tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63106862011-04-21T20:48:48.739+01:00Ditty from the CityThey tell me it never sleepsJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.comBlogger911100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1095351148592473202004-09-16T17:08:00.000+01:002004-09-16T17:12:28.593+01:00Bless those foxhunt protester people. You have to laugh at the toffs, I mean they always go one step too far don't they? It's almost as though they read a Direct Action Handbook, and did EVERYTHING it said. All that from a group of silver-spoon-in-the-mouth goofs. It's about time they found out what fighting for something is like.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1095346797549157242004-09-16T15:47:00.001+01:002004-09-16T17:03:25.613+01:00I haven't written for an awful long time, as things have been stop-start my end of the city. Visits from antipodeans and arguments with South Africans being at the fore. Will keep up-to-date with detailed interludes about the city soon.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1092401135069116622004-08-13T13:31:00.000+01:002004-08-13T13:46:30.826+01:00House Meeting 0407a.doc (stolen) by Landlord Chris Howell -An Excerpt continued...
Kitchen:
Cooking: Use a low heat for the frying pans! If spitting everywhere then it is too high. (No shit).Hygiene: Wash hands before cooking/eating. Dry hands on hand towel not on tea cloths. (For the record, all house members are above the age of three).Washing up: Need to make cutlery and utensils available Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1092400129785957022004-08-13T13:23:00.000+01:002004-08-13T13:28:49.786+01:00Signature Town of the Commonwealth
Ah Elephant and Castle, the salubrious London outpost I pass through each day.
I gain a fair bit of amusement from the sign at the train station which says:
"Elephant and Castle for the Shopping Centre"
Now anyone who has seen the shopping centre will know that is not a selling point of this fair town. It aint no Bluewater.
Which got me thinking up suggestions Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1091197571696983482004-07-30T15:21:00.000+01:002004-07-30T15:59:23.016+01:00Mwah ha haaaa
NOTICE OF HATCHING OF EVIL PLAN
So M says: "Have you shopped your landlord to the tax man coz he probably isn't paying tax?"
A Few Weeks Later......
Helen (Dumb Housemate) says: "Did Chris ever ask you to pay your rent in cash? Because he asked me and it took me ages to reassure him that it would be easier for me just to set up a standing order."
......And it slowly dawns on meJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1090857125422689832004-07-26T16:45:00.000+01:002004-07-26T16:52:05.423+01:00House Meeting 0407a.doc (stolen) by Landlord Chris Howell -An Excerpt
A place where we can all continue to:
eat, live, relax and sleepfeel good about ourselves, have self-respect and increase our self esteemfind safety and security, be warm, dry, comfortable and clean, have friendship, fun and peaceI kid you not folks. More to come in the next installment.Oh... and he's not a "Christian" either.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1090707101819837392004-07-24T23:03:00.000+01:002004-07-24T23:11:41.820+01:00This would be how I've been feeling x
Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1090340271417838052004-07-20T17:05:00.000+01:002004-07-20T17:17:51.416+01:00Provincial
So there are all these pseudo-posh chaps/chapesses who keep dropping by at the house, and I have this terrible urge to behave as obnoxiously as I can.
I whistle. I want to put a cigarette behind my ear. I talk as ridiculously colloquially as I can.
What's the matter with me? Why can't I accept pseudo-posh people? Why can't I let people get away with being phoneys?
Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1090339334666064592004-07-20T16:57:00.000+01:002004-07-20T17:02:14.666+01:00See From Here
From my window I see the city and all it's lovelyness. Sometimes I walk up Blackfriars Bridge on the way home and lament about how I'm still drawn to this old town despite being let down more often than finding the streets paved with gold.
Anyway, much bitching about OCD, *larfs*
So he gets a new car, he climbs out of car one shiny sunny day. Car is beeping at him. Shuts door and Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1089822018487171012004-07-14T17:12:00.000+01:002004-07-14T17:20:18.486+01:00Captivated by boredom
So I spent a while looking for jobs, and then I found one, which is sweetness and light. Ok I lie, but it keeps the wolves from the door as they say.
Looking for work was so incredibly time consuming, though my memories of that time are of me just sitting around for hours.
Some really funny stuff happened, and then I forgot them. But I shall tell you all about them when I Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1088759821228132512004-07-02T10:15:00.000+01:002004-07-02T10:19:26.800+01:00Greed
The house we are staying at in the 'burbs is a laugh, providing you don’t cry.
The other people we are living with are real characters, and nice to boot. The guy who owns the place however is just a fool.
The boyf kept telling me he was a repressed gay, and I refused to believe it. I thought he was just one of those people who is so posh they are camp. Yesterday I caught him spraying linen Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1088408573405571332004-06-28T08:24:00.000+01:002004-06-28T08:44:51.616+01:00Elimination
Some of what I have written here has mainly been negative, so negative that people have thought that I have gleaned the wrong impression of Australia. Well maybe they are right.
The truth is that I am quite a negative person. I used to be ashamed and embarrassed about that. When I was an adolescent I was called a cynic and told that sarcasm was the "lowest form of wit".
Well here's Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1087775212331968872004-06-21T00:31:00.000+01:002004-06-21T00:46:52.330+01:00Observations
The boyf and I had a bit of a discussion about moving out to Oz, because almost everyone I meet asks me if I'm thinking about living here.
Eventually I came to the conclusion, that although it might be something I would do in a while, at the moment I am too young.
It's been a bit weird to be honest. I'm trying to have a holiday, but I am being forced to ask myself if I could live outJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1087774293611672612004-06-21T00:18:00.000+01:002004-06-21T00:31:33.610+01:00Whirlwind tour of sorts
After Cairns we went to Brisbane to meet the boyf's sister, who was very nice indeed. The plane journey down to Brisbane was a bus journey in comparison to the last lot of flights, and Virgin Blue was the swishest budget flight of my life.
After that we caught the train down to the Gold Coast, or Surfer's Paradise to be precise. There we stayed with the boyf's laddish mateJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1086406821183394112004-06-05T04:31:00.000+01:002004-06-05T04:40:21.183+01:00Golly Gosh
Differences I notice: The roads are hugely wide, the shop facades properly Yankified, the indiginous population is completely outcast (as in they have different schools). They have the best confectionary selection in the world ever, Cadbury Chomps have wafer in them, Curly Wurlies taste disgusting, semi-skimmed milk does not exist, Woolworths is a supermarket (ie groceries). But Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1086406260119113382004-06-05T04:22:00.000+01:002004-06-05T04:31:00.120+01:00Far From Nature
The flight was the worst in the world. I was constantly reminded of what a school friend said one time: "how far from nature is that?". Flying at 40,000 feet for 20 hours is pretty unnatural, believe me.
From Tokyo to Cairns, we took the Quantas Caravan. We spent 8 hours on a flying trailer. I feared for my life.
I don't like to joke but we took off and a sliding door to a Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1085689573706152422004-05-27T21:19:00.000+01:002004-05-27T21:27:54.370+01:00Manchester just isn't beautiful enough
I actually think I saw Rio Ferdinand the other day, but I'm still not entirely certain.
The programme goes: London (Tomorrow) then Tokyo (Mon/Tues) then Cairns-Brisbane-Newcastle-Sydney-Tokyo-London.
Manchester is suitably manchester like. It's been nice to visit Primark and see Gordon Burns, but alas, the world calls.
Just time to mention some Backward Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1085435880512596002004-05-24T22:47:00.000+01:002004-05-24T22:58:00.513+01:00Some Time Ago
Some time ago I told ye all about how boyf surprised me by turning up to my flat whilst I was mid-revision and invited me for coffee.
Of course the joke was that he was passing through the city, what with him living in Bromley. But I knew that he'd been on a training day in London, so it wasn't really such an extensive journey.
We were chatting yesterday evening (a pub near the Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1084951113853487982004-05-19T08:06:00.000+01:002004-05-19T08:18:33.853+01:00Mostly Beige
So mad dash to Scouseland wasn't so bad. The best thing about the place: a whole shopping centre of pound shops. Wonderful.
This was made use of by a family who decided to sit at my table on the train.
It was like this: Mother and child sat in seats further down the train. Father asks can he sit at my table for a while. I say fine. Despite carriage being almost completely empty.
So Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1084827150184523982004-05-17T21:46:00.000+01:002004-05-17T21:52:30.183+01:00From the height of the Pacific to the depths of Everest
Exam: Not so bad
Life: Incredulously dull
The City: Discovered that the benches around Old St station is London's official wino hang out. Also discovered that in the middle of the highrise office blocks around there, there is a huge cricket pitch.
Feeling: Mostly overwhelmed by the vast amount of information I need to know by heart by Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1084562580970260802004-05-14T20:15:00.000+01:002004-05-17T17:51:15.626+01:00The freedom of the press is meaningless if nobody asks the question
It wouldn't surprise me if the Daily Mirror dies on it's feet without Piers Morgan.
Especially now that Sly Bailey has put her greasy fingerprints all over it.
But she gets paid a six-figure sum, so I guess that eliminates all need for morals.
The sad, sad shame about it, isn't that the Mirror will go under, because there will beJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1084551661190185522004-05-14T17:07:00.000+01:002004-05-14T20:26:19.250+01:00Fear and Loathing in Sutton
I was in GCSE drama class today... no wait, I wasn't.
Oh I remember... I was at a job interview.
Well at least that's what it was supposed to be.
In some bizarre twist and role reversal, I encountered an interviewer who was scared of me.
I mean I was nervous and all, but she was petrified.
It started with "oh..." looks up... "hello". The height difference was the Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1084520050149037212004-05-14T08:26:00.000+01:002004-05-14T08:34:10.150+01:00Beating myself up
Bad bad bad exam yesterday. Was very hard work. Not happy. Had about a million better article ideas since the exam ended. Boo.
Anyway, I don't know if you've noticed but the media is deliciously creating another fuel crisis. It was on London News last night, and will doubtless spread nationally soon. Ha.
One of the best things I learnt on this course is how the media creates Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1083931516201620352004-05-07T13:05:00.000+01:002004-05-07T13:12:32.950+01:00Sleb spotting skills negligable
Apologies for not writing for a while. Revision and/or elaborate distraction from revision have been mostly occupying my time.
Little happening in my corner of the city. Person of pensionable age showered naked next to me a la Ironmonger Row. Which was mildly vomit inducing. I will stop this now, it's becoming an obsession. But southerners surely have no sense of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1083359258794190752004-04-30T22:07:00.000+01:002004-04-30T22:19:17.310+01:00Anticipate
I used to think I was intimidated by people with posh accents, then today I had a revelation.
Lord love therapy, and the level of analysis it provides.
Mother had ellocution lessons, so obviously I'm simply frightened of her (well, who wouldn't be?).
I would like to sum up this week, with some words of strength (yet again, Ani DiFranco, I'm afraid).
I found myself singing this all theJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1083358275533757692004-04-30T21:51:00.000+01:002004-04-30T21:55:33.840+01:00Reasons not to return home
Yesterday I read the -otherwise salubrious- Bolton Evening News (or BEN to the locals).
To be fair it is full of absolute nonsense. One front page was about the -possible- building of a -possible- leisure centre, in a -possible- location. TBC.
Anyway I came across this story, which I did actually know about, but which just completely sums up the bollocks of where I hailJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1083248895767017802004-04-29T15:14:00.000+01:002004-04-29T21:35:15.860+01:00Thank goodness for birthdays to break the ennui
The gift fairy shone on me, bringing DVDs, clothes and aeroplane tickets aplenty (ok just the one ticket, or two if you count the stopover).
A remarkable evening spent in the restaurant equivalent to Fawlty Towers.
Me to non-specific Eastern European waitress: “I think we need another wine glass.”
She: “Yeah I know.” (I think she was trying for “Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1083145438440154822004-04-28T10:37:00.000+01:002004-04-29T21:39:00.153+01:00Among others, today is Saddam Hussein's birthday
And surely us Taureans are made of the same stuff?
I was on the phone to Mother last night and she came up with a select line, which I must share.
"I wonder what we were doing on the eve of the 28 April, 22 years ago?"
"Well," I said, "One hopes you were in hospital, or at least on the way there."
Yesterday I was drenched coming home in the Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1082619474954358162004-04-22T08:37:00.000+01:002004-04-22T08:42:01.700+01:00I'm not saying I'm easily distracted from revision but...
-The flat has never been cleaner
-I know what's happening in Hollyoaks and Emmerdale
-My email account is down to ten messages
-I know all the questions and answers in Trivial Persuit
-I've read the Business section of the newspaper every day
-I have downloaded and attached pictures to my entire phonebook on my new mobile
-I've handwashed Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1082146318555758332004-04-16T21:11:00.000+01:002004-04-16T21:15:58.170+01:00Insanity
Today, walking down the street I see a water hydrant going off, and as is the usual behaviour, a crowd of people staring at it.
If this wasn't weird enough in itself, a squirrill then bounced across the road.
Yes. In central London.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1082145916698345812004-04-16T21:05:00.000+01:002004-04-16T21:09:16.356+01:00Sanity
So there I was watching TV when I felt my heart. So I sit there a while and wonder if feeling your heart beating when you've not exercised is normal. I decide to monitor it.
Throughout the evening I get 5 or so big heartbeats, which I'm told are palpitations (well I wasn't sure, and then I realised, I'm not in a 19th century novel. But I have palpitations anyway, how strange is that?).
Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1081599885300273712004-04-10T13:24:00.000+01:002004-04-10T13:28:36.013+01:00Beautiful People
It was something my mother said not long ago (remarkable in itself, as I try not to listen to her often):
"Well everyone is beautiful nowadays aren't they?"
And she has a point.
As we all strive for eternal youth and fritter our cash on the latest celebrity endorsed make-up/skincare routine/haircut we are all very much more attractive than our predessors.
This is not a bad thing,Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1081595147962345022004-04-10T12:05:00.000+01:002004-04-10T12:09:38.856+01:00The Best Days of Your Life
Talk, dear friends, is of school reunions, from which my most recent I was, alas, absent.
But it is possible to read all about it here.
It appears this reunion was the full experience, i.e. not simply meeting up to share the joys and pains of school, but to actually re-live school life. What fun! (Please not ironic tone from here on in).
It was nice to see that GMcK Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1081408590173938912004-04-08T08:16:00.000+01:002004-04-08T08:20:18.030+01:00Well what a past few days. Tuesday I spent the day in bed in pain, and yesterday I bumbled about trying to do work and getting all tearful about it. But hey, guess what I didn't do? I didn't go out and subject people to my woes. A take note.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1081154124206101332004-04-05T09:35:00.000+01:002004-04-05T09:39:07.810+01:00Conversation between P and one of his Chinese flatmates as relayed to me
Chinese Girl: "P, how I masturbate?"
P: "I don't care how you masturbate."
CG: "No but, how do I masturbate?"
P: "I really don't care."
CG: "No but I think it easy for man, but how I masturbate?"
P: "Well you've got fingers haven't you?"
(CG looks at finger)
CG: "Ah yeah, but I think it too small."
P: "Well you've got more Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1080892836979060322004-04-02T09:00:00.000+01:002004-04-02T09:04:34.140+01:00Places to go, People to see
Shall be away for a few days. Am doing a bit of a city tour. Manchester this afternoon, Brighton tomorrow evening.
Ta raJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1080648085629442172004-03-30T13:01:00.000+01:002004-03-30T13:05:01.500+01:00These steps aint made for climbing -for some
There I was, swimming along nicely. I get to the shallow end and discover that the chair-thingy is being lowered over my head.
So I scarper and don't look back, because the chair-thingy (it's a technical term, lay off) is used for disabled people, and if I was disabled I wouldn't want people staring at me.
Carry on swimming.
Casually notice that there Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1080413007771221752004-03-27T18:43:00.000Z2004-03-27T18:46:59.326ZWriting is the new black
Is it me or is everyone a writer nowadays? And those who are not writing are dreaming about making it big penning something or other.
Sociologically it interests me because it is a significant symptom of advanced capitalist society.
For us, in this society at least, freedom is a very individual thing. For the capitalist, freedom means pursuing your own lifestyle and goalsJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1080392195963656732004-03-27T12:56:00.000Z2004-03-27T13:00:07.000ZThings I have been subjected to in the last 24 hours
#1 Racism. Random boy to the DJ: "Yeah can you stop playing R'n'B until some more white people come in?"
#2 Stupidity. Random person to the DJ: "Can we have karaoke?" Blatently no karaoke machine. "We're not leaving til we have karaoke. We always have karaoke every year on the last day of term."
#3 Ignorance. Checkout woman in Sainsbury's to meJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1080324455624500702004-03-26T18:07:00.000Z2004-03-26T18:11:06.263ZUnravelling
There is a piece of woven cotton
At which I slowly pick,
So that the ends are frayed and rotten
On this fabric, once thick.
The weave that cemented it
Falls disengaged and loose.
The hem that prevented it
Is hanging with no use.
Weak, and beyond repair,
Its desired use, unfathoming.
Fragile, too quick to tear.
This, a tortured soul, unravelling.
© Julia Taylor 2004 Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1080118185140840562004-03-24T08:49:00.000Z2004-03-24T08:53:12.110ZBrave New World
Yesterday I had the good fortune to have fantastic insight into how dense the majority of people are.
I watched a video of focus groups for BBC News.
Comments included:
"Well I dunno what globalisation is," and
"I watch Newsround because it's easier to understand than proper news."Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1080046593358599862004-03-23T12:56:00.000Z2004-03-23T13:32:20.043ZA deck of cards
On of the confirmations of my love for the boyf was his knowledge of Shithead (although the 7 card is a source of contention, and apparently the game can't be won with a 10 or a 2, I mean what is that about?).
I've had some worries lately, and not unlike Shithead, I've noticed that as soon as I put some worries down, I go right ahead and pick up some more.
It's like I have a wholeJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1079865692020338882004-03-21T10:41:00.000Z2004-03-21T10:44:54.920ZImagine
So I met the boyf's stepdad, who is over from Australia, and his Cockney Sparrow nan last night.
Anyway the stepdad was chatting away, and the preamble of one of the stories went as follows:
"Well she (the nan) sends me the British newspapers, well the Daily Mail anyway..."
So yeah I spent the rest of the evening contemplating living in another country and having the Daily Mail as the Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1079717898868700632004-03-19T17:38:00.000Z2004-03-19T17:41:39.593ZI Am Inherently Evil
Boyf and I were lying on my duvet on my bedroom floor last night (the bed squeaks, I have many neighbours, you know the drill) chatting in a non-specific way about each other/our relationship.
Feeling sleepy, boyf sets off on random post-coital analogy, comparing me to sunshine even on a rainy day blah, progressing to being with me as like being on holiday everyday (no, I'm Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1079621802499072682004-03-18T14:56:00.000Z2004-03-18T15:13:45.093ZSome things I have had to explain to my (Australian) boyfriend
#1 Alreet cock
#2 Poking/being poked
#3 Bolton word-association humour (See Phoenix Nights: "What about Everywhere you go you always take the weather with you?", This is an Australian song, no?)
#4 Lent. Yes, evidently the Easter season isn't celebrated in Oz
#5 Why people boycot Nestle. This was surprising because it's part of the Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1079459719781897982004-03-16T17:55:00.000Z2004-03-16T17:58:36.046ZToday I have:
#1 Swum 1.2km avec period pain (I think the expression is die-hard, or obsessive, either/or). Last week the mad woman with the scrubbing brush was told off for cleaning her boots in the shower. She then pulled a gargoil type expression and proceeded to talk to herself. I think she is the local-nutcase-who-we-just-put-up-with. This is why I don't shower naked. I have no desire to be Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1079086305674475332004-03-12T10:11:00.000Z2004-03-12T10:14:56.623ZEnemies of Democracy
So it was the eleventh of the month yesterday, and no one saw the link.
Should we expect this every 30 months... hmmm.
As soon as it happened I questioned ETA. It's funny how they would suddenly go from blowing up the odd bus to a total massacre, with nothing to trigger it.
Someone told me about the Bible Code this week, and I'm definately going to read it now.
East versus Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1078993096114235842004-03-11T08:18:00.000Z2004-03-11T08:21:25.483ZNot unlike the privacy law in Britain, people who sleep in communal areas do not have a right to peace.
Legend has it that while she was sleeping on the streets in London, a tramp urinated on Heather Mills-McCartney's hair.
So if it can happen to the rich and famous, the random boy who is sleeping on my living room floor had absolutely no right to give me an evil look and grunt at me when I woke Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1078750356891135502004-03-08T12:52:00.000Z2004-03-08T12:55:41.950ZNot written for a while. Have had guests, then took a trip to the provinces.
Returned to the city to find a glorious day.
Why did I leave?Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1078407374305316232004-03-04T13:36:00.000Z2004-03-04T13:39:14.153ZI have mostly been considering staples (not the stationary kind).
Here are my wardrobe staples:
#1 Fallback Trousers -usually combats that remain on the same section of the floor always and are thrown on when there is no time for decisions.
#2 Pyjamas That Were Never Intended To Be Sleepwear -don't kid yourself, you own some too.
#3 The Dad Fleece -donated when Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1078388718246260842004-03-04T08:25:00.000Z2004-03-04T08:28:18.030ZNext to Godliness
For the first time in my life I did a spring clean. It was not a conscious thing, I just realised that my carpet hadn't been hoovered for three months.
So I wiped and I vacuumed. Then I realised the season and felt bizarrely smug.
It was horrible. Don't EVER go there. Before you know it you'll be scheduling cleanliness, and that is just wrong.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1078131440164833772004-03-01T08:57:00.000Z2004-03-01T09:06:46.326ZProf N, GSOH
I've heard a few times now about people living in the city that are said to be "professional" northerners.
Now I take umbrance with this expression, and its implications that we who formerly inhabited the Northern England actually make a concerted effort to retain our northern spirit/culture: our northernness, if you will.
Personally, I only get "professional" about my northernness Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1077727243035961672004-02-25T16:40:00.000Z2004-02-25T16:43:32.140ZOh my goodness
I have had the most overwhelming day. Here are some of the amazing things that have happened:
#1 This
#2 I have booked my summer holiday and this will soon become a ditty from Tokyo and Sydney
#3 As if these weren't good enough, I recieved a phonecall to say I would be getting paid for this too
How is all this goodness possible?Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1077638267792657672004-02-24T15:57:00.000Z2004-02-24T16:03:15.936ZI'm not saying my generation are apathetic, but...
Today no lecturers came in because they were on strike.
But all the students came in not realising that:
a) There were no classes, and
b) The NUS were striking too
Oh and also:
A student elections flyer was posted underneath my door, with a picture of Justin Timberlake on it. It read:
Justin would vote for me,
Will you?
Vote RPJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1077213686606010742004-02-19T18:01:00.000Z2004-02-19T18:04:07.936ZA smile in an otherwise miserable day
Picture the scene if you will.
A man, 50ish, quite short, say 5'5".
Brown leather fur lined jacket, couple of sizes too small.
Big baggy loud shirt.
Old man trousers (y'know the ones -shiny nylon, big crease) about 4 inches too short (real inches, not man inches).
Huge quiff, full-on gel, badly-covered bald patch at the back.
And to top it all.....
Spatz.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1077180013849993712004-02-19T08:40:00.000Z2004-02-19T08:42:54.123ZSome things I love about the city
#1 Proportionally more attractive people. (Do you know how disconcerting it is to look at ugly slappers of a morning? it ruins the whole day).
#2 Proportionally less tracksuits. (Ditto Kappa).
#3 That you know that when you are looking like shite:
a) no one is looking and no one really cares.
b) chances are you won't see anyone you know and Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1077095400639514342004-02-18T09:10:00.000Z2004-02-18T09:12:39.983ZI was in a foul mood yesterday, and shouted at people I shouldn't. Hopefully today will be a bit brighter. Yawn. Hopefully it will be a little more interesting too.
Had a weird experience last night. I watched The End of the Affair that I taped from last week. Having read the book by Graham Greene I thought the film was a bit of a sham. Then I read The Thirty-Nine Steps, and was totally Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1076953461031362472004-02-16T17:44:00.000Z2004-02-16T17:46:57.640ZPublic Health Warning
Being a student/working in an office is a dangerous position/activity (or lack thereof).
I have been sitting for approximately two weeks. Permanently. Bar the odd trip to the shop for supplies.
Please note:
If possible, avoid long periods of immobility such as sitting in a chair for many hours. If you are able, get up and walk around now and then. A daily brisk walk Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1076844010705958432004-02-15T11:20:00.000Z2004-02-15T11:26:13.936ZFinding God
I used to attend church every week. But, hey, my mother isn't beating me with the Catholic stick anymore.
So now, each Sunday, I religiously watch Heaven and Earth. Who'd've thought you could get all the moral guidance you need, straight out of your TV?
Hark at me with the Commandments, observing the Sabbath and keeping it Holy.
Now I just need an excuse for watching Sex and the City.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1076756406720639352004-02-14T11:00:00.000Z2004-02-14T11:04:12.920ZI just don't get Valentines day. It's all nonsense to me. But the boyf is making an effort (cooking me a three-course meal, since you ask), so I feel I ought to comply.
Hey, I've even wrapped a tube of Love Hearts for him.
In honour of the occasion (if that is what it is), I thought I should put down a poem I wrote, sometime after I met said boyf.
Liquor
Every time he’s here, I’m diluted.
There’Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1076755640722702682004-02-14T10:47:00.000Z2004-02-14T10:49:54.310Z"Lady Luck is my Mistress"
Sometimes fate just wants me to know about things, without me even trying.
When interviewing an activist a couple of weeks ago (btw I interviewed another this week. A 19-year-old socialist. He was telling me all about how we can learn from the mistakes of the Soviet Union, bless), he told me a little about the Tobin Tax.
For those of you who attended my school, it's Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1076575362887832862004-02-12T08:42:00.000Z2004-02-12T08:45:13.466ZI'm working to deadline at the moment, and it's a bit stressful.
The boyf is suitable up to speed on how little I can see of him/chat.
So he calls yesterday, and paps on a while. In the meantime I'm getting more frustrated, itching to get back to my work.
So he says: "Have you got 15 minutes to talk?"
Thinking it might be something important I say "Er I guess."
He says: "Good because I'm Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1076417449375925452004-02-10T12:50:00.000Z2004-02-10T12:58:29.606ZLingering Exes
I had a weird dream last weekend. It was basically how me and one of my exes got together, only I recall feeling about him the way I do now, rather than how I did then.
It's understandable I suppose.
But it made me feel weird because I was absolutely repulsed, and he persisted. That, and, there were other people around in the dream, which there wasn't when it originally happened.
Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1076148254184352882004-02-07T10:04:00.000Z2004-02-07T10:06:38.436ZI was apprehensious about telling papa about the boyf too. So I left that task to mother.
We're friends more than father-daughter, and have never really had one of those coming-of-age moments.
I haven't told him about past relationships, simply for the reason that there are different friends for different occasions.
So I never knew how much, or even if he would be protective. He called yesterday.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1076059960566115722004-02-06T09:32:00.000Z2004-02-06T09:35:03.153ZI told my mother about the boyfriend last night.
After four months you might think that's a little strange. You haven't met my mother.
When I have suggested telling her to people who know her, I have been confronted by laughter.
"Are you sure you want to put him in a situation like that?" They say.
But she was alarmingly happy. Bless.
Put it this way, when J suggested a fancy dress party with Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1076059503703970062004-02-06T09:25:00.000Z2004-02-06T09:40:20.373Z1984 Moment
Pyjamad up at bedtime last night, I crept into the kitchen for supper, when I heard the front door go. Presuming it was mystery new Chinese flatmate, I continued my quest.
A dark shadow in the shape of a security guard appeared next to me.
"Can you turn your oven off please?" he said.
So obviously I just stared at him.
He looked over my shoulder and said: "Oh the cooker is off."
I Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1076003355277289032004-02-05T17:49:00.001Z2004-02-05T17:51:36.623ZHighlight of my interview with the activist. My question:
"So what makes a successful campaign?"
Him:
"... ...With Stop the War, it’s become apparent that the war was not stopped."Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1076003348614956752004-02-05T17:49:00.000Z2004-02-05T17:51:29.966ZBit of a comment problemo. All solved now.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1075900993311501762004-02-04T13:23:00.000Z2004-02-04T13:32:26.593ZSome things I hate about the city
#1 Small world isn't it? Bumping into people I've not seen for years but have always hated. Yes G McK, I know you're stalking me. I always knew she was old before her time, and she's gone right ahead and proved it with her middle-aged crop and Dorothy Perkins wardrobe.
#2 The myth that you can wear what you like in London because no one is looking. Well we are. Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1075899864466908282004-02-04T13:04:00.000Z2004-02-04T13:06:44.780ZKeep up with me here!Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1075755789940842442004-02-02T21:03:00.000Z2004-02-02T21:05:27.983ZHutton this. Hutton that. Blah blah blah.
I've been invited to a discussion -the topic is: "What does the Hutton report mean to you?"
So I think I will participate with my non attendance.
Even Marcel "sue me, go on sue me" Berlins threw in his two'penneth worth today.
That was after I caught my ethics tutor eating baby food for lunch. She's pushing 40 and has an office covered in White Stripes Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1075633681932378332004-02-01T11:08:00.000Z2004-02-01T12:20:33.513ZTwo loud Germans on the #43 bus.
"What building is that?"
"I'm not sure. Perhaps we could ask someone."
"What about that boy there?" (nods to a chap in the seat in front of me), "He looks like a proper Londoner, he might know."
(Boy in front laughs)
"What about that girl there?" (nods to me).
"Oh I don't think she speaks English."
"No she looks French doesn't she? But you speak a bit of French Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1075482332950587862004-01-30T17:05:00.000Z2004-01-30T17:07:46.606ZI was mistaken for a Russian today. This is quite a regular thing. I think that was probably the fifth or so time it's happened. Nothing quite beats the time I was spoken to in Russian, and the look of complete shock on the face of the genuine Russian when I responded with: "I have no idea what you’re talking about."
Which brings me on to the topic of Eastern Europeans. I've had quite a few dodgyJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1075407148494875292004-01-29T20:12:00.000Z2004-01-29T20:18:44.420ZI usually have some idea of what I want to write, but as it is, today I am stumped.
I have spent much of the day laying out magazine pages. Imagine an elaborate jigsaw, if you will. It's frustration to the extreme.
I was doing pretty much the same yesterday, when the boyfriend called, a tad overexcited about snow. So I say: "Well it's not snowing here."
On my departure I discover that -shock- Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1075291311281974732004-01-28T12:01:00.000Z2004-02-04T13:36:36.640ZThough I am a city girl, I have not forgotten my roots, and it is for this reason that I would like to congratulate the Super Whites for their attaining of Carling Cup finalness.
I'd also like to draw your attention to my latest dabble with fame.
I'd love to say that the city has been quiet, but that would be a lie. My part of the city has been filled with the glorious noise of Unspecific Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1074950120447975012004-01-24T13:15:00.000Z2004-01-24T13:17:25.513ZI must read the word "terrorist" at least 10 time a day.
Pavlov says I will feel fear when it is uttered.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1074873648634608472004-01-23T16:00:00.000Z2004-01-23T16:02:52.670ZThere is a possibility that I might become a national poster girl... teehee. Look out for me!
Put it this way, I was just this minute photographed in the street outside my apartment for a national paper. I attracted a bit of a crowd, and Security made some lewd comments. It's all amusing. I feel like a mo-del!
Big up to me amigo M, who is on a mad dash to Darlington. Thoughts are with her.Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1074632723395513692004-01-20T21:05:00.000Z2004-01-24T15:48:15.700ZSink or...
Like circuses, municipal swimming pools attract freaks.
Some regular freaks include old women who shower in cold water and use a scrubbing brush, tramps who essentially come only to shower, unashamed men with incredibly hairy backs, old men who lie floating in the deep end for hours, and two fat women who stand gassing in the shallow end and later discuss how they've been "swimming" Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1074431588242349162004-01-18T13:13:00.000Z2004-01-19T20:31:40.233ZReality TV
If my house (should I come to own one) ever burns down, please let it be noted that spectators are not welcome.
On returning home from una tarde in the city, I discovered a burning house. Luckily the fire brigade had discovered it prior. Accompanying aforementioned brigade were a gaggle of lookers-on.
Let's take a reality check here folks: it was Saturday night. There were actual Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1074335833931085602004-01-17T10:37:00.000Z2004-01-17T10:39:09.090ZI didn't go out last night, I was far too busy throwing my toys out of my pram.
I did so want to get drunk but it was not to be. Instead I used my time getting unnecessarily hysterical about nothing inparticular.
So as a happiness enducing method I put on cheery movie (Bruce Almighty), but had one of those post-film reflective moments whereby I realised that the source of my hysteria lay in dreadJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1074253115073341892004-01-16T11:38:00.000Z2004-01-16T17:19:05.246ZToda la mañana I have been mostly aspirating like an Old Age Pensioner, due to chest infection and dodgy paint work. How pleasant!
But when I opened my blinds, a beautiful day greeted me, and I felt blessed by London in the sunshine as I trotted off to study some. As yet I have not established why many of the large trees in Islington have big coloured floodlights stuck where the branches meet. Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1074202755950497272004-01-15T21:39:00.000Z2004-01-15T21:41:08.810ZThis Legend
Down the long hallway, back we glance
To the narrow world and near-foiled chance.
Darting between the splendour we dance a merry dance
Of escape, and climb to our higher stance.
Here we encounter rogues and crooks
Who deceive with their many wiles and hooks.
Onward we pursue, stealth pitted to rooks,
Lending our wits to unread books.
Now we learn our trade, and build our vigour
Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1074194798892622572004-01-15T19:26:00.000Z2004-01-15T19:56:46.170ZAh I've had one of those hectic city days. Things not gone much to plan, and I've picked up an unattractive bug en route.
All decisions about anything have been temporarily postponed until I can see through the mess.
And so to my mystery commentator, who is addressing him/herself by my nickname. At first I was convinced this personage is known to me, as I have not revealed my nickname here. On Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1074079681106315782004-01-14T11:28:00.000Z2004-01-14T20:35:07.403ZInteresting Things Making The News
#1 Who's the DADDY?
#2 The Sun getting it all WRONG
#3 London calls for England to be renamed AIRSTRIP ONE
#4 Oh AND...
#5 Not FORGETTING...Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1074014253971581342004-01-13T17:17:00.000Z2004-01-13T17:19:24.170ZChinese Hairdressers - The Future
Good deals in London always have a catch.
Whilst looking for a hairdressers on a salon website I came across a place that would trim my locks for less than £30, and did walk-ins (I don't do appointments).
What surprised me was that this establishment was on the London Wall, in the heart of the business district.
On entering I was stunned by the vast amount of Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1073904037359758272004-01-12T10:40:00.000Z2004-01-12T10:40:58.146ZIt's quite silly but sometimes, when the city is as dark and as wet as it is currently, I start to view it as Dickensian.
I'm not entirely barking, I don't see horses and carriages and such. But I look at the buildings and I am transported back in time. I'm full of these romantic notions.
I have mostly been considering blogage, of late. Basically I've been considering how dull it is. I did the Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1073851982739705772004-01-11T20:13:00.000Z2004-01-11T20:13:23.593ZMy part of the city is quiet this evening, bar the continuous banging from upstairs. At first I thought it was just some couple with a high sex drive, but now it's getting ridiculous. But I think I might be in for a Banghra-free night.
Not been out much (I've been sleeping more than the city of late), except a meander down Canary Wharf way after donating my time to the capitalists. I discovered Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1073827739203308812004-01-11T13:28:00.000Z2004-01-11T13:29:19.763ZGeneral consensus from all consulted suggests that I am actually in love. Ahhh.
And so to me amigo Fay, who has been having problems with his sister, C. Fay left home because he had rubbish parentage (alas, don't we all?). But his were particularly rubbish. In fact they stopped supporting him at university when they found out he had a wife with many children (not his).
Fay had much concern for C,Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1073816400908749422004-01-11T10:20:00.000Z2004-01-11T10:20:21.563ZThe past 24 hours have been uneventful. I told my boyfriend Craig I love him for the first time, which was a little frightening because it was one of those you-don't-know-it-til-you-say-it moments. And I'm still debating the implications of saying it.
It was a bit of a Rom-Com moment whereby he said it like he always does and I said, "I love you too" without much thought (it's something that Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1073757404421158202004-01-10T17:56:00.000Z2004-01-11T10:22:05.720ZTo Fairytales
Somewhere between dreams and reality
My life commences and thence does unfold.
The stories of my past are to be told;
Putting to rest conflicts ultimately,
Preventing problems that were sure to be.
Right through this living I have remained bold,
Reassessed values expected to hold:
A new moral of the tale, to guide me.
The rules I once did learn I now do breach,
But I’ve no regrets, Juleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6310686.post-1073749591616382212004-01-10T15:46:00.000Z2004-01-10T15:46:47.670ZHola,
Me llamo Julia y este es me blog para tu. Warning: It will include quite a lot of nonsense. Basic info: 21/F/London/Originally from Bolton/Student Journalist.
AdiosJuleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15474519533784626568noreply@blogger.com0