Not long now.Thursday, 28 January 2010
The Power of Mac
I am not technologically savvy. I am competent in a way that it is impossible not to be if you are a (reasonably) educated twenty something who lives in London - some tech knowledge is, thankfully, inescapable. However I've never been one to lust for the latest gadget, hanker after a touch phone, or covet the blackberry of mine neighbour. I always assumed this was just the way I was wired, and just like I'll never feel entirely comfortable in flat shoes, I'll never be a techno whizz kid. Then I became a Mac.
There is a marked difference between a Techie and a Mac. I am never the former, always the latter. The only technology that interests me is sold via so-trendy-it-hurts technicolour advertising and arrives promptly in chic white, minimalist packaging.
It started with a pink mini ipod, which developed to a Classic, and finally peaked with the arrival of my beloved Macbook. Additions came in the form of a nano and a shuffle and it felt as though my Mac family was a complete and happy one. Obviously I hanker for an iphone, and rue the day I signed such a long contract for my current non-mac phone, but I know it is just a matter of time, and so I wait patiently.
Last night something amazing happened. My amazement is twofold.
1) Steve Jobs presented the Ipad to the world. A completely new media device that is neither phone nor laptop, but somewhere inbetween. It has the potential to revolutionise not only how we view all kinds of media, but also how we create, merge, present and undertsand it.
2) I am aware of a technological advancement on the day it is announced. And I'm pretty excited about it.
There is a marked difference between a Techie and a Mac. I am never the former, always the latter. The only technology that interests me is sold via so-trendy-it-hurts technicolour advertising and arrives promptly in chic white, minimalist packaging.
It started with a pink mini ipod, which developed to a Classic, and finally peaked with the arrival of my beloved Macbook. Additions came in the form of a nano and a shuffle and it felt as though my Mac family was a complete and happy one. Obviously I hanker for an iphone, and rue the day I signed such a long contract for my current non-mac phone, but I know it is just a matter of time, and so I wait patiently.
Last night something amazing happened. My amazement is twofold.
1) Steve Jobs presented the Ipad to the world. A completely new media device that is neither phone nor laptop, but somewhere inbetween. It has the potential to revolutionise not only how we view all kinds of media, but also how we create, merge, present and undertsand it.
2) I am aware of a technological advancement on the day it is announced. And I'm pretty excited about it.
The power of Mac.
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
Another Place
Sometimes a sight can move you. On occasion I have been instilled with a feeling of real and genuine privilege at having viewed or witnessed something. Once when I saw a family of elephants at a watering hole in Namibia, and again last weekend, at Crosby beach.
Gormley's Another Place consists of 100 cast iron nude figures - life size replicas of himself - spread over a two mile stretch of sand in Crosby, just north of Liverpool. The figures are placed apart, some further into the sea than others. As the tide ebbs so the figures are seen either totally or partially submerged. They all face out to sea.
It is wistful and desolate, hopeful and forward thinking. The scale of it coupled with the natural beauty of the coastline is quite staggering. See it if you can.
Introducing Monty
I have a pet by proxy! A big, beautiful tomcat. He is heaven and goodness wrapped up in an excessive amount of the softest ginger fur. He has bright green eyes, the pinkest of noses and the kindest of hearts. He is docile and biddable and affectionate. He is everything I ever wanted.
Monty has become somewhat of a muse to me.
A picture of happiness as Monty and I embrace.
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
Having all the luck
I have a habit of being hard to look after. I am lucky that my nearest and dearest are persistent, and a match for my stubborn nature.
It's not that i don't like to be looked after, the complete opposite infact, but it just so happens that it's what I do best. Caring - in utterly domestic and mundane ways - is where I find meaning and comfort. I was told recently that I give the impression of perpetually needing something to look after. I had not recognised myself in those terms before, but the glimpse of myself through the eyes of another was eerily on point.
It started with hamsters. Perhaps eight years old. I picked him because he was golden and sleepy. I named him Dutty, and in the mornings I would wake up my nocturnal pet and pop him into my pyjama pocket. We would spend most weekends this way. I loved him dearly. The departure of Dutty saw the arrival of Rapunzel, another golden bundle of hamster joy - although this time less sleepy, and a fraction vicious. Rapunzel was an elegant creature, really quite beautiful with her bright red eyes and frothy, spun sugar fur. When Rapunzel made the journey to the great hamster cage in the sky, my heart broke. It was probably good for me.
Following a short but intense period of mourning, I found Mr Timothy Rhubarb Kipling, the third in my line of hamsters. I picked him because he was tri-colour, and had a dark brown S shape in his short soft fur. He was marked as mine. His fairly eccentric name reflects my thirteen or so years. My final hamster was Orlando Fernando. A king amongst hamsters. Athletic and acrobatic, he made several cunning escapes. He was dastardly and adventurous, razor sharp and quick witted - at least, that is how I remember him.
The time line of hamsters paused for a couple of goldfish (Steven and Harry Potter), two mice (Lizzie and Katie) and were the constant companions of my most missed and beloved pet, our dog Jackson. When the pets ran out, I filled the void with boyfriends. They tend to have similar life spans and not unsimilar characteristics: some sweet, some vicious, some sharp and most sleepy. All in all, not a bad bunch, and the joy always did outweigh the heartache.
My history through hamsters; a journey through my very own pet cemetery, if you will. And now I find myself without a pet, without a small furry friend to feed and water, cuddle and love. Luckily I have friends and a boyfriend who are more than happy to comply. Even luckier, I am embarking upon a weekend of complete spoiling, with the three people who manage to charm me into submission, and look after me in the best and most wonderful ways possible.
It will start with Katharine. My domestic goddess of a colleague and friend, who will be cooking up a whirl of winter treats for me tonight. It is a forgone conclusion that I will leave Katharine's abode feeling utterly gorged and serene. It will continue with Dan. A master of steak fajitas, an expert in cosy Italian restaurants and a budding connoisseur of hot baths and general care and fuss. Consider me spoilt rotten and smug in equal measures. The weekend of goodness will end with Rebecca and Gareth, endlessly indulgent, Rebecca even warms up a fluffy towel for me to fall into after a shower. The only person (my own fabulous mother obviously excluded) who I really allow to mother me.
I am learning to let myself be cared for, because what a waste it would be not to take advantage of the amazingly generous and spoiling people I have somehow managed to surround myself with. Today it feels as if I really do have all the luck.
It's not that i don't like to be looked after, the complete opposite infact, but it just so happens that it's what I do best. Caring - in utterly domestic and mundane ways - is where I find meaning and comfort. I was told recently that I give the impression of perpetually needing something to look after. I had not recognised myself in those terms before, but the glimpse of myself through the eyes of another was eerily on point.
It started with hamsters. Perhaps eight years old. I picked him because he was golden and sleepy. I named him Dutty, and in the mornings I would wake up my nocturnal pet and pop him into my pyjama pocket. We would spend most weekends this way. I loved him dearly. The departure of Dutty saw the arrival of Rapunzel, another golden bundle of hamster joy - although this time less sleepy, and a fraction vicious. Rapunzel was an elegant creature, really quite beautiful with her bright red eyes and frothy, spun sugar fur. When Rapunzel made the journey to the great hamster cage in the sky, my heart broke. It was probably good for me.
Following a short but intense period of mourning, I found Mr Timothy Rhubarb Kipling, the third in my line of hamsters. I picked him because he was tri-colour, and had a dark brown S shape in his short soft fur. He was marked as mine. His fairly eccentric name reflects my thirteen or so years. My final hamster was Orlando Fernando. A king amongst hamsters. Athletic and acrobatic, he made several cunning escapes. He was dastardly and adventurous, razor sharp and quick witted - at least, that is how I remember him.
The time line of hamsters paused for a couple of goldfish (Steven and Harry Potter), two mice (Lizzie and Katie) and were the constant companions of my most missed and beloved pet, our dog Jackson. When the pets ran out, I filled the void with boyfriends. They tend to have similar life spans and not unsimilar characteristics: some sweet, some vicious, some sharp and most sleepy. All in all, not a bad bunch, and the joy always did outweigh the heartache.
My history through hamsters; a journey through my very own pet cemetery, if you will. And now I find myself without a pet, without a small furry friend to feed and water, cuddle and love. Luckily I have friends and a boyfriend who are more than happy to comply. Even luckier, I am embarking upon a weekend of complete spoiling, with the three people who manage to charm me into submission, and look after me in the best and most wonderful ways possible.
It will start with Katharine. My domestic goddess of a colleague and friend, who will be cooking up a whirl of winter treats for me tonight. It is a forgone conclusion that I will leave Katharine's abode feeling utterly gorged and serene. It will continue with Dan. A master of steak fajitas, an expert in cosy Italian restaurants and a budding connoisseur of hot baths and general care and fuss. Consider me spoilt rotten and smug in equal measures. The weekend of goodness will end with Rebecca and Gareth, endlessly indulgent, Rebecca even warms up a fluffy towel for me to fall into after a shower. The only person (my own fabulous mother obviously excluded) who I really allow to mother me.
I am learning to let myself be cared for, because what a waste it would be not to take advantage of the amazingly generous and spoiling people I have somehow managed to surround myself with. Today it feels as if I really do have all the luck.
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
A Morning Person
I love my week day mornings. A surprising realisation, as my 7.30 start time is usually what I cite as the one thing about my job I'd change. Turns out maybe I wouldn't.
I like being awake before everyone else. I like not having much time to fuss over my appearance. I like my footprints being amongst the first in the snow. I like wrapping up in cotton cardigans and coat, gloves, hat and scarf for the trudge to the station. Warm in soft layers, cosy against the cold and darkness.
I like being the first in the office, sometimes the building. I like that first hour of hot tea and quiet pottering with smatterings of newspaper reading, email sending and diary co-ordinating. I like that sometimes I am awake for over two hours before I've uttered a word.
I like weekdays. I like mornings. I like an awful lot about my life right now.
I like being awake before everyone else. I like not having much time to fuss over my appearance. I like my footprints being amongst the first in the snow. I like wrapping up in cotton cardigans and coat, gloves, hat and scarf for the trudge to the station. Warm in soft layers, cosy against the cold and darkness.
I like being the first in the office, sometimes the building. I like that first hour of hot tea and quiet pottering with smatterings of newspaper reading, email sending and diary co-ordinating. I like that sometimes I am awake for over two hours before I've uttered a word.
I like weekdays. I like mornings. I like an awful lot about my life right now.
Tuesday, 12 January 2010
Friday, 8 January 2010
2010
I am one working week into January, into 2010. A bright year, but sadly a year without Hannah. A year that starts without her, and will end without knowing her. A year that will remember her.
A year which has started in the best possible way, a year which closes neatly on the one before it, a year that was hard. A year that was the making of me.
2009 drifted into 2010 seamlessly and beautifully. A holiday that began with three, and ended with two. A holiday which included an obscene amount of my favourite things. Long lazy days where you miss the daylight, long adventurous and indulgent days of shopping and dumplings. Many coffees, a few walks. A gold wall painting. My first American pancakes. Mulled wine, friends and overly competitive boardgames. 3D films and bad mexican, made wonderful by the right company. Ice Skating. Confessionals. Acceptance and Love.
I am so lucky. Not only because of all I have, but simply because I'm here. Because 2010 starts with me and will know me. I will try really hard not to forget this.
A year which has started in the best possible way, a year which closes neatly on the one before it, a year that was hard. A year that was the making of me.
2009 drifted into 2010 seamlessly and beautifully. A holiday that began with three, and ended with two. A holiday which included an obscene amount of my favourite things. Long lazy days where you miss the daylight, long adventurous and indulgent days of shopping and dumplings. Many coffees, a few walks. A gold wall painting. My first American pancakes. Mulled wine, friends and overly competitive boardgames. 3D films and bad mexican, made wonderful by the right company. Ice Skating. Confessionals. Acceptance and Love.
I am so lucky. Not only because of all I have, but simply because I'm here. Because 2010 starts with me and will know me. I will try really hard not to forget this.
Thursday, 7 January 2010
Curiouser and Curiouser!
Something fabulous has happened.
I have been eagerly awaiting Burton's Alice In Wonderland for quite sometime (the combination of Disney, Depp and bunnies is almost too much to bear) so imagine my delight when Tom Binns decided to throw costume jewellery into the mix too!!
Binns' Alice In Wonderland costume jewellery collection coincides with the film's 5th March release date, so grab that spare $1500 and pick up the broken teacup necklace before your date with Depp.
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
I Miss Turkey
You hear an awful lot of people (a.k.a Humbugs) moaning about turkey in December - everyone has to eat it, there's always too much of it left over and why don't we eat goose instead etc etc blah blah blah.
Well shoot me, but I love turkey. Not only is it an annual treat and component of the ultimate boxing day hangover sandwich, but essentially it is the only time you can legitimately eat jelly (albeit cranberry) without appearing unsophisticated.
Collecting the turkey on Christmas Eve morning is my favourite of all our festive traditions. We drive to the Kelly's farm in Essex, drink mulled wine and eat mince pies and generally feel jolly. It slipped my mind in all the yuletide excitement that I documented the outing for prosperity.
Cindy and Alan, armed with receipt and festive cheer.
The queue of turkey lovers on the way to the farm. Obligatory Christmas songs were played.
Nearly there!! Excitment reaches fever pitch as the 'bred to be wild' sign comes into view.
No, your eyes aren't deceiving you - that really is me with Mr Kelly, King of Turkeys, Breeder Extraordinaire. Without doubt my best celeb spot yet. Check out our matching Christmas grins.
The Kelly Bronze. Home safe and sound.
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
My Favourite People
It's the little things that make you feel close to someone. Small intimacies, oddities and secrets. Things that don't matter, but matter to them, and to you.
Some of my favourite things about my favourite people.
His favourite colour is purple
She has Columbo on boxset
She can sing eternal flame without hitting a single right note
She likes watching other people eat cake
She loves the smell of launderettes
She plays the trumpet
He loves whipped cream
She owns over fifty dresses
She makes the best noodle soup in the world
He has an extraordinary collection of stolen pint and shot glasses
She's a cheerleader
She thinks David Tenant was the best ever Doctor Who
Her favourite genre of music is 90's boyband/girlband pop
She can walk in heels, roll a cigarette and talk on the phone at the same time
He hates spiders but will catch them for me, so I don't have to
She loves Dancing On Ice and always watches it with her mum
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