i never should have let them dance...

So that thing I said about working didn't happen.

Instead - partly because I'm bored and partly because I haven't done one of these shallow, time -consuming lists for a while - I thought I'd make a little chart of weird people I quite fancy right now. Right, here goes...

1. Domhnall Gleeson - Bill Weasley. I think that says it all, but in case it doesn't, he's Irish. And ginger. Yikes.
2. Mark Heap - Yes, he's the guy who plays Alan Statham, but he is also the guy who plays Brian in Spaced. I have been watching a lot of Spaced lately, and as a result, my perception of reality has become blurred. This means I find this man quite attractive. I did say it was a list of weird people...
3. David Morrisey - He was in the Christmas 'Poirot' AND he is Colonel Brandon in Sense and Sensibility. A little on the old side, but enigmatic nonetheless.
4. Simon Amstell - Quite funny. Also quite gay. Hmm...
5. Dimitri - From the animated film 'Anastasia'. Duh. He may have been my first love and is solely responsible for my fascination with Russia.
6. Christina Hendricks - Simply for the fact that she could crush most of the brittle women in Hollywood just by sitting on them and is still shit hot.
7. Ed Miliband - Just a bit. Just a little teeny bit.

I couldn't think of three more, and I didn't want to spend longer than half an hour thinking about this. Some would call that a waste of time.

in a town that's cold and grey...

When I am a bit gloomy and the world seems to be failing me a little, I like to revert back to the things that are important to me: family, friends and books, for example. Today was a good day because it combined all three of these things, and as a result, I am in a very good mood. I awoke on Sarah's floor, having stayed the night after a lovely night out in a somewhat icy Birmingham. I then went downstairs and had a good old chat with her mum over tea and toast, before heading to Hay-on-Wye to meet my auntie and uncle for lunch. Hay is one of those places that is so beautifully unreal that you could never really live there. It seems to exist solely for the occasional visit in order to fill yourself with tea and your bookcase with Penguin Classics. I also got to hear people speaking Welsh, which always reminds me of my youth. I was glad to find that it still sounds a bit made-up.

My new favourite band is a little group named Clarensau. They are fairly adorable and make pretty music. Their album 'Until Our Lungs Give' is lovely (and all on Spotify).

It's time to do some work, but the thought fills me with... not dread, exactly but certainly not joy. Sometimes I wonder whether I made the right choice taking the academic path, but then I think about going home to university in just over a week, and that thought makes me happy. I certainly couldn't live here for any extended period of time, and if my spell at Morrisons has taught me anything, it's that I really hate Morrisons. I would imagine that this sentiment would apply to most retail/catering/mundane jobs, so that choice doesn't really appeal. At the end of the day, I am just a disgustingly lazy human being. If I was a cow, I would be shot.

and my wasted heart will love you until you smell like piss...

Well hello there!

I hope (with all the sincerity I can muster) that you all enjoyed Christmas day and have recovered from the calories and general merriment. I am sort of back on the 'I hate Christmas' bandwagon, so please remind me of this next year when I am once more trying to be positive.

Although on a side note, I did enjoy a spot of festive 'Poirot'...

Boxing day has always been a little bit depressing. When I was little, the glow of Christmas day was enough to keep me going through Boxing day and possibly even up as far as the new year. As you get older, however, it seems that presents sort of lose their sparkle. This year I got a printer, some cake tins and a wok. Now, these are all lovely presents (and things I asked for), but it begs the question: when did I grow up?

There are some films I can watch over and over again (Lost in Translation, Pride and Prejudice, Juno, etc.). Love Actually is one of those films. It's so incredibly, naffly heart-warming. Also, some people remain just as sad at the end as they were at the beginning, so this makes it okay, yes? No. No, no, no.

P.S. I used a picture of Keira Knightley to lure you in under false pretences. Sorry about that...

and the christmas is white and the hats are flimsy...

Merry Christmas everyone. May your day be full of joy and merriment (stuffing and gin).

I can't get over quite how gorgeous this is. Consider it your Christmas present from me. Have a good one, only over-indulge if you can handle the consequences. I hope you have shit paper hats like I will. I can wear my shit paper hat and think of you all wearing your shit paper hats, and it'll almost be like we're together. Yeah, that'll work!

Unreservedly yours,

Anna

x

face after nameless face...

I'm not a very sentimental person. This may shock and appal you, but alas, it's true. But you'll forgive me, I'm sure for coming over all poetic just this once.

This site is nice. It's full of pretty words that don't mean anything and pretty pictures which don't really match the words all that well. It's a pointless way to pass some time if (like me) you have Italian essays to write and gifts to wrap.

And I like this site a lot. The basic concept is that people send in pages torn from books which they have whittled down to a few words that mean something (or not as the case very often is). Lovely.

So I haven't posted for a couple of days, and it's already one in the morning, so I doubt anyone will read this. This means I won't feel too bad about telling you what I've been up to over the past couple of days. On Tuesday night I went with Helen and Chris and the woman who calls herself my mother to see 'Matilda', performed by the RSC , with songs written by the beautiful Tim Minchin. I can wholeheartedly say - without reservation - that it was the best thing I have ever seen on stage. Possibly tied with Les Mis. It was just brilliant! So brilliant, in fact, that I have just bought tickets to go and see it again with my university friend Cait (who was dying to go).

The perfect evening was marred, however by the fact that due to the snow, we had to stay in Stratford for the night. There are many worse places to be stuck, I know, but I had to share a hotel room with she who must not be named, and this was not without consequences. I could spin an exaggerated but amusing tale about my night, but suffice to say that I ended up in the hotel lobby reading my book from five onwards. It was disconcertingly quiet, so when it hit six-thirty, I decided to go for a wonder in the deserted town. It was quiet and snowy and my feet got wet. Beautiful though...

Today I went to a very busy Birmingham with the lovely Sarah Dixon. It was great to catch up. I miss her insane amounts. I spent too much money. I got a cab back from the station with a driver who looked like Jarvis Cocker's fat cousin.

I believe I have run out of things to say. I would wish you a merry Christmas, but who am I kidding? I will be posting tomorrow. G'night!

reach for the stars, so if you fall you land on a cloud... BULLSHIT.

Just over a week in to the Christmas break, it's hard to say just what I have achieved. I certainly have not done any work, have not been anywhere exciting, have not really spoken to anyone. It's been a nice week though; a week of solitude and Salinger and snow. I also have the somewhat lame excuse of having been quite ill, but from tomorrow I will be slightly less pathetic. I will do some actual work, and I will leave the house. Probably.

I'm really really bored of cooking curry all the time. I mean, it's delicious and it's one of the few dishes which is not hindered by the absence of meat, but I'm sick of it. Somebody please give me some ideas! I really do like cooking, but I feel like I'm stuck in a bit of a rut, so if you have any thoughts, or if you would like to come round and cook up a storm with me, send me a little message.

I literally slept all day, and as a result, I'm on top of the world! So it occurred to me, the answer to all the world's problems - sleep. I reckon if everyone got ten solid hours every night, we'd all be a bit less angsty and a bit more pleasant. Perhaps all of our problems would dissolve. We wouldn't have family tiffs, the Koreas would get on, every day would be a good hair day. Call me a dreamer, but in the words of Gloria Steinem 'Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning.'

I hate supposedly inspirational quotations like that one, don't you? It's like the speaker genuinely thinks that their vague, corny words will have an effect on the life of a complete stranger. And everyone's been at it! Even people I quite like (Einstein, Angelou, Woolf, etc) can be quoted in such a way. The thing is though, it is not these lame affirmations that render these people great. In general, their acts speak for themselves, and they are genuinely rather inspiring with or without their empty words.

Words are always empty though. Aren't they?

My sister is a fuckface.

baby you're a sparkler...

Christopher Thomas Yapp (yappattack) just told me that my last post was "very whingey". Good point well made. So this one is going to be full of positivity and light. Just don't get used to it.

This weekend is the time for the return of all my friends which is very exciting. I've missed them all so much, and hopefully we will be a bit less shit than usual and go out and suchlike things. I should probably do some more Christmas shopping, but my overdraft seems to be reproducing with itself and my finances really aren't too hot at the moment.

Today has been spent watching The Hills and marinading things and wrapping up warm to go out in search of Lemsip and soya milk. I also wrapped up all my Christmas presents so far, which is a shame really because that's the best part of the festive season!

Have you seen the video for Katy Perry's Firework? It's mental. Basically, people keep erupting into a big ball of sparkly flame in various states of emotional imbalance. For example, a couple has an argument and then explode a little bit, a lady has a baby and explodes a little bit, two men kiss and explode a little bit. It's all a bit odd. Throw in a bit of Katy looking uncharacteristically classy, and you've got the gist. I'm sure they're going for some sort of symbolism, but it's just a bit shit.



I promise I will never put another Katy Perry video on here again. Sorry 'bout that...

Go on this blog! It led me to listen to lots of new music and it's beautifully written. In a chart of the best songs of the decade, Sugababes Four Tet and Radiohead all featured. Talk about diversity!

This song is proper good, back from the days before they started rapping and they still had Mutya and the ginger one.

pursuit of happiness...

So, I don't really understand what's going on in the Ashes. I don't really understand cricket. I think you may be disappointed if you thought I was going to comment on bowling technique and wickets and suchlike things. One good thing about this quite dull competition, however is that some cricketers are quite pretty.

Firstly (and most importantly) is young Mr Alastair Cook. He has a nice face, and as far as I can tell is pretty damn good. This is his face. Mmhmm, yes.




Then there's Stuart Broad. Injured, but still hot. In my mind, he is the Draco Malfoy of cricket. They look quite similar, no?


I don't think we need another example (mostly because that would involve looking up more cricketers and frankly, who can be arsed?).

I'm back home now, and missing campus life dreadfully. I also miss the oddballs of flat 33, amongst whom I never lose my temper or raise my voice. I miss my highly uncomfortable bed and stash of seasonal alcohol. I miss watching grainy Jonathan Creek on Youtube with my flatmates before staying up in the oppressively small corridors all night pretending to be appalled while the boys talk about poo.

Home sucks. Home really, really sucks. In the past hour, the words "Stop that fucking coughing" and "What the fuck have you bastards done with the paracetamol" have been screamed by my mum who is in a particularly pleasant mood. I'm not sleeping either because of this "fucking cough", so I'm in a bit of a grump.

No matter, have some pretty music:

Goodnight everyone, may you sleep well and dream sweet dreams. Of Cricketers...

2010: a year to be thankful for.

If you happen to read any sort of trashy, girly magazines (which I of course do) you will know that this time of year is the time for reflection. The glossy pages are adorned with countdowns and summaries: summaries of the highlights and low lights of the last year, of the most costly celebrity divorces, of the most successful makeovers, etc.

Following this trend, I've decided to present to you the highlights of my year. I know that this is quite a self-centred thing to do, and that you may not want to read about my year. I thought about this though and realised that the act of blogging itself is pretty self-centred. So if you want to read on, please do. If you would rather pop to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and watch old episodes of 'Peep Show' on 4oD, that's fine too. In fact, I encourage it. 'Peep Show' is full of well-constructed, subtle humour with a dark yet bohemian twist. My meandering thoughts are all I can offer you, so I won't judge you if you stray a little.

So we'll start at the very beginning, shall we? As 2009 became 2010, I was passed out with my head in the toilet after drinking some horrid yellow concoction brewed up by Olly Dix. This wasn't the best way to kick off the year, but it did prompt me to give up drinking for about seven months which can only have been a good thing.

After that, things started looking up. A-levels passed in a flash, I stopped dying my hair, summer happened.

The highest of all highlights has to have been my trip with Sarah across our gorgeous continent. I definitely caught the travelling bug and intend to do it again when I have money and time. I say this like it's a certainty. Seriously though, it was the most fun I've had in such a long time. I got to spend time with one of my dearest friends in some of the coolest places in the world. We made friends we had no intention of keeping and drank some fine Czech beer. It was simply wonderful.

Although the election in May was an utter disaster, the run-up was exciting and could easily have led to me failing all my exams. I didn't, so I look back on it fondly. If I was doing a 'Shit bits of 2010' blog, however, I'm pretty sure the election result and our sham of a government would be hovering somewhere near the top.

In February, I gave up meat for lent, and just sort of carried on. I wouldn't label myself a vegetarian because I use stock-cubes and eat fish and suchlike things. Hypothetically, if I was eating at somebody's house and they didn't realise and accidentally cooked a big fat steak, I'd eat it. This has only happened once, but I'm hoping for a repeat... But yes, no meat means I'm eating a lot more healthily. Everything I cook seems to be full of chickpeas and coriander and spinach. Yum, yum, yum.

This summer was immense. Aside from the hosteling, Edinburgh and Greenbelt were both lovely. A trip to Bristol and a couple of pretty camping trips, paired with really nice weather made the season a complete delight from start to finish.

Coming to university has been completely wonderful. I was so scared that I was doing the wrong thing, but I've settled in so quickly and made such good friends that it's hard to have misgivings. Warwick is home now. I can't believe I have to leave for Italy so soon. Life is proper scary sometimes.

On reflection, really not that much has happened, but it's been a really good year of music and friendship and recovery and education and adventure and Italian. What more could a girl ask for?

ten things I haven't quite mastered yet...

1. Fixing my hair in such a way that it looks exactly the same in an hour's time.
   
2. Getting up without pressing the 'snooze' button at least seven times.
3. Drinking.
4. Enjoying thought-provoking, complicated films more than their trashy counterparts. I fear that such classics as 'Ten Things I Hate About You' and 'Moulin Rouge' are firmly fixed in my favourites forever.
5. Believing in God
6. Prioritising essays over pointless list-making. Like this one.
   
7. Finances.
8. Banal social chit-chat.
   
9. Italian.
10. Accepting that I will never be like Vesper in 'Casino Royale'.
    

overdrawn. in a nice way...

The frost on the trees was incredible, wasn't it? It's starting to thaw now, which is a shame because (in the words of Aqualung) just for a moment, everything was beautiful. Those in the know reckon that the changing of the seasons is good for our sanity. It keeps us on the ball. Keeps us ticking over. I think this is particularly true for those living on campus when it is very possible to feel a little bit trapped. If the view from your bedroom window alters (even just a little bit. With a covering of white, for example.), life seems a little less samey.

Yesterday was my birthday. You probably know this, because you probably know me. I had an exam in the morning and a full day of lectures so it wasn't perfect. But it was lovely.

One of my modules this year, 'Representations of Modern Italy' was pretty much made for me. The lectures are basically history lessons (mostly on Fascism) with a lot of literature and film thrown in. I think I like it just for the amount of variety. We started off studying poetry by Ungaretti, followed by 'Il Sentiero dei nidi di Ragno' or 'The Path to the Spiders' Nests' by Calvino. I had already read and loved 'If on a Winter's Night a Traveller' by Calvino, so I was pretty chuffed when this turned up on the syllabus. They are very different, but both stupidly good. Now we are looking at the work of Roberto Rossellini who pioneered the neo-realist movement in film. I cried. That's all you need to know.

This week promises to be a good one. We are trudging along to the Christmas Ball on Thursday and consuming much festive alcohol over the week. There are only three days left of term, and Charlotte is coming to stay for the weekend because she gets chucked out on Friday. I shall be back home (if you can call Wolverley that) on Wednesday, and there the fun will really begin. By this, I of course mean that I will put on a stone in mince pies and will watch Love Actually seventeen times. 'Tis the season to be porky and unquestioning.





Good morrow! (I'm coming over all Dickensian. Did you ever watch A Muppet Christmas Carol? Please do...)

through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow.....

Christmas doesn't really do it for me, but in the spirit of festive whatnots, I have decided to embrace it this year. It is the bigger picture of which I am not all that fond, but here are the things I can genuinely get excited about.

1. Mince pies
2. Gingerbread lattes
3. A lecture-free month
4. Buying presents - always so much better than getting them
5. Ironic Christmas knitwear
6. Mulled wine
   
7. Baileys
8. Student loan coming in...
9. Seeing my dog
10. Love Actually
    

So yes, still not exactly the most Christmassy person on the planet, but I will relish the time spent indoors doing absolutely nothing and getting a bit porky.

I'm listening to Damien Rice AGAIN. I think he may be my soul mate... 'O' is the only album I can think of that I will happily listen to in its entirety. It's just kind of perfect in a flawed, melodramatic sort of way. Sigh...

I'm not sure I understand all that clearly what is happening to the world at the moment. The USA have ballsed up quite a lot, I think. I have read numerous articles on it, but I'm not really taking any of it in. It seems to have implications for pretty much everyone, so I should probably look into it a bit. Ah well, another day, perhaps...

a stranger is just a friend you probably won't like...

This is my bedroom. I thought about posting pictures as soon as I moved in, but this way you get to see it like it really is; a bit of a dump.


As you can see, it's a tad yellow. This is not okay so I strive to fill my walls with crap. Crap that's not yellow...


This is the wall of cool. If you're not on it, I don't love you. Or perhaps I just don't know you. Or perhaps I met/grew to love you after September when these photos were developed.


This is my desk where my laptop often lives and I play Radiohead while reading Harry Potter in French or playing online scrabble or other things that aren't work and which won't help me to get a degree. In this picture, you will also spot a lot of dirty laundry. I would like it noted that I have spent all evening doing washing, so the basket is no longer overflowing, but empty and unchaotic.
This is where I keep rogue bags. They overflowed a bit and I haven't quite got round to putting them back.


This was the view from my window at some point this afternoon when I decided I would get the camera out. Who says Warwick is ugly?


So there you have it! I feel like this is sure proof that if one day I am lucky enough to own a house, it will be mental and messy and full of utter rubbish. I wouldn't have it any other way...

medicine blues...

Apparently some people have had some snow. We do not, but it is certainly very cold. If it did snow, I would pretty much be screwed because all my shoes are made of muddy white canvas and I have no sense of balance. There isn't a cloud in the sky; it really is gorgeous out there. It feels like proper winter now. We've definitely escaped the fuzzy in-between stage (Autumn if we're being technical) and it's a definite excuse to spend too much money on gingerbread lattes in Costa.

Degrees are so very very hard, but they are not without reward. My French is definitely improving and even though I am definitely one of the less skilled linguists in my Italian group, it's quite astonishing how much I have learned in the past few weeks. Of course in the run up to the Christmas break, the next few weeks will be full of essays and assessments, but after this will follow a blissful month of laziness and presents and frosty walks. I'm never very enthusiastic about Christmas, but I am enthusiastic about gluttony and laziness which will be abundant in this holiday season. Also, Mum is going away which is always a bonus.

Between writing the last paragraph and this one, I went to Tesco and my mood changed significantly. I'm all coughy and snotty and tired.

Between writing the last paragraph and this one, night fell and I watched Beauty and the Beast and I came down with full-on flu. My muscles are aching and I'm shivery and far too hot and cherry tomatoes are all I can eat. I fell asleep for a bit, but now it's late and I'm wide awake and drugged up and all I want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep for a few hours, but sleep isn't coming so I thought I'd continue this blog post. The one I started at lunchtime. When I was annoyingly happy.

Right, so I fell asleep again straight after I wrote that. It is now tomorrow and I feel ten times better. At least this post if nothing else has illustrated how fragmented my writing style is and how my mood meanders quite significantly. I'm going to go now. My day will be one of slippers and honey and translation. Can't complain with that!

well, the bells out in the church tower chime, burning clues into this heart of mine...

I'm a little bit emotional. Tonight (as you probably know by now) was prizegiving, and not only did I see my best friends in the entire world, but beloved teachers and my excellent school with which I have a bit of a love/hate relationship. My old French teacher made me cry, my old English teacher roped me into organising a Christmas reunion and my (very) old maths teacher helped me find my mother's coat when she was being inept.

We're all going to see Harry Potter tomorrow and I'm disproportionately excited. The books, while a little lacking in stylistic narrative are brilliant. The films are obviously less good, but still offer a better cinematic experience than most other films around at the moment. I'm sure many will disagree...

I am getting on oddly well with my usually tempestuous mother at the moment. This is probably because we haven't spent more than a couple days together since I started at university. The thing is, despite what I say, Mum and I were always going to work things out eventually. We are simultaneously the same and completely different. I'm quite a practical person: I can change light bulbs and fix the electrics and get dead mice out of traps. None of these things are particularly tricky, but my mum is a woman and is therefore incapable of completing these menial tasks. It's partly a generational thing, I think. We're also quite different in our attitudes to men, music and friendship. But I begrudgingly admit that we are SO similar: we're both pretty left wing, we did the same A-levels, neither of us are stupid and we both really like food. I think we both really needed a break. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and I certainly resent her a little less.

I've taken up drinking coffee which I used to really hate. Tea doesn't quite cut it when you need to stay up because you've left it a bit late to do that essay, so I've upped the caffeine stakes. I'm also very much aware of my looming year in coffee-mad Italy. I don't want to seem like a complete tourist. I'm sure I'll be gulping down espresso in no time...

In the past couple of years, my music taste has definitely become a bit more abstract. I like quite obscure bands and melancholy melodies, but I've tried my hardest not to become too pretentious or take my music too seriously. There's nothing worse than a pop snob. Often pop music is popular in the first place because it is genuinely good. An example of someone who has lived up to the hype in my opinion is Ellie Goulding. I really liked her album, and now this gorgeous cover has emerged which I can't get enough of:



And this is the thing that converted me in the first place:

can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all...

I am too tired to get up and make tea.



Very, very tired.



Unfortunately, I am unable to prioritise. Instead of cracking on with all the essay work I have to do for the morning, I am doing this.



Slowly.



I am wearing four jumpers and life is sweet. I have to go home again this weekend, which is a bit unfortunate. It is prizegiving, which is also a bit unfortunate. It'll be odd going back to Haybridge but on the upside, I do get to see all of my wonderfully brilliant friends once more. My guess is that I will spend much more time in various Stourbridge establishments than I will at home, and this is fine by me.

This is pretty...



As is this...



And now it really is time to go and make a cuppa before retreating to bed with my 'Ecrire pour convaincre' textbook and walter (I'm not sure if normal people use this term or whether it's a Morgan thing. A 'Walter' is a hot water bottle. Just thought I should clarify. I'm not sure where it originated from...).

dear mr clegg...

Yesterday was an odd day. We all trekked off to London for the protests I'm sure you all have heard far too much about. Unfortunately, the coach journey took an obscene amount of time, so we were rather late, but nobody can argue that a trip to the capital for a fiver is an alright way to break up the monotony of reading week.

After the protest had begun to die down, I sat in a bar with Warwick Labour, watching things turn nasty through the medium of a big screen. A fairly relaxed end to what can only be described as a bit of a duff day.

So though we weren't exactly in the midst of all the exciting action, there was a definite waft of rebellion in the air. It almost seemed like the eighties. Of course, there were those who got carried away and did stupid things. I have read many articles with many differing viewpoints on the occurrences. David Cameron's comments which can be summed up as "the public voted us in therefore we have to do what the public wants: cuts." bugged me, but I'm sure this comes as no great surprise. I begrudgingly admit that Boris summed it up rather nicely. He almost enthusiastically spoke of one's right to a peaceful protest, but said that a "tiny minority" went too far.

Personally, I hope that there are much more protests on the horizon. Peaceful protests that remain peaceful would be nice. It would also help if there were some more police around next time...

Anna Mary: an outsider's view...

Hello everyone. It's reading week and it's really really cold and boredom has set in, so I agreed to let my lovely flatmate Tom write a post. I feel I should write a short disclaimer, but that would betray the trust inherent in this very act. So here it is, this one off guest blog. Enjoy!

Well we have been at Warwick for just over one month now, and although i live in the same flat as Anna i have only known her for 3 weeks. I Feel i must take full responsibility for the two weeks of awkward hellos and silences in the kitchen, this is because of my built in defence mechanism when getting to know new people which is to be over confident and loud which, understandably Anna did not take to. However after two weeks I felt comfortable enough to grow up and talk to the girls in our flat and not just the boys. So for all you regular readers of this rather fine blog, I'm going to give you a brief glimpse of what life is like in our flat and an outsiders opinion on what Anna is really like.

So, life in our flat, well its normally fairly harmonious, the kitchen is always messy and disgusting, bathrooms are fairly well kept and everyone seems to get on with each other. So I guess we really are lucky to live where we do...

Now here's what i have learnt about Anna from 3 weeks of getting to know her and reading her blog.

. She likes tea.
. Shes fairly feminist.
. Shes political.
. Shes driven.
. She like harry Potter
. She doesn't like home very much
. She writes very well

In essence she is everything i am not (apart from the tea and Harry Potter) however if you don't know Anna personally its easy to get the wrong idea of what she is actually like. From her blog you may think she is a bit emo slightly lesbian and not that great to be around. I too thought this for the first two weeks of being at Warwick, but in the last three weeks I've realised she is actually very pleasant to be around and very easy to talk to, and if every so often she has a grumpy day, who can blame her?

So in true "mindbop" style i will leave you with a song...

you are my sweetest downfall...

It's a little too late to be doing this, but I was in the mood, so doing it I am. I'm yet to decide whether that sentence makes sense.

I'm home. Home in Kidderminster, that is, not campus home. We had a bit of a bonfire last night, which could have been much more shit than it actually was. There was food and company and beer. I was satisfied.

Tonight, we went to a Diwali celebration at a friend's house in Kidderminster. Sparklers never seem to lose their appeal. Helen and I spent lots of time playing with funny filters on Ajay's fancy camera while the boys played some kind of duller than dull football game. Again, there was lots of nice food and I feel thoroughly stuffed.

I love Regina Spektor. I have for a long time. I went to see her a few years back at the height of my obsession. Since then, I have discovered lots and lots of bands and my music taste has changed quite radically, but she's the one I always find myself coming back to. She's just so cool with her Soviet charm and unique voice. I. Love. Her. Anyway, because she's so prolific, it's easy to discover something of hers that you've never heard before.

I must have listened to this at least twenty times in the past few days since hearing it in my coffee-filled state at some obscene hour of Friday morning when striving to finish my abysmal essay on Annie Ernaux's ambivalence to her past (yes, I know).

This one is pretty...

And this one's just plain odd...

Happy listening, and good night! ♥

I have just realised that everything in this post has been positive. It even contains a heart(!) I can only apologise, and promise to be more like myself next time!

she's got everything to gain 'cos she's a fat girl with a lisp...

I only ever really write a blog post when there's something important I need to be doing. Something other than writing a blog post. It's reading week next week. Expect lots of blog posts.

Today has been a good day. I feel like I have been fairly productive despite the fact that I have done nothing. Which is an achievement in itself. My stomach muscles have also just about recovered from the amount of laughing I did while watching 'I Love You Man' last night. The film wasn't even that funny. The cackles of my flatmates enhanced the experience 100%.

As I said, next week is reading week. This can only mean one thing - there is no longer a valid excuse to not go home. It's not even like I live far away or the train journey will be expensive. If home wasn't so unpleasant approximately 73% of the time, I'm sure I would be looking forward to it, but while other people are looking forward to returning to their warm houses full of wholesome meals and welcoming parents, I am not. Last winter, our house was not heated at all; the central heating had broken and Mum chose to wait until May to get it fixed. Right now, my house does not have a functioning shower, certainly will not have any food - other than soft biscuits and curdled milk - and contains my mother.

Now, don't get me wrong, if she was around all the time, I would complain about that, too. She is a very difficult person to live with, and it's nice that she isn't always under our feet, however, it would be nice if sometimes she was a little more maternal. I actually can't remember the last time she cooked a meal, or the last time we all sat at the dining table. It's funny how family dynamics can shift so dramatically.

This month is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo. I am not partaking, but I love the idea of a bunch of young writers pushing themselves to find ways of expressing themselves by putting words onto paper. I would have loved to have given it a go, but as I can barely complete the work I already have, I thought it best to leave it until next year when I will surely be bored and lonely in Italy. I also feel like I would be incredibly ashamed of whatever I managed to come up with. Novels just don't happen at the age of eighteen, do they? So while one day, I will almost certainly come up with a pile of literary shite full of all my deepest thoughts and fears, I'm far too happy to do it now. We all know that books written by the content are always atrocious. I'll wait until I'm miserable again.

Sigh...

sei molto cocciuta...

Now, because I chose to follow my pockets rather than my heart, I am not doing a degree in creative writing. You probably know this because you probably know me, and therefore know a little bit about me. I do know, however, that there are a few people dotted around the world who read this (yes, I'm as surprised as you are) who probably don't know much about me. Please bear in mind that this is not the original premise of the blog post, so feel free to join me in a couple of paragraphs' time if you already know all this about me.

My name is Anna Mary Morgan and I am eighteen years old. I currently study French and Italian at the University of Warwick. I am from Kidderminster which is a bit of a dive. It is near Birmingham which I think is an underrated city. I am half Welsh. My favourite food is goats' cheese, but I also like spinach very much. I put it in everything. I am vaguely vegetarian but I eat fish and I eat meat if I have no choice (for instance at someone's house if they haven't realised and have prepared a gourmet meal). Saying this, I have only eaten meat once since February. My favourite meat is lamb. My favourite film is probably Juno, but I like Lost in Translation a lot. I'm sad sometimes because some sad things have happened to me, but I'm lucky in lots of ways so I try not to let it bog me down. My favourite book is probably something Brontëish, but I haven't fallen in love with a book since I was pretty young and read 'Sophie Hits Six'. I'm not sure how I have friends. I don't like to purchase clothes or books online as much as physically going shopping, but I do it all the time anyway. I really like James McAvoy. I like old detective shows. Berlin is the place I like most in the world. So far. I really dislike foetuses. I am a socialist. I am frustrated by the fact that I'm still not fluent in French. I'm not frustrated by the fact that I'm not fluent in Italian because I started learning it four weeks ago. My favourite band is Bright Eyes. I would like to be either taller or shorter. I would like to be either blonder or more brunette. I would like to be either thinner or fatter. Oh, wait, I'd just like to be thinner. When at home, I live with my mum and my sister and my dog. I miss my dog much more than the other two. Death doesn't scare me. I like floral patterns, but I'm indifferent to flowers. But I like plants. I only fall for people I have no chance with. I always forget to take an umbrella out with me. It always rains on the days I've straightened my hair. I am a Christian, but I put Christian far too far down on this list. This should give you an idea of just how Christian I am. I used to drink, and then I didn't drink for a while, and now I drink a bit again. I don't know how to talk to human beings. I have had a sore throat for a week. This list has fallen into anarchy.

So there you have it, and to get back to my original point, I'm not doing a degree in which I have to write all that much. The other day, however, we had to come up with a dialogue between two people who meet randomly. This was mine:

Emma: Scusa, lavori qui?
Connor: No, ma Stefano lavora qui. È un ragazzo alto e ha i capelli biondi.
Emma: Non importa. Piacere, io mi chiamo Emma.
Connor: Io sono Connor. Piacere! Sei inglese?
Emma: No, sono polacca, di Varsavia.
Connor: Polacca? Davvero? Sei qui per studiare?
Emma: No, sono con un’amica; è una studentessa di medicina. Dove abiti?
Connor: Abito a Firenze
Emma: Ah sì? Che bello!
Connor: No, TU sei bella!
Emma: Grazie ma ho un ragazzo.
Connor: Allora, sei contenta?
Emma: Sì sono molto contenta
Connor: Va bene, però io sono speciale!
Emma: Sì, ma...
Connor: Vuoi venire al cinema domani?
Emma: Domani, parto per Roma!
Connor: Sei molto cocciuta! A presto!
Emma: A presto! Ciao!

I had SO much fun writing it that I feel a little ashamed. She said that it was the only one she enjoyed reading. I'm not sure why I made 'Connor' a bit of a twat.

Can I say 'twat' on here? If not, sorry.

A softer world; beautifully ridiculous.

living for the weekend...

I have a headache this morning. I blame gin.

According to Yvette Cooper, the astronomical cuts of our times will hit women twice as hard as they will hit men, which is a travesty considering that on the whole, we already earn much less. Childcare will no longer be an option, and women will be forced back into the home. Can't you just taste the regression?

Saturdays at university are somehow infinitely better than Sundays, even though the basic concept is the same. Nobody is really up yet (I think I got off easy last night), so I'm just sitting in my room, tidying sporadically and drinking tea whilst listening to Aqualung and writing this. What more could a girl want?

Because the Civil Service pension people made a killing from the premature death of my father, I get a bit of money every month. This is the reason I was able to quit the deathjob and go on my European adventure. They've stopped it now, though and will only start it again once I've proven that I am a genuine student. This means a trip to University House which is on the other side of campus, and my bed is so warm.

Warwick Labour is full of lovely people. I think I'll be going back.

I need to do some washing.

I'm not sure whether it's time for breakfast or lunch. I have an excellent (although I say it myself) chickpea curry in the fridge, but it doesn't really feel like savoury time yet. Then again, Weetos taste no good with skimmed milk. Nutella is usually the answer...

I saw Chiddy Bang in the union last night. I think the less said about this, the better.

ode to you.

How can you miss something you never had?

for richer, for poorer, in fiction and in wealth...

I have realised that when I make sweeping, unsubstantiated commentsin this blog, these comments are challenged and turned on their head (or just mocked) by the people who read this, resulting in me feeling a bit naive, or faintly amused at the intimidating intelligence of some of the people in my life. So yes, what I am trying to say (in the longest sentence ever) is that I need to be careful.

This is how I would usually start this post:

Now, as you know, I will never get married. I do not believe that the institution of marriage can offer me anything in my life. I am fiercely independent and I will never need a man to complete me. I am already whole. BUT, if I were to change my mind (though this is unthinkable), these men would probably be the only ones in the world that I could bear to marry.

...

So though I love writing ranty paragraphs, it may be time to refine my thought processes and write like a grown up. I probably shouldn't have chosen this post to try it, but nevertheless, here is my second effort...

I may never marry. Never say never, but I'm not sure it's really for me. In the words of Summer (of '500 Days of Summer' fame) "I just don’t feel comfortable being anyone’s girlfriend. I don’t actually feel comfortable being anyone’s anything". Now, replace the word 'girlfriend' with 'wife' and you're getting close to my way of thinking. I'm sure many people have happy, healthy marriages, but I don't really like making compromises or admitting that I am wrong. And I'm scared of foetuses. And foetus-presence is implied in the holy sacrament, etc, of marriage.

Nevertheless, there are a few people in this world (none of whom I have met) I believe I could put up with forever and ever:

• James McAvoy - The original, the best. Plus, he already seems to be making one marriage work, and therefore is an expert.
• Conor Oberst - It wouldn't be the most cheerful household ever, but we could have sad, gaunt children who would be musical prodigies and have weird eyes.
• Robert Webb - Mostly because of this (which I robbed shamelessly), partly because of this.
• Joseph Gordon-Levitt - He stole my heart when I first watched Ten Things I hate About You (I think I was 12) and I never really got it back.
  
• Jonny Lee Miller - He plays Mr Knightley in the good version of 'Emma' and is the master of twinkly eyed disapproval. He was married to Angelina Jolie, however who is stunningly beautiful and I'm... well... not.
  
• Auden - dead and gay. At least my taste is original...
• Remus Lupin.
• Simon Amstell.
• Atticus Finch.
• Bill Murray.
• John Hannah.

I feel like the last few need no explanation.

dirty pretty things...

Things I like about university:

• There are very few (if any) children here.
  
• Everyone is clever. Like. Everyone. This means you actually have to think about what you say in everyday conversation. Things said in Kidderminster might not make all that much sense here.
  
• The Guardian is half the regular price
• Contrary to popular belief, you can get away with not drinking all that much. When drunk, I am a pleb, so I haven't done it for a few months. It's a simpler life...
  
• There is a library of foreign cinema. This one pretty much explains itself.
• Ditto magazines.
• It's not far from home, so I can go back if I so choose (I don't, but I'm being hypothetical.)
• It's full of raving lefties. Last week, I stood for ten minutes while a man from the Socialist Worker Party told me that Communism was the way forward. He was so passionate, I didn't have the heart to disagree.
  
• When living on campus, everything is a five minute walk. Of course, it gets a little bit samey, but in theory, this is good. Also, there are ducks everywhere.
  
• My 'lecteur' who is named Thomas and is strangely appealing. Hard to say why...
  

In short, I could probably stay forever. I banned myself from updating during my first week, but as I have no television, I daresay you will be seeing much more from me. You lucky buggers...

a stash of blue ties...

I just spent half an hour sorting odd socks. Laugh all you want, but I found twenty pairs, so the joke's on you. Or maybe not on you, but on those lousy socks who just don't seem to want to stay together.

I have tomorrow in which to pack. I'm also getting my hair cut and going out in the evening, so the day will be pretty full, and I will be pretty stressed. Of course, I could have done it today but I went to the dentist and I bought a coat and I spent the evening in Stourbridge. With all the faffing that fell in-between, the day pretty much vanished. I did get as far as putting all my clothes haphazardly on my bed, but I couldn't get a case to put them in or anything because I'm always scared that if I go in the attic without somebody holding the ladder, it will slip and I will plunge down thirteen stairs to my death. It also means that my bed is occupied so I have nowhere to sleep. Troubling...

I went to the pub yesterday evening, but after I returned, I decided it would be fun to brush up on the ConDem cabinet (though I resent calling it this. 'Cabinet' implies a spirit of unity.) Aren't they a dismal lot? I pretty much googled each and every one and hated them all apart from William Hague and Vince Cable. Hague may be a big fat Tory, but he's intimidatingly bright, and that has to stand for something. Cable has a funny face, and I saw him at Cheltenham Literature Festival (he smiled at me as he was buying a hemp book bag). I do like him for other reasons besides his face, however. But not really. It's a good face.

George Osborne must be the worst. Just the very sight of him makes my skin crawl. He and Cameron both have this horrible smirk whenever they give an answer/lecture they are pleased with, and whenever they here the affirmative chorus of the back-benchers, most of whom seem to have barely changed since their days at public school. This is just speculation, of course. They might have come a long way since they were forced into that patriarchal, unnatural environment. But I doubt it...

Off to bed now.Where, I'm not quite sure, but I'm too tired to even drink my tea, let alone successfully ridicule our 'Government'. I might blog mid-pack tomorrow. Or would that be verging on sad/a waste of time? Sad/a waste of time could probably describe this whole blog Or life indeed. Wait, is that morbid?

eally eally fustating...

My 'R' key won't go down. I got that one by copying and pasting some female's facebook status. By consequence I have decided not to use it in this blog at all. This means changing each sentence so it isn't what is in my head. This bugs me. I think it's a stone in it. It might be something else. I apologise because a lot of sentences seem odd without the function of this key.

But I always like a challenge...

Helen just made the seat die.

Man, this is difficult.

Songs! I can embed videos and not type a thing. Excellent.

Abysmal. I can only apologise. I will now spend my evening attempting to fix my laptop. Night night!

open wide, here comes original sin.

Hello there. It's Tuesday and I thought I'd write a blog. As yet, I'm not sure what I'm going to talk about, but that doesn't usually stop me.

Right now I'm in the sort of mood where I'd like nothing more than to curl up in a ball and forget about the world, but instead I'm opting for listening to pretty music on headphones so I don't annoy everyone else. I've been working for probably the last time today. It was pleasant but tiring, and I got a really odd night's sleep last night, so I'm a little bit dazed.

At some point this week, I'm going to need to pack; a daunting and unpleasant task which I am not looking forward to in the slightest.

Sometimes I act like a twat. It's usually covering up the fact that I am in fact incredibly shy. Bear with me, I'll try to be a more rounded, nicer person. I mumble too, apparently. Again, it's the shy thing.

These are my favourite songs of all time (right now):

• First Day of My Life - Bright Eyes

• No Children - The Mountain Goats

• Lover, You Should Have Come Over - Jeff Buckley

• Flux - Bloc Party

• Burning Benches - Morning Runner

• If You Can't Sleep - She & Him

• Expectations - Belle and Sebastian

• Eskimo - Damien Rice

• Heartbeats - Jose Gonzalez

• Unfinished Sympathy - Massive Attack

• There is a Light that never goes out - The Smiths

• Boys don't cry - The Cure

• Street Spirit - Radiohead

That will do for now. I will probably delete this post later when I am in a more rational/alive mood.

Just because I think it's beautiful. I think Mr Burton still has my dvd...

Just because I think it's cool.

moving on...

Well it's been a good weekend. My brand new iPod arrived, the Labour Party was saved and I went to Surrey to a silver wedding celebration/renewal of vows/apparent excuse for old people to get drunk. I also discovered that a maroon chunky knit beret is a brilliant way to cover up shit hair. Which I definitely have at the moment...

So we'll start with the lovely Ed, shall we? Finally, a genuine socialist has taken the reigns, and things are going to change. It's not like we can underestimate the impact of such a disappointing election, but the shiny veneer of the coalition is starting to crack, and now we are in opposition, the left is cool again. I really liked David Miliband, but I voted for Ed because his values are the closest to my own. In May, I must have heard the phrase "well they're all the same, aren't they?" about fifteen hundred times, and even though this is really quite untrue, Ed is definitely different. And he's fairly young and punchy, and with Harman beside him, I feel like the party's in good hands.

Today was the twenty-fifth wedding anniversary of my uncle's stepson and his wife (yes that's right). They are only in their early forties, so they must have got married incredibly young, but in fairness, they seem very happy. To celebrate the longevity of their relationship, we got up at five and drove down to Surrey to make it to the church service on time (incidentally, today is 'back to church Sunday'. Fairly fitting as this was the first time I had set foot in a church in months.) The vows were renewed and rings were exchanged (again) during a fairly bog standard service. The vicar did manage, however to centre the entire thing around the importance of commitment and love and not murdering one's spouse. He also mentioned something about Lazarus and a rich guy, but I think this was unrelated. Next, we went to a pub-type place where the champagne flowed (although I drank lime and soda because I had enough trouble staying awake without the interference of alcohol) and there was food. Lots of food. I gritted my teeth while many distant un-relatives grilled me on my lack of a male escort. At least two people asked me whether wedding bells were on the horizon for me. The exasperated response "I'm eighteen!" did not seem sufficient to quell their disapproval. Coupled with the fact that my mum kept telling everyone that I hate men, I'm not sure I gave off a great impression, but I probably shouldn't look into it too much. They probably just thought I was a friendly lesbian.

And the thing is, it's not even true! To say I hate men would be a grossly unfair generalisation. There are several men I like including Stephen Merchant, Conor Oberst and Gordon Brown. See? My mother also fails to bear in mind that far from hating only men, I don't like women all that much either, and as such, I am probably a pretty poor excuse for a feminist. So all in all, it is more of a general dislike of humanity than of males in particular. And I'm sure one day, there will be a man who will sweep me off my feet and with whom I shall fall uncontrollably in love, etc, but until that day, it just doesn't seem worth the bother, and as such, I'll have to deal with the prying questions for a little while longer.

sweet disposition...

It's amazing how from one day to the next, we see the world completely differently. Sometimes (for example when working in a twee little shop/deli/café in a twee little place like Wolverley), this life isn't quite so shite. Polite people come in and make polite conversation while sipping their organic ginger beer and chobbling on home made cake. On these days, music is lovely and friends are gracious, technology works in our favour and we are glad when we get home. Other days (when really nothing has changed), it hails and the fridge smells funny and we take criticism to heart and there is no cake. On these days, we hear news of the sorry state of our planet; of wars and drought and Justin Bieber. On these days, we cannot be helped, and even a glimpse of the ones we love or the ones who give us butterflies won't make us feel better. I think my mood is predetermined the moment I wake up. I wake up a miserable cow and that is how I will be all day. Terrible isn't it?

Of course, I'm sure there are some people with naturally sunny dispositions who never have the aforementioned days and are never miserable cows. Perhaps if I try, I can become like these people, the ones with nice hair and rosy cheeks who look good in floral aprons and make good pastry, or even entire pies with apples and blackberries. Wait, I think this could be classed as a tangent...

So yes, I wonder whether you can alter your mindset, or whether I will be stuck like this forever. I'm sure university will bring changes, but whether good or bad, it's impossible to know.

These pictures are incredible, but if you are Jess Carvlin, please don't click on the link.

love steals us from loneliness?

I think my dog is lonely. He has a teddy bought for 50p at a car boot sale which he carries around everywhere and treats very gently and with fondness. I noticed this, and realised that he doesn't really have any friends and probably uses the somewhat sad little bear as a substitute. The other day, he nudged the speed-dial button on the phone, and Helen and I both mocked him gently because, well, who would he ring? It's not like we can get another dog to keep him company. I think there is very little to be done. We have a lonely dog on our hands. So why am I telling you this? I'm not sure really. It's very possible that I have spent too much time at home with my dog in the past couple of weeks, or perhaps the tale of my lonely dog can be seen as an allegory. Perhaps I'm just the sort of person who notices when a dog is sad. Hard to say...

Sunday morning...

Well, it's been over a week, and for this I can only apologise. Happy Sunday, everyone! For lapsed Christians like me, Sundays are a particularly special day. I try not to find myself awake around ten o'clock because this is when I feel I should probably be in church, not eating biscuits for breakfast. So when I eventually rise around midday, I make some tea and invariably go on Facebook for a bit, before wallowing about in self pity. Sometimes I make porridge.

Thing is, even when you're a good-for-nothing layabout like me, and the days merge so utterly, Sundays never stop being depressing, do they? You can never shake that back to school feeling, even if you know your Monday will be just as empty as the day before. A while ago, my friends and I decided that to combat this Sunday feeling, we would mark the end of the weekend in celebration rather than mourning by going out and keeping ourselves occupied (getting drunk). Unfortunately, these outings only lasted a couple of weeks, so I wouldn't exactly call them a success.

Tonight, however, there will be a certain legitimacy to my Sunday night blues. That's right, I have a job. This week, I will be working in the deli in the village alongside my lovely sister who I'm sure will criticise me 'til the cows come home about my waitressing technique. I'm probably a bit rusty, to be honest, but as it's only three days, it's not like I have to really make a lasting impression on those in charge. Unfortunately, even I like to be liked sometimes, so I probably will try really quite hard, and I'm sure I will be exhausted next time I write here (which will not be another week. I'm a bit ashamed.)

Oh! Yeah, I went to Wales. It was very Welsh. I got to see my great uncle Danny who is now 93 and probably more active than me. Of course, this isn't saying much, but he is pretty damn old. Then we went to deepest, darkest Gower and stayed on my auntie's farm with the chickens and geese and sheep (oh my!). It was nice, but also nice to come back to civilisation (and by this, I mean my dvd player).

Bye then!

P.S. I love Jonathan Creek. Why is it always the fictional ones?