News from the "City of Aquatint"

Hello everyone :)

Here is a little something I've done this term, enjoy! http://oxfordstudent.com/2011/11/24/no-downturn-for-downton/

I'm now coming to the end of my first term at university - I can't believe that it has gone by so fast.

Of course, it has not been without its ups and downs. Being set two essays on the Thursday of Freshers' Week was not fun, and Facebook stalking my friends' photos of crazy nights out while I felt like I was in the library all day, everyday was at first rather crushing. However, I feel like I have now got into the routine of things, and hearing of people handing in their second uni assignment while I am on my ninth 2000 word essay in seven weeks has now become the norm. In fact, I now can't imagine not working, sad though it is.

Having said that, my university experience thus far has not been all about the work: I have met so many lovely people, danced awkwardly, dressed up in my Hogwarts gown, eaten in formal hall, seen brilliant plays and eaten a lot of ice cream in G&Ds at 11pm  (where else on Earth is that socially acceptable?)

Oxford is a crazy place. 'Town and gown' coexist in one strange mix of normal town centre and gothic buildings. Bicycles triumph over the car, tourists take pictures of you and it is not unusual to see someone in a flowing black gown and a white bow tie at 1 am.

All in all, whilst it can be hard at times, and I still feel very new and naive, I am pleased to say that none of my worries about university life have actually come true. Oxford is just like any other uni - people go out and have fun, as well as working hard. Yes, there are a fair few people from very prestigious schools, but that doesn't mean that they all smoke pipes and wear head-to-toe tweed (or Jack Wills) - they are human beings too! On a more mundane level,  I have surprised myself in culinary abilities, nothing has been shrunk in the wash yet, and I have even managed to function normally on four and half hours' sleep.

It's going to be strange to go home after 9 intensive weeks of work hard/play hard. Most of all I will miss the  group of friends that I have made so quickly. Roll on Hilary 2012!

Results Day Waiting Game

It may seem unoriginal and clichéd to blog about results day, but for hundreds of thousands of young people, this Thursday marks a terrifying, and possibly life-changing day. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, it's not on a par with getting married or moving abroad or numerous other 'big' days, but it is the culmination of the last two years of our lives.

Almost every day in Year 13 (and at least twice a week in Year 12), our teachers reminded us that we are the new generation, the world is our oyster...and so we should work very hard in order go to university or get an amazing job, cure cancer, find an alternative to fossil fuels and generally save the world before bedtime. For all of this, we need A level grades.

Those three (or four, or more) subjects, which were our lives, which we loved to hate -or just hated -and took up so much of our time, energy and brainpower, now are just three (or four, or more) letters on a piece of paper. For me, this thought is quite calming, as in the end, they really are just some letters, and without my grammar school head on, I know that they are not the be-all and end-all of life.
 
It seems almost deliberately nerve-wracking that it is possible to find if you have been accepted by your two choices of universities.on the UCAS website. Of course, technology is wonderful, but I can't help imagining that with half a million people logging on at 8 am, the site is sure to crash, causing more stress.

I can barely remember what being at school was like, let alone how my exams went. I have pushed the subject firmly to the back of my mind and focussed on enjoying the summer. I can't believe that it has come round this quickly and now I really have to face the somewhat daunting prospect of My Future.

It seems to me that there will be many inevitable situations. To lighten the mood, I have devised a game I like to call Results Day Bingo! See how many you can spot.

1. Young people glued to computer screens, frantically pressing refresh on the UCAS website from midnight, giving themselves RSI in the process
2. Horrendous items on breakfast TV when a group of politically correct and racially diverse teenagers open their results live on camera. (Why they were persuaded to do this, I really don't know)
3. Gridlock around schools
4. (Particuarly applicable at a girls' school) Nervous screeching as people work each other up into a frenzy
5. White-faced teenagers and lost-looking parents
6. Increased sales of waterproof mascara (Got mine.)
7. Panic-inducing articles in the press about how many millions haven't got places, how many thousands applied this year, how the increase in fees has affected results, how many gazillions of A* and A grades there were etc etc
8. The all-important envelope
9. The attempt to work out why the teacher who knows your results is smiling at you. Is it pride, or pity?
10. The awkard moment where you see friends/classmates and you have to ask each other how they did.
11. The compulsory reports about child-geniuses (Geni? Genii?) who got seventeen A-levels in maths, further maths, extra further maths and have been accepted to Cambridge aged 4.
12. The journalist/spokesperson who says that A levels are getting easier (grrrrr)
13. Screaming/tears of joy/jumping up and down
14. Photos of this the next day in cringey articles local newspapers
15. Engaged phonelines to universities
16. Pubs and clubs full to bursting point on Thursday night

I also found this in a frantic internet search for reassurance. I hadn't considered a lot of these things, so take a look.

http://www.thestudentroom.co.uk/wiki/Guide_to_results_day

Good luck everyone! 

Jog on

Ever since I can remember, running has been one of my least favourite things to do. Along with tomatoes, small yappy dogs and Geography GCSE, pounding the streets is up there on my hate list.

My mum remembers how, during my nursery obstacle race, I ran as far as the plastic tunnel and never came out, thus letting my team (the blue squares) down in a big way.  In primary school, I remember dreading sports day, knowing I would come last in the compulsory running race.

So, it is with great surprise that I find myself writing this after going for a jog for possibly the first time ever.
What triggered this massive change of heart was going to see my friend's dance show yesterday. Watching so many sleek, toned and elegant girls backflip and pirouette around the stage made me feel like a blob. There were probably seven year olds there who were fitter and more flexible than me!

I decided that I really should do some exercise.

I dusted off my trainers, last used in school P.E. circa 2009, pocketed my iPod, and set off down my road. 'This is great!', I thought as I whizzed down the hill. 'I feel so free! Why didn't I do this befo-aaaarrgh stich." Needless to say, when the hill ran out it wasn't quite so great. But I carried on.

I was so pleased with myself that I manged to run for the length of two whole songs. Only later did I discover that said songs are possibly the shortest in my library, and total about 4 minutes 50. However, this is about 3 minutes 50 more than I thought I could do.

Inevitably, I did not run the whole circuit and had to slow to a fast-ish walk pretty quickly. Nevertheless, I arrived back home sweaty, disgusting and probably more out of breath than I should have been, but happy and proud of myself.

I'm not sure if this will become a part of my summer shape-up routine (I'd go for no), but I have definitely learnt three things from my brief foray into the world of running.
1) I should have waited longer after my dinner because I now have the worst case of hiccups known to man.
2) I need to invest in some better exercise gear. Some teenage girls stared at me for just a bit too long as I stagggered past them in an ancient T shirt and greying tracksuit bottoms. Look the part,  feel the part afterall!
3) A jogging playlist is an essential. My usual mellow mix of indie, laid back pop and folk was not condusive to running. I found myself listening to songs that I hate, in an attempt to find a beat which I could run to.I may have to grit my teeth and venture into the world of dance music.

Free as a bird

I am back! Exams are over, summer is here and I am generally free!

The past month or so has NOT been fun:

Having made my bedroom far too messy, the power couple of revision and I took over the dining room, which is spacious-but also dark and gloomy and cold. Locked away in my study cave sporting my compulsory uniform of pyjamas or a hoodie and with my hair piled up precariously on top of my head, I came to resemble the most terrifying of beasts: the revision goblin. (Read more on this phenomenon here) This reached scary extremes when I managed to cripple my important writing hand with some sort of R.S.I. from furious scribbling, and developed back ache from being hunched over copious books.

But, six and half hours of fierce concentration later, A levels are over, seemingly as quickly as they arrived. I could technically never do an exam ever again-a wonderful prospect!

But now, what to do with my new-found freedom? I have 93 sunny, fun-filled days until university to fill with...whatver I like!

Of course, I've made a to-do list. From the mundane, (student finance applications), to the vague (watch old films); from my plans for day trips (Broadstairs, Brighton, London) to my personal aspirations (drive on a motoway, read about feminism), this list will be the basis of my diary for the next few months.

I am going to mercilessly exploit my 100 Days of Summer for blog material, so keep your eyes peeled.

You know you're revising when...

1. 'Going out' consitutes a quick walk round the block or to the shop.

2. You forget the last time you wore make up

3. The majority of your wardrobe remains untouched and you live in pyjamas/anything comfy

5. No matter how hard you try to write neatly, your hands are always covered in ink.

6. A new Pukka Pad or set of highlighters becomes an amazing gift.

7. Your mum brings you a care package of a cup of tea and a pack of new biros.

8. The room where you revise becomes a sort of revision cave: dark, littered with various stationery products  and important pieces of paper.

9. The words 'mindmap', 'stress', 'exam', 'essay plan', 'past paper', 'revision timetable' and 'HOWONEARTHDOTHEYEXPECTMETODOTHIS!' become the foundations of your vocabulary.

10. Similarly, the words 'fun', 'me-time', 'TV' and 'social life' become obsolete.

11. Everything that isn't revision is seen as a waste of time (Including writing blogs when you should be revising for English Lit)

12. Due to having few alternative sources of fun, you consume at least eight cups of tea a day.

13. You don't know how you managed to do this the last time round, and the time before, and the time before that...

14. You know the precise amount of your life which will be spent under exam conditions , and the amount of time until the next exam in  days, hours and minutes. (6 and a half hours and 3 days, ten hours and fifty-eight minutes, if you wondered)

15. SUMMER and UNIVERSITY PLACE become stamped on your brain as motivation.

Keep going everyone!

Exams, Revision, Leaving School and General Stress

Sorry for the lack of posts- it's that time of year again.Exam fever has hit the nation. Sales of cue cards and coloured pens have rocketed. Hair remains unwashed and eyebrows unplucked until one finds some of that evasive diamond, time. The library, once the ghost-town haunt of the dedicated few is now a packed temple for the worship of that terrifying god: Revision.

I'm also leaving school on Friday. WHAT?

It has always seemed to me that whilst you were at school, your life was on hold before you decided what you wanted to do with it and it became your own. After fourteen years of being told what to do, all predictability is now gone and I am in charge -definitely a scary prospect.

The response of most of my year group when reminded of our impending freedom is usually a collective wail. School has been our home for perhaps the most important seven years of our lives. It is hard to believe I am the same person as the chubby, timid little year 7 with a rucksack bigger than her body and white ankle socks. I have done amazing things, visited beautiful places and met such a variety of people. The thought that I might never see some of them again puts a lump in my throat. I can guarantee I will shed some tears on Friday...and on Leaver's Day...and at the Leaver's Ball...and results day...

There will of course be things that I will not miss. Early mornings, the smell of the changing rooms,  disgusting toilets, dodgy canteen sandwich fillings, the long slog up the hill from the station and never-ending homework are things I am glad to be shot of once and for all.

I wish all school leavers the very best with your exams and deciding what to do with your future. If you are (un)lucky enough to have a few more years to go yet, enjoy it!  You may find yourself sadder than you think to leave.

Now if you don't mind, I'm off to revise Tess of the D'Urbervilles. I will hopefully magically ping back to my usual self in one month and one day (and counting!)

Good luck everyone!

 xxx

 

Signs of Spring

What lovely weather we’ve been having recently! Ok, have had. As I sit writing this, it is of course drizzling and grey. However, last weekend, I was in Paris and it was 28 degrees-in April! So, to lift your spirits from revision, I'm posting this so we can reminisce about how nice it was... 

An almost unhealthy obsession with the weather is something that the British do best. We seem to be able to pick up on minute details and use them to predict everything, from cold fronts to cloud cover, heat waves to hurricanes. “The cows are lying down, it’ll rain, mark my words.” “The pinecones have closed up, dry weather must be ahead.”

Apart from these wonderful proverbs and the obvious-daffodils, lambs, lighter evenings, etc- there are a few more quirky things which always remind me of the change in season.

I know sunny days must be on the way when the ice cream van parks outside the school. When Mr Whippy tells you it’s acceptable to eat a ninety-nine in late March, you do not argue. Winter is most definitely over.

Another sign of spring is that the canteen, normally full to the brim with cold, hungry teenagers, empties out. Suddenly sandwiches and baguettes fly off the shelves and people picnic outside.

A sorry side-effect of this better weather is the sudden realisation that summer, and therefore the exam season, is just around the corner. The library becomes significantly busier, and people start comparing notes on revision timetables and having in-depth conversations about the merits of various stationery products.

Apart from the odd dreary grey morning, I could almost believe it was June already. One day, I may even leave house without my coat. Gasp, this really must be serious.

School Photos

Say cheese! Another in a series of lasts- my last school photo.

Ever since I can remember, this has been a traumatic experience.

When I was very little, I remember the pain as the photographer tugged at my unruly mop of curls with his plastic comb in an effort to control them, with little success.

As I got older, photo day only got worse. I always left the house thinking I looked at least relatively presentable, only to get a nasty surprise when I got to school. But there was never any way to correct it-the toilets were full to the brim with girls peering and preening in the mirror.

In terms of the photo-pose dilemma, I once tried to look naturally happy by laughing, only to be told that I looked like I was going to explode by the photographer. Wow, self-confidence minus fifty. Needless to say, in the second attempt I’m almost frowning

I thought by now that I had mastered the whole photo debacle, but apparently not. This year, I was embarrassingly called back to have it taken again because I had my eyes shut.

Whatever it looks like, if my eyes are scarily wide, if my hair resembles a frizzy bird’s nest, or if I have bags the size of suitcases under my eyes*, I will certainly be buying my last school photo, if only for old time’s sake.

*Ah the irony. I wrote this before I got my photo back, and guess what? I have not only frizzy bird's nest hair and bags under my eyes, but also a confused/uncomfortable expression. My darling friend C told me that I looked "rough" But I've ordered it anyway!

Unlikely combinations

 Tinie Tempah's latest single, Wonderman, features one of my favourite artists of them all, Ellie Goulding.

On paper, this should not work. R n B/Hip Hop street-cool meets Acoustic/Folksy/Pop/Electronic blond starlet. When I first heard about the song, my first thought was 'Ellie, what have you done?!' Because after seeing her live, I am now entitled to judge her musical choices, of course. But somehow, it just works-they complement each other perfectly!

This made me think of other unlikely combinations-things which are so wrong...yet so right.

1. PBJ
The most famous combo of them all, and one which still divides opinion the world over. In my opinion, peanut butter and jam (or jelly, if you're going to be picky and American) is the food of the gods. But when I tell people that I had this on toast with a cup of tea, expecting a coo of understanding, people often look at me like I told them I breakfasted on roadkill. 'WHAT? Eeeew. That's sick.' I ignore these non-believers. One day they will be converted to the crunchy salty sweet jammy mixture of a pbj sandwich. But- 1) the peanut putter has to be crunchy, and 2) the jam has to go on top. Just the way it is.

2. Peanut butter and apple?
Imi informs me that peanut butter also goes well with cut-up apple, but I am yet to test this out :)

3. Black and brown
I remember my mum telling me when I was little and had no clue about which items of clothing went with what, that black and brown were colours you did not, on any account, mix. Much like green and red for their Christmas elf-connections, or purple and yellow for just pure grossness, brown and black were a no-go in my house. But recently, it seems colour rules are being broken. I am currently wearing a black dress with a brown belt, for example, and I've just bought a lovely pair of brown shoes that I intend to wear with black skinny trousers. Take that, colour wheel! But-again, another condition of unlikely combinations, the brown should ideally be tan, not too red that it looks orange, but not too chocolately to be an obvious clash.
Pah, who am I to give fashion advice! I am sure I will be corrected on that last point.


3. Tomato ketchup and macaroni cheese
This could also be entitled 'tomato ketchup and...anything and everything' if you are my good friend Hannah. It is entirely down to her that I discovered this scrummy combo. The sweet tangyness of the nation's favourite sauce sets of the creaminess of the mac and cheese to perfection. Not very gourmet, but delish all the same.

4. Chili chocolate?
I've seen posh bars of this in shops, but I have never been tempted to try out this flavour mix. It may be nice, well...it must be, or why on earth would they sell it, but I'm still unsure. I think the combination of spice and sugar could be too much for me.  
Has anyone ever tried this? Please let me know what it was like! Are you and your tastebuds permanently scarred, or are you a convert?

5. Cheese and marmite
Especially in a toasted sandwich, mmmm. Imi also tells me marmite works well mixed into pasta. Excellent student carbo-loading cuisine :) Marmite cereal bars on the other hand, my word. The texture and slight taste of an ordinary sweet cereal bar, with the sourness of Marmite. Not good.

I didn't mean all of these to be about food, but hey, that seems to be how my mind works. Leave me a comment if you can think of any others that I should include :)

School Trips

Even though it’s a while away yet, the conversation in my French class has turned to our upcoming school trip. After grappling with verbs and vocabulary, we usually end up squealing with excitement at the thought of our continental adventure. Paris, the city of lights, croissants, Limoges, city of, er, porcelain, romantic train journeys, cafe au lait, I cannot wait!

This made me think of the many school trips I have been on over the years. Some are more memorable than others. A bird pooing on my painstakingly-drawn field sketch was a definite low point, as was enduring the worst  48 hours of  my life in  torrential rain on the Dorset coast.

I have, however, had better experiences. I’ve been extremely fortunate to have taken part in a choir tour to Prague, seen Shakespeare performed in Stratford-upon-Avon, worked in Barcelona and in a French primary school, all at a subsidised cost.

School trips are great for several reasons. They enable students to learn in a different way outside the normal classroom environment. Visiting new places broadens our horizons and brings that boring bit in the textbook to life.  Despite the copious red-tape involved, I have particularly enjoyed foreign exchanges because as well as meeting new people abroad, it also a great bonding experience for the English-speaking group to travel together.

In the current climate, some may question the value of school trips. Do we really need to visit Bluewater for Geography, or Thorpe Park for Science? But education is about more than just classroom book-learning and sometimes you have to  actually experience something to understand it. I think that school trips are genuinely valuable, and frankly, I can’t wait for my next one.

Juggling Act

My sister was told that to survive the International Baccalaureate, she could have two of the following: good grades, a social life and sleep. Although I have it easy by some standards-I ‘only’ do three A-levels and not the six subjects required for the I.B. - I feel caught in a constant trap.

You see, I want to find a job so that I have money to go out-and keep up - with my employed friends and their seemingly never-ending wages. However, if I get said job, I will have less time for said social life with said friends. I also need to work to save up for university. But, if I do, I will have less time to study in order to achieve the sky-high grades needed to get me there.

Catch-22?

My life at the moment is a juggling act of gigantic proportions as I attempt to squeeze in job-hunting, coursework, babysitting, copious reading, sleep, some semblance of a social life and of course, essential TV. (Glee, 90210, Big Fat Gypsy Weddings and other such high-brow programmes)

Essay crisis after essay crisis: a student’s work is never done. French verbs can never be completely learned, that coursework can always be tweaked...and revision can never start early enough. Meanwhile, that list of ‘useful extra-curricular books’ grows ever longer.

Ah well. To misquote Shakespeare, the path of an A-level student never did run smooth. It will all be worth it when I get to university... and no doubt find myself with a workload to match my debt!

World Book Day

Crowds of wizards, hordes of pirates and packs of animals descended on schools across the area last week. This was not some sort of youth fancy dress convention, but all in aid of World Book Day, which took place on Thursday, 3^rd March.

This brings back great memories for me. But at the time, it always induced panic as the day loomed dangerously close and I was still costume-less. ‘Costume drama’ took on another meaning in my desperate search for inspiration. I am indebted to my mum’s quick thinking as she ran up Harry Potter cloaks on the sewing machine or plaited my hair with pipe cleaners, Pippy Longstocking-style.

At my current school, Book Day is taken very seriously. People start planning their outfits months in advance, hoping to win a prize in the lunchtime parade.

The biggest fancy-dress faux-pas is to go as a little known character, prompting that awful question: ‘and who are you meant to be?’

I have full experience of this. Once I accessorised my normal clothes with mittens, tail and a full cat headdress to go as Puss in Boots. This did not have the desired effect. Apparently, I did not resemble the perfect feline, but merely a person in normal clothes with a cat head. Humiliation.

World Book Day never fails to make me remember why I love my school, and how lucky I am to belong to such a good community. It’s worth making an utter fool of myself just for that.

 For more, see http://www.worldbookday.com/index.asp 

Update

Hi everyone :) 

Just thought I would update you on my goings on! I recently sent my blog to lots of people, with unexpected but lovely results.

I now have a regular column in The Chronicle on the School Report page-so look out for me every Thursday! I'm going to put up some of my previous columns at Abby's request. I will also soon be writing for Vine, a monthly magazine for Sevenoaks, probably writing history articles.

Plus, I've now got nearly 2600 views-wowwzers.And it's all down to you lovely people out there.

Thank you so much again for reading and for all your comments.

xxx

Tears, Tantrums and Three-Point Turns

This week finds me a fully fledged driver. That’s right; I have now reached another milestone and passed my driving test!

However, my road to success-if you’ll excuse the pun- has definitely been rocky. Unlike normal people  my age, I never wanted to drive-in fact I was almost violently against it. My inner eco-warrior came out in force to protest about fossil fuels and the greenhouse effect. I used every excuse going-I didn't need to drive because I am lucky enough to live within walking distance almost everything I could ever need, it would be too dark to learn in winter, I would be a danger to the town...none of these cut it, and I eventually started lessons last April. 

After my first lesson, where I was so bad at steering that my instructor made me practise on a plastic plate, I was ready to give up. It was only after much persuasion that I carried on, bribed with the thought of never having to drive again if I didn’t want to. After most lessons I would stomp up to my room in need of a lie-down after another stressful hour wreaking havoc on the roads.

Learning to drive has been almost a year of ups and downs: tears, tantrums and three-point turns. Then, when I failed my first test, it looked like the odds were stacked against me.

But to cut a long story short-I passed in the end! 

Afterwards, when my mum said she had bought me a car, for a second, I was over the moon.  My environmental principles went out the window as I dreamed of true freedom.

Then I thought of soaring petrol prices, insurance, how could I ever afford it all?

So it was with great relief that instead of leading me out to a shiny new motor, my mum presented me with a BMW ...of the chocolate variety.

In the long run, I suppose it’s probably better-for my bank account and for the environment. See you on the roads!

Happy Half Term...roll on horrendous guilt complex?

After the summer holiday, which of course wins hands down, for me February half term comes a close second. Why, I hear you ask? The simple reason is: no exams!

It seems monstrously unfair to me that almost every school holiday after the age of fourteen is ruined by the dreaded burden of revision. October half term is prime mock exam preparation time; Christmas can easily be spoiled by the thought of January modules, whilst, as our teachers keep kindly reminding us, Easter and May are designated no-go areas: revision-only territory.

Of course, I would never advocate dedicating the entire holiday to revision, but, if you, like me, are one of that fair breed of panicky and conscientious students, school holidays can produce a horrendous guilt complex. Going shopping? That’s at least two hours of productive cramming time down the drain. Lie-in? Tut, tut, everyone knows your brain works best early in the morning.

So, it was with great pleasure that I looked at my diary for this week and saw…absolutely nothing. February half term is an oasis of white blankness in a diary full of frantic scribbles and fiercely underlined reminders. Bliss.

I am somewhat unsure of with what to do with all this newly-acquired free time. Part of me wants to do absolutely NOTHING for a change. A whole week of duvet days seems very, very appealing. My history teacher kindly set us a load of work and then told us to get some rest because this was our last holiday until July. To dedicate over twelve hours of my life to watching Steph’s Gossip Girl Season 1 box set would, therefore, only be following the advice of an expert.

However, on the other hand, this week is a gift for that control-freakiest of tasks: getting ahead. Think of all the work I could get done in advance! All that French vocab I could learn, all that extra reading I could do!

Three days in, and it looks like that latter is not going to happen. I seem to have opted for doing the bare minimum of work and filling the rest of the day with more relaxing activities, such as sleeping, mainly, and seeing friends.

So, whilst one part of my brain is luxuriating in doing very little, another part is  beating up that dormant, school-work programmed part for not doing enough work. See? Horrendous guilt complex. 

I need to get over my revision-based issues.

As I said before, for me and many others, this is my last chance of a revision-free break until July. So, grab it with both hands and enjoy your holidays! Don’t work too hard! (Better still, don’t work at all!)

Failure Biscuits

This post in itself is also a failure, as it seemed much more amusing in my head about four days ago when it actually happened. But sadly, there is not always time in my busy, busy life to just bash out a blog, so this is a retrospective account of my biscuit botching.

Once apon a time...well, on  Tuesday to be exact, I was feeling very productive and grown up, having just come back from a meeting with a magazine who want me to write with them (but more on that another time...). I rushed back home, quickly dashed off a piece of homework, and was preparing to go out and babysit when I remembered that there was a form picnic the next day, and that I'd promised (more to myself than to anyone else), that I would make cakes.

I looked at the clock. Half an hour before I needed to be round the corner to spend an hour munching on a kind lady's biscuits under the pretence of looking after her children. The newly-empowered, 'have it all' me scoffed: 'That is plenty of time to bake!"

To the fridge, I thought! I will make like Nigella and just dash off a batch of fairycakes in my spare time. Plus, it will be fun-how cool and domesticated am I if I can relax through cooking?

Then my plans were scuppered-only one egg in the fridge! Never mind, said my capable self, I'll find another recipe.

And find another recipe I did-this time for biscuits. There it was, naively and neatly written in blue fountain pen  from my days as an 11 year old food technology student, with such helpful hints as "Step 1: "Put on apron, wash hands, prepare workstation, tie up hair."Well duh.

So, as they say in France, on commence! I magically found a bar of Cadbury's in the cupboard and decided to whack that and some marshmallows in for good measure. To cut a long story short, I seived and mixed and mixed and stirred and diced chocolate and mixed some more until I had what my teacher said should resemble "dough".

My efforts did not resemble "dough". In fact, it was as far away from "dough" as it is possible to be. Breadcrumbs with lumps of chocolate, maybe, but definitely not prime biscuit material.
It was at this point that I realised my efforts were in vain and  I would not be presenting beautifully soft and chew choc-chip cookies to my class in the morning. No applause and cheers for my culinary genius, no sir.

But, I persevered! Alas, my dough would not come together to be rolled out no matter how hard I tried and time was ticking on. So I gamely took five pitiful handfuls and squished them down with my hands to make five blobby messes. Then, I dashed out of the door, leaving behind a dirty kitchen and a trail of flour.

When I returned from babysitting, I was greeted with this:

The observant ones amongst you will realise that there are only four pitiful handfuls on this tray. Wellll...I have to admit that I ate one. They looked so disgusting that I just had to check that I wasn't going to inadvertantly poison my loved ones.

Luckily, they tasted delicious! The chocolate was just at the perfect stage of half meltyness. The marshmallows had disappeared (one of life's great mysteries that) but the biscuits tasted as yummy as ever and were quickly gobbled up by my family in record time of about 17 hours.

So there you have it. Like cross-stich, knitting and card-making, another one of my attempts at being domestic goddess-like has ended in f-a-i-l-u-r-e. I like to think I am an excellent cook, but in this case, I think I will have to admit defeat.
Ah well- I had fun failing!

Album Review: 21

Never one to shy away from challenge, I have decided to turn  music critic for a one-off post. Not one of those poncey self-important "I'm so indie, I hate manufactured pop" types- I hope. Just me writing about music that I like. So, here goes...

The reason behind this sudden reinvention is, quite simply, my love of the album in question. Adele's 21 is the best album I have bought (ok, downloaded, but totally legally), in a very long time. Usually, I like a few songs out of the dozen or so (Bombay Bicycle Club's Flaws, for example), but in this case I am struggling to pick a favourite track.

The follow up from her equally great 19, 21 is a beautiful mix of  husky soul, catchy pop and pure girl power. From the mellow Lovesong to the sassy Rumour Has It, there is something for everyone. The album tells the tale of love lost and found...mainly lost. But, Adele seems to say, pick yourself up, write a song and show them what they're missing.

Feeling depressed? Wallow in self-pity as you let the pleading lyrics of Don't You Remember wash over you like some sort of tearful tidal-wave. At the other end of the scale, Rolling In The Deep with its pounding bass drum  is the perfect 'go get 'em' song.

The lyrics of 21 latched onto something in my brain and I soon found myself singing along...although I will  never be able to compete with Adele's voice, which has the power to simulataneously wrap you up in a musical hug and slap you round the face. Perhaps the only advantage of the cold which has currently taken over my entire being is that I am gradually perfecting the perfect Adele husky warble.

One of my favourite bits which I can't get out of my head is from Someone Like You. You can hear the emotion pouring out of her voice in the chorus.
"You know how the time flies,
Only yesterday was the time of our lives
We were born and raised in a summer haze,
Bound by the surprise of our glory days"

Poetic genius...well I think so.

The only downside I can see  is that some of the songs are a bit same-y. But, as I am slowly becoming obsessed with her, I like more of the same. If same is so good, why have variety?

I'll leave you with a live version of  the next single to be released from 21 ( I think). Whilst Adele isn't very hard, I love her. Enjoy!

Cake Sale Chaos

Crowds of people today converged on the same place at the same time. An angry mob formed, baying for blood. Shouts rang through the air. Innocent bystanders were swept up into the furore. There was very nearly a serious incident and the organisers only narrowly avoided calling the police.

Revolution? Uprising? Anarchy? No, dear readers, all of this was triggered by a secondary school charity cake sale.

Thanks to Jamie Oliver, cake in schools up and down the land is now a rarity. So, when it appears, it is greeted like celebrity crashing the disco.

The cake sale in question today was madness. I felt genuinely afraid for my life as I pushed my way through the masses. I actually heard someone chanting "CAKE, CAKE, CAKE!" and there were attempts to start a small riot on the edge of the queue.

The small year 7s running said cake sale looked rather overwhelmed as they watched large mobs of teenage girls form and demand their sweet treats. How were they to know the monster that would be unleashed at the mere mention of cake?

A bit later, perhaps the most hilarious announcement I have ever heard came over the tannoy: "Will girls please form an orderly queue at the cake sale." I love the thought of the teacher on duty realising, action movie style, 'This is getting nasty. To the tannoy!' and sprinting to the office.

Muffin madness, cookie craziness, truffle tension, flapjack fury, rocky road-rage, icing insanity, next time, BE PREPARED! You have been warned.

Blue Monday

It's official. Today, Monday the17th of January is the most depressing day of the year. That's right, the worst day of the ENTIRE year. I'm hardly surprised. The weather is awful, the festive season was over long ago, chucked out long ago with the Christmas tree and your Nana's rubbish presents, and there seems to be nothing to look forward to.

Some extraordinarily clever people have worked out that there is a mathematical formula behind our January blues.

where weather=W, debt=d, time since Christmas=T, time since failing our new year’s resolutions=Q, low motivational levels=M and the feeling of a need to take action=Na.

Apparently, this makes sense to some people. I however, look at it and feel an instant desire to run away or  be violently sick.

However, there is some controversy about this Blue Monday lark. Apparently, it is linked to a publicity campaign by Sky Travel, and a university involved has distanced itself from the scientists who worked out the magic formula, saying that they no longer work there. Could it all be a hoax, designed to make us realise how miserable our pathetic lives really are and immediately book a holiday? Perhaps. More on the controversy here:

Whether today is actually the most depressing day of the year hardly matters however. As I write, there are:

348 days

8353 hours

501233 minutes 

left of 2011, all of which could be equally depressing, or fabulously happy, depending on whether you like your metaphorical glass is half full or half empty.

My feeling on all of this is mixed. On one hand, I like the idea of wallowing in self pity. Today is the nationwide equivalent of an excuse to curl up on the sofa in your PJs with some ice cream and P.S. I Love You.

On the other hand however, if we all contemplated  how rubbish the world really was, we would surely be living in a permanently suicidal nation. Chin up! Look on the bright side! Other patronising cliches! As I'm sure a wise person once said, there is nothing in the world that cannot be solved by a cup of tea.The scientists also say in a press release commissioned by Wall's ice cream, that the happiest day of the year will be on the 18th of June. Hooray :)

So, here are some reasons to be cheerful and some things to do to beat the Blue Monday feeling, which could rear its ugly head on a Wednesday, or even a Saturday in January, June or December. If you are extremely down, I apologise if this seems patronising. If you are on cloud nine, savour these for times of trial.

Reasons to be cheerful:
1. Friends and family
2. Spring
3. Valentine's Day (if you go in for that)
4. Or if you don't, being violently Anti-Valentine's Day and loftily scoffing at the horrors of our commercial and consumerist world.
5. Tea
6. Getting hooked on a good book
7. Trashy magazines.
8. Chips on the way home
9. An umbrella in a storm (ooh, deep.)
10.  Easter (and Easter eggs)
11. HOT CROSS BUNS!
12. Lambs and flowers and chicks and baby animals (and other hardcore things)
13. The clocks going forward=more daylight=summer closer.
15. The end of exams is in sight (for now)
16. Weekends
17. A long way off, but: summer! Beach trips, sunglasses, BBQs and ditching the thermals
18. Discovering great music and playing it non-stop. My current obsessions are Bombay Bicycle Club and Caro Emerald. (She's a Dutch jazz singer, amaaazing. Check out Riviera Life)
19. Lie-ins
20. Realising that whatever happens, your life is unlikely to ever be as bad as Kerry Katona's.
21. And finally, if in doubt: CAKE. This is one spectacular specimen that my sister made to raise money for her trip to Swaziland. (Cheeky bit of nepotism... ask me if you want one!)

Here ends my wisdom, roll on spring.

Student Protests-what now?

Last year, fifty thousand people, not just students, were so moved to protest against cuts to higher education and an increase in fees that they took to the streets. The police retaliated with force, and the heir to the throne was attacked. But what happens now? Can we still afford to go to university? Is it even worth the money?

The Essentials:

• Fees will rise from £3,290 to up to £9,000 in September 2012.

• Universities charging over £6,000 will have to prove they attract enough students from poorer backgrounds.

• Students receiving free school meals could get the first two years of their degree paid for.

• Grants will be given to students from households earning £42,000 or less, not £50,000 as it is currently.

• Graduates will pay 9% of their income towards their student loan each month if they earn £21,000 or more.

• If student debt is not paid off in 30 years, it will be wiped

• Teaching budgets could be cut by up to 80%.

To put it bluntly, those in Year 12 or below or Year 13s taking a YouTube-inspired ‘gap yah’ are likely to come out of university with debts close to £38,000 when fees rise in 2012. But will they ever go down again? It looks like students will have to scrimp and save even more from now on.


So, what now?
It seems we have three options: continue to protest, turn to more extreme methods, or just give in and accept higher fees.
Whilst I am never an advocate of violence, I can see why people are frustrated by the lack of media attention given to the majority of protests which were peaceful. Students from University College, London staging a sit-in were branded as lazy for focusing on gaining support through Facebook rather than smashing up their campus. But, if we follow the Suffragettes and get angry to make MPs listen, how long until we have student martyrs, killed for trying to go to university? Is it really worth it?


Taking the moral high ground
There’s no doubt that we should continue to protest, but in a way that shows us to be the mature and thoughtful people we are. The events of 2010 frustratingly lived up to all the stereotypes of teenagers and lost the cause a lot of respect. We need to prove to the doubters, to the MPs and the older generation that what they call ‘teenage angst’ or ‘hooliganism’ is a real passion for education and fairness-we're not just being yobs. We can use our technology addiction and youthful energy to get attention in a positive way. Let’s take the moral high ground and surprise people.


Don’t give up on your dreams
I know, I know, cheesy! But, the most important thing is not to abandon your education. Some may see it as giving in and accepting a rise in fees, but if you want to go to university badly enough, go! Some may wonder why it’s worth paying so much to go in the first place, if you’re not even guaranteed a job in our dodgy economic climate. But, the word ‘education’ literally means ‘to bring out potential’. University is not about ‘paying’ to get a good job; it’s about studying something you really enjoy: knowledge for knowledge’s sake. It broadens your mind, you become independent; you meet people from so many different backgrounds; try amazing new things.


I want to study History, a subject with which you can do everything-and at the same time nothing. I have a list as long as my arm of jobs that I definitely don’t want to do but little idea of where my degree will take me. And that, readers, is the beauty of university, college, whatever. You don’t need to have a set plan; you develop as a person over your three years. And if there are no jobs, well, you can always resort to academia and become a professor. It may well be my back-up plan.


So, here is my advice, which you are welcome to ignore, but it’s here it all the same. Don’t let money put you off pursuing something you really love. Loans can be paid off, debts wiped, but a chance to live and study away from home with other like-minded people is an opportunity we should grab with both hands if we possibly can.

New Year's Resolutions

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

It always seems like we draw the short straw at this time of the year. After all the partying and celebrating and eating, we are suddenly expected to snap back into dismal January routines with nothing to look forward to, feeling fat and having overdone it on the mince pies. Just to improve what is, let's be honest, a pretty pants month, some  bright spark decided to invent New Year's resolutions. So we can become healthier, friendlier, more caring and generally better people in the following year, of course.

However, in my experience, this often has the opposite effect. When I was younger, I would try desperately  to achieve my resolution of not biting my nails...only to forget and break it in about two hours. Then, I would beat myself up about not being able to stick to it, bite my nails some more, give up and resolve to try harder next year.

So, I stopped making New Year's resolutions for a while. It seemed silly to make a special effort at the beginning of the year when realistically, I knew it would never last past January 10th.

This year though, I decided to try again. It's my last year at home, I should make try even harder to be a nicer person and do all those things I've always wanted to do while I still have the cosy comfort of my parents to fall back on, I thought.

As you all know, I like lists! So I decided to make a list of ideas for resolutions in my beautiful Emma Bridgewater spotty notebook, because having them all written down nicely would of course make keeping them instantly easy.

Sadly, the first attempt quickly turned into a list of all my failings. I managed to come up with thirty two, yes thirty two things that I wanted to change in approximately four minutes. And this is without even touching the surface of those psychological gremlins that we all have deep down. The more I wrote, the more I disliked myself for not having done any of these things before, so the more things I thought of, the more I wrote, and so on... I would not recommend this exercise for a self-esteem boost!

So you can see the extent of my madness, here is my initial list. Click on it if you need to see it bigger, my scanner has created a monster formatting nightmare.

 Looking back on it, what was I thinking? Number eight, stop watching romcoms?! Never going to happen! Ditto controlling my frizzy hair-it has a mind of its own and I will just have to accept this fact. Speaking French like a French person is also impossible, considering I am about as blandly British as a shepherd's pie. Going on a protest march is unlikely to happen now I've seen the footage I missed at the time of police on horses charging at the students protesters against the education cuts. I am waaay too much of a scaredy cat for that! Oops, guess there goes 'break out of my comfort zone' too, sigh.

I did, thankfully, realise how stupid list number one was, and did another:

Number one: be more realistic- that's more like it.  I do need to achieve number two before going to university, otherwise I will arrive at university looking what I like to call 'bohemian' and 'non-conformist', but what others call 'tramp' due to lack of funds. Stopping procrastinating is also essential so that I can actually get to a university! But in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really matter if I watch fewer romcoms, does it? And eleven resolutions is rather too many!

I'm not really sure how to conclude this post, and I'm aware it seems quite negative! The post-Christmas slump obviously unleashed my inner pessimist, who is usually kept in check by sprinkles of optimism and not thinking about it-ness.
But I guess my point is: why bother making unrealistic resolutions anyway? It would be much better if we all just tried to do little things throughout the year. Here's to February Resolutions, to Easter Resolutions and to Summer Resolutions! Good luck! I know I'll need it.