Existing

It's as if I'm in a basement.



The four towering walls envelope me in a black coat.

An air that is so thick yet so cold.

There is nothing going on outside of these bricks.

In isolation it is easy to feel alarmed by another being. A fear surrounds me that somebody, a stranger, would open the door above me, and I would look up, vulnerable.

I'd be cuddling my knees like a child, undeniably, helplessly.

Wrapped in an imaginary blanket, and rocking, I'd be floating in a hypnotic state of dreaming.


A creaking floor board underneath me would remind me that

I

am

existing.

Within the darkness I'd find a co-ordinate to focus my my eyes upon. I'd stare so intensely.

Taking sinister delight in how my body clock would fail to work inside my blank canvas.


This is how I feel, this is what I imagine, when I listen to Intro.

Now and then, I have an epiphany.

3-7 years old: After my Aunty Heather took me to Tate Modern with crayons and paper, I was hooked. I drew The Snail by Matisse, "Mummy, I wanna be an artist!"

7-10 years old: After singing out of my window as loud as I could everyday, hoping a someone with a spare record deal contract in thier pocket would pass. I remember thinking girls shouldn't be playing guitars.

10-13 years old: After watching too much Changing Rooms, having been hypnotised by Lewellyn-Bowen's wild hair; "I want to be an interior designer!"

14-17 years old: After battling with OCD and going through numerous types of treatment therapies. "I'm going to be a psychologist". I wanted to understand my head a little better!

18-21 years old: After coming out of music college and realising I'm definatley not up for the music industry.. I decided on TV presenting/radio broadcast etc".

Now, at the grand old age of 22, after reading a selection of comedian's autobiographies and realising that I enjoy nothing better than watching stand up, I've decided I would LOVE to be a stand up. I love nothing more then making my friends crease up in stitches.

I was so overshelmingly inspired that I sat up in bed at 2am last night and started writing jokes and laying down all the 'funny' stories and anecdotes I have in my little indesicive head. The problem is, I'm my own biggest fan. I'm glad to say that now and then I make my friends crack up and am sometimes referred to as 'that funny girl'.... I might be misinterpreting the meaning. Anyway, I'll crack a joke or a one liner (Russian music joke, anyone? Friends will know what I'm on about), and I'll be laughing too hard at my halariousness that five minutes later when I stop laughing my mates are just looking at me in horror.

Anyway, I wrote some daft one liners last night (I'd write out the long jokes I wrote too, but without a live thrusting action, one of the jokes would be lost on you, my dear reader). I'm a huge fan of one-liner comedians like Stuart Francis, Milton Jones (who I'll be seeing live in February), and Tim Vine. So here are some I wrote at 2am in my jim-jams last night. Have a butchers;





"I was asked to draw the curtains. I did my best, but I'm no Picasso...".

"Last night I was invited to a pool party. It wasn't quite what I expected. My chalk got soaked. I took my cue to leave...".

"I once found myself in a massive tin of Heinz Spaghetti... I had to jump through hoops to get out of there...".

"I once performed a song that had several chord changes. The wardrobe department couldn't keep up...".

"My little cousin kept telling her mum, 'I need a wee, I really need a wee!' She loved getting a new games console for Christmas, but she did develop some concerning bladder issues...".

Let me know if they're crap! Ha, I don't deal with that false approval thing very well!

x

Christmas parties, a time to forget your troubles (albeit temporarily!), sing some carols and get down and dirty with your festive self.

Virgin On The Ridiculous

A woman who has celebrated her 107th birthday this week, was also celebrating as many years as a virgin. Clara Meadmore, of Perranporth, Cornwall, claimed that sex appears to be ‘a lot of hassle’. 


Now I’m not one to knock on her door and insist she pop her cherry - I think there’s a law against that sort of behaviour - but I can’t help but wonder why she hasn’t dipped her toe in. After all, she makes 
Steve Carrell’s character as The 40 Year Old Virgin look like a slut. Yet Meadmore is not alone. Across the water, the University of San Francisco discovered in 2009 that 13.9% of men and 8.9% of women in the US have never had sex. Did they consider the act of love making a ‘hassle’ too? They join the likes of X factor failures John and Edward Grimes (AKA Jedward) who made a less than shocking confession to the Daily Star in August. “Yes we are virgins”, John told them. “We have never had, like, a serious girlfriend”. Though of course, this probably isn’t out of choice. 

The question is, does a personal promise of celibacy guarantee you a long life like Meadmore’s? Or is her long and healthy life irrespective of her decisions in love. I can’t think of many people wanting to give this experiment a bang. Sorry, bash. 


The retired secretary told The Metro newspaper that she knew she wanted to avoid marriage since the age of 12, and that as a young woman she wanted to concentrate on making a living. It is fair to say that without a family beneath her, she must be hiding a pretty penny or two under her care-home mattress. 


But imagine a life without a partner, children... Okay, yes, to some of you this will seem momentarily pleasing. Thrilling in fact. Imagine not having to worry about your kids hurting themselves every time you turn your head away. Wouldn’t it also be wonderful to not have to force out a simple conversation with your partner of 20 years?


However in the long term, surely this would lead to a life of loneliness, and a low sense of self-worth. Beyond our worries about partners (are we growing apart?) and children (have I raised a brat?), there is a bond. Such strong relationships make us feel needed and relevant. 


At her impressive age, she must be watching her friends pop their clogs one after the other. I believe that the facts about Meadmore’s age and sexual preferences are of no relation. It’s a well known fact that people who marry are more likely to live longer than if they remained single. Health website ASB.net released a study in 2008, stating that this trend begins when people hit the age of 40. Yet it hits its’ peak between the ages of 70 and 84, “where the death rate for single people is almost double that of their married friends”. 


With 107 years of celibacy under her belt, it causes me to think that the old lass has never let her self go. What a pity. Still, it’s never to late…

Out performed by a fan? Gig review: The Outcast Band, The Temesis.

The Outcast Band provide an interesting venue for new tracks and old favourites, but after the show, the audience may have been more memorable. 




Climbing into a small boat on the Thames to see catch a folk band’s album launch party, you don’t expect to be battling for space at the front with a highly excitable hippy-mosher. As a night of unusual quirks, there were two atmostpheres. One  was spilling over with anticipation and excitement. The other was one of unknowing. Firstly of what the night will bring. Secondly, of who the hell this band are that harldy anybody seems to have heard of. 




Celebrating the release of their third album, The Outcast Band were supported by Richard James - a singer-songwriter notably inspired by Dandy Warhols and Beck - not in fact one half of Aphex Twin as few attendees wrongly hoped.  Although the set consisted of inoffensive sing-a-long folk-pop tracks, the crowd were more excited about reaching the bar than the stage. 


Docked on Albert Embankment, Vauxhall, the anticipating crowd began to tuck themselves in tightly as they awaited their musically-underground treasure. A mix of fans, special guests and the band’s family members filled the creaking venue to hear songs, new and old. Following on from their bubbly opening track, The Devil’s Road, the audience were treated to their first snippet of the new album - produced by Phil Tennant (Waterboys, Levellers) - with an animated recital of To The End. Fiddler Paul Godfrey played a key role, leaping excitedly to and fro in front of the intensely close spectators. Unfortunately, most of this too-ing and fro-ing was conducted shyly with his back to the audience. 


The punk-folk rockers proved that they aren’t shy of experimenting with unusual instruments. Vocalist Damien Kay brought out his megaphone during an energetic performance of Garden Song, despite the audience stepped away from his direction to avoid the spit path. Guitarist Tom Price introduced to us his electric mandolin for a dazzling rendition of ballad, Be Someone. As a highlight, it would have been a raise your lighter in the air moment, if it weren’t for the wooden boat. Finally, a song that our hippy-mosher friend couldn’t hop around to? No, afraid not. The crowd joined him in lively dance, before he smashed his flailing arm into a waitress running in front of the congrgation. The result? A spilt plate of chips and burger in front of the stage. It became mashed potato by the end of the track. 


New track Don’t Go Home was welcomed with a power cut (were the trying to hint something?). Not so much a hindrance though, Kay entertained us with witty dialogue whilst other members of the band wondered about stage as humorously-confused as the audience. It was only a minute until the tune returned with a punk-ho down for a middle eight. 


Ending the set with Shelter Me and upbeat new track Longest Mile, the performance couldn’t help but conclude with a desperate thankfulness. 


The Outcast Band are benefiting from a folk revival. Having reached public awareness (just about) in 1991, they were ahead the trend. It seems however, that the trend may be continuing to evolve without them. The Outcast Band promise little hope for mainstream success and arena tours. But as far as folk-punk ho-downs on boats go, they’re unbeatable. 

Fool's Timing

Stiffened and a little embarrassed, a redhead stands alone in front of the mosaic wall. She looks quirky, yet with not enough confidence to pull it off as an effortless attempt. Perfectly round glasses frame her hazel eyes, as they scatter left and right. Perhaps she’s meeting someone here? 


A suede-gloved hand encases an almost-empty glass, almost too tightly, whilst the other fiddles furiously with her phone. The lady stands unnaturally and with anticipation, like a sprinter waiting for the whistle. A final nervous swig. She allows the alcohol dance upon her palette. She’d made it last for a distressful 37 minutes. 


The young woman’s ribcage rises abruptly, and down again, while her chin quivers subtly. The clink-clonk of her high heeled boots make a hurried rhythmic escape for the door. 


And so another broken heart begins its’ lonely walk home through London, as a young man, eyes wide and searching, makes his entrance into the Macbeth. He’s happy with his timing. He’s 20 minutes early. 

The Dance

On Carnaby Street, we do a dance. 

Hope, skip, click of our shoes.

We’re unaware of the story we’re telling. 

The street is alive as we merry our way to our destinations.

Possessed with generous anticipation.

The air hums as we revolve around one other

Shoulders clashing, pick-pockets snatching.

We twist and twirl as we weave and waver in and out of each other’s way. 

Some of the dancers journeys are not as important as others. 

We scurry and hurry our performance along the street. 

The pricey shops and polished pubs make for a wonderful stage. 

But waltzes become stumbles, and foxtrots become shoves.

Our show is coming to an end.

Darkness creeps in as the curtains fall, the pitter-patter dissolves. 

I curtsy to my fellow unsuspecting dance partners. 

They’ve removed their dancing shoes, the pantomime is over.

 The next unknowing cast sift their way through the paths.

Their cabaret begins, subconsciously and unknowing.

The stage of Carnaby will be filled, infinitely

The dance is never ending. 

Flying off the rail!

OK Im on slight rant mode, but who wouldn't be. 


While using a Portsmouth Harbour - Waterloo ticket today that I purchased on Mega Train, I decided to change at Guildford to shave 45 minutes off of my journey, (rather than going to Waterloo then back on myself for Epsom (my final destination). I made my way through the barrier at Guildford station to buy my ticket to Epsom, but -oh no - some middle aged sap with a dire lack of excitement in her life thought that I deserved a £33.80 fine for doing so.


Oh and contest, I did!!


After realising I was getting no where with this imbosile I paid the money and got on my next train - again, with another valid ticket and a severely bruised pride.


Since getting back to Epsom I've been on the phone to National Rail and Megabus who have both said this shouldn't have happened. But guess what, the woman sick on power didn't give me a receipt for my fine, meaning a) there's no proof I was given a fine, and b) there's no way that I can contest it.


Thank you very much National Rail, for the shit customer service, rude staff, lack of seats, astronomical prices (and rising), lack of security on late night trains, and for your general air of Great British arrogance.


This country is going to fucking pot.

SITES FOR PEOPLE WHO LIKE DATING AND MUSIC STUFF.

Ever thought, "Fuck me, I like music, where am I ever going to find someone else who likes music?" You have? Look no further. 

When you think of internet dating, what comes to mind? Lonely forty somethings looking for someone to do soduku with, who will also reassure them that they've still got a cracking rack? Well scrap that my impressionable friend, because all kinds of musicians and indie scenesters are jumping on the bandwagon (nothing new there then). 

Dating sites like MusicDating.com and tastebuds.fm (a sister site to lastfm – in case your simple mind failed to connect the two), are paving the desperate path for love-starved music fans. With an estimated 15 million singletons in the UK by 2011, the industry is going to be worth a mind-numbing £1 billion. It's no coincidence then that so many music dating websites are popping up and becoming noticed all of a sudden. There's seven options to choose from just on the first page of google.

So do people actually use these sites your asking? You weren't? Well I'll tell you anyway. Yes, they do. There are no statictics available for music dating solely, as the trend is so recent (we like to be the first to tell you about these things, dontchya know?). MusicDating.com have however divulged to us that they have almost 2000 weekly newsletter subscribers, with the average site-user being male and 32 years old.  

There are music dating sites for general music fans as well as for more niche followers. Bluegrassdating.com offers hearty companionship to country fans whilst classicalpartners.com matches you over your love of a Bach Chorale or two. Whilst researching we even found sites especially for Vampire obsessives and STD carriers – Gonorrhea anyone?

Overall, these sites are focusing on matching couples through their taste in bands. Taste.fm simply asks you to click on a band name, for a screen to come up with other scenesters – sorry members – who also consider themselves scenesters – sorry, fans – in your area. Once you've found someone you like the look of, you can send a high five or a wink to get the attention of your future wife/husband/fuck buddy. For those f you are are more traditional, you can send them a message too, with actual words. 

And apparently the system works. Steve and Nina met on MusicDating.com through a shared love for Belle and Sebastian. As the site explains, “Steve from the UK managed to get a job in the US near to where Nina lived, they started going to gigs together, fell in love and have been together ever since..” Bucket, please?

Forgetting the slushy stories, a huge 17% of couples who whined “I do” last year like Steve and Nina actually met on generic dating websites.

With huge success rates, it looks like music dating is only going to get bigger and – sigh – more mainstream. What with musicians pouring their hearts out on lonely hearts style ads, what will become of the music industry itself? Are we going to be bombarded with more lovesongs about 'Indie Cindy'?Sex, drugs and rock and roll will be a thing of the past. With one in five people currently in a relationship with someone they met on a dating site, we can expect a serious u-turn towards love, viagra and rock ballads. Watch out for a Meatloaf reunion. No seriously, that guy can deafen you for life.

Journalists are always meant to coin the name of a new trend when they write about it. But we couldn't be asked to think of one. So we're going for the people-who-like-music-and-are-also-looking-to-get-soooooome trend.

Britain's Next Top Model Live at XL

As someone who channel surfs and happens to stop on Living now and then to see a bit of BNTM, I never expected to go to the live event last Friday. However with a lecture cancelled at the last minute, Friday was crying out for a little day trip!


It was pretty damn good for £19. A free make over, massage, style and colour consulation were all included. And X factor hottie Diana Vickers was performing throughout the day, allowing me to have a good ol' perve! 


I was glad that I took the opportunity to ask around for work experience. I got contacts from Company and new Fashion site and model agency, Fashion Babylon. Run by fashion photographer Michael Bailey, he's organised a launch party at plush Kensington Roof Gardens. I'm very excited to have been invited personally, as he may have work for me writing model portfolios! The party's Friday and I've invited my lovely Canadian homegirl Alicia to come with me... I'll let you know how it goes! 

Do clothes wear us?

She wore a fur coat; the colour of ivory and the texture of heaven. A pitch-black mini-dress beneath it brought out the vibrancy of her lips - red like blood. 

Scarlet? Storm? She looked like she had a name that meant something; that carried weight. Whatever it was, she gracefully strutted past me with a glow of importance. She sauntered in what looked like a student loan’s worth of designer boot. 

Powerful. Icy. Contempt. These are all words that I associated with this woman. At that particular time. 

But who is to say she was all of these things? She could in fact be powerless, warm and anxious. She caused me to wonder; do we use fashion in order to lie? A persona created from fabric. When Scarlet/Storm arrived home, and donned a pair of slouchy pyjamas, was she still all of the things I imagined her to be?

Single review: El Matador, The Lines

Listening to ‘El Matador’ is similar to feeling like you’ve been somewhere before. Within the borders of their new single release, The Lines strive in an over-the-top manner to emulate Kasabian, but instead achieve themselves a poor man’s Reverend And the Makers comparison.

            El Matador strikes us with jangly guitars, confident vocal content and promising drum technique, giving us a tasteful change to the repeatative high hat and snare scenarios we hear in indie-dance tunes. However a cow bell appearance in the middle eight seems to remind us of a scene that we have already been excited about and gotten over.

            The song builds up to a climax that doesn’t quite reach it’s potential. The chorus lacks a catchy melody, and the buzz of the roughly-produced indie tune seems to have no origin.

Don’t get me wrong. On paper this is a song that ticks a lot of boxes, but there is a noticeable lack of depth and purpose. If this were brought to the table five years ago, we’d have a massive hit on our hands. But that’s just the point. We’ve experienced all of this before. Boys, this is less El matador. More El desperado.

Pack Up

This week has been all about deja vu, as yet again I am packing up my life and belongings to move back to Epsom. The last move was a disaster for reasons I really can't be arssed to go into! However my new flatmates seem absolutley lovely. We're holding a tea party soon so everyone can meet and greet. (Think fresh cupcakes, bunting, teapots)!

With one more week left of living on the Isle Of Wight, I'm all about the mixed emotions. I adore the way my life is here. I wouldn't change a thing! And the M.E is even starting to back off slightly. Though it's been kicking me in the arse over the past few days - anxiety/apprehesion/worry/stress correlate directly with the severity of my M.E!

What I'm trying to say is that I'm trying to embrace the change, and realise that I'll be enjoying the best of borth worlds! Work experience, living independantly and being near London are all plus points. I'm of course really excited to be seeing my Epsom friends again and making new ones (:

Mitchell and Webb have named a two-headed nutter after me. 

It has to be blog worthy!

Question Time

Okay.


So it's cool to be trendy. And trendy to be cool. (Obviously). 


To be a GEEK is now cool. 


Definition provided by Dictionary.com: 
Geek - a peculiar or otherwise dislikable person, esp. one who is perceived to be overly intellectual.


Judging on everyday occurrences and teen dramas, most people avoid anyone who fits into this category as if they were carrying herpes. 

So is it only cool to pretend to be a geek? 




I'm not being high and mighty - I purchased 3 pairs of fake glasses and a brown satchel this week. I'm well into this trend.




Just a shame people generally don't go for a true geek. When's it a real nerd's time to get a look in? After all, while we're pretending to be geeks (and trying to be cool?), geeks pretend to be cool and get shunned.




Does anybody else find that quite peculiar? 

It ads up.

Adverts have become a great medium for discovering music. Previously snubbed by some musicians, it's now become a great way to get your tunes across and stuck in our heads, without looking too needy. Check these tunes out, which have really caught my eye/ear/nose(?)



Faithless ft. Dido.
Feelin Good






Chromeo
Fancy Footwork





It needs no introduction...

SOME OPINIONS 

Post-Vintage

Hey bloggy!

My God, thank you for returning - I'm glad you haven't slit your writsts after reading my last two dismal inputs!

I spent the last weekend at the first ever Vintage at Goodwood festival with Daisy, some FPI students and UCA teachers, blogging on behalf on the Uni. We've been told that we'll be the teacher's first choice for returning for free again next year, get in! Check out our daily blog here.

We did ponder about going as Goths to compensate for the fact we didn't have many vintage clothes. However by Sunday, after a good old shop in the markets and a stint in the 'beauty box' getting our hair styled, we were vintage-worthy!

I got to meet the almighty Vic Reeves on the Friday (with his face like an angry tampon, with his face...) as he was judging an art show. Got a very nice cheesy pic of us together - was shocked at how massive he is! I did chicken out however at the opportunity of telling him what his face resembles.

The recovery process is certainly going better than expected, after an almost unhealthy dose of TV box sets and duvet interaction.

Now it's a matter of going back to reality. I'm finalising my plans to move in with Cassie and Nick in Epsom which I'm very excited about! They sound pretty cool and mature which is just the kind of housemates I'm looking for, and the flat looks lovely, clean and modern! £265 rent a month is a sweet bonus too!

Will write soon with any tit bits that seem worthy!

Tata for now!

x

Mid Summer blues?

Alright, bloggy!

A lots been going on since my last installment. So much so that I'll probably miss out the primary nuggets of info worth writing!

It's been moods-wings galore. Not PMS style - I mean frustration, depression, anxious, thankful, appreciative that I'm not worse but devastated that I'm not who I used to be. Once I know what I'm doing in September (Uni or year out to recover), I will feel more relaxed. I'll feel more like I know what I'm going to be dealing with for the next 18 months. Until then, I feel like I'm juggling teapots.

I've been taking 10mg of citalopram to take the edge off of my compulsive worrying (a factor that uses up energy I don't have!). It's been giving me amazing dreams. One night I 'smashed' my leg open, exposing four snooker balls in my knee - one yellow with a smiley face!

However it's making me 'zombie-like'. Mike noticed a change in me and I knew that I was being extremely blasé. My Mum's even commented that I look dead behind the eyes. One alcoholic drink during a meal last night made me feel very sick and tried. I feel much more relaxed, but the side effects are not worth it. Think I'll go back to practicing meditation and experimenting with various herbal teas!

The side effects however have helped me to realise that the advice Mike has given me is true - I need to come to terms with what I'm dealing with. When first diagnosed with ME, I thought it would only be affecting me for the next few months. Now that it's been a year and a half, I'm having to understand that this is a long time adjustment. It's about finding a natural coping mechanism - not taking a little white pill.

On a brighter note, a teacher at Uni texted me out of the blue, and offered me a free weekend ticket to Vintage at Goodwood (worth £135!), tent vouchers and food vouchers, in exchange for me writing a daily blog for Uni! Friends of mine know that I can't cope with Festi loos, but the website explained that they have 'many, clean, flushing loos - only the best!' Whoopla! I'm just hoping I can conserve enough energy each day to crawl out of my tent to see all the caberet and comedy! Check it out at their site!

I feel like I'm starting to ramble....

It's all about M.E

Hello Blog, I've neglected you a bit.

Since my last post I've had a lot to get my head around. I've now been doing my 3 rests a day, as prescribed by my NHS specialist. Such a treatment sounds so easy, even a cop out. But having to them at the exact same times every day (11 30, 1 30 and 5) means that day trips become a heavily planned mission, and Uni in September will be impossible. Therefore social life suffers, affecting my mood and optimism.

After reading through some forums to see who else has tried this resting technique (those I find who have done it, say it took about a year to feel the improvement), I found a guy called Ross. He'd taken Effexor, an AD, and said that teamed with constant rest, he felt great after just a few weeks. His post was 8 years old, but when I saw his e-mail, I thought contacting him for more info was worth a try. I didn't discover much more than what I had already read. Yet he did tell me something that his doctor told him; "Give in to it physically, fight it mentally". It's spot on. Although ME is a physical illness, it's the fight with your mind that's the hardest part. It's the willpower, forcing yourself to rest and miss those sunny days out that's hard. My mind want's to carry on as normal, yet my body won't let me. ME is a very debilitating and frustrating illness. It's not who I am, but the result of who I was. 


Like anyone with ME, I have good days and bad days, where my symptoms are lesser or more severe. I'm currently experiencing a string of 'bad days'. After over doing it Saturday by playing beach rounders for ten minutes (the first time I've had energy to run at all in months!), I'm recovering with severely aching and heavy muscles, fatigue, dizziness, and a have just overcome a terrible 24hr headache that felt like a hangover. It also disrupts my sleep, in which last night was particularly bad. Having gone to bed at 10 30 pm last night, I wasn't able to fall asleep until 7 30am, staying in slumber for a measly 3 hours. The cycle continues, as I've now had to cancel plans to see friends tonight and shopping in Portsmouth with my boyfriend, Mike, tomorrow.

This does all sound doom and gloom I know, but there is a tiny bit of optimism. I'm learning that I need to worry and stress less, which are contributors for making ME worse (and even for causing it in the first place). The first time I did my half hour prescribed rest, I fought back tears, and I smacked my palm against my forehead with frustration.

I still feel like this sometimes, but at other times I'm learning to make the most of my rests; listening to Cocteau Twins and doing my prescribed breathing exercises. Breathing in colours I associate with happiness and calm, and breathing out 'negative' colours I associate with bad emotions I'm feeling at the time, has proved quite beneficial on my mood. However keeping this exercise going for more than 3 minutes at a time is still a huge challenge for my ever thinking and racing mind.

I suppose I'd like my friends to read this. I have an amazing circle of friends and family who support me, as well as Mike, who is wonderful and more understanding than I could every ask someone to be. I worry that some of them think it's depression - a very common misconception - and dare I say it laziness or apathy. I know that my Dad and Nan don't understand it, but I have to accept that ME doesn't 'exist' in their generation's mind.

It's difficult to get across to people that I have an illness because I don't look ill. I go out and socialise on my good days, and I conserve my energy to do my hair and make up before I leave the house. In a crowd I look just like any other woman, which makes things easier and makes things more difficult  at the same time. For example, if I'm invited to a party spontaneously, and I haven't saved any energy with some restful days before hand, I have to say no. An hour in and I'd feel compelled to shut my eyes, out of no will of my own.

So I suppose I'm saying to my friends that although I may not be with you in the flesh as much as I'd like to be, it's out of my hands. After my probable year out of uni to relax and recover, we shall make up for lost times (:

See you on my next good day, which I hope, is Wednesday!

x

Knock back.

You know when some days really hit home to you the situation that you're in? Whether it's one you forget and get reminded about, or one you think about constantly, one sentence can make you reassess it once more.

Leaving over two hours to make the journey from Ryde to Cowes (IOW Festival traffic is insane), I headed to a Health Centre. I've been waiting six weeks (though technically I could say over a year), to be seen by an M.E specialist.

I got given a short, simple and pretty patronising leaflet stating all the things a sufferer already knows about themselves. Stress makes symptoms worse, yah de yah. Then WO bombshell. I knew that the treatment plan they were going to give me was obviously going to involve the one thing in life I find most boring; rest.

They told me that to start my road to recovery, I need to have 3-4 30 minute periods of intense rest, and they must be at the exact same time, each day. I asked, "What about day trips?!" She said that if I want to get better, this must come before my social life. The leaflet continues to rub in that 'your rest should not work around your plans or activities', but vice versa.

I'm desparate to get better. I haven't been able to throw myself into Uni life yet, nor even stay up past midnight without being in some kind of ache or pain. Last Summer was so miserable because of this, that I promised myself that this one would be better. Looks like I'm going to need a lot of will power and determination. I thought I was incredibly strong. Now I'm not so sure how much longer I can put up a fight.

The Wombats: Exclusive Interview with drummer Dan Haggis on thier upcoming album

l-r Matthew 'Murph' Murphy, Dan Haggis, Tord Øverland-Knudsen

'A guide to love, loss and desperation' flirted with playful melancholy and story-telling. Twined with vocal harmonies, The Wombats have achieved a sound that is enjoyably recognisable. So when the drummer of The Wombats, Dan Haggis, told me exclusively about their upcoming album, I had to satisfy the curiosity of the pop-indie nation and find out more...



It was back in 2003 when the guys enrolled at Paul McCartney's Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts. Here their music evolved, and the enthusiasm has carried its' way through seven years of constant gigging and writing.


The guys are enthusiastic as ever when embarking on new material. They've written 20 songs for the album so far, and are still writing as if their pens were on fire. “We want to keep writing as many songs as possible right up till when we go in the studio”, explains Dan. “We always feel there's an even better song just round the corner..so far each corner has treated us well!”


The guys are currently recording in the US. “We flew out to LA at the end of May to work on a few songs with a producer who is based there”, spills Dan excitedly. He's talking about Jack Knife Lee. Having worked with the likes of U2, Bloc Party and Editors, it promises to be another electronica-enthused pop masterpiece. “ We hope to then record the bulk of the album in July”.


The Wombats have their own recognisable sound; A modern delivery with retro twists entwining vocal harmonies and synth melodies. Yet in the beginning the band gave us a much different finishing sound, with fourth guitarist, Ben. Surely he musty be kicking himself for leaving? “Ben was a legend! It was when he left that we started do more backing vocals etcetera to fill up the place of the second guitar, so without that we wouldn't sound he way we do today”.
“We have naturally tried to challenge ourselves in every aspect of the band, but we still have the same approach which is to make every song as interesting as possible from start to finish”. Recent single My Circuit-board City is solid evidence for this. “We all play synths on the new album which means the sounds we use are more diverse and so people should notice a difference”.

Wait, you all play synths on your new album? Does that mean Dan's stripping back on the drums for a few tracks?

He enlightens us. “Haha...well i play the piano too so I thought why not try to add the two together! Our guitar technician made me a little stand for a keyboard and off I went! It's been a good challenge but as with everything it just takes a bit of practice”, reveals Dan, whose just spent his time off in France.

“My girlfriend lives in Paris so I spend a few weekends a month there. I did French at Uni for 2 yrs so I've been honing the old language skills too”. Don't be surprised if there's a continental influence on the next album then...


When discussing the infamous second album pressure, Dan admits that the band have found it difficult at times. “Obviously it's up and down”, he confesses. “One day we think we've nearly got all the songs we need then the next day things wont seem quite as rosy. I think that's a frustrating but important part of being a musician because it means you never get lazy”.


The Wombats have had an intense touring schedule, and finding time to write on the road has been a challenge. “We were touring non stop for two years. We only made three songs together [during this period] as we never had time to write apart from the odd sound-check here and there! It took us a few months of writing and rehearsing before we got used to not being on tour, and since then it's been really good”.

I ask Dan if they approach songwriting in the same way now they're more 'ahem' mature. Well, that attribute is according to their PR. Singer Matthew 'Murph' Murphy reckons they're 'growing backwards'. Dan explains however that although he's taking on a Benjamin Button style growth-spurt, it's Murph who comes up with the basis of the songs.

We play around with it for several days till we are all happy. We usually add things collectively and it's a fun creative process. Some songs we have made for this album have started off as a rough idea one of us has had then we play around it for a while before Murph goes away and write lyrics and finishes it off”.

It's clear that The Wombats have come a long way since the release of their first single, 'Backfire at the Disco'. As a band who would aim for awkward silences at their gigs in the name of humour, it feels unlikely that would be the chosen reaction today. “We never really cared whether the audience got our babbling nonsense or our music”, he explains confidently. I think today we are fortunate enough that the fans at our gigs are amazing and they just want to have a good time. They make our lives on stage a lot easier”.

 
The sight of Dan's multi-tasking is sure to be an eye-opener at live shows, and I'm informed there won't be long to wait before checking out the octopus-man himself. “We do have some dates pencilled in but not till after the summer as we want to put all our time and energy into recording the album”. We do miss touring though. Not long now...”, exclaims Dan.

Any tips on how we can kill the time away until then? "I'd recommend reading was 'The Cloud Atlas' by David Mitchell! Amazing". Will do Dan, once I finished your recommended read, I think I'll just dance to Joy Division.

Click here to check out My Circuit-board City on The Wombats Myspace.

Sex and the City 2 : The Carrie-on

I've never written a film review before, but after watching the hyped SATC2 I felt completely compelled. If you are a fan of the fab four and have followed them throughout the six series, you may be feeling mixed emotions. If you haven't followed the series but watched the recent cinematic event, you'll probably be wondering what the fuss is about.

The writers (no, not Carrie), do well to address realistic issues. Samantha for example works her way through wonder drugs and pills in order to control her menopause. Miranda and Charlotte have a touching and emotional heart-to-heart about the difficulties of being a mother, not to mention Charlotte's paranoia of having a 'bouncy' and beautiful nanny at home alone with the hubby.

Whilst there are titbits of sisterhood and friendship, the glue that binds it together has become materialistic, unrealistic and down right disrespectful.

There are many occassions that display a lack of respect for Abu Dhabi's Islamic culture. Samantha insists on wearing revealling clothing, getting physcial on a public beach (despite knowing the laws), and waves condoms and two fingers towards muslim men who are sexually very conservative. There are even muslim women who lure the 4 ladies into a hidden room. Here, they take off their religious clothing and show us 2010's S/S catwalk collection. Not a film based on facts then.

Miranda saves the girls a bit of dignity by learning some of the native language, and telling the girl's (or us) occassionally about the land's history and culture.

Stephen Farber, the Hollywood Reporter's reviewer stated: "The rather scathing portrayal of Muslim society no doubt will stir controversy, especially in a frothy summer entertainment, but there's something bracing about the film's saucy political incorrectness. Or is it politically correct?" That's up to you. If you want to read more on this topic check out an article by a Daily Mail journo - a paper I'm unlikely to recommend again; Sex And The City 2 Reviews: Critic Calls Film 'Anti-Muslim'

Carrie mocks a woman wearing a niqab (the back viel covering a woman's facial features). They laugh as she lifts it every time she eats a chip, and exclaims how lucky she is for not having to run her botox bill high. Is this realism, or purely offensive?

Amongst the gay weddings and shopping trips, I also come to realise that in fact, Carrie is a TERRIBLE role model for women. Yes, she inspires us to write about love and what we believe in. However she treats Big (who she now calls John, as she seems to be all grown up) like an incompetant child.

The two spare a romantic evening watching a black and white movie in a hotel. In order to share more of those times, Big purchases a TV for thier bedroom as an anniversary present. She is instantly unthankful and pulls a strop. The following night, Carrie insists that he join her for Smith's premiere, after he has spent a very stressful day at work. She guilt trips him into coming, and drags him home again once she spies him chatting with a woman. At home, he then turns on the TV, which is apparently all too much for Carrie. 
Another strop is born, and she spends the next two days at her old apartment. 

To top off her behaviour, she then cheats on Big with Aiden on holiday in Abu Dhabi - they bumped into each other there, surely fate must be telling them to cheat?! This is what she appears to argue.

Carrie runs back to her hotel like a headless chicken, and after insulting Charlotte's marraige and cancelling dinenr with the girl's to see Aiden, she insists they must come to her beck and call and listen to her warblings and worries for hours. She ignores thier advice (why bother?) and tells Big about the kiss. Big is obviously left distraught.

But you guessed it. It's SATC. There is of course a happy ending to leave all the women out there with a feeling of hope. He gives her a huge wedding ring (a ring she previously refused to wear, despite giving each other thier vows almost three years prior). And of course, they are the happy couple once again.

All kinds of women everywhere, myself included, do or have looked up to Carrie at some point. We've watched an episode and related with a difficult situation. We've sat on tenterhooks wondering how she's going to cope with it; we need the reassurance that our relationships will be just fine too. 
But if this is how we are meant to treat men and show respect for our realtionships, I would rather put my faith in Katie Price.  

A movie that delivers some sweet SATC satisfaction if you're a fan. But expect to leave with a slightly sour taste in your mouth, and the wish never the do kareoke with your girls again...