself in it and cling onto drawer handles if I so much as sneeze. So I swapped it with a co-worker's. She's only in for a couple of hours a week while I'm here for 10 hours some days, she totters about on six inch stilettos most of the time so she can't complain about a bad back and, most importantly, she's a bitch. Who I should have known better than to compete with. I had about half an hour of the most comfortable sitting of my life, then pop out for a five minute lunch break and when I get back she's here and she has, of course, swapped them straight back.
I know it was me who started it, but the way she said "I've swapped your chair back - it seems to be broken" the minute I walked in has made me livid. And now I'm even less comfortable than I was before.
Thursday, 6 November 2008
"The Something of Boris"
This morning I opened the car door and my empty breakfast yoghurt pot was blown out by a gust of wind. As I rushed to grab it, my foot got caught in the strap of my handbag and I nearly fell flat on my face. After seeing Quantum of Solace last night, I had to finally concede that I am no Bond.
It was the first Bond film I've ever got really excited about beforehand, and it's good, of course. If you like ridiculously over the top, stunt laden, swaggering action (and I do). The plot was fairly incomprehensible, not least because I'd forgotten everything about Casino Royale except the unnecessary destruction of a beautiful Venetian building. They also seem to cut out any scenes that don't involve Daniel Craig jumping off a roof, smashing a bad guy in the face with handy blunt objects, or exploding something, which means the boring linking bits that explain how or why the action is moving from one continent to another are absent. I found this confusing, but it doesn't really matter. It's all about the explosions, and if you forget that, you're going to find it challenging or tedious.
Highlights:
- Hearing the theme tune really really loudly and being all tingly with anticipation.
- Daniel Craig being painfully good looking, what is it about his eyes?!
- Rufus Wright – actor and co-presenter of Stephen Merchant's excellent radio show – briefing M on something complicated to do with money and Haiti using a fancy computer screen. I'd forgotten he was going to be in it until a couple of minutes before his scene, and nearly squealed out loud when I spotted him.
Only one major criticism really, and that is that Adam and Joe's brilliant alternative theme tunes did not appear at any point. I rectified this by singing them repeatedly to myself throughout. Highly enjoyable.
“I need a quantum of solace, but no more than a quantum. I know they do big bags of solace, but I don't want 'em. I only want a teeny tiny slice of solace... before I SHOOT YOU.”
It was the first Bond film I've ever got really excited about beforehand, and it's good, of course. If you like ridiculously over the top, stunt laden, swaggering action (and I do). The plot was fairly incomprehensible, not least because I'd forgotten everything about Casino Royale except the unnecessary destruction of a beautiful Venetian building. They also seem to cut out any scenes that don't involve Daniel Craig jumping off a roof, smashing a bad guy in the face with handy blunt objects, or exploding something, which means the boring linking bits that explain how or why the action is moving from one continent to another are absent. I found this confusing, but it doesn't really matter. It's all about the explosions, and if you forget that, you're going to find it challenging or tedious.
Highlights:
- Hearing the theme tune really really loudly and being all tingly with anticipation.
- Daniel Craig being painfully good looking, what is it about his eyes?!
- Rufus Wright – actor and co-presenter of Stephen Merchant's excellent radio show – briefing M on something complicated to do with money and Haiti using a fancy computer screen. I'd forgotten he was going to be in it until a couple of minutes before his scene, and nearly squealed out loud when I spotted him.
Only one major criticism really, and that is that Adam and Joe's brilliant alternative theme tunes did not appear at any point. I rectified this by singing them repeatedly to myself throughout. Highly enjoyable.
“I need a quantum of solace, but no more than a quantum. I know they do big bags of solace, but I don't want 'em. I only want a teeny tiny slice of solace... before I SHOOT YOU.”
Wednesday, 5 November 2008
“I have a dream...”
Last night I had a really weird dream. I dreamt that I woke up because my friend Helen rang me in the middle of the night, and as I stumbled about in a delirious haze talking to her I spilt red wine and peanuts all over my bedroom floor. I don't like red wine at all, and I'm not a big fan of peanuts either. On Halloween I dreamt that I lived with a horrible woman I work with, and we argued constantly, until I was begging another colleague to let me move in with him. The other night I was frolicking with an enormous killer whale. I don't know what is going on in my subconscious.
And I bet you thought this was going to be about the US election. See what I did there...?
Well actually, in my dream, the reason why my friend was ringing me was to tell me the election result. She is hardcore and stayed up until 6.30 to see it all unfolding, whereas I had to be up at 6.30, so I went to bed worried, and I think that explains the turbulent night.
Today was going to be stressful for three reasons.
A good friend of mine was sitting an ELAT, the Oxford entrance test for English. He was worried, though I don't think he needs to be.
A student we've been coaching at work was sitting a TSA, Oxford entrance test for Economics and Management. Have a go at the sample paper online - it's annoyingly simple and impossible at the same time, but I really hope he does well because he deserves to.
And, far bigger than both of those, was the election result. It has been looming over me for a while now. I've been feeling sick every time anyone has mentioned Obama or McCain over the last fortnight (so no oven chips for me, even though I don't think they're related). It just seemed like so much was at stake, and I was convinced that something would go wrong - that after the last two elections left me utterly incredulous, there had to be some complication again.
But my faith is restored. Alex Salmond described it as "a victory for optimism over pessimism, for hope over fear". I like this - as an optimist to the core, it resonates with me. It's nice to win once in a while. I spent the morning singing jolly songs, beaming at myself, and wondering why everybody I passed on the way to work wasn't wooping and celebrating. And even if it doesn't last, if Obama turns out to be a warmongering, corrupt, sexist, violent and ignorant oaf, we owe him for this brilliant feeling that dreams really can come true. Though it may be best if some of mine don't.
And I bet you thought this was going to be about the US election. See what I did there...?
Well actually, in my dream, the reason why my friend was ringing me was to tell me the election result. She is hardcore and stayed up until 6.30 to see it all unfolding, whereas I had to be up at 6.30, so I went to bed worried, and I think that explains the turbulent night.
Today was going to be stressful for three reasons.
A good friend of mine was sitting an ELAT, the Oxford entrance test for English. He was worried, though I don't think he needs to be.
A student we've been coaching at work was sitting a TSA, Oxford entrance test for Economics and Management. Have a go at the sample paper online - it's annoyingly simple and impossible at the same time, but I really hope he does well because he deserves to.
And, far bigger than both of those, was the election result. It has been looming over me for a while now. I've been feeling sick every time anyone has mentioned Obama or McCain over the last fortnight (so no oven chips for me, even though I don't think they're related). It just seemed like so much was at stake, and I was convinced that something would go wrong - that after the last two elections left me utterly incredulous, there had to be some complication again.
But my faith is restored. Alex Salmond described it as "a victory for optimism over pessimism, for hope over fear". I like this - as an optimist to the core, it resonates with me. It's nice to win once in a while. I spent the morning singing jolly songs, beaming at myself, and wondering why everybody I passed on the way to work wasn't wooping and celebrating. And even if it doesn't last, if Obama turns out to be a warmongering, corrupt, sexist, violent and ignorant oaf, we owe him for this brilliant feeling that dreams really can come true. Though it may be best if some of mine don't.
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
"Another ringer with the slick trigger finger for Her Majesty"
I've been listening to the new Bond theme repeatedly on my way into work.
I am so James Bond.
I am so James Bond.
Saturday, 25 October 2008
Dead Set
I'd like to take this opportunity to enthuse wildly over Charlie Brooker's forthcoming series, 'Dead Set'. It starts tomorrow on E4. I'm a big Brooker fan - his journalism regularly makes me chuckle, Nathan Barley is an incredible creation and Screen Wipe is just devastatingly wonderful - so I'm quite giddy with excitement about this.
But there are two major reasons why I probably shouldn't be:
Firstly, Brooker has made it clear it's not just a comedy with a bit of a zombie backdrop, but it's going to be genuinely gory horror. In his Guardian article about it, he made this point particularly clear, stating: "I sincerely hope some of you vomit."
And if anyone does, it'll be me. I'm pretty squeamish, regularly feel queasy when channel-hopping past Holby City, and this is probably not the sort of thing I'd normally watch.
Probably more importantly, I don't yet know how I'm actually going to see the show. We still only have FOUR channels in my house. It's like the dark ages, or 1996. And I'm not sure if it'll be on 4od, because I can't get that either - I have a mac. I am technologically incompatible with Charlie Brooker. And so, although it's unsupportive, I'm going to have to hope some unscrupulous technical genius makes it available to download somewhere or watch on youtube.
Maybe, because I wish nothing but joy and success upon him, I'll buy the DVD when it comes out. But I refer you back to point one for the reason why I need to check I can endure more than 20 seconds of it before investing actual money.
But there are two major reasons why I probably shouldn't be:
Firstly, Brooker has made it clear it's not just a comedy with a bit of a zombie backdrop, but it's going to be genuinely gory horror. In his Guardian article about it, he made this point particularly clear, stating: "I sincerely hope some of you vomit."
And if anyone does, it'll be me. I'm pretty squeamish, regularly feel queasy when channel-hopping past Holby City, and this is probably not the sort of thing I'd normally watch.
Probably more importantly, I don't yet know how I'm actually going to see the show. We still only have FOUR channels in my house. It's like the dark ages, or 1996. And I'm not sure if it'll be on 4od, because I can't get that either - I have a mac. I am technologically incompatible with Charlie Brooker. And so, although it's unsupportive, I'm going to have to hope some unscrupulous technical genius makes it available to download somewhere or watch on youtube.
Maybe, because I wish nothing but joy and success upon him, I'll buy the DVD when it comes out. But I refer you back to point one for the reason why I need to check I can endure more than 20 seconds of it before investing actual money.
Friday, 24 October 2008
Credit Munch
After weeks of naive optimism, and with recession officially just minutes away, I have finally been struck a devastating blow by the current economic crisis... Pret have put the price of their Superclub sandwich up from £2.85 to £2.89. And, it could be my imagination, but it looks ever so slightly less crammed with chicken-and-bacon-y deliciousness.
I am withdrawing all my savings first thing tomorrow, and if you need me over the next six months you'll find me hiding under the bed. We're definitely doomed.
I am withdrawing all my savings first thing tomorrow, and if you need me over the next six months you'll find me hiding under the bed. We're definitely doomed.
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