Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts

Sunday, 13 October 2013

How to be Man enough to say 'I am a Feminist'

This week David Cameron refused to attribute the word 'feminist' to his beliefs in equality for men and women. There is a simple reason for this. The word ‘feminist’, over the past 40 years, has garnered somewhat of a bad reputation. A perception that has worked its way into our collective conscience. The general thought is that being a feminist is the reserve of a certain group of women. At the beginning of Summer I read Caitlin Moran’s ‘How To Be A Woman’. It was a brilliant book both content and entertainment wise. Amongst the humour, however, there was some very serious content on how men perceive the feminist movement. Below is the review that I wrote at the time and I feel it gives a good context to the predicament Cameron found himself in this week.

I have been meaning to read Caitlin Moran's 'How to Be a Woman' since it came out. Exams, and general life 'stuff', however, put my reading of it on hold but now, after emerging out of the other end of my first year University exams I decided to pick it up.
Now. Let's get one thing clear. I am a Man, so naturally I approached reading a book titled 'How To Be A Woman' with some trepidation. When I told one of my male friends what I was reading post-exams he laughed and said 'don't turn in to one'. This book, however, does not exclude men from its own branch of feminism. At one point Moran encourages women to stand on a chair and say 'I am a strident Feminist', adding that the men should do this too. And why not, I say? As Moran points out anyone who thinks it was ridiculous that women didn't have the vote, and let’s face it that is anyone in their right mind, is a feminist. The word 'feminism' has for far too long been something that has been dirty. Men seemed to have this weird unwillingness to use the word, even if they believed in the movement behind it. Even for intelligent, and well thinking men the word has often been hard to use. The difficulty with it has often come from other men, not the idea of feminism itself. If you meet a man down the pub and the conversation turns to feminism, more often than not he will start talking about women not shaving their armpits, (which they have every right to do), and ‘women who hate men’. Admittedly there are women who think this, just as there are men who hate women but Moran in her brilliant book opens up your eyes to a different world of feminism. One in which the simple belief that women should be equal with men is at the core of feminism.  
Part of the brilliance of Moran’s writing is combining her real life experiences, at their most candid, with her real, feminist theory. 
'Opening my cervix opened my 'doors of perception' more than drugs ever did - to be frank, all I learned from Ecstasy was that, if you're caned enough, you can dance on a podium to someone saying 'Time to go home now, ladies and gentlemen' over and over again on a PA.' 
She is, essentially, trying to make feminism (and I use the next word begrudgingly), 'cool'. For too long feminism has been perceived as something that is reserved for women and even then a certain group of women. I find it ridiculous that there are still women who will not declare themselves feminists, let alone men joining the party too. The thought that you (a) have to be a woman to be a feminist and (b) one who doesn’t shave their armpits is ridiculous. Moran is bringing this to the forefront of people's minds with an incredibly witty, truthful and correct book. I urge you all, male or female, to read it.

They were my first thoughts upon encountering Caitlin Moran’s genius writing and they were, again, brought to the forefront of my mind when David Cameron refused to admit to being a feminist. He has now since gone back on his initial denial and announced that of course he is a feminist. And of course he is, if our Prime Minister didn’t believe in equal rights for men and women I would be very worried about the state of our nation. It may have been too little, too late from Cameron, but at least he is heading in the right direction. Men, to finish, I ask you one question. Do you believe that women should still have the vote? If the answer is yes then you are a feminist and you, unlike Cameron, should be Man enough to admit it. 

Saturday, 12 October 2013

Halloween With Miley And Lilo (I Want Candy)

It's the 31st of October 2013, East Dulwich, South London. Every house is decked in their finest 'house of horrors collection' decorations from Oliver Bonas. The sweets have been purchased from Hope and Greenwood, THE place to take your little dahhhlings for their E number fix. There is a knock on my door, our first trick or treaters in our new house. The scene that greets me is post-apocalyptic, VMAs 2013 style. It's as if Lindsay Lohan and Miley Cyrus have turned up on my door step. Last year Mrs Tabitha-Drew's children went as a ghost and a zombie. This year Bruschetta and Olive have turned up looking for their 'candy' (thanks Disney channel), dressed as the new horrors of the generation. Lilo and Miley. 

It is, of course, only the 12th of October. Halloween is still two weeks away, but preparations in this South London, Yummy Mummy, Mecca have begun in earnest. There are pumpkin carving competitions in every shop that sells cushions that cost £50. Dress your dog as a celebrity for a free pint evenings and cobwebs in every window that are normally kept pristine. This year, however, there will definitely be something different. Earlier this week I read a statistic that the foam finger is this year's best-selling costume item. Are we really entering into a new age where we dress up as the real horrors of the year? What happened to going as a vampire or even a 'sexy kitten'? Is it because we have decided that Miley is a cultural icon or are people just 'doing it for the lols'. One thing is certain, she's certainly made an impact, in fact I can't believe I am still talking and writing about it. Maybe I actually love her and don't realise it? Maybe the real question is where can I order a foam finger and can I get it special delivery? 

Wednesday, 4 September 2013

POP EMERGENCY CODE RED GAGA'S BACK

So Lady Gaga has finally gave us something. A little morsel, right in the middle of Summer holiday season. Admittedly this is rather annoying when you are sat in a roller disco in the middle of Cork City, just to use their WiFi, desperately trying to hear Applause over the horrific Donna Summer remix that is blasting out of the speakers because you left your headphones at home. (Thank you Supernova in Cork, your free WiFi was much appreciated). Since getting back from holiday the 'POP EMERGENCY' has exploded in to a fully blown 'POP EMERGENCY, CODE RED'. Last Sunday Gaga premiered 8 new songs in a live show in front of fans and critics and thousands watching on TV. Risky, but this is Gaga, she is both risky and risque. So, on wards to the music:

As a first single from a new album goes, Applause ticked all the right boxes. For me it is essentially Gaga talking directly to her fans and critics in one song.

"I stand here waiting for you to bang the gong
To crash the critic saying, 'Is it right or is it wrong?'
If only fame had an I.V., baby could I bear
Being away from you, I found the vein, put it in here"

The first verse sets out the agenda for the song. Gaga has evidently been desperate to get back to performing and being in front of her friends but has been afraid at what the gap between her releases has done to her critical acclaim. She has every right to be afraid of the critics, just before she was forced to cancel her world tour due to a broken hip I read 5 or 6 particularly scathing articles addressing her weight and live performances. She could be forgiven, therefore for not premiering her new material in such an exposed way. In 'Applause' we also see an awareness on her behalf of her growing status as an art icon as well as being, possibly, THE icon within turn of the century music. Gaga talks about becoming a work of art and she addresses the growing feeling of pop as an art form.

"One second I'm a Koons, then suddenly the Koons is me 
Pop culture was an art, now art's a pop culture in me"

For me my favourite song from the 8 Gaga debuted at the Roundhouse last Sunday night was Aura. It reminded me a lot of Bad Romance, undoubtedly the best Gaga single to date. The song is almost anthemic with a brilliant 'sing along-able' chorus. What this song actually means is for a later debate I feel. Whether it is Gaga referring to her costumes and clothes as a cover-up in the same way a Burqa is used or something else I am not sure, but what I am sure about is that it is an incredible pop song and I am pleased to see that the 'rara' of the Bad Romance era has not been dropped by Gaga completely. 

Monday, 22 July 2013

ROYAL BABY DAY: CALL IT LEGOLAND WINDSOR.

Can we please talk about how good today has been? We've had Kay Burley jumping around outside the Lindo Wing shouting about how AMAZING a rather squashed and melted cake is, that BBC reporter talking about how bored he was, and the Town Crier who I don't think was actually meant to be there. Oh yes, and a Royal baby.
Now the fun begins. What will it be called? I for one fall quite heavily on the side of 'Legoland Windsor-Cambridge' but I'm not sure they could do that because of copyright. For me the day has been beautifully summed up by Prince William himself by simply releasing a statement that says 'We could not be happier'. To conclude this Royal Baby Day I dedicate this song to our future King, Baby Cambridge:

Friday, 5 July 2013

Today At Wimbledon: Day 5-Day 11. Just Make Sue Barker Queen And Be Done.

There was a point last week when Sue Barker really was Queen. She was on both BBC 1 and BBC 2 simultaneously. Question of Sport was shown on BBC 2 whilst dear old Sue did her round up of the courts on BBC 1. I for one would fully support her being granted the top-job of Queen when Lizzy pops her clogs. Why not? Someone who can get away with an electric blue pocket square is royalty already in my eyes.
The past few days at Wimbledon haven't been quite as shocking as the first when we saw Federer and Nadal knocked out but we have still had a few surprises. Serena Williams was knocked out and we saw Laura Robson go the furthest any woman has at the All England Club for 13 years. Today is one of my favourite days of the Championships as I get to make the age-old annual 'WImbledon Men's Semi' joke. Such fun. Up today we have Djokovic taking on Del Potro and then the titan Murray versus Janowicz. Can Murray make it into the final for the second year running. Here's hoping. I'll see you later after a few glasses of Pimms and hopefully with a Brit in the final. At least it will give us an excuse to use up all the Jubilee/Olympic stuff we have left over.

Friday, 28 June 2013

Today at Wimbledon: Day 4. I HEART THE CENTRE COURT ROOF AND WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW IT.

Today the roof was used for the first time-hurrah! Unlike most who watch Wimbledon I relish the chance that the roof may come on. Even though it has only been there a few years 'the Roof' to give it it's proper, Sue Barker approved name has already become a peculiar tradition. 
Now, I'm going to jump around a bit here but fluidity has never been my strong point. Do you remember when those pandas arrived from China into Edinburgh and they broadcast the whole thing live on TV as if it was the Moon Landings or a Royal Wedding? They had that BBC News reporter asking all the important questions such as 'do the Pandas understand English?' as we waited for what seemed like an age for the Pandas to get their luggage together, dig around the back of the seat to find their phone and pick up 200 Marlboros in duty free. Well, the 30 minutes or so it takes for them to close the roof at Wimbledon is a bit like that. We get the peculiar sound of John McEnroe trying to commentate on what is, essentially a giant gazebo going up over a rainy bank holiday barbecue. The crowd 'ooohs' and 'ahhhs' at the sight as if it were the pandas themselves parachuting into Centre Court. After the roof is actually shut we then get around 20 minutes during which time someone flicks on the air con switch and we all wait around for some magic to happen so the tennis players feel like they are still playing outside. This is when the BBC cameramen and women on Centre Court have a field day, and personally this is probably my favourite part of Wimbledon. They zoom in on every canoodling couple, children eating scotch eggs, people looking bored and flicking through their Twitter feed. They do a quick round up of who's who in the Royal Box whilst McEnroe or that one of GMTV (may she rest in peace) tries to out-do each other in the 'who reads 'Hello!' the most' stakes. Ace to you BBC, for providing me with a people watching service without having to leave the house. BBC, I implore you to add 'BBC Centre Court Roof' to your extensive red button Wimbledon channels. This will give me something else to get addicted to, like when I spent nearly 5 hours straight watching the 'Chimney Cam' when the new Pope was elected. PLEASE BBC? 

Today at Wimbledon: Day 3 "WimbledonTF?"

I know my day 3 update is horrifically late and for that I am sorry. It wasn't posted on actual day 3 due to events of a tonic and indeed gin nature. So anyway. Better late than never. Here is Today at Wimbledon: Day 3.

Day 3 was an absolute corker for someone who loves a bit of drama. It seemed that more players dropped out on Tuesday Wednesday than were actually in the initial draw. Azarenka, Cilic, Isner, that bloke that knocked Nadal out. There has been no let up in the injuries. Outside of dropouts we also had two major casulaties. Sharapova was knocked out, ending her Wimbledon dreams on the third day. So too was Federer, unbelievably. That means that even before the second week only two of the big 4 remain. Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray. All this of course means that the pressure on Murray is now even heavier. I think the most used phrase by Sue Barker on Wednesday was 'I don't want to increase speculation BUT could Andy do it now?' To be honest I hope that things get a little tougher for Andy. I don't want his getting to the final to be put down to an easy draw. That's if he even gets there. Given the shocks over the past few days nothing should come as a surprise. God this is stressful, I need a gin, sorry day 4.

Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Today at Wimbledon: Day 2. Wimbo-Chic

Today I would like to talk to you about what people wear to Wimbledon. There are definitely two distinct styles. On one side we have those who have probably been given the tickets from work, freebies from the All England Club or go because they love to tell everyone they know that they have 'Centre tickets dahhhling' before rushing off in their Land Rover to pick up Tarquin and Jemima from school. These are the Wimbledon-ers who wear pashminas and blazers, straw hats with purple and green on and pearls. On the other side of the fashion net we have the die-hards, the tennis fans and the Henman-hillers. This group consists of a bunch of red, white and blue-wearing, union jack clutching, deely bopper-wearing nutters and they are what makes Wimbledon amazing. It's this group who the average Wimbledon watcher at home can identify with. We love the people who have gone to the effort of painting their faces, writing 'GO MURRAY!' on their best white shirt and  get jolly pissed on Pimms. These are the people who queue for days to get a coveted ticket for Centre Court to shout 'COME ON TIM' at Andy Murray.

In other news and as an addition to yesterday's 'Today at Wimbledon' feature 'The World's Greatest Name' I would like to introduce you to Kaia Kanepi. A name that makes her sound like a mini smoked salmon bagel served with a glass of bubbly. Amazing. Stay tuned for more tennis player's amazing names.

Monday, 24 June 2013

Today at Wimbledon: Day 1. The World's Greatest Name, NEW BALLS PLEASE and Sue Barker's Set.

So, as established in today's earlier post, I love Wimbledon fortnight and not just because of the brilliant tennis. Wimbledon is a brilliant chance for a right laugh too. Over the next two weeks I will be showcasing the lighter side of Wimbledon, (I feel it is best if you read the rest of this like Tony Blackburn reading the chart rundown).

*Wimbledon theme tune plays*

In at number 5 on today's Wimbledon countdown is Sue Barker's hair in Game, brilliant set Mr Hairdresser and match. For me Sue Barker has the most iconic haircut of the 20th and 21st centuries. Thatcher schmatcher, 'The Rachel'...please. Sue has found a style that works and for a woman of her ripening age that is hard. Well done Sue and a commendation to the person who follows you round SW19 with a can of Elnett.

At number 4 it is the greatest name I have ever heard. Coco Candeweghe.
Today dear old Candeweghe was pitted against Petra Kvitova, unfortunately she lost so I will have to wait another while to hear a BBC commentator struggling with the complexities of an (unbelievably) American name. Maybe she's like Lisa Vanderpump from the Real Housewives, with less sass (obviously). Nobody serves, albeit a glass of wine in someone's face, quite like Vanderpump.

Serving for the match at number 3 is the lack of cream for my strawberries tonight.
We had the strawberries but no cream. Somewhere along the line someone forgot to buy some and I didn't feel to keen about using the stuff that went off last week. I couldn't even find any proper sugar, only cubes, so ended up having to grind them up in a makeshift pestle and mortar. Not the classiest start to the Championships.

At number 2 is the re-introduction of the phrase 'New balls please' into my life.
It's always funny, but I see these two weeks as a chance to use 'new balls please' as a response for anything, regardless of situation. Someone drops a plate: NEW BALLS PLEASE! I holler. My Dad says something silly: NEW BALLS PLEASE. It's so versatile.

And finally at number 1 is Murray winning and a shock for Rafa. In an unprecedented move this countdown actually features something to do with tennis. Murray won, hurrah for Britain! And Nadal lost, so again, hurrah for Britain. It's got to that point after the first day where people start to murmur, 'could he do it, really?'

Monday, 6 May 2013

I Want To Be A Part Of A Rollerblading Gang

If you live in South East London you will know exactly what I am talking about. You'll be sat at traffic lights or waiting to cross the road when all of a sudden a gaggle of youths on roller blades will come streaking past you, some even going backwards on their skates. BACKWARDS, IT TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH TO GO FORWARDS. I even saw one member of a rollerblading gang once carrying a boom box. It was like they had rolled all the way along the road from 1985. The real question is, when did rollerblading become cool again? Was it the introduction of the rollerblading bobbies in Hyde Park. Is this a new way for the gangs to be one step ahead of the 'feds' anyway, I'm going to say it now. I want to be part of this gang. I used to have a pair of roller blades when I was little and it's like riding a bike, surely? I have my eye on a banging pair of Power Rangers roller skates so I will get back to you when I finally become one of the cool kids in the rollerblading gang.

Sunday, 5 May 2013

Pet Hate #132. Mullet dresses.

You know the ones, they are longer at the back than they are at the front. I just don't understand them. Do the back of girls leg's get hotter than the front and more ventilation is needed? Is it some sort of cover up of bad, back leg, fake tanning? Maybe it is actually all part of an idea in which all women become superheros and take off using the mullet bit of their dresses? 
Maybe there is a 'back of the leg complex' that I know nothing about. Are people really that worried about how the backs of their legs look? If you are prepared to get the front bit out why not the bit at the back? 
It's not like even anyone good wears them. The mullet dress is favoured by the Essex girls and those I see stumbling out of 'The Venue' club in New Cross at 4am, clutching a box of fried chicken and their ridiculous, studded heels. 
Maybe if the mullet dress looked like an actual mullet, all eighties footballer and scraggly, then I could go for it but essentially it's a dress where they have forgotten to cut the back bit off. 

Thursday, 2 May 2013

Marathon Day, Part II. (Grandmas in Zara and shouting at Ed Balls)

What an incredible day. Last Sunday saw thousands of people take to the streets of London and slog round (some much quicker than others) the 26.2 mile course. The weather was maybe a little too hot for the runners but for the spectators like me the sunshine was very welcome after the longest Winter in 60 years!
The day began at Grandma's house, the centre of every family occasion. In our family's true style we made sure that the whole street new that something was going on by hanging a banner out of one of the windows.
Next it was up to the start where we dropped Susan off and went to get our position near the blue start. I was on celeb watch and, yet again, failed to get a hug off Sue Barker who I think should be our next Prime Minister. 
After waiting for what seemed like hours, and being interviewed by BBC London as my Mother and I were shouting the loudest and waving the world's biggest (and heaviest) banner, Susan ran past. Mum got a high-5, the whole of the start could hear us screaming at her. Amazing.

I want to add at this point that we have a knack of befriending people when we are out, probably because we just like talking so much. The marathon was no different and this time it was a lovely woman called Cindy. She ran the marathon last year and was also a Gamesmaker. She was a really lovely woman but is it time to hang up the Gamesmaker uniform, I think she probably wears it every day? Anyway, she had this massive horn that she honked at anyone who ran past. So naturally, we got on famously.

After we'd seen Susan run past us at the start we took on our own little marathon, running (and pausing for breath) down the hill to Greenwich town centre. That quarter of a mile certainly took it out of me. 

Greenwich is always one of the best places to watch the marathon, everyone gets involved. This block of flats, just along from the naval college certainly got involved. At this point it was about 10.45 in the morning and the first runners were at mile 6. That didn't stop everyone on that balcony holding glasses of wine though, in fact, I think if they had offered me a glass I wouldn't have turned it down. Again, that quarter of a mile downhill run really took it out of me. 

At this point we joined the rest of our family who were stood on the opposite side of the road. Sara had made about 7 different banners and this was the first, getting everyone rather emotional, until a really old man ran past in a mankini and put everyone off their sandwiches. Susan ran past us again, waving frantically, and looking like she hadn't just run 6 miles. Ed Balls also ran past us at this point to shouts of 'BALLLLLSYYYYY' from me and 'WHERE'S MY MONEY' from my Aunt, Sara. Britain, we did it for you. Consequently Susan asked when she finished why she could sometimes hear booing just up ahead of her. We informed her that she had run the entire marathon just behind Ed Balls. 


 Next stop was Canary Wharf, this is where the real party was. Another Sara banner was unfurled, the sound of drums ricocheted off everything in sight and Grandma set up her picnic chair in the middle of the Canary Wharf shopping centre, wandered in to Zara and nearly fell off a step. Despite all this we managed to see Susan again and she looked even better than she had at mile 6. At this point there were questions as to whether she had got the DLR there. 

Our final stop was opposite Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, fitting as this is where my Grandad and Susan's Dad worked. Again we were probably the loudest supporters there, arriving just in time to see Susan run past. This time we certainly didn't think she had got the Tube or a cab. Her head was down and we could see that she was just focusing on getting to the end. 
At this point a man asked Sara why she had a number on her banner. He was promptly told that all our family members have a number and not names and that he should 'see 14171, she's a right go-er'. Silly man. 
After meeting Susan at the finish and making her put on her red foil to 'look like she had actually run the thing', thousands of photos were taken but I think this is my favourite. Grandma looks like she is about to punch this man for getting in the way of the photograph. 
So there we have it, a brilliant day for the whole family, a very proud marathon running Aunt and another impersonating the Queen Mother. The O'Leary-Clifford-Biancofiore family everyone! 

Tuesday, 30 April 2013

Why the London Olympics were the Best Ever.

I have just found a video that shows why the London Olympics were so good. It isn't the Opening Ceremony, or the closing one. It isn't a great sporting moment or a javelin snapping or something like that. It is Bananarama performing at the beach volleyball. Bananarama singing Venus, on Horse Guard's Parade. You wouldn't have got that a Beijing.

Friday, 19 April 2013

All Hail The New Young British Artists

The Young British Artists were a group who took practically took over Britain in the mid to late 1990s. If the 1990s heralded 'cool' Britannia then maybe this strange period after the turn of the New Millennium is the age of 'commercial' Britannia.
In the 90s Britain became cool again, the economy was booming and the Brit-Pop movement in music and the YBA's brought the country to the forefront of the world stage. Everything they did was the epitome of 'cool'. Oasis vs Blur, Hirst and Emin, Goldsmiths Art College and Manchester vs London.
Now we are seeing once again Britain becoming great, culturally again across the world. The incredible Opening Ceremony of the 2012 Olympics last year seemed to capture where Britain is right now, rather than like so many ceremonies in this country, looking back and mourning what we were. Britons seem to be happy where we are today. No longer do we long for a time when the sun never set on our Empire. Britain is content with being small.
We may no longer appear to have limitless money, like in the late 90s but the new Young British Artists are pioneers for a new austere age. Names like Gabriella Boyd and Max Dovey may be the new Hirst and Emin but with one clear difference, the super-confident times of the 90s have gone to be replaced by a nervous 'teenies'.
We are taking our place again, even if the 'cool' Britannia notion from the 90s has long since gone. 'Commercial' Britannia now rules over us. One Direction, Adele, James Bond, The Royals. These massive British brands are dominating the world, taking over American popular culture and making Britain, once again a cultural epicentre. It is fair to say, however, that without the advent of social media this may not have happened. If it wasn't for Twitter and Youtube teens in America may not have heard of One Direction, or Ed Sheeran or Emeli Sande. I have it on good authority that amongst the youth in America it is cool to discover the next big thing from the UK before anyone else. They may still see us as a nation of tea drinking royalists but also a nation that is incredibly 'cool'. So maybe my branding of the UK today as 'Commercial Britannia' in the context of America may be a little off. One thing is for sure, it may be 'Commercial Britannia' to us but for people all around the world it is 'Cool Britannia' long to reign over us. All hail the new Young British Artists.

Friday, 12 April 2013

Marathon Day.

If I had to choose one day a year that was my favourite in London it would have to be Marathon Day. If you've ever been in London on that day or if you were in town for the Olympics you will know why I would choose that one. Every year tens of thousands of participants run (some more elegantly than others) the nearly 26 miles, 365 yards long (I can imagine that after 26 miles those few yards feel like a lot more) course which takes in some of London's greatest landmarks.
There is an air of solidarity that engulfs London on Marathon Day. The thousands of runners are united in one goal: making it to the end and the spectators are also united in a massive game of 'shout a random name and see who turns round'. (Or maybe that's just me a my little brother.) London changes on that day. It's the world's longest street party. For almost 27 miles the route is lined with bands, cheering fans, families and charities all out to make their voices shout the loudest, to get their banner on TV and aim towards the ultimate goal of being interviewed by Sue Barker. (She still eludes me). It provides some iconic images of London. The runners rounding the Cutty Sark in Greenwich, waiting to start along the avenue in Greenwich park, running past Big Ben and finishing against the Backdrop of Buckingham Palace on the Mall.
The marathon has always been close to our family's heart. The family home is in Lewisham, not far from Blackheath where the Marathon starts so nearly every year we would go up to see the thousands of runners start their trek round the city.
This year it will be even more special. On Saturday the 21st of April my Auntie Susan will
be running this very marathon, after saying she wanted to when she was taken my my Grandparents to watch the start of the very first one. Some say she is crazy but we as a family are all immensely proud of her. We will all be out to support her and join in the party with Macmillan Cancer Care, who she is running it for. I'd love it if you could sponsor her, even just a few pound. Surely running 27 miles around London is worth a bit of change? It's also for such a brilliant cause. We all know someone affected by cancer, and Macmillan work tirelessly to make the experience bearable. Even if you can't sponsor her I urge you, if you are in London, to go and watch the marathon, it passes a lot of places in London so there really isn't any excuse. It's a brilliant day and I guarantee you will come away feeling inspired.

Thank you.


SPONSOR SUSAN HERE


Addition 17/04/13

Since I first published this post the events at the Boston Marathon have unfolded and developed. The London Marathon this weekend will go ahead but in the memory of the 3 who died and with the hundreds injured in the hearts and minds of the runners and spectators. It is testament to the unifying bond that sport has across the world that runners are organising to wear black ribbons, hold their hands to their hearts as they cross the finishing line and there will be a silence at the start line. It is small but significant gestures like these that restore your faith in humanity.

Thursday, 11 April 2013

H&M Oxford Street Flagship

I'm always disappointed in a flagship store when there aren't any actual flags outside. Look, here is the store, not one single flag. They could have at least strung some bunting up, there's loads left from the jubilee. Someone in their marketing department needs to get down to Poundland, they have been trying to shift that stuff since the end of the Olympics. Anyway, on to the actual store.




I have a peculiar knack for stumbling across H&M Flagship openings. I was there when they opened their flagship on Regent Street a couple of years ago and then, upon seeing that there Oxford Circus Flagship was opening on Thursday a few weeks ago I thought I would jump on the Tube and go and have a nose around. Anyone who has ever been in the Oxford Circus branch knows how awful it used to be. For a store on the busiest shopping street in Europe it often resembled more of a Primark than the sleek Scandinavian store it should have been. This, however, has all changed thanks to a brilliant re-working of the store. No longer do you feel that you are shopping in a broom cupboard. The displays are fresh and at times look more designer than high street. H&M have also clearly taken a leaf out of Zara's book from last Winter season by including statement hair on their mannequins, giving the whole shop an edgier feel.

To conclude the store is great and naturally I felt compelled to buy things, I don't know if this is their clever layout working on me or if I do just have to buy clothes wherever I go but I am sure their profit margins will tell this tale. The only downside: LACK OF FLAGS. IF YOU ARE A 'FLAG'SHIP BUT UP SOME BUNTING. Even a tea towel on a stick could work. Sort it out H&M. In the meantime I am off to try on all the clothes I bought. Sorry Mr Bank.

My Love Letter To Patsy Stone.

This is a strange love letter Pats, please can I call you Pats? I feel that we could be best friends. I know I've said this to a lot of people recently: Lilo, Mariah, Jennifer Lawrence to name a few but you are different. You are my favourite vodka downing, chain smoking, coke snorting, hot mess. Anyone who can maintain that beehive whilst downing bottles of Bolly should be commended.
Look at you, you are fabulous, a woman after my own heart who isn't afraid to wear her heart on her brilliantly oversized shoulder pads. I should hate you. You are mean and stand for most things I am against but as soon as I see you with a bottle of Bolly in hand, and your sunglassses on I am head over heels. I can see us running down the Kings Road, knocking over yummy mummies, stopping off for lunch and a few cocktails at the Bluebird before carrying right on down Sloane Street for dinner at Harvey Nics and the clubs of Knightsbridge. Please love me Pats, forget Eddie and love me sweetie darling, please.

Wednesday, 3 April 2013

Going Underground.

This week I was watching a report on the BBC website in which the Tube was described as 'old and dirty'. I suddenly found myself quite offended. I didn't realise that I would get quite so protective over something I simply use to get around town. It wasn't until I started to think about it that I realised how much I love the Tube. The smell you get when that rush of warm air hits you just before the train shoots past you on the platform, the announcer who always sounds so happy to be going to Willesden Green on the Jubilee Line, the battle to get on the single escalator that takes you down to the Jubilee Line at Canada Water. I love that it is always too hot, always too crowded and that you always seem to be the one that never gets a seat and always falls over. Don't ask me why because I really don't know. I think many Londoners don't appreciate just how lucky we are to have it. Some of the weirdest and funniest moments of my life have happened on the Tube. There was the time I sat down (yes I got a seat) on the Piccadilly Line, looked up and saw a girl I had met at a Birmingham University open day the week earlier, that same day I saw a boy who had left my school a year previously on an escalator somewhere beneath Oxford Circus. Just before Christmas there was the brilliant announcer who sang all of his messages into his loudhailer, bringing festive cheer to the Waterloo Tube crush.


I love it when you catch someone's eye when there is the crazy in the carriage spouting off about how crowded it is or that they can't get a seat, that smirk you share means more as communication on the tube is almost strictly off limits. The one time this rule was consistently broken was during the Olympics. People actually talked to each other, they shared their joy at Britain's success and were amazed when Olympians traveled on the Tube with us mere mortals.
Even after a band of terrorist brought darkness to the city I call my home and the Tube that I love so much we still use it, Londoners are hardier than they seem.
So in this year when the Tube turns 150 years old I think we should all realise how lucky we are to have it. It may not always run on time, we may get frustrated with just how busy it is but think what we would do without it. I wouldn't get to dance on deserted Tube platforms at 5 in the morning to start.

Sunday, 10 March 2013

Why Celebrity Meltdowns Are The New Greek Tragedy.

I love a good celebrity meltdown. From Katona to Lindsay, Sheen to Gibson I have watched them all with a strange kind of sympathy whilst lapping up every single Daily Mail Online 'article' about them with glee. There is something very cathartic about it. One of my favourites came courtesy of Mariah Carey just before her autobiographical film 'Glitter' was released in 2001. Mariah turned up at an MTV party unannounced, started giving a strip-tease to the fans outside and handed out ice lollies. Amazing. 

You can imagine my reaction this week then when little Justin Bieber had one of the meltdowns to end all meltdowns on our very own shores. I still find it hard to accept that I am the same age as Bieber. I still see him as a 14 year old singing 'Baby' in a bowling alley but this week Bieber has finally come of age in my eyes. It is the same old sorry story that for a child star to grow up they need to have a crash in their late teens. Bieber's has been spectacular. Arriving 2 and half hours late to a concert where the majority of his fans are under 16 was amazing. Bieber is so rock and roll, shame his audience don't have a clue what that is. I think the Biebs is struggling to come to terms with the fact that his main audience is getting younger before his eyes when all he wants to do is get shirtless and smash a guitar. Bless. 


Then there was the birthday, his friends were turned away from a club where Bieber was meant to be celebrating turning the ripe old age of 19. Unfortunately because they weren't on the guest list they weren't coming in (just like that Carolina Herrera perfume ad, you know the one). Obviously Bieber wasn't very happy about this and thought the best thing to do would be to get half naked, storm back to his hotel and then tweet angry things. Good work Justin. 
Finally we have the paparazzi incident. Apparently a pap told him to 'go back to America' when he was getting into a car, naturally Bieber in his meltdown state wanted to 'hit you dude', thankfully his bodyguards defused the situation by creating this hilarious image that will forever look like Bieber is being put into his car seat (maybe that's his thing?) 
I know it is bad to get this much joy out of a celebrity meltdown but this is my Soap Opera whilst I don't have a TV at University. When I can watch Justin Bieber go crazy why would I watch Kat deal with Alfie and Roxy's relationship. (I lied, there will always be a place in my heart for Eastenders). 
I justify my love for a meltdown by equating it with Greek Tragedy (bear with me). In the same way that people would watch Oedipus kill his father, marry his mother and gauge his own eyes out for a sense of catharsis I view these meltdowns as pointers that my own life isn't actually that bad.
It is true that I also just like googling the crazy pictures so to finish I will leave you with a picture of my favourite crazy celebrity Li-Lo. I just want her to be my best friend.