It'll be lonely this Christmas...

On the forth day of Christmas my true love gave to me... well, nothing. Crimbo is just 8 days away, and to say that I am dreading it would be a massive understatement...

As the old song goes: "It'll be lonely this Christmas, without you to hold." Never before have I cared much for this song, it's blended in to the background, became just one of many cheesy tunes. Yet this year, I swear, it's being played just to rub it in.
For the first time ever, this Christmas  has seen me become The Grinch. There has been no festive 'decking the halls', no crimbo tunes and most certainly, no Christmas shopping. Sure, I may have slipped in a few mulled wines to keep me going through the festive period, but this was purely for research purposes...
In previous years these fellow 'bah humbugs' would cause me concern, I'd tut to myself and think 'Its Christmas! Supposedly the 'most wonderful' time of the year! Where is your festive spirit?!' Yet, this year it is me playing the part of Scrooge; I'm not prepared for this year, and to be honest, I don't want it.

I've read many-a-blog in previous years from the single people harping on about the discomfort of being single at Christmas; seeing happy couples walk hand in hand, exchanging gifts, smiling and laughing. It never dawned on me before just how lucky I was to have that. Now I know how it feels for the stocking to be on the other foot...

So when you're tucking in to your Crimbo turkey this year, or raising a glass with the one you love, spare a thought for those like me... whats more, who will we pull our crackers with this year?!

It'll be lonely this Christmas...

On the forth day of Christmas my true love gave to me... well, nothing. Crimbo is just 8 days away, and to say that I am dreading it would be a massive understatement...

As the old song goes: "It'll be lonely this Christmas, without you to hold." Never before have I cared much for this song, it's blended in to the background, became just one of many cheesy tunes. Yet this year, I swear, it's being played just to rub it in.
For the first time ever, this Christmas  has seen me become The Grinch. There has been no festive 'decking the halls', no crimbo tunes and most certainly, no Christmas shopping. Sure, I may have slipped in a few mulled wines to keep me going through the festive period, but this was purely for research purposes...
In previous years these fellow 'bah humbugs' would cause me concern, I'd tut to myself and think 'Its Christmas! Supposedly the 'most wonderful' time of the year! Where is your festive spirit?!' Yet, this year it is me playing the part of Scrooge; I'm not prepared for this year, and to be honest, I don't want it.

I've read many-a-blog in previous years from the single people harping on about the discomfort of being single at Christmas; seeing happy couples walk hand in hand, exchanging gifts, smiling and laughing. It never dawned on me before just how lucky I was to have that. Now I know how it feels for the stocking to be on the other foot...

So when you're tucking in to your Crimbo turkey this year, or raising a glass with the one you love, spare a thought for those like me... whats more, who will we pull our crackers with this year?!

Big City Lights...

If someone had described Times Square to me in every minute detail, nothing would come close to seeing it through my own eyes...

As I climbed the steps of the Subway I could hear the carnage of the road above me. Taxis beeping and excited voices hushing down the packed out street, the shouts of street sellers, 'tickets, tickets!'.
I turned the corner and was blinded by the lights. All around me were huge, ginormous billboards, all lighting up the dark night sky, giving a presence of daytime onto the bustling Square below. It was in this moment that I took a breath and smiled to myself; I was in New York City.

New York is undoubtedly one of the most amazing places I have ever seen. It's busy and fast paced, yet holds so many beautiful sites to see. Alicia Keys once described it as a 'concrete jungle where dreams are made of,' and she wasn't far wrong...

If there is anywhere that can take your mind off your worries and completely distract you from every day life, it is New York. If there is anywhere that can fill you with hope and passion, it's New York. If there is anywhere that can keep you on a continuous high and a buzz from life, you've guessed it, it's New York.

It really is a city that never sleeps and can leave a lasting impression after just one visit. NYC has etched a memory in my heart that I will never forget.

Big City Lights...

If someone had described Times Square to me in every minute detail, nothing would come close to seeing it through my own eyes...

As I climbed the steps of the Subway I could hear the carnage of the road above me. Taxis beeping and excited voices hushing down the packed out street, the shouts of street sellers, 'tickets, tickets!'.
I turned the corner and was blinded by the lights. All around me were huge, ginormous billboards, all lighting up the dark night sky, giving a presence of daytime onto the bustling Square below. It was in this moment that I took a breath and smiled to myself; I was in New York City.

New York is undoubtedly one of the most amazing places I have ever seen. It's busy and fast paced, yet holds so many beautiful sites to see. Alicia Keys once described it as a 'concrete jungle where dreams are made of,' and she wasn't far wrong...

If there is anywhere that can take your mind off your worries and completely distract you from every day life, it is New York. If there is anywhere that can fill you with hope and passion, it's New York. If there is anywhere that can keep you on a continuous high and a buzz from life, you've guessed it, it's New York.

It really is a city that never sleeps and can leave a lasting impression after just one visit. NYC has etched a memory in my heart that I will never forget.

I wish things could be different...

I wrote this blog a little while ago, but have struggled with publishing it for the world to see... Sod it...

They say that love is the most amazing thing in the world. Falling in it makes a person feel indestructible, wrapped up in their own little land of smiles and fluffiness where no-one or nothing can take that feeling away. Nothing can hurt.

But imagine if you still feel that love for someone but something just isn't quite right? Imagine having to leave that person because there is simply no other choice. As the old saying goes 'If its not broke, don't try to fix it.' It seemed I lived by that motto for far too long, ignoring important things that needed to be fixed, resulting in more heartache than I knew was humanly possible.

That feeling of happiness is still there, but now it's a constant memory of what you had, slowly being replaced by a vast emptiness, a dull ache inside. I'm sure I can feel the pain physically.

During life many people wish for different things; some wish for money to make them happy, some wish for materialistic items, or for things to be easier. I used to wish for these things, but now my life has been put into perspective and I realise how shallow these wants are. All I wish for now, is for things to be different. I wish that I had a magic wand that I could wave to make everything go away and for everything to be alright again.

Being broken hearted is undoubtedly the hardest thing in the world... you don't want to get up in the mornings, you cant sleep at night, motivating yourself just seems impossible, but I know that to try to make that change I have to make an effort.

If you are reading this, and you'll know who you are, know that like you, every day I am hurting. But with that pain brings commitment, and perseverance to try and make that change happen.

I promised you I would try, and I am... xxx

I wish things could be different...

I wrote this blog a little while ago, but have struggled with publishing it for the world to see... Sod it...

They say that love is the most amazing thing in the world. Falling in it makes a person feel indestructible, wrapped up in their own little land of smiles and fluffiness where no-one or nothing can take that feeling away. Nothing can hurt.

But imagine if you still feel that love for someone but something just isn't quite right? Imagine having to leave that person because there is simply no other choice. As the old saying goes 'If its not broke, don't try to fix it.' It seemed I lived by that motto for far too long, ignoring important things that needed to be fixed, resulting in more heartache than I knew was humanly possible.

That feeling of happiness is still there, but now it's a constant memory of what you had, slowly being replaced by a vast emptiness, a dull ache inside. I'm sure I can feel the pain physically.

During life many people wish for different things; some wish for money to make them happy, some wish for materialistic items, or for things to be easier. I used to wish for these things, but now my life has been put into perspective and I realise how shallow these wants are. All I wish for now, is for things to be different. I wish that I had a magic wand that I could wave to make everything go away and for everything to be alright again.

Being broken hearted is undoubtedly the hardest thing in the world... you don't want to get up in the mornings, you cant sleep at night, motivating yourself just seems impossible, but I know that to try to make that change I have to make an effort.

If you are reading this, and you'll know who you are, know that like you, every day I am hurting. But with that pain brings commitment, and perseverance to try and make that change happen.

I promised you I would try, and I am... xxx

Puppy Love...

They say a dog is a man's best friend. A trusty sidekick, a devoted doogle that will always be by your side.
But a dog can most certainly be a girl's best friend too.

Not a day goes past without me thinking about my old dog. Cookie was her name, and she was undoubtedly one of my best friends. Since her passing, back in April of this year, I have been yearning for another of her kind, yet although I know that nothing can ever replace her, I can't stop the ache I feel for a puppy of my own...

I am pretty certain that this must be how broody women feel when they see someone walking down the street with a pram containing a newborn baby. However, it is not the pram that stirs my 'want' within, but four furry feet happily plodding along the road, silky soft ears bouncing to every step, a happy owner the other end of the lead, proudly showing off the families newest addition. My longing for a puppy is an everyday battle, there have been endless requests to my boyfriend for one, to which he would happily oblige, but then the repercussions set in, 'we don't have our own place for a puppy,' 'it'll be on it's own all day,' 'we can't afford it.'

I know that eventually, my day will come. I will wake up to a warm bundle of fluffy joy, a sidekick of my own. But until then I suppose I can only wait, I'll continue to make do with petting those who belong to others, whist my heart tell's me it should be mine and my head remind's me that it isn't.

...I think they call it Puppy Love.

Puppy Love...

They say a dog is a man's best friend. A trusty sidekick, a devoted doogle that will always be by your side.
But a dog can most certainly be a girl's best friend too.

Not a day goes past without me thinking about my old dog. Cookie was her name, and she was undoubtedly one of my best friends. Since her passing, back in April of this year, I have been yearning for another of her kind, yet although I know that nothing can ever replace her, I can't stop the ache I feel for a puppy of my own...

I am pretty certain that this must be how broody women feel when they see someone walking down the street with a pram containing a newborn baby. However, it is not the pram that stirs my 'want' within, but four furry feet happily plodding along the road, silky soft ears bouncing to every step, a happy owner the other end of the lead, proudly showing off the families newest addition. My longing for a puppy is an everyday battle, there have been endless requests to my boyfriend for one, to which he would happily oblige, but then the repercussions set in, 'we don't have our own place for a puppy,' 'it'll be on it's own all day,' 'we can't afford it.'

I know that eventually, my day will come. I will wake up to a warm bundle of fluffy joy, a sidekick of my own. But until then I suppose I can only wait, I'll continue to make do with petting those who belong to others, whist my heart tell's me it should be mine and my head remind's me that it isn't.

...I think they call it Puppy Love.

Umbrella Massacre!

Today was one of those delightful British days. Howling wind and torrential rain crashed down on the streets of Britain taking a few casualties along the way...

Now, I'm not talking about the general public being drowned in puddles, or tiny tots being blown away in the wind a la Mary Poppins, no sirree, I'm talking about our faithful weather friends, brolly's.

On this particularly rainy day I could not help but notice the number of abandoned brolly's laying around my university campus. Discarded by their owners, each sport injuries of various kinds. Some have broken arms, whilst others nurse rips and tears. You cant help but feel a little sorry for them as you pass them by.

Couldn't they have been salvaged? Did it need to come to this?

While some owners will try to salvage what's left of their failing shelter from the rain, perhaps by propping up the broken arm or using it until the bitter end, others will cast it off, no regrets, no remorse.

Our loyal props have no other purpose but to protect us from the downpour, yet I cant help but feel some attachment to my protective friend...

The umbrella world would describe it as a mass murder, an umbrella massacre if you will.

Umbrella Massacre!

Today was one of those delightful British days. Howling wind and torrential rain crashed down on the streets of Britain taking a few casualties along the way...

Now, I'm not talking about the general public being drowned in puddles, or tiny tots being blown away in the wind a la Mary Poppins, no sirree, I'm talking about our faithful weather friends, brolly's.

On this particularly rainy day I could not help but notice the number of abandoned brolly's laying around my university campus. Discarded by their owners, each sport injuries of various kinds. Some have broken arms, whilst others nurse rips and tears. You cant help but feel a little sorry for them as you pass them by.

Couldn't they have been salvaged? Did it need to come to this?

While some owners will try to salvage what's left of their failing shelter from the rain, perhaps by propping up the broken arm or using it until the bitter end, others will cast it off, no regrets, no remorse.

Our loyal props have no other purpose but to protect us from the downpour, yet I cant help but feel some attachment to my protective friend...

The umbrella world would describe it as a mass murder, an umbrella massacre if you will.

Boy Racers...

When I say the words 'Boy Racer' I would put money on it that every single one of you reading this blog feels a little bit of hatred bubble up inside.

Boy racers are nothing more than suped up chavs behind a wheel. These boys feel the need to customise their vehicles with 18in alloy wheels, spoilers, noisy exhausts, and in some extreme cases, graphics. Why do they do this? Because they think it looks 'sick'. The reason they are called boy racers? They are just that; boys. After all, its not man racers is it?

Just yesterday I was happily walking down the road minding my own business when a red fiesta pulled up beside me. Being dark and all, I didn't want to acknowledge this presence and stole a quick glance from the corner of my eye. I saw 3 figures emerge from the car and make their way down towards a housing estate.
The red car waited for a moment, presumably waving off it's abandoned passengers and then, to my surprise, revved to the max and wheel spun past me, clocking up about 50mph by the time it reached the end of the road.

Now was I amazed or impressed by this maneuver? The answer to that is No. The only thought that went through my head was quite simply, 'prick'.
Rather than be astonished by the speedy getaway of a red ford fiesta, I was instead perplexed at this behaviour. Did this guy seriously think that passers by would find this style of driving attractive? And more importantly, what was the rush? Perhaps he was late for a dental appointment, or rushing to pick his Mum up from work. Either way, pushing the pedal to the metal down a quiet residential road was hardly necessary. Doesn't the boy realise there are cats living in the area?!

As much as it saddens me to say, this is not my first encounter with a boy racer. They seem to be breeding, infecting our roads and motorways, pumping out their R&B crap whilst competing whose exhaust is biggest. Personally, I don't understand the hype, why spend all that extra cash trying to make a crap car look special? Surely it makes more sense to save that money and buy a decent car to start with?

But perhaps that's why these boys feel the need to do it. Comparing size and performance is in a guys nature, after all, they do say that guys with a sizing complex hide behind fancy motors...

Boy Racers...

When I say the words 'Boy Racer' I would put money on it that every single one of you reading this blog feels a little bit of hatred bubble up inside.

Boy racers are nothing more than suped up chavs behind a wheel. These boys feel the need to customise their vehicles with 18in alloy wheels, spoilers, noisy exhausts, and in some extreme cases, graphics. Why do they do this? Because they think it looks 'sick'. The reason they are called boy racers? They are just that; boys. After all, its not man racers is it?

Just yesterday I was happily walking down the road minding my own business when a red fiesta pulled up beside me. Being dark and all, I didn't want to acknowledge this presence and stole a quick glance from the corner of my eye. I saw 3 figures emerge from the car and make their way down towards a housing estate.
The red car waited for a moment, presumably waving off it's abandoned passengers and then, to my surprise, revved to the max and wheel spun past me, clocking up about 50mph by the time it reached the end of the road.

Now was I amazed or impressed by this maneuver? The answer to that is No. The only thought that went through my head was quite simply, 'prick'.
Rather than be astonished by the speedy getaway of a red ford fiesta, I was instead perplexed at this behaviour. Did this guy seriously think that passers by would find this style of driving attractive? And more importantly, what was the rush? Perhaps he was late for a dental appointment, or rushing to pick his Mum up from work. Either way, pushing the pedal to the metal down a quiet residential road was hardly necessary. Doesn't the boy realise there are cats living in the area?!

As much as it saddens me to say, this is not my first encounter with a boy racer. They seem to be breeding, infecting our roads and motorways, pumping out their R&B crap whilst competing whose exhaust is biggest. Personally, I don't understand the hype, why spend all that extra cash trying to make a crap car look special? Surely it makes more sense to save that money and buy a decent car to start with?

But perhaps that's why these boys feel the need to do it. Comparing size and performance is in a guys nature, after all, they do say that guys with a sizing complex hide behind fancy motors...

Family Matters.

Most people I know have a family issue at some point or another, some can forgive and forget, whilst others hold a grudge forever. But ask yourself, whats the point? Family may well be something you will have forever, in some cases it may not, but either way don't take it for granted; cherish it.

My family is far from perfect, and like many others, there have been disputes and quarrels which have been ongoing for years. Sometimes, these bickering's are not something that you can sort out yourself, perhaps they are between other family members and you are the person stuck in the middle, hearing the endless episodes but not being able to do anything about it. Either way, I have learnt that your family is the single most important thing you will have in your lifetime, and should an argument develop, it's better to get into action and resolve it straight away.

Some family feuds can have more of an impact on other family members than you may expect. Cousins, siblings, grandchildren and parents can all be effected by the actions of others, and may have have no option but to take it upon themselves to address the situation in hand.

Lately I have followed my own advice and found some people that had been missing for a very long time.
They say you can choose your friends but you cant choose your family, and you know what? I'm glad. Because families stick by you, through thick and thin, they support you and love you no matter what.

I wouldn't change my family, not for the world.

Family Matters.

Most people I know have a family issue at some point or another, some can forgive and forget, whilst others hold a grudge forever. But ask yourself, whats the point? Family may well be something you will have forever, in some cases it may not, but either way don't take it for granted; cherish it.

My family is far from perfect, and like many others, there have been disputes and quarrels which have been ongoing for years. Sometimes, these bickering's are not something that you can sort out yourself, perhaps they are between other family members and you are the person stuck in the middle, hearing the endless episodes but not being able to do anything about it. Either way, I have learnt that your family is the single most important thing you will have in your lifetime, and should an argument develop, it's better to get into action and resolve it straight away.

Some family feuds can have more of an impact on other family members than you may expect. Cousins, siblings, grandchildren and parents can all be effected by the actions of others, and may have have no option but to take it upon themselves to address the situation in hand.

Lately I have followed my own advice and found some people that had been missing for a very long time.
They say you can choose your friends but you cant choose your family, and you know what? I'm glad. Because families stick by you, through thick and thin, they support you and love you no matter what.

I wouldn't change my family, not for the world.

You've Got A Friend...

Lately I have been in a reflective state of mind, thinking deeply about my life and those who are a part of it, and I realise just how special these people are...

Sometimes it's easy to take a friend for granted, you don't quite comprehend just how special they are and how much they mean to you. But at some point everyone recognises the fact that friends are the people that are always there for you, no matter what.

There are a whole selection of different types of friends that you make during a lifetime. Some friendships fade, while others grow, but a true friend is with you for life.

• Childhood friendships make the bond for life. It's these friends that you will always have, even if you lose  contact, once you reunite it is as if you were never apart.
• There's Uni friends, they say that these are the ones who will stick with you for life, and after making some lovely friends at mine, I hope this saying stands true.
• Sensible friends, these are the people that can offer you sound advice and reassurance, talk through your problems and make you see sense.
• Then there's the crazy friends, who drink through the problems and make you see the fun side of life when you can only see the sad.
• The working friends who start off as colleagues but soon become people who you are happy to socialise with outside of working hours too.
• The male friends who can give some great insight into the minds of men and don't expect any extra 'benefits'.
• Finally, there's the boyfriend, although these friends may come and go, when you find the right one you find a whole new type of friendship you never knew existed.

So, make sure you tell your buddies just how much you value them, after all, where would we be without our friends?

You've Got A Friend...

Lately I have been in a reflective state of mind, thinking deeply about my life and those who are a part of it, and I realise just how special these people are...

Sometimes it's easy to take a friend for granted, you don't quite comprehend just how special they are and how much they mean to you. But at some point everyone recognises the fact that friends are the people that are always there for you, no matter what.

There are a whole selection of different types of friends that you make during a lifetime. Some friendships fade, while others grow, but a true friend is with you for life.

• Childhood friendships make the bond for life. It's these friends that you will always have, even if you lose  contact, once you reunite it is as if you were never apart.
• There's Uni friends, they say that these are the ones who will stick with you for life, and after making some lovely friends at mine, I hope this saying stands true.
• Sensible friends, these are the people that can offer you sound advice and reassurance, talk through your problems and make you see sense.
• Then there's the crazy friends, who drink through the problems and make you see the fun side of life when you can only see the sad.
• The working friends who start off as colleagues but soon become people who you are happy to socialise with outside of working hours too.
• The male friends who can give some great insight into the minds of men and don't expect any extra 'benefits'.
• Finally, there's the boyfriend, although these friends may come and go, when you find the right one you find a whole new type of friendship you never knew existed.

So, make sure you tell your buddies just how much you value them, after all, where would we be without our friends?

Riding the Rail - Tips for the everyday commuter.

Every Tuesday and Thursday I undergo the tedious task of boarding my local South West train service in order to get to University. Unfortunately for me, I leave at rush-hour and return at rush-hour.

This can present some problems...

Seating:
There is nothing worse than stepping on a train and being faced with the choice of selecting your seat neighbour. I usually find myself being overly picky at this point, students and young men are usually a no go. As are those who are overweight, coughing or appear of a nervous disposition.

A good tip here is to either:
1. Hover. - Stand around in the doorway area. Wait til someone leaves at the next stop, you will have priority over the boarding passengers as you are already on the train.
2. Be Selective. -Select someone who looks 'un-business-like'. The business-man is usually the person commuting the furthest, (in this case, London Waterloo.) The 'un-business-like' person is usually not a commuter but a local person making the most of public transport. Unlikely to be on-board for long.

Avoiding the Stranger:
Of course, there is also the flip side to this issue during these busy times, and this is having two seats to yourself.
Usually during my journeys, I like to sit with an extra seat to myself, greedy I know, but who doesn't? The only problem with this is that you often are faced with an influx of people boarding the train and scouring the carriage for seats.

This is when the following methods come into play:

1. Avoid Eye Contact. - This is a must when avoiding the stranger, the moment you make eye contact with a fellow commuter, is the moment you unknowingly give them the 'come and take a seat here' sign.
2. Occupy - Use the seat next to you for such things as bags and coats. This does deter most passengers, yet some take no notice of said objects and instead prolong their lowering pose until items have been removed.
3. Play Dead. - Pretend to be asleep. Perhaps add dibble for effect and lean yourself over onto the spare seat. This method is highly effective; no one wants to wake a stranger.
4. Strategic Seating. - Seat yourself in the chair closest to the walkway. This puts many a seat-searcher off, as not only must they ask to sit down, but they also cause you to move, disrupting your journey.

Finally, another tip is choose to sit in the 'Quiet Zone' This minimises the chances of screaming children or noisy chavs.

A good selection of passenger-avoiding advice if I may say so myself... who said I wasn't a people person?!

Riding the Rail - Tips for the everyday commuter.

Every Tuesday and Thursday I undergo the tedious task of boarding my local South West train service in order to get to University. Unfortunately for me, I leave at rush-hour and return at rush-hour.

This can present some problems...

Seating:
There is nothing worse than stepping on a train and being faced with the choice of selecting your seat neighbour. I usually find myself being overly picky at this point, students and young men are usually a no go. As are those who are overweight, coughing or appear of a nervous disposition.

A good tip here is to either:
1. Hover. - Stand around in the doorway area. Wait til someone leaves at the next stop, you will have priority over the boarding passengers as you are already on the train.
2. Be Selective. -Select someone who looks 'un-business-like'. The business-man is usually the person commuting the furthest, (in this case, London Waterloo.) The 'un-business-like' person is usually not a commuter but a local person making the most of public transport. Unlikely to be on-board for long.

Avoiding the Stranger:
Of course, there is also the flip side to this issue during these busy times, and this is having two seats to yourself.
Usually during my journeys, I like to sit with an extra seat to myself, greedy I know, but who doesn't? The only problem with this is that you often are faced with an influx of people boarding the train and scouring the carriage for seats.

This is when the following methods come into play:

1. Avoid Eye Contact. - This is a must when avoiding the stranger, the moment you make eye contact with a fellow commuter, is the moment you unknowingly give them the 'come and take a seat here' sign.
2. Occupy - Use the seat next to you for such things as bags and coats. This does deter most passengers, yet some take no notice of said objects and instead prolong their lowering pose until items have been removed.
3. Play Dead. - Pretend to be asleep. Perhaps add dibble for effect and lean yourself over onto the spare seat. This method is highly effective; no one wants to wake a stranger.
4. Strategic Seating. - Seat yourself in the chair closest to the walkway. This puts many a seat-searcher off, as not only must they ask to sit down, but they also cause you to move, disrupting your journey.

Finally, another tip is choose to sit in the 'Quiet Zone' This minimises the chances of screaming children or noisy chavs.

A good selection of passenger-avoiding advice if I may say so myself... who said I wasn't a people person?!

Twitterings of a Technophobe

Today was the day that I finally become a twit. I mean, twitterer?

Although I am completely self-sufficient when it comes to computers and technology, I couldn't help but feel a little nervous at the thought of joining twitter. All the @'s and #'s just seem to scare the hell out of me. But after consideration and a gentle persuasion from a friend I decided to give it a go. After all, it couldn't be that difficult. Could it?

The answer to that is yes. It really can. I would seriously like to know who came up with the concept of this networking site. What with followers and followings, tweetings and @'s, it seems to me that what could have been a relatively simple site has been turned into the most confusing and complicated thing I have battled with since a blackberry.

As a Twitter virgin, my only previous experience in the networking world had really been with Facebook. Sure, this was a little difficult to get to grips with at first, but in comparison to Twitter it's a piece of cake. There is no simplicity as writing on a wall, instead you must retweet to a tweet. A tweet that has been posted by someone else to you is on their profile, answered by retweet to your profile, this retweet then becomes your current tweet. As if that isn't confusing enough, try using the app.

As people age they loose their sight, their hearing, and the world around them grows and advances. New technology leaves them feeling lost and confused. Some are still even baffled by DVD players and Sky, relying on their kids and grandchildren to help them learn.

I used to be one of those kids, laughing to myself that old methods that had been made easier were even more confusing to the elders.

Now it seems the joke's on me...

Follow me on Twitter @Charlotte_StP

Twitterings of a Technophobe

Today was the day that I finally become a twit. I mean, twitterer?

Although I am completely self-sufficient when it comes to computers and technology, I couldn't help but feel a little nervous at the thought of joining twitter. All the @'s and #'s just seem to scare the hell out of me. But after consideration and a gentle persuasion from a friend I decided to give it a go. After all, it couldn't be that difficult. Could it?

The answer to that is yes. It really can. I would seriously like to know who came up with the concept of this networking site. What with followers and followings, tweetings and @'s, it seems to me that what could have been a relatively simple site has been turned into the most confusing and complicated thing I have battled with since a blackberry.

As a Twitter virgin, my only previous experience in the networking world had really been with Facebook. Sure, this was a little difficult to get to grips with at first, but in comparison to Twitter it's a piece of cake. There is no simplicity as writing on a wall, instead you must retweet to a tweet. A tweet that has been posted by someone else to you is on their profile, answered by retweet to your profile, this retweet then becomes your current tweet. As if that isn't confusing enough, try using the app.

As people age they loose their sight, their hearing, and the world around them grows and advances. New technology leaves them feeling lost and confused. Some are still even baffled by DVD players and Sky, relying on their kids and grandchildren to help them learn.

I used to be one of those kids, laughing to myself that old methods that had been made easier were even more confusing to the elders.

Now it seems the joke's on me...

Follow me on Twitter @Charlotte_StP

The X Factor

Following Sunday nights X-Factor, a good friend of mine sent me the below review. I loved it so much I had to feature it on my blog...

*Please note I am not claiming credit for this article, it can be found on The Metro website, or by clicking here.*

The question I've got, is: Did we need two episodes this weekend? 

Not especially, as we’re now stuck with the quite good, rather than possibly mentally ill contestants, and can no longer enjoy trying to work out who sorted Dannii's interior design.

The real intrigue came from the obvious inclusions and outrageous omissions from the last dozen, and we got both in spades on Sunday.

Despite her throat issues, Cher Lloyd was a cert for the live shows since her first audition, but selecting Belle Amie over tattooed manband The Reason, or irritating Katie over adorable Gamu, seemed designed to irritate.

What else did we learn? Little, other than a reminder of Natalie Imbruglia's ability to look delectable even when Tango-ed, Louis' growing despair at mentoring the over-28s and Cheryl Cole’s prodigious talent for tears.

It was a strange episode, all told.

Rather than singing or artificial spats between Simon Cowell and Cheryl, we instead faced 20 minutes of television stretched to an hour-and-a-half.

Producing these editions must be a doddle for the technical staff; insert montage of contestant’s first audition, add interview about how much they “want this”, cut to judge delivering verdict, add dramatic pause and repeat over and over again.

But after that ordeal, we have a final 12; Blackpool native with Shoreditch haircut Aiden; likeable Matt; flamboyant Nicolo; Tesco Mary;  soulful John; fake-American Storm; glorified dancers FYD; destined-to-go-out-first Belle Amie; Bieber-alikes 1 Direction; Scouse Rebecca, peroxide idiot Katie and Cheryl Cole’s Mini-Me Cher.

Is there a future Leona or, shudder, Leon Jackson within? The next few weeks of hilariously dramatic, expensively lit television will reveal all.

The X Factor

Following Sunday nights X-Factor, a good friend of mine sent me the below review. I loved it so much I had to feature it on my blog...

*Please note I am not claiming credit for this article, it can be found on The Metro website, or by clicking here.*

The question I've got, is: Did we need two episodes this weekend? 

Not especially, as we’re now stuck with the quite good, rather than possibly mentally ill contestants, and can no longer enjoy trying to work out who sorted Dannii's interior design.

The real intrigue came from the obvious inclusions and outrageous omissions from the last dozen, and we got both in spades on Sunday.

Despite her throat issues, Cher Lloyd was a cert for the live shows since her first audition, but selecting Belle Amie over tattooed manband The Reason, or irritating Katie over adorable Gamu, seemed designed to irritate.

What else did we learn? Little, other than a reminder of Natalie Imbruglia's ability to look delectable even when Tango-ed, Louis' growing despair at mentoring the over-28s and Cheryl Cole’s prodigious talent for tears.

It was a strange episode, all told.

Rather than singing or artificial spats between Simon Cowell and Cheryl, we instead faced 20 minutes of television stretched to an hour-and-a-half.

Producing these editions must be a doddle for the technical staff; insert montage of contestant’s first audition, add interview about how much they “want this”, cut to judge delivering verdict, add dramatic pause and repeat over and over again.

But after that ordeal, we have a final 12; Blackpool native with Shoreditch haircut Aiden; likeable Matt; flamboyant Nicolo; Tesco Mary;  soulful John; fake-American Storm; glorified dancers FYD; destined-to-go-out-first Belle Amie; Bieber-alikes 1 Direction; Scouse Rebecca, peroxide idiot Katie and Cheryl Cole’s Mini-Me Cher.

Is there a future Leona or, shudder, Leon Jackson within? The next few weeks of hilariously dramatic, expensively lit television will reveal all.

Is This England?

This Is England '86 is a follow on TV drama to the 2006 film This Is England (directed by Shane Meadows)

The film, which follows the life of a troubled boy growing up in England during 1983, shows the lifestyle of a group of skinheads and what can happen if you fall into the wrong crowd. Crammed with graphic violence and disturbing scenes, this hard hitting British film caused me to question the country we live in and the way in which it has or hasn't changed since the 1980's.

Moving into 1986, which is covered in the current TV Drama 'This Is England '86', viewers are taken on yet another journey into the life of Shaun Fields who had previously been taken under the wing of easy-going laid back Woody and his circle of friends to 'Neo-Nazi' Combo, who turned young Shaun into a member of The National Front, whilst trying to brainwash his reggae-loving nationalistic friends.

The film shocked and dismayed viewers, showing scenes of brutal violence, racism and persuasion. It was whilst watching this film that I realised Shane Meadows had addressed the nation into realising just what went on in England during these times, and still to the present day.

This Is England 86' certainly doesn't hold back on the graphic content, and still uses shock factor scenes to grab the viewers attention and convey the importance behind the message it sends out.
Episode 3 of the series showed a disturbing rape scene which left it's audience stunned and shaken. The scene, which showed father Mick raping his daughter's best friend in the living room of his house, sparked a wave of reaction on social networking sites Twitter, Facebook and numerous TV forums.

This Is England is definitely a programme which has the capability of leaving viewers gobsmacked and concerned about the real-life issues which hide within both film and television programme.

Personally, it leaves me mortified that I am a part of a world which holds so much violence and racism. What happened to equal rights? Everybody is a person with feelings and emotions no matter what the colour of their skin or type of nationality.

It is a shame that it takes a film to bring this to peoples' attention, so many things go unnoticed and ignored, with the 'out of sight, out of mind' attitude. Viewers are so quick to voice their opinions on things that happen on-screen, but perhaps it's time that people face up to the reality of the real world and not only recognise the things that are happening, but try to do something to make a difference.

This Is England continues to show us what went on during the 1980's and leaves us questioning what still goes on today. Although it comes to an end tomorrow night (Channel 4 at 10pm) Shane Meadows has said that he can already envisage a further series.

If you have missed any of the episodes of This Is England '86, catch up here.

Is This England?

This Is England '86 is a follow on TV drama to the 2006 film This Is England (directed by Shane Meadows)

The film, which follows the life of a troubled boy growing up in England during 1983, shows the lifestyle of a group of skinheads and what can happen if you fall into the wrong crowd. Crammed with graphic violence and disturbing scenes, this hard hitting British film caused me to question the country we live in and the way in which it has or hasn't changed since the 1980's.

Moving into 1986, which is covered in the current TV Drama 'This Is England '86', viewers are taken on yet another journey into the life of Shaun Fields who had previously been taken under the wing of easy-going laid back Woody and his circle of friends to 'Neo-Nazi' Combo, who turned young Shaun into a member of The National Front, whilst trying to brainwash his reggae-loving nationalistic friends.

The film shocked and dismayed viewers, showing scenes of brutal violence, racism and persuasion. It was whilst watching this film that I realised Shane Meadows had addressed the nation into realising just what went on in England during these times, and still to the present day.

This Is England 86' certainly doesn't hold back on the graphic content, and still uses shock factor scenes to grab the viewers attention and convey the importance behind the message it sends out.
Episode 3 of the series showed a disturbing rape scene which left it's audience stunned and shaken. The scene, which showed father Mick raping his daughter's best friend in the living room of his house, sparked a wave of reaction on social networking sites Twitter, Facebook and numerous TV forums.

This Is England is definitely a programme which has the capability of leaving viewers gobsmacked and concerned about the real-life issues which hide within both film and television programme.

Personally, it leaves me mortified that I am a part of a world which holds so much violence and racism. What happened to equal rights? Everybody is a person with feelings and emotions no matter what the colour of their skin or type of nationality.

It is a shame that it takes a film to bring this to peoples' attention, so many things go unnoticed and ignored, with the 'out of sight, out of mind' attitude. Viewers are so quick to voice their opinions on things that happen on-screen, but perhaps it's time that people face up to the reality of the real world and not only recognise the things that are happening, but try to do something to make a difference.

This Is England continues to show us what went on during the 1980's and leaves us questioning what still goes on today. Although it comes to an end tomorrow night (Channel 4 at 10pm) Shane Meadows has said that he can already envisage a further series.

If you have missed any of the episodes of This Is England '86, catch up here.

Stop Stressing and Eat Cake!

Isn't is funny how each of us deal with stress differently? Some of us scream and shout, some clam up, and some deal with it perfectly. I tend to let things completely preoccupy my mind, so much so, that I start loosing sight of the things going on around me. Basically, I have a one track mind.

Lately I've realised that I've been so engrossed with meaningless, unimportant things that I have stopped concentrating on the things that really matter.

Someone once told me that there is no point in worrying about something until you have something to worry about. What is the point in stressing over things in life? It's too short as it is.

Of course, when you are in this frame of mind and there is something getting you down, there appears to be little hope, the only things that seem to matter are the negative things. It's not always so easy to 'forget about your worries and your strife,' but as I discovered just the other day, stressed is desserts spelt backwards, so why not look at the situation from a different, sweeter angle? After all, you'll only end up regretting having spent so long wallowing in self pity and stressing over nothing.

So, the next time you'll feeling a little down in the dumps, or anxiety is taking over, don't loose sight of those around you who really matter, try letting them in instead of pushing them away, they just might be able to help.

As the old saying goes, a problem shared is a problem halved... a bit like cake.

Stop Stressing and Eat Cake!

Isn't is funny how each of us deal with stress differently? Some of us scream and shout, some clam up, and some deal with it perfectly. I tend to let things completely preoccupy my mind, so much so, that I start loosing sight of the things going on around me. Basically, I have a one track mind.

Lately I've realised that I've been so engrossed with meaningless, unimportant things that I have stopped concentrating on the things that really matter.

Someone once told me that there is no point in worrying about something until you have something to worry about. What is the point in stressing over things in life? It's too short as it is.

Of course, when you are in this frame of mind and there is something getting you down, there appears to be little hope, the only things that seem to matter are the negative things. It's not always so easy to 'forget about your worries and your strife,' but as I discovered just the other day, stressed is desserts spelt backwards, so why not look at the situation from a different, sweeter angle? After all, you'll only end up regretting having spent so long wallowing in self pity and stressing over nothing.

So, the next time you'll feeling a little down in the dumps, or anxiety is taking over, don't loose sight of those around you who really matter, try letting them in instead of pushing them away, they just might be able to help.

As the old saying goes, a problem shared is a problem halved... a bit like cake.

When Spider's Attack...

 

I am not a fan of creepy crawlies, spiders are especially high on my panic list, and I'm sure many of you will have noticed that as the summer starts fading into dreary days and cold winter nights, with it comes spiders. Lots of spiders...

Whether I spot them running across the lounge floor during Eastenders, or crawling across my ceiling as I lay in bed at night, they always manage to completely freak me out.

It seems that at the moment, wherever I turn I am faced with eight beady black eyes straing back at me from the centre of a gleaming shiny web. and over the last few weeks I have had many a spider-attack which has left me feeling anxious, stressed and slightly paranoid. Tell me, have I missed something?; since when have there been so many spiders in Britain? I'm sure that there aren't usually this amount in September? And when did they start getting so god damn BIG?!

Most people will be familiar with the well-know children's story 'Charlotte's Web', I however had never had the pleasure of reading this book when I was younger and forgot all about it until last weekend when the film (directed by Gary Winick) was shown on TV. Hungover and sprawled across the couch with not much care, I let it play. Before long I was mesmerised and I even started to think about spiders a little differently. I suddenly couldn't help but feeling a wave of guilt as I remembered all the times I had committed murder on these ugly creatures and vowed that I would not do such a thing ever again.

That was until today's events...

I awoke peacefully this morning and was faced with the chore of hanging out my not-so-dirty laundry. I shoved the pile of clothes into a basket and walked outside over the dewy grass and towards the washing line. Then it happened; attack of the web.

Walking into a spider web is quite possibly one of the most disturbing things that can happen. You're never quite sure whether the web was empty, or if the spider was slap bang in the middle and is now crawling over you.

I stopped dead and gave myself the once over, checking for any possible stow-aways then looked over the remainder of the web. I couldn't see it, so I decided that it was definitely just an abandoned web. [It took some convincing] I walked on to the washing line with my hand outstetched as if waving away invisable mist.

To my horror the washing line was covered in web, and before you assume I don't clean my clothes often, this is not the case! I can see the silver strands of sticky web glistening in the morning sun, they're everywhere! 

I kept thinking about Charlotte's Web, and told myself that spiders really aren't as evil as I make out. Washing hung, I grab my bag and head out of the door to my car. It is then that I am confronted with the biggest spider I am yet to see. I am inches away from walking into his web and I realise that his web is attached to my car. 

It is in this moment that I consider the [slightly insane] possibility that these spiders are targeting me, setting up their webs in places that they know I am going to walk through. I'm sure they are coming back with a vengeance to terrorise me the way that I have terrorised them. Two incidents in the space of an hour is not the norm! It's time to get out the conkers and repel these eight-legged freaks the way they repel me.

When Spider's Attack...

 

I am not a fan of creepy crawlies, spiders are especially high on my panic list, and I'm sure many of you will have noticed that as the summer starts fading into dreary days and cold winter nights, with it comes spiders. Lots of spiders...

Whether I spot them running across the lounge floor during Eastenders, or crawling across my ceiling as I lay in bed at night, they always manage to completely freak me out.

It seems that at the moment, wherever I turn I am faced with eight beady black eyes straing back at me from the centre of a gleaming shiny web. and over the last few weeks I have had many a spider-attack which has left me feeling anxious, stressed and slightly paranoid. Tell me, have I missed something?; since when have there been so many spiders in Britain? I'm sure that there aren't usually this amount in September? And when did they start getting so god damn BIG?!

Most people will be familiar with the well-know children's story 'Charlotte's Web', I however had never had the pleasure of reading this book when I was younger and forgot all about it until last weekend when the film (directed by Gary Winick) was shown on TV. Hungover and sprawled across the couch with not much care, I let it play. Before long I was mesmerised and I even started to think about spiders a little differently. I suddenly couldn't help but feeling a wave of guilt as I remembered all the times I had committed murder on these ugly creatures and vowed that I would not do such a thing ever again.

That was until today's events...

I awoke peacefully this morning and was faced with the chore of hanging out my not-so-dirty laundry. I shoved the pile of clothes into a basket and walked outside over the dewy grass and towards the washing line. Then it happened; attack of the web.

Walking into a spider web is quite possibly one of the most disturbing things that can happen. You're never quite sure whether the web was empty, or if the spider was slap bang in the middle and is now crawling over you.

I stopped dead and gave myself the once over, checking for any possible stow-aways then looked over the remainder of the web. I couldn't see it, so I decided that it was definitely just an abandoned web. [It took some convincing] I walked on to the washing line with my hand outstetched as if waving away invisable mist.

To my horror the washing line was covered in web, and before you assume I don't clean my clothes often, this is not the case! I can see the silver strands of sticky web glistening in the morning sun, they're everywhere! 

I kept thinking about Charlotte's Web, and told myself that spiders really aren't as evil as I make out. Washing hung, I grab my bag and head out of the door to my car. It is then that I am confronted with the biggest spider I am yet to see. I am inches away from walking into his web and I realise that his web is attached to my car. 

It is in this moment that I consider the [slightly insane] possibility that these spiders are targeting me, setting up their webs in places that they know I am going to walk through. I'm sure they are coming back with a vengeance to terrorise me the way that I have terrorised them. Two incidents in the space of an hour is not the norm! It's time to get out the conkers and repel these eight-legged freaks the way they repel me.

Baby Talk

I'm not like most women I know. Most women I know are mad for babies. And when I say mad, I really do mean completely goo goo. [See what I did there?]

I'm sure everyone has worked somewhere during some point of their life when a colleague has gone off on maternity leave, then a few weeks/months later they re-appear, armed with a pram and baby.

Instantly, all the women in the office are sucked in like magnets, forming a reasonable sized crowd around the bambino. All coo-ing and ooh-ing at the tiny bundle of joy still half asleep and completely oblivious to it's new surroundings. I say all the women, but this does not include me.

To me, there is nothing worse than gathering around a small child, staring at him/her for several minutes with a stupid expression whilst making baby talk. It's a baby! What are people waiting for? Some sort of performance?

Give me a puppy, even a kitten, and I will be there for hours on end playing and frolicking with the little creature, but a baby? Forgive my bluntness, but they do nothing! If I brought a two-week old pup into my office, I'm pretty sure the general reaction from the boss would not be positive. Perhaps a few 'Ahh's' and pats of the head but most definitely a stern look from the boss that says 'Get that dog off the premises'

Do women not realise that babies do not understand what you are saying? No matter how much you try to baby-sise it, it makes no odds.

I don't mean to throw my toys out of the pram here [couldn't resist] but can we just stop it with the show and tell at work? A screaming child really doesn't bode well in the background when on the phone to customers.

There is a time and a place... I believe it's called Creche.

Baby Talk

I'm not like most women I know. Most women I know are mad for babies. And when I say mad, I really do mean completely goo goo. [See what I did there?]

I'm sure everyone has worked somewhere during some point of their life when a colleague has gone off on maternity leave, then a few weeks/months later they re-appear, armed with a pram and baby.

Instantly, all the women in the office are sucked in like magnets, forming a reasonable sized crowd around the bambino. All coo-ing and ooh-ing at the tiny bundle of joy still half asleep and completely oblivious to it's new surroundings. I say all the women, but this does not include me.

To me, there is nothing worse than gathering around a small child, staring at him/her for several minutes with a stupid expression whilst making baby talk. It's a baby! What are people waiting for? Some sort of performance?

Give me a puppy, even a kitten, and I will be there for hours on end playing and frolicking with the little creature, but a baby? Forgive my bluntness, but they do nothing! If I brought a two-week old pup into my office, I'm pretty sure the general reaction from the boss would not be positive. Perhaps a few 'Ahh's' and pats of the head but most definitely a stern look from the boss that says 'Get that dog off the premises'

Do women not realise that babies do not understand what you are saying? No matter how much you try to baby-sise it, it makes no odds.

I don't mean to throw my toys out of the pram here [couldn't resist] but can we just stop it with the show and tell at work? A screaming child really doesn't bode well in the background when on the phone to customers.

There is a time and a place... I believe it's called Creche.

Noise down in the cheap seats!

Now I know I've blogged about my cinematic experiences before, but I just can't help but rant about the bargain cinema night we all know and [used to] love: Orange Wednesday.

For anyone that doesn't know what Orange Wednesdays are, please, allow me to explain...

Mobile phone network provider Orange offers an incentive to all of it's customers on a Wednesday where by simply texting FILM to 241 you are rewarded with a unique code which entitles the bearer to 2 cinema tickets for the price of 1. Bloody bargain I hear you cry.

However, all good things have their down sides, and Orange Wednesdays is no exception. The bad part about them? Chavs.

Blinged up, tracksuit wearing, foul mouthed chavs are everywhere. Orange Wednesdays does to chavs as the Pied Piper does to rats. Now while I understand that these Wednesdays are a fairly good deal, I have still paid my £3.80p to watch the film in question, and I expect that £3.80p to continue to bring me the service I would normally expect.

That is most definitely out of the picture tonight.

In they come [the chavs] taking their seats, throwing around their popcorn, talking at a volume that is completely unnecessary [i really don't want to know about the fight last weekend] and just generally being annoying. You would think/hope that this behaviour would settle down once the film begins, but these people just don't 'give a fuck.'

In my most recent trip, a chav and chavette even moved seats mid-way through the film. That's right, half way through the movie they decided that they weren't quite happy with their designated seats and decided to up and leave, moving right next to me. Now not only was I constantly distracted by the chatting and fidgeting going on around me, but I was also faced with two people whispering/giggling/snogging/play fighting throughout the whole remainder of the film.

Why do people bother to come to the cinema if they aren't even watching the film?! The more I sat there in the darkened room the more I became aware that I had completely stopped paying attention to the movie too, instead I was more tuned in to the actions of the chav, I'd paid to see a film dammit, Not a pubescent couple talking in a language not even the most talented translator could understand. 

I'm sorry to moan and resemble that of a 60 year old pensioner whinging about the youth of today, but I just have to get it off my chest! I'm sure that when I was their age I did not go around shouting my mouth off as they do now, ruining things for other people and just generally being a nuisance.

Word of warning to anyone planning a mid-week movie. Avoid Wednesdays!

Noise down in the cheap seats!

Now I know I've blogged about my cinematic experiences before, but I just can't help but rant about the bargain cinema night we all know and [used to] love: Orange Wednesday.

For anyone that doesn't know what Orange Wednesdays are, please, allow me to explain...

Mobile phone network provider Orange offers an incentive to all of it's customers on a Wednesday where by simply texting FILM to 241 you are rewarded with a unique code which entitles the bearer to 2 cinema tickets for the price of 1. Bloody bargain I hear you cry.

However, all good things have their down sides, and Orange Wednesdays is no exception. The bad part about them? Chavs.

Blinged up, tracksuit wearing, foul mouthed chavs are everywhere. Orange Wednesdays does to chavs as the Pied Piper does to rats. Now while I understand that these Wednesdays are a fairly good deal, I have still paid my £3.80p to watch the film in question, and I expect that £3.80p to continue to bring me the service I would normally expect.

That is most definitely out of the picture tonight.

In they come [the chavs] taking their seats, throwing around their popcorn, talking at a volume that is completely unnecessary [i really don't want to know about the fight last weekend] and just generally being annoying. You would think/hope that this behaviour would settle down once the film begins, but these people just don't 'give a fuck.'

In my most recent trip, a chav and chavette even moved seats mid-way through the film. That's right, half way through the movie they decided that they weren't quite happy with their designated seats and decided to up and leave, moving right next to me. Now not only was I constantly distracted by the chatting and fidgeting going on around me, but I was also faced with two people whispering/giggling/snogging/play fighting throughout the whole remainder of the film.

Why do people bother to come to the cinema if they aren't even watching the film?! The more I sat there in the darkened room the more I became aware that I had completely stopped paying attention to the movie too, instead I was more tuned in to the actions of the chav, I'd paid to see a film dammit, Not a pubescent couple talking in a language not even the most talented translator could understand. 

I'm sorry to moan and resemble that of a 60 year old pensioner whinging about the youth of today, but I just have to get it off my chest! I'm sure that when I was their age I did not go around shouting my mouth off as they do now, ruining things for other people and just generally being a nuisance.

Word of warning to anyone planning a mid-week movie. Avoid Wednesdays!