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...