vitis vinifera

A quick jaunt south-east

2011-04-19T14:20:00.000-07:00

has landed me in Seville. Originally this seemingly random trip wasn't to be so random, with me heading down to Andalusia (will be using this yucky anglicised spelling as authorised by Wikipedia) to experience the birthplace of many so-called Spanish icons and just generally have a good time during Semana Santa. The latter was a motive for me coming here but eventually proved to be my undoing as I could find no beds in Granada or Córdoba later this week. No problem, will be heading north to Lisbon instead!

The two days here have confirmed Seville's second place in my list of so-far visited Spanish cities, which means it's above Barcelona and behind Valencia, which is by default unpassable. Even though it might be as touristy as B-town during Semana Santa, this place has culture bursting from it. Seeing Parc Guell, the Sagrada Família and all of Gaudí's masterpieces is a fantastic experience if expensive. However with Seville architectural charms know no bounds; you only need to look up to see something Moorish and definitely moreish. Almost every bar I have stepped into here carries the distinct tiling. The seseo stands out here whilst I seldom got addressed in Catalan in Barça (okay, it's not the same, but you get my drift).

When I arrived I was dead set on seeing a flamenco performance, without castanets. I could have seen one in Barça, indeed bars were adorned with performance ads and souvenir shops carried the characteristic young girl's dress. But I waited until today: flamenco is seen outside Spain as Spanish, a national musical genre. Tourists and migrants from the south have used the nation-state of Spain to put an Andalusian gem in Catalan heartland. In reality this nation-state the only thing making flamenco Spanish. I wouldn't dream of paying to see flamenco anywhere other than down saaf, much like I wouldn't speak Galician in Valencia or expect anyone in Extremadura to know what a fallera looks like.

But I'd eat a crepe anywhere in France; Breton they may be, but stronger the French national identity also is. /yoda On a visit of my housemate's (also French) friend he was to buy his sister a souvenir; she had specified "algo de España", which means fallera models and Valencia-branded crockery were rejected in favour of a glass with an Osborne bull on it. I admit to ignorantly wrinkling my nose thinking "typical French" given the two countries' completely different attitudes toward regional identity. Makes you think, though.

The flamenco was awesome by the way. To Lisbon!

Currently

2011-04-06T05:39:00.000-07:00

the weather is good. I'm in Spain though so any Brit could expect it. The strawberries are out already and it's only April. Cold soup at lunchtime. Novelties abound.

Living abroad is strange. What once was too exciting to fathom becomes regular. That foreign numberplate you were looking out for on the M11 is now all around you, any eager ears pricked up in Camden to hear the odd bit of Spanish from teenage tourists now require no effort, and the occasional day where you can leave the house in but a tee in spring is no longer occasional, but an expected norm. Even boarding an aeroplane, the most thrilling of the thrilling, loses something after Ryanair cabin crew refuse to take a breath in between their umpteen attempts to sell you something on your umpteenth flight.

Does it become mundane though? If you're like me and you haven't until now been thinking about how best to use time outside the very little amount of hours spent in class, maybe. If you're also like me and remain enthralled on every step taken on the busy Valencian streets, maybe not. Shop windows. Traffic signs. Police cars. The way paving stones are arranged on the street. Palm trees. Elegant cream-coloured balconied buildings. All different. Yet the creators of these are people that do it neither worse or better, just different, right down to their communication with each other.

Still, not much time remains to benefit from all of this. Opportunities to sit down, drink a cortado and read Sartre or Cortázar, or alternatively to head to the beach and murder the feet hopelessly trying to play football, are numbered. One thing is certain: I need to read, listen, speak and write as much as possible, in any language. Next year is going to be the biggest task of my life in terms of personal maturity: securing the good degree. Not only for practical purposes; if I succeed I will know that I can live more organised than I am used to.

The work starts now.

Renaissance

2011-03-31T12:37:00.000-07:00

After a year of no-show I have decided to return to the humble weblog. The answer to any question as to why I stopped is simple and succinct: laziness. The answer as to why I've come back, however, is much more complicated. A will to end the laziness. A will to write more to remain on my toes for my final university year. A will to think and open my mind more. I could go on. The next post will actually contain relevant material.

Sterling times in Stirling

2010-02-09T04:32:00.000-08:00

I thought people might like an account of the epic BUCS journey this weekend, so here it is.

Last Friday wasn't an especially cold day in town. I remember cramming all the stuff in to my suitcase and popping down to college to hand some work in and sweating in my coat on the way. It wasn't going to be that mild in Scotland, though, so I sweated all the way to King's Cross where I arrived with ages in spare time. As we boarded the train I remember someone giving me the most horrendous death stare as my bag gave him the lightest touch on his shoulder. After nearly five hours of uneventful travel (excluding a wild hen party and crossing the Tyne) I had arrived in Edinburgh for the very first time. We connected onto the Stirling train on which I opened the world's best dish of pasta, no lie. After nearly an hour we got off and found the hostel after an unexpectedly short walk. It was run by a middle-aged Danish bloke who appeared to be backpacking. He liked to drink. A trip to Tesco ensued in which I made the most bizarre discovery of own brand Irn Bru, and bed was at 11. Too early. I had been to bed the night before at about 2, but I slept remarkably adequately. Had the obligatory breakfast of cold oats and milk, and headed up to the race.

The race was too long for me. Eleven kilometres is okay but too much when you have to stay focussed for more or less forty minutes. I came 102nd, missing out on a half purple for ULU by two places. Ah well. That's what you get when you don't revise hard enough. It was alright anyway.

We proceeded to watch a very successful game of rugby on England's part, and sampled Tennent's finest lager before going to eat feeling tipsy from three drinks. The bacon burger helped. The after party followed, which took London's mildness to a new level. The dancefloor had no air conditioning and was packed full. The bar wait time was about half an hour, if you were aggressive enough. We left at about half 1 on Durham's coach (don't ask) and it was straight to bed. The following morning's run was a laboured affair initially, but we soon made light work of 62 minutes.

Shower and we left. I sent the folks a postcard, and we boarded an earlier train for Edinburgh, so we could spend a couple of hours marvelling at the sights. The 'Burgh was indeed marvellous. We caught some food (my choice was sausages and mash) and we went for Waverley. We all sat together which was fantastic, and I showed Stephen the magic of Sporcle.com. Jelly Babies and M&Ms were distributed in abundance. At about half 8 the train arrived in London again, ending the magic...

The after-after party is on Wednesday. Looking forward.

Getting on

2010-01-21T18:05:00.000-08:00

The year's getting on, we're already twenty days into it. I'm finding myself a lot more at ease than last term, maybe because my social life hasn't quite exploded into three or more nights out a week this year.

I actually enjoy my course now though, and I really enjoy French as a language. I find André Gide most engaging, which is fortunate because I'll probably have to write an essay on his work at some point. Now for Duras, Beckett, Éluard and Genet. I need to go back across het Canaal. Thinking of Paris at Easter if I can afford it. Spanish, meh. I want to go to Madrid next year though.

I've only done two track sessions so far this year, one indoors and the other outdoors, and the latter was so poor I could well have been walking. Backwards. I can't say I'm overly concerned about it, though. I'll get better in time for BUCS. Sixteen days to go, until R3 goes north, dudes. Race in Reading next Wednesday. Let's rip it up.

J'suis Londonien pour toujours.

2010-01-09T18:01:00.000-08:00

Oui, j'écris cette message en français. Je sais pas pourqoui. Je peux peut-être m'exprimer mieux comme ça. Que dis-je? Ouais. Je retourne à Londres demain, où je vis. Je suis Londonien pour toujours, même si mon niveau de français améliore autant que j'oubile l'anglais. Je ne choisirais aucune ville française avant Londres. Je m'excite peut-être trop d'y aller. Qu'est-qu'il y a à part beaucoup de travail et la manque de nourriture? Il y a mes colocataires, ou bien mes frères. Nous nous saoulerons ensemble le mercredi, woooo, la boîte Roxy! Et bien je me réveille le matin suivant avec une migraine. Ça vaut la peine, hein?

S'il reste de la neige chez moi ça m'irritera. Je dois préparer pour le championnat britannique. C'est pas facile avec ce temps. Ça me fait penser qu'il y a une personne qui fait tout qu'il peut pour m'empêcher. Ça ne marchera pas. Je vais courir le mieux possible.

Twenty-ten

2010-01-08T17:11:00.000-08:00

Hi! It's twenty-ten, or two thousand and ten. Or two thousand ten, if you don't like limes. I think I shall pronounce it twenty-ten. Fiona Bruce does, I noticed.

I had a good Christmas. I hope you did too. I stayed at the folks' house in old KL, saw old friends, and generally just chilled out. London's calling though, as Joe Strummer once sang. The fam are missing me. I'm itching to go back, and the only thing stopping me isn't emotional. Mum won't miss me that much. It's physical. It's the weather.

Now I don't mind the snow for a few days, people at home, go sledding, et cetera. But after the excitement, you realise that it's neither here nor there. It's a nightmare hindered by the council's categorical refusal to grit pavements because someone might slip because there's no fucking ice there. I was planning on running today and now I can't go quicker than eight minute miling without breaking an arm. The track's shut. It's cold. The trains probably won't be running. The Spurs game is off. I'll probably get snowballs thrown at me when I do finally get back to London. At least the cricket's a nice restbite.

Now I've jinxed it. We'll probably lose the last test. Sheer brilliance by Paul Collingwood, Ian Bell and Graham Onions keeping the series from South Africa. Now let's not make ourselves rely on poor Graham's batting ability. I hope he takes all twenty wickets in the next match. Strauss and Cook will each get a century in the first and second innings respectively. Now that's wishful thinking.

Sunday bloody Sunday

2009-12-13T09:08:00.000-08:00

It's the thirteenth of December, so twelve days until Christmas. Niceeeee. Essay's duly been handed in, almost exactly on the point of the deadline. Blood, sweat and tears have been sacrificed for that. Ah well, all done. Well, not quite. Got a snippet of a French essay in for Friday - 1200 words. Can bash that out in a couple of hours, yeah.

I raced yesterday in Kingsbury, up in the parts that are more justifiably called "North West London". I tell people I live in North West London though the only thing northwestern about it is the postcode. I try to look cool. Anyhow, race. Not having run at all during the week, I tried my hand. I wouldn't say that I failed, but I did a bit poor. Highgate won, but because good runners turned up, I lost. Damn. And Spurs lost at home to fucking Wolverhampton, the city that doesn't really exist because nobody's heard of it. Hmph.

It's party time though, and one of my friends is having a birthday meal. £15, not so bad. Oh wait, it's £25. Better take £50 just in case. :/ College Winter Ball this week and other stuff, let's see how that goes. Au rev.

Four Days Later

2009-12-10T14:15:00.000-08:00

Only four days pass and I blog again! What's this? Ah well, nice and easy procrastination from the essay. Over halfway through it, and I'm still hearing of people handing it in days ago. Doesn't matter though. I'll get there.

Last night I relocated a game from the days of yore: Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis. Go on, laugh. But it is in no uncertain terms the best game that I have ever played on a computer. I've almost completed it in every method possible already. I wish that there were things about that game that I haven't yet seen. But there aren't. The usuals also came: the first two Monkey Island games, Loom, the Last Crusade, Day of the Tentacle, et cetera.

A spaceman came travelling, down from afar; twas light years of time since his mission did start. Lovely song. Gets me kinda emotional. Even though I fluctuate frequently between agnosticism and anglicanism, I'm not going to wait to wish peace and goodwill to all men this festive season. That song and A Winter's Tale by David Essex. Ahhh..

Some of the water piping's leaking in our house, and the plumber doesn't turn up until the third time of asking. Bad service already, and now I'm getting conflicting information about where the stopcock is, or even if one exists. Landlord says it does, caretaker says it doesn't. To be honest, I'd rather leave the problem in place if it meant I got a bit of peace and quiet. Landlord rang me three times this morning before I was out of bed.

Back to the essay.

Winterstuff

2009-12-06T18:32:00.000-08:00

Yeah the blogging's been sporadic lately. It's the 7th of December and the post before this was on the 31st of October. Oops. I've got Chrome now so I use IE for blogging. Handy really having two browsers.

Christmas is coming. I have my lovely usual Mars calendar, which I am never switching from as long as I live. The spirit's there, mainly in anticipation of all the food. I am such a material twat. Hopefully Spurs can stop squandering two goal leads and actually score penalties. No. I want to see my Mumsie and get some TLC and offer my own should it be needed. Not long to go now.

The house is in a bit of a shit state to be honest. I can never be arsed to vacuum any more, the kitchen gets crumbs everywhere, though my room beats all of my housemates' rooms to the ground, with all of my posters. I've started calling them "the fam", even though they're not family. I was inspired to do this after reading a threatening Facebook post made by some peculiar young fellow wearing a white tracksuit and holding his crotch in his profile picture. It addressed the threatened person as "fam" every five or six words, which was funny. So, having sensed the removed connotations of this word, my housemates are now "the fam".

I've got a big old Spanish film essay to do. I've written two sentences and it's in for the end of the week. Whoops, there went the weekend. It'll be done though. It always is. Winter Ball to look forward to, and since my drinking has become slightly more occasional, I've decided to have this one as the last big session before Christmas. It'll be good. I also want to look round town more, but the essay looms and it's almost prohibitively cold outside. Maida Vale, Edgware Road, Bethnal Green and Covent Garden are at the top of the agenda. Probably leave it until January to be honest.

The races have been coming thick and fast. I have counted ten at least since the end of September, which is an achievement. The college league races are going pleasantly well. I've finished 16th, 15th, 10th and 9th in the first four respective races, and am currently fourth in the individual league. Met League is going almost as well, coming in 39th and 49th in fields ov over three hundred isn't bad! Plus I love the day out. Next week is the North of the Thames at Kingsbury. Again, the essay....

I want to round off the post in honour of Naomi, who's been a rock for me these past few weeks. xxxxxxxxxx

Autumnal antics

2009-10-31T18:52:00.000-07:00

So I told you that I'd blog more often. I suppose I lied. I have been busy, though, and because all of these Google accounts are rigged together, having to log out of my blog to check the wretched society email and vice versa is a chore. So there are the excuses.

My life is rushing along at its usual London pace, and though I will say I have killed some malnourishment gremlins, I'm still such a bloody cheapskate. Rent and water are due and I typically pay on the last possible day before the court summons arrives. I need more clothes and a new phone, but it'll probably be January before I get any of those, knowing my standards. I still only ever top up £5 at a time on my Oyster.

This year's autumn has been quite delightful, however. I usually see autumn as a time for sighing, as a time for "oh God, here it comes, six months of eternal darkness and cold." But it's wonderfully mild at the moment. On a misty Hallowe'en morning (contradiction much?), I managed to revel in some relatively high humidity during a training session on the Hampstead Heath Extension. Probably a mistake that I wore a cotton tee, then. Another thing I like about autumn is the colours. In Regent's the other day, walking up towards Primrose Hill, the sea of leaves on the broadwalk was rather beautiful, and most tempting to kick up. It's quite a romantic time of year, much more so than any other season. Why couldn't saint Valentine be buried on 14 November instead? It would be so much more fitting.

The races have well and truly begun. I've only done one full distance (8km) cross country race, and being on Parliament Hill, a wonderful landscape but admittedly not my favourite course to run on, I could probably have done better. This week I have two; one in Richmond Park and the other in Woodford Green. Here's hoping for improved performances.

Speaking of performances, the performance of a certain football team from N17 was almost non-existent today. I hate moping about football, it is so sad and pathetic. But I can't help but feel the negative emotions when everyone in the room is pouring scorn on your team. "I told you they were shit, Baz, but you didn't listen to me." Baz doesn't particularly care. His team doesn't promise trophies year after year and fail to deliver because they have more realistic expectations. And what, pray tell, is "shit" about being fourth in the league? Okay, immaturity over.

I apologise here to Bob Geldof, because I simply can't wait for Monday when I will have this silly Spanish essay finished. Better go finish it, hasta luego.

Back in the hood

2009-10-09T03:42:00.000-07:00

I've been back just about three weeks, and just getting back into the swing of university life, that is to say malnourishment, constant infatuation and procrastination to name three. Work? Pah. I'm in London, back in town, in the hood, you know. It says that I haven't blogged since 5 September. I suppose it's so my mum can't read up on what I'm doing. ;)

I've got a slight problem that I don't think I mentioned before, an identity crisis of sorts. My house is currently in NW1. Last year I lived in NW5. So I can safely say my borough is Camden. But what's my postcode? Changing postcode to me is like changing a football team. I think I might call myself a NW1er for now, and sell myself back to NW5 when I graduate. How stupid, really. Only someone like me could seriously worry myself about something like this.

I'm daytrippin' in Manchester tomorrow, with the old relays that pop up every twelve months. There's only three men, yes, but three. The team is six in total. Two legs each, maybe? The Met League in Ruislip is looking ever more attractive now. Maybe I should drop out of the event myself, having co-organised our team for it. I suppose I'm going to have to get used to this whole dropping out thing.
Which brings me on to my next pet dislike: indecisiveness. If you don't want to come to a race or an event or a social if you're asked, fucking say. Don't say "I might be there" because we all know that you'll give us pseudo-hope and then you won't turn up. I don't care if you say "no". We're a society, not a school. It's annoyingly worse in men than women. I asked a girl if she was coming to a social and she said "no, it's the Fresher's Ball". Fair enough. I asked a bloke and he was like "maybe, but you know it's the Fresher's Ball, might be tight for time.." I almost wanted to punch the "no" out of him.

Ahh, that's better. Now for the nice bit; I love my housemates. I think I have three long-lost brothers in this house. They are like my family here. So maybe one of them's still in bed and it's midday, so what? He doesn't have a lecture. I really feel like I've made good social progress since coming out of school, and that's saying something for someone like me. I'm also one of the "token white guys" on the UCLU Pakistan Society, the pride. :)

I promise to blog more often. You have my word.

Summer, The Last Two Weeks

2009-09-05T08:52:00.001-07:00

It's been two weeks since my last post. I should blog more often, it kinda helps me to relax. So now, let's get down. It's about two weeks ish until I finally move back into town. Admin's going okay, but the landlord's being a slight pain. He asks for something, gets it, and then appears dissatisfied. Let's see.. passport photocopy, NI number, bank reference, employment reference, accomodation reference, (hell, was the deposit return confirmation not enough?). Would you like to become me, Mr Landlord? Well it'd be pretty darn easy. Sometimes I actually long to have dealt with an agency, even with all of their fees, simply because you know you're safe.
I can't wait to go back to London for good, though. The atmosphere is second to none in this country. I will miss my friends from here, but I miss my uni friends right now!
I'm back running, and don't it feel good, yah. I'm currently building up to a fourteen-mile stage of a relay race that completely encircles Norfolk, with the entire race coming to just under two hundred miles. I'm slightly worried about my fitness, though. Tomorrow's the Wissey half marathon, for which last year I ran 1:21:40. I was good then, but not so much at the moment. I'll be alright.
Football tonight, yay. England v Slovenia. Sometimes I don't like friendlies that much, because the whole league programme shuts down for the weekend, but I suppose the team need to practise together. Wednesday's game should be good, though. Time for revenge against Croatia, or rather, time to show how much of a useless manager Steve McClaren was. The World Cup, for me, is the pinnacle of quadrennial sporting events. Better than the Olympics. Judging by our qualifying form, next year could be our year.
Time to watch it; see you in a few.

Political musing

2009-08-21T16:59:00.000-07:00

Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi is the name that's been on everyone's lips this week. He's out, back in Libya where he can die in peace. But is he deserving of this peace he is getting?

I was intrigued to learn the complete difference of British and American opinion on this case. For a start, I haven't heard a single American supporting his release. Not even the great Barack Obama, Mr Compassionate who is going to help all of his citizens find healthcare. I hope Kenny MacAskill isn't fased at being condemned by the most influential man in the world at this moment in time. Sticks and stones and all that. British opinion, however, is more varied. The man I probably respect most in this case is Dr Jim Swire, who lost his daughter Flora in the bombing. He has vehemently denied al-Megrahi's involvement in the attack, an opinion which I respect, going against the clichéd need to find a scapegoat for the mess. Then you have David Cameron, who is with the US and called the release "nonsensical".

When the news story came up a few days ago, my mum commented that there would be a falling out with America over this case. It's about time, too. Is there any need to continue to pander to their every order? The Labour Party started their slippery slope downhill doing this, with the 2003 invasion of and continued presence in Iraq. They have not objected to the US-Israel collaboration which is killing Palestinians every day. Nor have they condemned the US's hypocrisy against Iran. It makes me want this country to get out of its belligerent rut, and leave NATO. Why must we be some military superpower for the sake of a few diplomatic relations?

So in short- yes. The man is dying and it makes sense to release him, convicted or not, to allow him to die in peace. It doesn't matter whether he did it or not. The fact of the matter is that compassion has triumphed over revenge. Love and forgiveness has triumphed over hate and, well, hate. 270 died on 21 December 1988. 70,000 died on 6 August 1945. Don't use war as an excuse - the Lockerbie bomber, whoever he or she was, was also at war.

Back to town

2009-08-17T16:40:00.000-07:00

I'm back, oh yes I'm back. Back in town, that is London town. I'm writing this from a cosy spot in N21 owned by my uncle, who has very kindly let us stay here while he holidays in Turkey. I'm back down to the NW1 realms tomorrow as I look for a place for term. I'm nervous, to be honest. Nervous of being turned away on my ear at every attempt. Head down, though. Courage.
I need more books for next year as well. Hopefully Gower Street's Waterstones still has that extensive range of French literature it had this time last year. Need to read more..

There's a carrot at the end of this tunnel: we're all going to Thorpe Park on Thursday, should the forecasted thunderstorms keep away. It's my brother's 15th a week tomorrow (today technically now) and he's put in the request. For someone who is only just beginning to warm to rides at a theme park like this, good luck to him. I can't wait to get stuck into the offering myself.

Being a runner, this post would kinda seem incomplete without commenting on the amazing achievements of Usain Bolt. The world record hasn't seen this rate of progression in ages, and it's so exciting to watch it puts the thrill back into it! I'm so happy for Jess Ennis as well; it seems the Brits are unstoppable heptathletes! Once they've got Carolina Klüft out of the way, that is. I need to get my form.
Football's been mostly good too. Mostly, I say. I went to Barnsley on Saturday with a die-hard friend of mine who I've known since Year 7. The day was awesome, despite my dad having to rush back and forth to deliver my railcard to me on time. The match itself left a lot to be desired, with Barnsley playing frankly awful against a Coventry side who walked all over them. 2-0 was almost flattering for Barnsley. Now I said 'mostly', simply because I consider myself an out-and-out Tottenham fan. The joy of seeing us beat Liverpool, a hotly tipped team, outweighed the loss I witnessed the previous day. I like football too much. :)

I'll probably update day by day on Twitter if I find the time.

Mid-August musing

2009-08-11T03:54:00.000-07:00

I'm back for a second post. That proves the addictiveness of blogging!
When you're home alone, on a sunny August day in a rural English town, your mind is going to wander. Mine is currently revolving around the need to find a house to live in next year for uni, the need to read books for next term, and the need to get my fitness back up to scratch.

I love London, and I'm wishing that I was there right now. But it's my inability to find a property to merely live in which is running my nose into the ground. I have contacted landlord after landlord, yet to be either told that their property is let or not get a reply at all. It's not quite infuriating, but it is annoying that people like this don't have the courtesy to reply when their agency assures that they will. I'm currently looking in the NW1 area, having been told that anywhere further than Camden is a no-no. Fair enough, a nice walk in the morning will do me good. But then again, not having seen many NW5 properties substantially cheaper, maybe my friends have a point. Hope I can find something in the near future, before it gets drastic.

Now the books. Books, books, books. Obviously it's a given that university study entails reading lots, but it's something I'm having to work my way into. My mum's set me a target of an hour a day to read André Gide's Les Faux-Monnayeurs (I study French and Spanish), and I'm keeping to it, albeit with difficulty. The text is elaborate, and with new vocabulary coming up so frequently, it's tough. But the scene is being set quite nicely. The main character is called Bernard, and the first chapter pictures him running away from his home in Paris. If I can get into it, I reckon it will be a cracking read. Speaking of Paris, it's been a while. £49 Eurostar ticket and £20 a night accommodation should be a win.

Academia aside, there's also a great responsibility, albeit a lesser one. I'm a runner and consider myself quite competitive. I had a brilliant cross country season (Oct 08-March 09) and got some good results. From April everything went downhill. I started getting ill, again. Amoxicillin came to the rescue. I got back into it by June, only to be told that I had lost my coach because of his delinquency. I won't say any more than that. Then, on returning from New York, came another bout of illness, which put me off training for two weeks, and directly on return I pick up a knee injury. Fairly superficial, but still frustrating. I hope I'm up to scratch for October, I was elected president of the UCLU Athletics club and I can't let anyone down!

On a general note, Alan Johnson caught my attention this week, on his comment about ID cards. He said that one of their major selling points is that they would be welcomed amongst the collection of cards that people hold. I laughed.

Pilot Post

2009-07-29T08:57:00.000-07:00

It's the middle of the summer and I thought I'd get stuck into the world of blogging. I like to think of myself as a thinker, and although my repetitive use of lexis might seem otherwise, at a time during which life is fast and fun, I decided to use the summer to calm down somewhat.

Now today was a grey July day. Typical for the United Kingdom, really, even out here in Norfolk where I'm living with my parents at the moment. It does annoy, though, when you can't actually escape it. I'm currently in the process of switching bedrooms with my sister so I can organise myself a bit better in a smaller place. So, painting needs to be done, at first. The lack of Ashes cricket on the radio due to this silly weather made the job slightly harder, unfortunately.

I live in London during term time. It is a truly brilliant place to live if you are obsessed with culture, like I am. I love how the city flows, how people talk to each other, how the visitors love the place. Wanting a comparison, I travelled to New York City in mid-June for ten days to get the experience. It was my first time abroad completely alone, and doubled up as only my second visit to a different continent. Although it was magical, I didn't feel the magic until after I returned here. I was tired out after a week, having run out of money. Now, ironically, I'd give anything to return to the USA. It would take me a few hours to list the places I want to go to, but purely on naming purposes, I'd go to Atlanta first. Maybe it's just the dull summer weather here.

I'm a bit of a political person and I class myself as a social democrat, along the lines of Old Labour. I have been criticised constantly by ignorant idiots who see fit to judge that if I support the Labour party, I must have my head wedged up the Prime Minister's backside. I do not blame Mr Brown at all for the economic problems Britain faces, not half as much as Mr Blair who collaborated in an illegal war with the former President of the United States, but I still don't think he's the man to lead us out of them.

Ahh, that was nice. More later!