ode to a plate of chips.

my friend wears glasses.  

they are children's glasses even though he is not a child. 

they are also a bit blue in certain lights.

little things.

I was, being extremely bored [& procrastinator extraordinaire], going to write a blog on the subject of APATHY. 

But then I did a stop.

And I thought: God, what a miserable fucking read that would be.

So instead, I managed to persuade my blind to return to its open position & let the remainder of the daylight enter my hovel of a bedroom. It's a little bit nice to be able to see things rather than flailing about in the half dark like a pissed ice skater.

My daytime pattern has recently become thus: somewhere in between indulging my [un]questionable facebook addiction & skipping song after song that simply doesn't suit the mood on the old itunes library, I wind up time & again thinking of all the big plans I have for the summer, most of which will undoubtedly never materialise.

So after musing with a friend the other day on our ideal cotched-summer-and-a-half, I narrowed my summer vision a little, down to a few key components, going with the view that anything else occurrin' would be a win. Sod it, I'm only young. Years to spend the summer saving the world...[Next year, charity work, yes yes yess.]

Here is my self indulgent visual post of what I hope my unashamedly student summer will consist of:

    

    

    

  

 

Think I might go for a walk in the forest with the sunshine...On second thoughts I just opened the window & it's more nippy than I anticipated. Summer shall have to wait.

dressing for the occasion.

It's not often these days that something on the tellybox makes me recoil in abject fear or confusion. But today, it happened.

Over the years I've watched some crap television, don't get me wrong. My viewing record reads like a 'top 100 things not to bother watching before you die' list. [Which ironically, I'm pretty sure was a rerun on late night channel 4 a couple of weeks ago]. I watched Jade Goody's wedding to the Right Honourable Jack Tweed - pretty sure he's been knighted by now, actually? The Man Who Ate His Lover looked like quite a friendly chap, and the ever brilliant minds at channel five airing 'World's Fattest Man Gets Married' or something equally vulgar, had my vote from the get go.

    

[Jade Goody's Wedding; The Man Who Ate His Lover (happy bugger); The World's Fattest Man - can't even make it out of bed for his wedding day, lazy sod.]  

But the thing that REALLY pissed me off was the ITV lunchtime weather report. Or rather ITV lunchtime weather report's hip & trendy yummy-mummy make-me-a-supermodel ITV weather lady.

Let's be honest, ITV has always strived to be the coolest of the terrestrial channels, at least when it comes down to their age-old battle with BBC 1. I've often thought of the BBC as the more conservative of the two; more middle of the road, bookish & knowledgeable, likes the odd bit of sci-fi, trousers inevitably slightly too short - that sort of thing. ITV however, despite it's best efforts, tends only to respond by overcompensating. The powers that be at ITV seem to be forever trying to get one up on the BBC. 'LET'S MAKE EVERYTHING MORE LOUD & MORE SHINY & MORE NOWWW!! KRAYZEEE!!' Essentially ITV is aspiring to be the tellybox equivalent of a Romford Market gold watch or a pimped-up maxed-out smack-ma-bitch-up VW Golf on Loughton Highstreet of a weekend.

       

         [BBC]                                       [ITV]

I can only assume it is for these reasons that ITV deemed it appropriate that their aforementioned ITV weather lady do her thing in a black t-shirt complete with gold sparkle inducing bow & coordinating black waistcoat. I don't want to watch fucking CABARET I want to know if it's safe to leave the washing out. I do realise it shouldn't matter. As far as I'm aware her dress down Friday approach has not made her any less of an ITV weather lady. At least I sincerely hope that this change of attire does not mark her secret rebellion against the weather-forecast viewing population of Great Britain, and that she is now not in fact telling horrible lies when she says it will rain until the end of the week JUST TO GET HER KICKS.

[Chrissie Reidy aka ITV Weather Lady, back in the day. Oh, Chrissie.]

It is a concern, though. A tiny, niggling, unreasonable idea that for some reason, ITV weather lady donning a sharp suit & heels should know a great deal more about the oncoming weather fronts than just some woman that looks a bit like ITV weather lady in your average Topshop wares.  There are many parallel examples. In the extreme, if Jonathan Ross switches uniforms with a Playboy model, what've you got? ANARCHY. Viewers switching off from all sides & 4 undoubtedly gleeful puffs with a piano that'll never be quite the same again.

[4 Poofs & A Piano. Minus Piano.]

Either way, the sooner nameless ITV weather lady return to her suit wearing heyday, the better. It hasn't rained all day, for the record. >.>

homecoming.

Tomorrow, or rather later on today, is back to Loughton. My 'real home' in Essex. 

[At uni if you ask someone where they live they'll tell you which halls they're in, or the road name, and in extreme cases entire address, of their cramped four bed semi-detached house in Peckham. Except you're already perfectly aware of the fact that they live in London and weren't exactly after the precise post code. So you say "oh no I meant where are you 'really from' ". Like when they told you they were from Peckham they were trying to deceive you with a horrible lie.] 

My 'real home' so called, is a little known quiet place called Essex, where tangerine dreams are made.

It's not like EVERYONE fits the stereotype. But when you've seen what seems like a million winters worth of Juicy velour tracksuits and Ugg boots and a million summers worth of denim hotpants and...well, Ugg boots ambling down the high street, you can see what the rest of the country thinks & means by 'Essex'.

Sitting OUTSIDE of cafes is also a typical past time of the young - middle aged Essex men & woman:

Come rain or shine they'll be there. Middle of winter, pashminas in tow, there they are. Sipping on a half-caf double skinny moccachoccathing, having a draw of a Marlboro Light. It is my personal opinion that only the French can truly pull this sort of activity off. Facial Expression is key. The French say, in their chic Frenchy coats and their berets: 'Yes I'm sitting on the street and drinking my coffee, no you may not join me, I am perfectly content and wonderful being cold and thinking you look shit.' The Essex street cafe frequenter, however, is more likely to say something along the lines of: 'Errr look at 'er bayyyg' or 'Init cold Darren?'.

Like I said, not everyone in Essex is like this. For starters there would be marginally less parking space if ALL the inhabitants of Loughton chose to drive the latest, largest, silver-est 4x4 they could possibly find. And the level of global warming would increase by a tiny percentage. And that would be a shame. But there are enough people like this, REALLY as in FO' REALZ like this, that give Essex its certain reputation. Not as many white stilettos these days, sadly, but the general idea remains the same.

    ...

Whichever question it is I'm answering, I'm from London.

nike call them 'capris'.

I would like to write about three quarter length trousers.

Earlier today I was musing away on my fairly nondescript journey aboard the 171 bus to New Cross 'Massive' about what I could fill this intimidating little box with. There are quite a few things I probably shouldn't talk about in too much depth not because I don't care but simply  because I don't know enough about them to back up ay point I might care to put forward.  A few of these include: Politics, science, the state of the global economy, 'art house' films, gardening ETC.

So spying a woman out of the upstairs window wearing three quarter length jogging bottoms somewhere in the region of Brockley, I thought they deserved a mention... 

It was quite cold today. So why not wear full length jogging bottoms? I thought maybe she wanted something a little more free & cold inducing for when she was doing her exercise. I presume she'd been doing exercise. She was wearing jogging bottoms and a t-shirt like an energetic person and she most definitely was not a chav. But IF she wanted more freedom and cool inducing properties from a lower body garment AND it was warm enough to wear three quarter length trousers outside then why couldn't she have opted for some shorts? Even some long shorts. They're BASICALLY THE SAME. I just really don't understand this concept, I really don't.

introduction (i)

So after several attempts of trying to write a formal sort of introduction thing to my blog, and several failings, I give up.

Just so you know I like using capital letters in places deserved of some extra attention. I also like spacing things so they're easier to read in smaller chunks of text and full stops. But I guess they just count as good punctuation.