Learning curve: April

I’m trying out a new series.

A series I advise you not too take too seriously. Unless of course you want to. Then who am I to stop you?

So here it is, April’s teachings:

1. It is not always a good idea, while decorating, to leave a computer in a bathroom for safekeeping. It will most likely/definitely will, break.
2. Sometimes people get back to you about jobs you have applied for.
3. Sometimes they don’t.
4. Six Scotch pancakes is too many pancakes. Four will do.
5. Cats snore.
6. Daytime TV makes it virtually impossible to stop watching quiz shows. Pointless, even. Sorry.
7. The TV series Doctors is bad. Just awful. Terrible.
8. No one in Doctors has a Birmingham accent despite it being set there.
9. Explaining social media to your parents doesn’t work. Especially when they believe text messages qualify.
10. Trying to kill a spider mid-run will only make it move faster. They live on an average one to two years. That’s two years of uneasy sleep.

Bring it on May…

ALL ABOARD

Severe delays, signal failure and weekend maintenance…

probably not what London Underground would like you to recall over it’s 150 years of service. (Sozz.) Lucky for them publishing professional Penguin Books are here to the rescue.

12 lines, 12 writers – the recently-released, handbag-sized series of stories and accounts, Penguin Lines, invites you to ‘Choose your journey’. And so I did.

Picked not only for it’s cover, but because the Metropolitan line’s – my own line’s – contribution didn’t look as exciting, I began at Heads and Straights: the Circle line’s edition by Lucy Wadham.

Wadham, listed under ‘Tales of Growing Up and Moving On’, recalls her adolescence in the 1970s. A time at which the battle of the punks vs. the middle-class mothers, her own included, was not uncommon along Chelsea’s King’s Road. A cultural clash of arts, sex and snobbery, she guides us through the many people, places and experiences that shaped her’s and her sisters’ teenage years. No sipping lattes, planning annual ski holidays and brunching like the cast of Made in Chelsea here.

Her story is revealing, painful and honest, inspired by her shame of growing up in such an affluent area. And it reminds us that whether we like it or not, the place we call home will undoubtedly affect who we become. Even if it is the defiantly opposite.

Unique and personal, Penguin Lines is also beautifully bound in matte chalky pages. With 11 lines to go I’m looking forward to hopping on a new one soon.

silence is golden

…unless you write a blog.

And then silence is just kind of annoying and deafening and the longer you leave it the louder it gets.

(guilty)

I’ve been pretty busy over the last eight or so months and as a result, sidelined this avenue of my (questionably) creative output.

But it’s relentlessly cold and wintery, and so maybe you can forgive me by imagining it’s actually still January. Which means I’ve only really neglected it for like, what, a few weeks. Get over it.

No? Okay.

Watch this space for future blogging business. (Brownie promise).

’tis the season

to…

Eat spiced goods.
Drink spiced goods.
Buy shiny things.
Wear shiny things.

If you’re not doing two (or atleast one) of these seasonably-acceptable check points, then something has gone wrong.

(And If you’re doing all four, well done.)

I myself am already nearing my – approximated – twentieth mince pie.

Whether you are one of those who hate, love or couldn’t care either way – Christmas is here. And instead of moaning that it costs a lot, it’s cold and it’s all over before you know it…don’t forget: Christmas is a great cover-up for most impulsive and indulgent things you would normally feel bad about.

For example: Person A, “I really want this glittery expensive dress but I shouldn’t really buy it.” Convincing Person B, “Well it is Christmas.” A new, convinced Person A, “Yes, yes it is.”

And that can be rolled out for most circumstances. Try it.

It worked for me when I saw this – bejewelled Christmas trees in a big glittery jar. So stupid, so simple, so pointless. But it’s Christmas. Okay.

It is a state of mind I believe should continue long after the festive period…

Merry Christmas

In costume

(Pat Butcher eat your heart out)

I was a Roman once.

In a toga embellished with a big gold plait my mum must have either made or, more likely, taken from a particularly dodgy curtain.

On finding the evidence – a photograph of my whole year five class dressed in togas and centurion armour – my dad couldn’t actually pick me out. Or my twin sister. Which of course made things worse. (Even if we’re not identical).

More Roman Holiday than Roman-clad, it’ll be a little easier identifying one of us (me!) in this array of almost-offensively “bling” costume jewellery, discovered recently in my favourite high street shops and vintage caves.

Having not quite found my Hepburn ball gown yet, I’ve decided to teeter on the edge of the late, great Mrs Butcher instead.

(Well, it beats any-more of my mum’s curtain cast offs. Just)

ARTIST FEACHAAA: SARAH SILVERMAN

Lost in Translation, Mean Girls and a back catalogue of Wes Anderson – just some of the reasons this artist first caught my eye…

Sarah Silverman, a New York-based sketcher under the name of Sarah Leoraa, possibly for obvious reasons, not only has exquisite taste in films, but she can draw.

Sarah’s zines are more picture book than independent-doing-it-on-my-own punk publications. And instead, carefully picked moments avoid falling into copy-cat territory to bring back what you most loved about that scene, film, character, or most of the time, a detail you thought only you remembered.

Not only do her zines collate and collect, but they have an interesting sequence to them; no film by-numbers here.

I’ve treated myself to Sarah’s beautifully bound Lost in Translation zine as well as an undeniably cool watercolour print of Bill Murray as Raleigh St Clair from The Royal Tenenbaums.

What will you choose?

The internet is amazing…

it even sends me tea.

Well, almost.

After popping up in the latest issue of the very lovely Oh Comely – in which I attempt to offer some solutions to sleeplessness – my not-so favourable verdict on chamomile tea caught somebody’s eye.

Hayley, an avid reader of Oh Comely and representative of master brewers Teapigs (a name so cute and ridiculous I was immediately hooked), did some pretty impressive e-detective work to track me down and get to the bottom of this…

Answering Hayley’s email we agreed that for the majority chamomile tea by other brands tastes like “pond water”. But it didn’t end there. No. Tea-enthusiast Hayley, following the brand’s motto “drink real tea/no more dusty bags”, very kindly offered to send me an alternative chamomile tea – made with real flowers – right to my door.

What a woman.

Teapigs’ adorably named Dream On offering really is much better. Even if I do think we’ll never be bosom buddies…

And their beautifully packaged and creatively categorised range – many of which were included in my loot – are most definitely future favourites of mine. The New Grey Earl Grey, Morning Glory Everyday Brew and Lazy Days Lemon and Ginger, to name but a few.

Time to stick the kettle on again…

*

(Big thank you to Hayley again)

a bundt note

It’s officially autumn.

And therefore, okay to add copious amounts of various spices to butter, eggs and sugar. Yum.

Hip hip

Hooray?

26 arrived around this time last week and it would be an understatement to say I wasn’t ready. Quite literally. My body ached and my twin sister woke to find she couldn’t move her neck.

So this is post quarter-life, huh?

Things I have discovered approaching this great age: I can’t eat as much carefree, I can’t run full-stop and a minimum of eight hours of sleep each night is required to feel human.

Worrying.

Not like really worrying but in a sense that when I try to defy these age-related rules I am annoyed I can’t. My 16 year-old self definitely could of have.

You’ve changed. I’ve changed. (Okay this is getting confusing).

Still, I can’t let this birthday go without mentioning some of the rather amazing gifts given to me, even if it is a little unbecoming…

(cats and collars)

(Violet, from the lovely Bilberry Grove)

(just cos)

*

27 I’ll be ready.

Probably

say hello

… to my (not so) little friend.

In case it wasn’t obvious by now, cats are quite important to me. Especially this one:

(Pete)

Yes, I’m going to be the crazy old lady door-to-door knockers avoid through reputation alone. And I’m going to enjoy it.

The reason I’m posting about him? Well, it’s been a busy and upside down few weeks which has left me with little time to post about much else…

And I thought he just deserved it, okay?

Lately he’s been developing some worrying signs of human behaviour. Like eating human food – chips and croissants, mainly. But also getting closer and closer to saying ‘hello’ in meow form. Maybe it’s time he started playing with cats his own age, and, erm, species. Sadly I won’t be be turning into a cat any time soon…

The same breed as the ‘Essex lion’ (before jibes about his weight start) he’s also akin to the lovely Justin Vernon’s cat.

Cat play date Justin?

(worth a try)