Saturday, 29 December 2012

Books and writing and stuff.

Do I buy a Kindle? I literally can't fit many more books in my room, my shelves are bordering on ridiculous and 'Book Mountain' next to my bed has three peaks now.

I'd estimate that I have about a zillion books. But I NEED them all. They make me look way smarter than I actually am.

Kindles are very practical and I'd probably really benefit from one, but at the same time I can see myself moaning "oooh, it's just not the same" on my first digital purchase and then sniffling over a gorgeously battered second-hand copy that I'd found. I know, I'm such a cliche -- my lifestyle is like, totally analogue.

Currently reading Brave New World, which I've been looking to get my hands on for years. Dystopian novels are a personal fave (congratulations everyone for surviving the apocalypse by the way); I like a good reminder of how bad things could get/why we should be preventing them.

If I haven't told you IRL, which is unlikely as I've been telling everyone, I now work for as a copywriter. Daisy from Spaced much.

Have a New Year's Eve wedding to attend too, should be lovely! So until my next blog post about books and writing and stuff (to be fair, all my blogging seems to fall into these categories), have a good 'un. In the meantime, here are Mum's wacky words for things...

Baldy-no-nose = Lord Voldemort 

Cotton-wool Pringles = Make-up removal pads

Wednesday, 28 November 2012

Your winter newsletter.

Hello out there! A wee bit chilly isn't it. I haven’t updated this properly in a while, so here’s a thrilling lowdown on what I've been up to…

In October I went to Whitby with my fella, to see how the real goths celebrate Halloween. I still live in hope that one day, I’ll move there and live in nautical/Bram Stoker bliss.

In early November, I tried my hand at door-to-door sales. Needless to say, I was shite — I’m much more suited to typing from the safety of my bedroom.

Earlier this week, we buried our family cat of 15 years. Missing him terribly, I’ll have to post some photographs on here; he was beautiful.

In the last couple of days, I’ve been worrying (more than usual) about the direction our government seems to be headed. Universal Jobmatch is actually Orwellian.

Adam Curtis’ documentaries are also a huge eye-opener.

Would very much like to stop being underemployed (I love my copywriting, but I’m so dreadfully POOR), and have a nice little home of my own with ample bookshelves/useless antiques/a vast collection of cats.

Buuut, I am going to see Alanis Morissette tomorrow night! FOR FREE.

Spectacular news. Thank you Jake for having access to free tickets (and for making the last 6 months the best ever), thank you India, thank you terror, thank you disillusionment, thank you frailty, etc…

P.S. I still haven’t finished Crime and Punishment. Fail.

Sunday, 21 October 2012

Summer holiday photos, Devon.

These were taken back in August around Ilfracombe; only just finished posting everything from that holiday on Tumblr, so here they are in a big ol' chunk (sorry Blogger)! I also have a bunch of photos from Broomhill Sculpture Gardens -- I'll be uploading them in a separate post.

Lovely weather!

Ilfracombe Museum.

On hot days, this beautiful harbour smells like rotting fish.

Valley of the Rocks, and Hillsborough.

Tuesday, 25 September 2012

From Russia with love.

Classic Russian literature, Tolstoyevsky, or wallowing in the misery of a poorly made decision for a thousand pages. Like that scene in The Young Ones of the couple huddling around the lamp to reminisce about better times, or trudging through freezing cold snow whilst draped in a bearskin rug.

Joe Wright's film of Anna Karenina was lovely to look at, in a twirly Baz Luhrmann sort of way. Granted I'm not a massive fan of Knightley's acting pouting/frock modelling, but the theatre setting shenanigans were interesting. With about ten other adaptations, we didn't really need the same locations revisited -- it made it a memorable version. The film has a staged, stifling atmosphere (made all the more apparent when you actually go 'outside' the theatre, it's like a breath of fresh air), but it's a good experiment. Would rather like to give the book a try; obviously there's more depth to it than elaborate dance scenes and Princess Betsy's amazing wardrobe.

Ruth Wilson frock envy.

Also need to finish Crime and Punishment, which I started five years ago and still have a hundred pages left to read. It's not that I dislike the book, I think it's brilliant, I just can't stand reading about Raskolnikov's pompous, self-righteous antics; thinking because he's so clever he can bully, mistreat and erm, murder anyone around him. He just irritates me so much! And his poor shivering child of a girlfriend, oh god. Apparently he sees the error of his ways though; I'm probably going to eat my words in the last hundred pages.

Raskolnikov plus appendage, as interpreted by DeviantART.

I know bugger all about modern Russia (I haven't read The Communist Manifesto, but I've seen Fiddler on the Roof a couple of times), but I'm guessing that every other person isn't a Prince or Countess Somebody now. Anna would probably have gotten the same treatment for adultery though, if the whole Kristen Stewart lynch mob is anything to go by -- I know, I'm bang on topic for like JULY.

Parents have just ordered War and Peace on DVD too (which my mister found just as hard-going a read as C & P), so it's looking to be a very Russian winter. Fitting, because it's absolutely freezing.

P.S. What has Ang Lee done to Life of Pi, without the other 'animals' how will it end? Please not "heartwarmingly".

Wednesday, 15 August 2012


Just home from Ilfracombe, famously described by William Shatner as “laced with prostitution”.

No ladies of the night, but it’s got a fair share of strange. Like it’s fantastic museum; started by a genuine “collector” and full of weird carvings, drawers of massive beetles, and a few two-headed things in jars. Which is what a museum should be really; a place to give you nightmares, reeking of preservative.

Could be what inspired Damien Hirst’s decor (lots of pickled fishies) for his restaurant in the harbour? Who knows, maybe that museum played a part in building his formaldehyde and butterfly fixarion, would be cute to think so!

More horrible things included Chambercombe Manor, massively haunted (apparently), with its secret room where a skeleton was found walled up. A local sculpture park that I wouldn’t want to be left alone in, ever. And Watermouth Castle, which I still insist on going to even though it’s for children; I love the underground dungeons with all their terrifying old animatronics.

Might do a photoset, “things I saw making kids cry”.

Holiday reading was mostly Lovecraft, who’s great to read on the beach because you imagine ancient monsters rising from the sea, or that the fly who’s after your scone is a trapped occultist, trying to convey some secret message. The more I read, the more I realise how much horror owes to him.

Really in the mood to write some, or even just do some art or something, but where to start! It can be a very subjective genre, and ridiculous things spook me.

Anyway, it’s lovely to be home, I’ve missed my boy.

(I’m actually quite sappy at heart)

Friday, 3 August 2012

Oh Lympics.

Boris Johnson stuck on a zip wire, amazing.

Laughing with Jake about how England’s basically the Mr Bean of countries, bumbling about and getting it all wrong with it’s North/South Korea mix-up.

“No don’t invite Britain, it’s a right useless plonker!”

This whole Olympic thing makes me feel queasy, it’s like a glorified Sports Day, giving me flashbacks of tripping over my own feet and crying in the mud.

Really hope one day us clumsies get a sport of our own, I can’t remember anything more esteem-shattering than P.E. lessons.

Of course being a bit thick or uncreative is fine, it’s just those bastards who can’t catch a ball you’ve got to watch out for, because it’s totally acceptable to humiliate unfit children (Hairy Dieters struck a chord tonight).

Guess I’d be less bitter if schools had an Arts Day, complete with little medals and departments that weren’t falling to bits.

Friday, 27 July 2012

A fashion frustration.

Shops seem to be churning out more cheap, nasty, meaningless stuff than ever. I ended up buying this bizarre hybrid of the pleat/sequin embellishment/collar trends, as it was the only thing that didn't leave me with absolute apathy.

Mum saying "you could do The Charleston in that" swung it.

I braved Mansfield not long ago to catch up with some chums. On an average night out, men dress like they're going to a job interview whilst women squeeze themselves into tiny stretchy rags. I'm not saying ladies go for powerful alpha-males (Christian Grey I mean you), or that men base a woman's worth on the size of her curves -- just that you'd be fooled this was so by some of the crap you see people wearing.

Not so much being a prude, as being bored shitless by all the predictable tat out there.

Until summer's Malibu Barbie thing dies down, Topman's the way to go. Boys clothes are comfy, quirky, and just way more fun sometimes (and no I don't mean those "hilarious" statement t-shirts).

I know nothing about fashion. This blog however, does.

Friday, 20 July 2012

Things I should be making.


I used to have piano, violin and bass guitar lessons. Unlike riding a bike, I remember fuck all about these apart from Chopsticks and Smoke on the Water. I also have an acoustic guitar, a vintage harmonica and a pink melodica lying around. And I’m still pretty nifty on the recorder!


Getting back into cartoons again, my fellow (who’s also a guitar whizz, so envious) did an animation course and it’s really re-sparked an interest in them. I always dreamt of becoming a cartoonist, but it’s hard picking up my pencil after a long break! Watch this space, I might even upload some old embarrassing stuff.

Love not war.

Well at least that’s one out of the three.

Friday, 13 July 2012

Hair crushes.

Karen Gillan of Dr. Who fame, Spiderman’s new girlfriend Emma Stone, Spiderman’s old girlfriend Kirsten Dunst, and Christina Hendricks from Mad Men.

Dying later today (my hair, not actual death), so hoping I’ll turn out like one of these ladies, rather than like a cartoon character!

Tuesday, 10 July 2012

What's that sexeh book you're reading?

I've come a long way baby, from being caught as a child red-faced and flustered with my nose in a Mills & Boon novel.

Whether or not it's a pile of crap, Fifty Shades of Grey may do for Waterstones' erotica section what Twilight did for 'Teen Paranormal Romance'. No book club would have a serious discussion about "The Millionaire's Spanky Slave", but evidently an ambiguous title/cover can work wonders.

Looks like a real book. Will this dispel any lingering stereotypes of dirty old men in dirty old macs? Has this woefully underrepresented genre reached a literary pinnacle?

"Why don't you like to be touched" Ana whispered, staring up into soft grey eyes.

"Because I'm fifty shades of fucked-up, Anastasia"

And more, brilliantly illustrated with stock photos.

Well this is quite not the sexual revolution I was hoping for. More like Mills & Boon doing bondage for beginners. Am I supposed to be laughing?! Fook, I can't put it better than this Amazon review...

But never mind, here are six sexeh book examples that are better written/more unintentionally hilarious/more imaginatively shocking than Fifty Shades of Rubbish and Gay.


Laurell K. Hamilton's 'Merry Gentry' series 
Merry is a fairy princess with a harem of multicoloured bodyguards (each with a two page description of their magical hair/eye/pube colour). Did I mention she's also a PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR? Sprouting wings, glowing, and literally "making the earth move" is a regular sexual occurrence.

D. H. Lawrence's 'Lady Chatterley's Lover'
Obviously not as shocking as it must have been (it got banned!), the descriptions are really quite beautiful, and there's SOUL in there. Scenes that actually touch on how tender, integral and amazing having sex is, mentally and physically. The gardener has a hawt working class accent too. Thee and thar and thysen.

If you're easily offended, Lost Girls may not be for you. Everyone and everything gets a look in, the (very) young, the old, even a friendly horse gets a go. Gorgeously drawn in storybook brights, you'll recognise all your favourite characters from childhood in a variety of familiar situations.


Toshio Maeda's 'Adventure Kid'
Ever wanted to see a what it looks like inside a Japanese schoolgirl, while she's being "tentacled" by some weird creature from another dimension? If not, you probably shouldn't read any of Maeda's manga. Diagrams, X-Ray vision and a bizarre technical accuracy makes for some fairly odd reading.

Syra Bond's 'Trogan Slaves'
Fifty Shades wasn't kinky enough for you? How about something to make it seem like missionary with the lights off. This is just plain unpleasant to read, one of those hardcore S & M books that degrades it's characters so much you want to cry. Best to read out loud as a joke, to dull how scary it is.

Anais Nin's 'Little Birds'
Lent to me by my chum Camille, a very well written collection of short erotic stories. You feel like you're reading A Book with this, and the writing is so lovely it's like poetry. The plots are just strange enough to be imaginative and edgy, rather than a creepy wankathon, or an Anne Summers cliche-fest.

Not forgetting all that "M" rated fanfiction on the web; there's nothing better than reading about character A doing it with character B from your most beloved television series/book/video game (part of the appeal of Lost Girls I guess). If you want to make new friends, I'd suggest announcing your love of Snarry in a public place, the effect is surprising.

Maybe I should do a recommendation list just for fanfics. Y'know, if I wasn't geeky enough.

I haven't written that bestseller yet, but I'm still enjoying the freelance copywriting! There's always my plan of trying out to become a Mills & Boon writer someday (if you can't beat them join them)...

Currently reading this hot stuff.

Saturday, 30 June 2012

Land of no hope and sorry.

The Jubilee's been over nearly a month, and we're shite at football. Really, you can take the flags down now!

(wouldn't be surpirsed if my BNP-voting village kept them up for the wrong reasons anyway)

Community spirit seems to mean pretending it's the 50s and baking a cake for the neighbours you never speak to, or thumping your chest at some kind of sporting event. Evidently the only way to bring our nation together is by wearing silly hats, and getting together in a pub to slag off other countries.

Although for Eurovision, everyone in my local pub bizarrely decided they were Swedish for the night, right down to the flags. It was like we didn't even come third from last because everyone hates us!

Does anybody care about the Olympics either? There's a decidedly "meh" reaction to it all; billions being spent on something we'll never win at, when everyone's feeling so poor. Maybe I just don't get it, I was always crap at P.E. afterall.

Humming "imagine there's no countries" when I should be grunting and waving an England flag.

Tuesday, 26 June 2012

Silence of the lambs, and an ART REVIEW!?

Not updating in nearly two months? Shameful.

My “blogging” has become rather pitiful recently (wasn’t it always so?) due to a) being too busy, b) forgetting I have a blog, and c) not wanting to bore cyberspace with endless smug entries that are only of interest to pervs.

However, I have managed to bitch about this year's Fine Art degree show on Tumblr:

"Big slabs of kitsch bathroom nothingness, washed down with dollops of shameless nostalgia and bad taste. Mmm my favourite. Does it make me want to do art again? Maybe."

And I wrote this self-explanatory teenage gem:

"Yes, I’d be sick of my Smug McGee antics too. I guess some people just forget what it’s like (I know I had). His name’s Jake. He’s distracting."

D'aww! All that and more.

But anyway, I’ll try to update more often from now on, promise! It’s good to blog. I don’t even know who I’m apologising to. God?

Love and public displays of affection, The Mills.


Friday, 4 May 2012

Sweet charity, a muzak-al.

I’ve never decorated a shop window mannequin before, but I think I did a pretty good job today! It looked a bit like a boy/a member of B*Witched, wearing TWO different kinds of denim. I know about the denim rule, but my mannequin breaks all the rules of fashion.

Due to royalties, the charity shop I volunteer at now only plays a selection of 5 wrist-slittingly bad CDs. They’re actually awful. Like someone dropped a synthesiser down a well, and it’s clanging around repeatedly against the sides trying to escape.

The song titles are also imaginative; such as “Rain”, “Mountain Rain” and “Snow”. I’m thankful I don’t have a job composing this stuff, how do they sleep at night.

(this is rich coming from someone who thinks up “amusing” puns for a living)

Boots has a strange choice of background music too, listen and you’ll hear a strange repeating melancholy tinkle. It’s a bit depressing really, which isn’t brilliant as a lot of people go there to buy medicine and will probably come out thinking they will die.

It took me a sec before I realised why May the fourthhh is Star Wars day.

Wednesday, 2 May 2012

Scarborough disposables.

Even more Scarborough, this time in the form of last year’s disposable camera offerings. I'd really like one of those scooters someday!

Wednesday, 25 April 2012

"Space, the final frontier."

Me and my parents are currently trekking (oh GOD) through the second series of Star Trek: The Next Generation. "Elementary, dear Data" involves the crew hanging out with Professor Moriarty on a Sherlock Holmes themed holodeck. Moriarty realises he isn't actually real; getting all sad and deciding not to cause havoc with his weird steampunk machine -- and it's crumpets all round. The secrets of space are so much clearer to me now.

Oh what is happening. I still get misty-eyed and nostalgic about Trek, probably from when I watched it as a child and thought the painted polystyrene was real rock. Galaxy Quest has it bang on; it's a lot dafter than I remember! There's a Robin Hood one I believe.

Also, at junior school, our maths teacher used to play us the theme tune as we were getting ready for class, and we'd sing "Welcome to Numeracy Hour, Planet Pythagoras here we come, dun dun dun dun!". I don't know if this was actually in the curriculum, (or if it was just something the top set did, maybe the bottom set had Red Dwarf, JOKE), but I hope they still do it because it made me loathe maths less.

Continuing the space theme...

Snippet of 'A Trip to the Moon', a short film from 1902, hand-coloured and with music by AIR.

Sunday, 22 April 2012

Ecstatic about Cabin.

I think The Cabin in the Woods is my new favourite film. It left me gaping in awe and joy, mouthing “YES” a lot — which is always a good sign! Not having watched the trailer, or sneaked online and ruined it for myself like I normally do, I was expecting an average shitty teen horror flick. How wrong I was! I can’t do justice to the amount of chaos and awesome that was unleashed. I’d have to ruin the twisty turny plot (think Evil Dead meets The Truman Show) for a decent review, so just go see it won’t ya?


The film adaptation of Irvine Welsh’s Ecstacy is doing pretty abysmally in the film review department, which is a shame; I really liked the book. To be fair though, they chose the most boring novella in it; the one that’s a bit like Trainspotting but not quite as good (which is how the film’s being hailed incidentally), instead of the funny and shocking one with necrophilia and bits of period drama, or the brutal and shocking one with disability and all the gruesome violence. More screen-friendly I guess, and subtle? Or just crap? Would still like to see it and make up my own mind..

Danny Boyle must be so happy about this.

I’m so tempted to buy Cabin’s visual companion for more concept art, monsters and Joss Whedon times. Beneath my quiet exterior there seems to lie a raging appetite for destruction, oh well.

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Scarborough castle, graves, dolls...

Clock Cafe

Meanwhile, in Whitby.

Scarborough Castle

Lovely grave (think it’s Victorian, those death-sessed romantics). Her husband was buried in the same grave a while after, Woman in Black much. I know, I take the happiest holiday photos.

Falling in love with "Petronius" the Roman soldier, on the castle audio guide.

Saturday, 14 April 2012

Are friends electric.

Whenever I go on my hols/somewhere the internet isn't perfect, I realise I'm a practically a cyborg and get overly anxious if my signal goes on the blink. It's like that little loading animation is the beating of my heart, and if it doesn't work properly I drown.

Should I just sign up for virtual reality, be like that artist Stelarc ("the human body is obsolete") and have a telephone implanted in my own face or something.

Maybe I’m programmed No Signal = Get Fired.

In other news, Camilla's CD of folktronica sure makes everything alright!

Pop tarts are triangular.

Madonna, showing how triangles should be worn. It appears that Rihanna’s fond of them too, are you a Freemason, or perhaps one of the Illuminati Rihanna? Do you live in a pyramid? Are you dating Horus?

Also, please museum can I have these please.

Monday, 9 April 2012

"Magic Roundabout" collages.

A group project at uni. We’d decided to make an advertising campaign for an art festival on Nottingham’s BBC roundabout. 

Above are some of the guests who would've turned up.

These were the camping and leisure facilities available.

Aaand, I GO ON HOLIDAY TOMORROW! I’d say goodbye, but I’ll be taking my laptop with me because I’m a money-grabbing workaholic.