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.

ode to the man with the red shining hair...

There are many things I hope to achieve in my lifetime. Some of these things such as my desire to suddenly morph into Marion Cotillard may never happen. Others, such as some day leaving Kidderminster are (slightly) less ridiculous. Somewhere on the spectrum falls the desperate hope of some day marrying Rupert Grint.

Now I don't think this is that ridiculous. I stand more chance with the Grint than I do with say... Barack Obama and following this logic, I conclude that our wedding is imminent. You see, I've always liked lovely, lovely Rupert and can probably trace him as the cause of my fondness for ginger boys through my teenage years. So in a tribute to my thirteen year old self and the red-heads who filled my daydreams, here it is - the ultimate list of ginger celebrity men! Are you excited? You should be...

1. The original and the best, Mr Rupert Grint - Look at him, just look! Without him, the Harry Potter films would be atrocious, with him they are just bad. He rocks various types of knitwear and is considerably hotter than all of his lanky brothers put together. He seems refreshingly normal, too. Perhaps this is just in comparison with Daniel Radcliffe who seems more and more bizarre every time he is interviewed...
   
   
2. Glen Hansard - 'Once' is a bit lame but I really like his band, The Frames and he seems positively lovely. Irish accents are possibly the one thing that can turn an average ginger man into an absolute Adonis. Anyone fancy a trip to Dublin?
   
   
3. Damian Lewis - There is something so oddly attractive about this slightly arrogant, freckly man, especially when he is playing a rogue, morally ambiguous Russian spy in Stormbreaker. Blimey.
   
   
4. Ewan McGregor - definitely a little bit ginge, definitely a little bit dreamy. Again, the accent is a bonus, along with his ability to serenade with the best of them and ride a motorbike with Charlie Boorman (who I also quite fancy but who, unfortunately did not make the ginger cut). Though I love 'Trainspotting', the horrific toilet scene definitely saw Ewan slip a few places, but then I remembered 'Brassed Off' and he soared back up again. Anyone who can play a brass instrument...
   
   
5. Mac from Green Wing - I believe I mentioned him last time, so I shall not drone on. Suffice to say that he is definitely an awesome ginge who can save lives and woo women while being generally lovely, funny and unattainable. Swoon...
   
   
6. Damien Rice - The man who got me out of my little greebo rut and taught me how to feel falls into a special sub-category of ginger men - the sort of man who doesn't seem to be ginger at all until he grows a beard and BAM! There it is, like a shining red beacon of hope on an otherwise cloudy day. And no, he's not that good looking but he has such a wonderfully lovely voice and a wonderfully lovely accent and a ginger beard. I don't think I need another reason...
   
   
7. The guy from Eastenders - which I have never watched, but I like his voice on the Orange adverts and he reminds me of this man I served once in Morrisons with whom I fell a bit in love when he defended me when his father was being a knob. Alas, he never came in again and I suspect he is living it up in Hawaii or Cuba. Not quite a modern Romeo and Juliet but you have no idea the things that keep you going when you spend three days a week performing menial, degrading tasks in an orange and green checked shirt.
   
   
8. Mr Bingley - actually, both of the recent portrayals of Darcy's less stroppy friend have been more than a little bit ginger. I love this character, and I am glad other people envisaged him to have red hair and it wasn't just me. Phwoar.
   
   
9. Martin Freeman - Not that ginger but this is my blog so I make up the rules. I was always a bit dubious of The Office and not all that fond of Mr Gervais, but I just didn't get it. I bought it all for about a tenner and watched it in a matter of days last summer and became an instant convert. Tim, played by Freeman is the epitome of the boy your mum would like if you brought him home and master of the longing stare. I am fairly sure I was not alone in my jubilation when he and Dawn finally got together in the final episode. I probably was the only person to be jealous...
   
   
10. Stephen Merchant - Another pioneer of the ginger beard clan who I just love. With my new-found appreciation for all things Gervais came regular viewing of 'The Ricky Gervais Show' and with that came a fondness for this very tall man. He has an accent which on others would be annoying but which renders him even more amiable. And he went to Warwick. That's me sold...
    
    
11. Robert Webb - I didn't like him at all. I assumed he was barely acting when he played the insufferable Jeremy in Peepshow. Then I watched his 'My Life In Verse' and I came around to the idea. Again, he's not that ginger, but it's there if you look hard enough...
    
    
12. Jake from One Tree Hill - More auburn than proper ginger but have you seen him?
    
    
13. And finally, because no 'best of' list of mine is complete without this adorable man, James McAvoy. He is it as far as I'm concerned, the most fanciable man on the planet. The obsession began with Mr Tumnus then escalated when I saw Starter for 1o and reached a peak when I began to watch Shameless from the beginning. He is Scottish and intelligent, and I know he has brown hair, but has occasionally been spotted sporting a beard which is decidedly ginger. This is good enough for me...

So there you have it. It was supposed to be a 'top ten' but my enthusiasm took over and it grew a little bit. Besides, thirteen is a lovely rounded number...

all that wrinkles is not old...

I'm a little bit obsessive about voice overs. I'm pretty good at recognising a voice and pinning it to its owner.

Robert Webb does a lot of voice overs, but having always seen him in funny roles, I find myself always waiting for the punchline and am therefore invariably disappointed when the joke about toilet roll is in fact not a joke about toilet roll. It's just an advert. About toilet roll. Mark Watson makes a terrific rabbit, confused about its daily intake of fruit and veg (Innocent provides an exceptional amount of fibre, in case you were wondering). Stephen Fry and Paul Merton have even loaned their voices to that of a phone and a mouse, and not even a proper mouse - the crappy plastic kind. But it's not just comedians; take any Radio 1 DJ, Sharpe, or TV presenter, and you can bet that they double their income through this wonderful medium.

Sometimes I drive myself mad trying to figure out who that oh-so familiar voice belongs to, although I of course recognised this one straight away as that of the lovely Jame Mcavoy.

Sometimes, you don't recognise the voice at all, but just note that it is a nice voice and so endeavor to find out whose nice voice it is. This happened when I heard the new Orange adverts. I then found out that the voice over was some guy from Eastenders and was horrified. Then found out that said guy from Eastenders looked like this and was somewhat placated. Blimey. I think it's time to get into soaps (though I hear that they killed him off...)

Of course, there's the music too. I'm constantly hearing songs on adverts and trailers which are completely and utterly brilliant. This lovely lovely song was on a trailer for Gossip Girl and has led to a small obsession with LCD Soundsystem (though I'm not a fan of the new album).

Basically, this blog was all just an excuse to post a picture of Robert Webb's face. I'm not sure you can call it a waste though...

And finally, I have the hands of an eighty year old woman / hag / goblin. They are all bent and wrinkly and generally witchy. They make me feel wise...

and time yet for a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions, before the taking of a toast and tea.

A lot of people say that studying poetry at GCSE takes all the joy out of it, and I suppose I agree. But for me, the problem lies in studying a poem I really can't stand and over analysing it until it becomes even more unlikeable. I think that's what people are getting at and I completely understand. Last year for example, we were forced to reckon with the melancholy of Thomas Hardy's seemingly endless verse. His work was all basically an embodiment of his grief. He mourned the death of his wife, the simplicity of mankind, the (rubbish) century. This guy never stopped complaining and I was put off poetry for life. At least this is what I told myself. Then we moved on to Auden. And I fell in love.

The thing with Auden is that you can not just love his poems, but also be fascinated with his life. He married a lesbian to prevent her from being deported, was a massive lefty and had a somewhat exciting love life. He once wrote "If equal affection cannot be / Let the more loving one be me". So yes, I am a bit in love. Too bad he is both gay and dead. I sure know how to pick 'em...

This poem got me full marks in my English exam last year (shameless, I know). It's kind of sad. On second thoughts, don't read it.

I'm not very good with poetry. With the exception of 'The Love Song Of J. Alfred. Prufrock', they have to rhyme to keep me entertained. They have to mean at least something without months of study, and they have to have a story behind them.

If I could tell you

Time will say nothing but I told you so,
Time only knows the price we have to pay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

If we should weep when clowns put on their show,
If we should stumble when musicians play,
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

There are no fortunes to be told, although,
Because I love you more than I can say,
If I could tell you I would let you know.

The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.

Perhaps the roses really want to grow,
The vision seriously intends to stay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.

Suppose the lions all get up and go,
And all the brooks and soldiers run away;
Will Time say nothing but I told you so?
If I could tell you I would let you know.

W. H. Auden (1907 - 73)

When watching 'My life in Verse' with Robert Webb, I also discovered T.S. Eliot. I have written about him before and will no doubt mention him again, so I won't bore you right now.

Poetry doesn't have to be fancy. It doesn't have to have critical acclaim. It doesn't even have to be all that good to mean something to someone. I love this poem a little bit, especially when he reads it.