One Day..

One Day, number one selling book in the UK at some point and, for the most part thoroughly deserving, but the ending...oh the ending. i have read bad books before with awful endings and, whilst being annoyed, I've understood some of the ideas behind it, but the ending to this book is awful! Its not a bad book, in fact up until page 385 i couldn't put it down! but the ending, "Emma Mayhew was dead", that, that is not what I would refer to  an ending as, its called a cop-out. when my aunty was little she used to end stories as "and they went to the woods and were deaded" , she was 7 and didn't want to miss 'play time', the man who wrote this is an adult, so why? why end a book in a way that does not leave you happy, destroys all sense of joy an accomplishment for completing the read and replaces it with a melancholic hum, its like going to see the Beatles perform live (with 2 having been brought back from beyond the grave) and seeing scouting for girls, whilst i LOVE scouting for girls, its not quite the same, and that is why, i advise you read one day, but before you start go straight to page 385 and rip it out! doing this will ensure the book is not ruined by a rather awful bit of literature.

That vital organ we call a heart...

Ever year, in a hundred films, a thousand songs, a million novels and  a billion people, heart brake is bought to life. I think people fail to see that heart brake is just disappointment on a massive scale, heart brake is when things don't pan out how one hoped, aged two i experienced heart brake, when I discovered I was not going to be getting baby Annabelle  for Christmas, whilst this isn't quite like the turmoil and emotional treachery Elizabeth Bennett felt when she thought she'd lost her Mr Darcy, at the time it was just as a real.

But we survive, why? heart brake implies that the heart is, well, broken, but it is not, the mind is juct confused, saddened. Life is not a Jane Austin book, well not for the likes of me anyway, things rarely go the way i originally hoped, but is that always a bad thing? it is human nature to love, it this that apparently sepparates us from the animal world, however the research from "project Nim" would suggest otherwise. But, as Uncle Ben (Spiderman) once said "with great power comes great responsibility", whilst the ability to love comes a curse to same, it is a power, a gift in disguise. Whilst I cannot speak from experience, I can speak with knowledge from all the books I've read, and they have taught me that love is real, and that when, and only when, you get it right, it is one of the greatest parts of life. my parents met when my mum was Thirteen and three quarters and have been together solidly since she was at university, that's nearly thirty years, and i believe they still love each other. The cynics and critics of love will say that marriage is just like friendship, that perhaps once married people stop loving, that the spark dies, and in some cases that may be the case, but not all....and i think that is the most important and biggest BUT of them all, not all marriages fail, not all people fall out of love with one another. My friends tell me I am an old school romantic, and they are correct, I think its nice when men take there wives and shopping to carry it, when they say you look beautiful, i cry at most films and nothing makes me happier then seeing two 70 year-old's walking hand in hand. whilst I am a traditionalist, i still think its right to go "Dutch" on a date, splitting the bill, some traditions, such as the man having to pay for everything, should die with this new modern age.

that awful something called a riot...

1980's the years of the riots. This is a time most of our parents would like to forget, a time of sorrow and misery,  but, whilst these riots were not entirely justifiable, they had a clear and good reason for doing it, they were rebelling against the extreme racism bestowed upon the black and Asian community by police officers, however, do today's youths have a reason? do they have a justifiable motive? i think not.

My life, well the first 15 years, i cannot afterall speack for the future, have been relatively sheltered, i have food on my table and a house, whilst my parents are not exactly rolling in money we've always lived comfortabltly and i'd say this represents most of Britain, so why the august 2011 riots? why? the word on everyones lips...

One boy on the radio said its because these people have had nothing for so long, but have they really had "nothing". When your a widowed lady with 6 children living in a mud hut in a third world country with no money or belongings to your name, no food and no clean water and a government that offers you no help, then, then you have nothing, but even then , these people appear to have a faith that is most admirable. We, the British people, live world where instead of disease, education is a given, instead of hunger, free health care is guaranteed, and instead of corruption we have democracy, compared to many people across the world we have everything, and i think these riots a  portray a minority of today's youths as ungrateful, they have decided they have nothing compared to some people so are destroying what others have, children are being left homeless, and that part of all this, that's sickening. This started out as vengeance for Mark Duggans death, if that's really what this is still about then surely their problem is with the police, not a single mother and her 6 year old boy on the news who are now homeless, never have the selfish acts of so few affected the lives of so many innocent people. My thoughts and best wishes go out to all the people affected by these riots, and my thoughts also go to the brave men and women trying to protect and help them, the actions of these people, in my opinion, are un-forgiveable, buildings WW2 soldiers gave there lives to save for the people of Britain are being destroyed for what? in all honesty, i don't think anybody really knows.

The new something that be your house...

As I mentioned in my previous blog, i really wasn't the top of BT's priorities and only today got my internet...but I have successfully moved house. whilst this may sound to be a minor accomplishment, i think staying alive through out was a triumph, I'm not being melodramatic, moving house is one of the most stressful times of your life, according to studies and my mother.

I, being my calm self, was not at all stressed, my father, was on over time, insisting on moving every bit of furniture and refusing to let others help, for he is the man of the house, and my mother, well, I have NEVER seen her clean more things in her life, forget stress related illnesses, if she inhales any more cleaning chemicals i think she may pass out, i wouldn't have a problem with this....but firstly the house is tidy, secondly the house is clean, and finally i am sick of being told to eat my food off the toilet seat as she wells up with pride at the accomplishment of having such a clean bog, but I suppose, whatever does it for you, personally I'm more of a plate girl.

What i am still struggling to understand, is my mother’s propensity to come out with the expression... “New house, new me”, people of the world....moving house will not change you, if your horrible in your old house, chances are you’re going to be a bit of a bitch in your new one, if you cant cook in your old house, having a new oven isn’t going to change that. For the record, my mother is a lovely lady, shes not a bitch, however she cannot cook, she tries, but cakes that have the consistency of uncooked pasta just don’t do it for me, there too... disgusting.

So to conclude, if your mother tells you can eat off the toilet seat, ITS AN EXPRESSION, putting your spag-bol on it and saying “Yer, you’re right, this is great” will not win you any brownie points, in fact you are very likely to anger her, beware. And also, when your father is single-handedly carrying a table....DO NOT climb under it in an attempt to help....when they don’t realise your there and put the table on you...it will really hurt, and please think of me when i sit down to tea and have to eat my mum’s chocolate mousse. 

That big something we call the internet

So I'm in the middle of moving house, and pretty soon there wont be any new blogs until July the 11th unless by some miracle BT give us an early appointment, but that does not seem high on their list of priorities... 

Since 1991 the internet has supposedly been wireless, although not many used it then, now most homes have a "home hub" so the internet is all around...but is it in us?

if I stand in front of the router, mum still gets signal, now (in true story book fashion) it can’t go over me, can’t go under me, so has got to go through me... so does that mean Google is running through me, do I suddenly have an Amazon database in my foot, has my nose turned into Facebook? No, but why an earth not, all this information, the world wide web, anything I could want to know and a lot I don't is running through me and I'm expected to believe I will feel nothing, so I have a theory, admittedly a pretty odd one, and I promise you I was in no way influenced by a doctor who episode, but what if my nose is Facebook, my feet are Amazon, and of course my brain is Google but, and this is a very big but, we forget it as soon as we move out the way of the signal, there could be Google brained people walking the planet and no body would be any the wiser.

So the moral to this tale is don't stand directly in front of the home hub as you may turn into a search engine. 

That little something called the weather.

So, day 2 of a heat wave, a heat wave most people have been begging to have for the past 6 months has been moaned and complained about by everyone. It seems the entire country has been poised all through winter to take of its clothes and get a tan, and now the moment has arrived everyone moans, the expressions: “I’m so hot”,  “it’s too hot” and “I’m so sweaty” should be tagged and anyone found guilty of saying them plonked in the south pole, that ought to “de heat” them. Let’s not complain about having some sun, for 2 very good reasons, firstly we spend all of winter and a majority of ‘summer’ begging for it and doing dances to try encourage it and secondly, the more we moan about it, the more the government will notice it, the higher the chance of a hose pipe ban and then every plant in the nation will die, and no one really wants to play a part in plant genocide do they?

So what is it that makes us Brits hate the sun so very much? Many comedians would argue that we just love to have a moan, I however think that is wrong, the problem lies much deeper. The summer of 1976. Supposedly one of the hottest summers in the history books and everyone was poised to have a good time in the sun....but they didn’t. Why? The economy was crumbling and water supplies running out, constant strikes and inflation, and so whilst the kids remember it for being hot, the adults remember a deep source of pain, and so sun equals 76, and 76 equals marathon water restrictions and a crumbling economy, and I think those reasons, they are a good reason to moan...

I do however, see a theme occurring. It’s sunny right now, we are in a recession, Greece is known for its heat, and there economy it beginning to resemble a child’s painting, not very good and Spain, well they have a somewhat interesting economy AND apparently gave us the heat wave! Case closed.

Thanks for reading.

The something’s and nothings they say

Yesterday, boredom struck me like a rather animated piece of lightening, so as any teenage girl would, I lent for my movie box...and out came, an all time classic...well actually 2 all time classics: (I am as decisive as a small child in a sweet shop) Casablanca and Funny Girl. Now, these films are, in my humble opinion, 2 of the greatest films to ever come out of America...and they both have 2 things in common, romance and also loss (and the ability to tug at the very toughest of heart strings).

I don’t want to give away too many spoilers, as if you have not seen these films yet, you really must (not doing so would be a crime against humanity). But, they do both feature an extremely handsome man trying, in Casablanca’s case, to win back the heart of a once loved lady (Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart) or, in funny girl’s case (Omar Sharif tries to) win over a beautiful girl (Barbara Streisand) with a voice that could steal the hearts of the nation. But it’s the way that these men do this, I think, that restores women’s faith in the male species and there propensity to do slightly unromantic things. They don’t just whisper sweet nothings, and the women don’t come out with expressions like “it was something and nothing”, no...They go all out, they take them out on dates, Omar Sharif acquires the ability to ALWAYS turn up at the right time (an ability I refuse to believe is just coincidence) and steels her heart away with the extravagant flora gifts and dates, Bogart performs great deeds to prove his love for Berman (admittedly not quite as difficult as the 12 tasks of Hercules but there not easy), although he does not truly realise his love for until quite late on. Both men lose their lady, Bogart tells her to go (another act of love) with the famous line “your gunna get on that plane Elsa” as the rain personifies his mood all around, and Sharif, well he turns out to be a bit of a (for want of a better word) numpti, but Streisand doesn’t stop loving him (her ending song says as much). Both men leave lasting impressions the size of yeti’s foot prints on these women, and didn’t get that by whispering something’s and nothings!

 So, to conclude, anyone with a spare hour and 38 minutes watch Casablanca or funny girl and make sure you have an ample size of tissues, and any boys or girls out there, DO SOMETHING, sweet something’s and nothing’s aren’t going to leave your loved one with a yetis footprint, it will leave then with something more along the lines of a squashed ant.

Thanks for reading.

The someones and somethings...

In terms of global influence and being a pop superstar, i am an extremely tone deaf no-one, in terms of my parents eyes, I’d like to think I’m a pretty big someone...but on Thursday,  a massive someone died...Peter Falk. A man, that was able to change the way people viewed  ‘cop shows’ as he stared in the role of Lieutenant Colombo, died at age 83. If a man who’s signature clothing was a scruffy rain coat that looked like it’d always escaped the wash load  was able to steal the hearts of a materialistic nation, he must have been good, very good. He had been suffering from Alzheimer’s and dementia for the past few years and died in his Beverly Hills’ home; he had a big career, lasting 30 years on prime time TV and was a legend. But this got me thinking, this man became famous because he was good at what he did, he was an actor who could really act, but how many people out there are famous for nothing, nothing at all..

In today’s world I believe there are two types of celebrity, you have your Paris Hiltons and Kim Kardashians but also your Steven Fry’s and Huge Laurie’s. Fry and Laurie are the dynamic duo who besotted the nation with the wit and good humour after graduating from one of the UK’s top universities, but what did Kim and Paris do to gain there fame? Well...there hot, there is no denying that, but that’s all, I almost admire them. It’s quite a skill to be able to make so much money (the times reportedly said “Kim has made $35 million”) from doing nothing other than applying make-up and walking in ridiculously high stilts that us mere mortals can only dream of being able to walk in without falling head over heels into a circus clown, but this is, of course, just a matter of opinion, for all I know she may turn out to study maths at oxford, but why would she? I don’t know, as she has all the money she could ever need from doing “meet the Kardashians”(...no thanks), although, with rising tuition fees perhaps we should all sell our souls to the media in a last ditch attempt to attend university.  

So my advice to you, is join the circus, they will teach you to walk in heals, there are plenty hot clowns out there and the job comes with a make-up allowance, every girls dream right?

thanks for reading and feel free to leave comments :)

It really is something and nothing

                

    As most fairy tales should, I shall start this one with once upon a time and so, if you're all sitting comfortably, I'll begin. There once was little lady named Lizzie, who had a dream of being a writer/journalist, and on the 24^th of June 2011 a lady came to her school, and the realisation of how hard it was to get into it hit her like freight train on speed and so she started a blog, a blog about something and nothing, whether this fairy tale ends like a modern day disney, or a two brothers grim story is unknown, but as any self respecting cheesy sit coms would say, only time will tell.

    So what is something, the Wiki dictionary sets forth that it is “ a thing that is unspecified or unknown”, however I prefer to think of it as life, all components of life are something, heck even death is something, love is something (apparently a pretty big something) and happiness is something, but what makes one something more than another something...who knows? Right now, this very minuet, writing this blog is my biggest something, along with trying to multi task (I’m a woman after all) and watch Andy Murray beat the cat out of the racket, because apparently hitting a ball at 130 miles per hour is not punishment enough. But that’s my point, everyone’s ‘something’s’ are different, but also nothings, Murray winning Wimbledon won’t change world poverty and my worries that I have put the word something way to many times in the entry are nothing compared to that of Mr Papandreou’s.

    This leads me to my next point, nearly as swiftly as a Beyonce costume change, what’s a worry, at the moment (besides the something problem) by top worries are that I will fail my GCSE in French, a subject I am destined to find as useful as a chocolate teapot and face certain death by the Medusa like stair my father conjures up on the very worst of occasions, the boy I have liked for the past 6 months will think I am a complete weirdo/social recluse after in a fit of nerves I told him sharks sleep best upside down without an explanation, greeting or even a particularly coherent sentence and that my friend will almost certainly get hit by a car as she refuses to listen to the talking hedge hogs! But, apparently, these are not “real worries”, because i do not yet have a mortgage, husband, small brat or job and they are therefore insignificant, and in some ways they are, if the boy thinks Im a bit odd, then nothings changed, if my friend continues to wonder into the road I can and will subtly stick florescent stickers (excuse the oxymoron) to her coats and in the eventuality I do fail my French, I’m confident I will make a lovely statue.

     Thanks for reading.