It will shock precisely no-one to find out that I was the kind of black-wearing, Smiths-listening teenager who liked to hang out in graveyards. Even the name of this blog is an homage to The Smiths' song Cemetery Gates. And when you have a day off during the week, and it's sunny, and all your friends are hard at work, what's a girl to do but wander around a cemetery?
"So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
all those people all those lives
where are they now?
with the loves and hates
and passions just like mine
they were born
and then they lived and then they died..."
For the past few months, "I'm fine!" has been a common refrain. Whenever people - friends, family, work colleagues - asked me how I was feeling about my year-long exchange to America falling through, "I'm fine, it's fine," was my response, usually accompanied by a too-bright smile and brittle tone. When I heard Beck's Guess I'm Doing Fine at the weekend, the lack of conviction behind the word 'fine' - the blatant not-fine-ness of the song - struck a chord.
The thing is, it's not the fact I didn't go to America that's a problem. It's the fact that I have been so desperately hoping to make a change in my life for a long time. The actual moving, the leaving of family and friends and making umpteen practical arrangements... well, it's a relief to not have to have done any of that. I'm not sad I didn't go to America, I'm just sad I'm still here. I feel ungrateful saying that. I have a lovely house, a job that I variously enjoy, tolerate, or love (which is more than most people can say, I know), family I adore, and fantastic friends. The issue with 'here' is not so much with the city I'm in; 'here' is more a state of mind than a place. Stasis when I want action, the same old same old when I crave change.
But you know what I realised in Amsterdam? Going to America would have solved absolutely nothing. Becuase the problem is me and my inexplicable misery, and my painful shyness, and that would have come to Colorado with me, and probably been magnified. What's the old saying? Wherever you go, you take yourself with you.
And although I don't kid on that I've fooled anyone with my "I'm fine!" schtick, a lot of people close to me will be surprised I'm writing this, because I don't talk about how I feel. Ever. In fact, I had an interesting conversation with my friend Leanne recently about this exact issue. Whereas I used to see myself as a bit of an open book, it turns out I am something of an enigma to my friends. I find talking about my feelings very difficult and have always been reluctant to admit to any sign of what I perceive to be weakness: by which I mean normal, healthy, human emotions like sadness or disappointment. I can't bear the thought of people feeling sorry for me, and so I just don't tell anyone when I'm feeling bad, and then it gets harder to talk about anything 'real'... and here we are. One friendship was irrevocably damaged by what my friend thought of as my reluctance to share things with her, when in fact I was just incapable of sharing things with anyone. My poor mother - who I am closer to than anyone else - regularly begs me to share (she used to be a counsellor, so she's a nightmare for the "and how does that make you feel...?" method) but I'm massively uncomfortable with it.
Next time someone asks me how I am, I will really try not to answer with "guess I'm doing fine," and instead take a leaf from Beck's book. He wrote the Sea Change album (from which this track comes) after his marriage ended, and although beautiful it's a painfully melancholic and maudlin record. But at least he's being honest about his feelings and putting it out there, y'know?
I love autumn. Like spring, autumn is all about anticipation of pleasures to come. Let's face it, a British summer never lives up to expectations and Christmas as an adult isn't ever as magical as you hope it will be. But the seasons that lead up to summer and Christmas are amazing, and I think autumn is my absolute favourite. Where others see dark mornings and damp weather, I see good snuggling-under-the-duvet opportunities. It's a season for long walks, cosy scarves, making the most of sunny days, baking when it rains, lighting the fire... basically, all of my favourite things. And that's without even mentioning autumn fashions: opaque tights, cardigans, trench coats and mittens are just a few of the things that I would wear all the time if I could, and which come into their own at this time of year.
Of course autumn also means half term - yay! - and I've had a busy week, taking in everything from a solo trip to Amsterdam, to a few days in Yorkshire (which were mostly spent hiking, buying books and eating cake), to a bizarre but fun night out with the girls yesterday.
1. Woodland on Whitwell Moor, Sheffield, on a walk yesterday;
2. Kirkstall Abbey, Leeds;
3. & 4. Making efforts to be less camera-phobic (and showcasing a rare up-do - I have a weird but strongly-held conviction that wearing my hair up emphasises the fact that my boobs are basically the same size as my head, so I always leave it down. But I quite liked the messy bun/topknot that I contrived to get myself through the last few days before a haircut);
5. Wall of graffitti in central Amsterdam;
6. Cheese-tasting class at Reypenaer in Amsterdam. Amazing way to spend my last afternoon there!
This week's Music Monday post comes courtesy of the lovely Helen, who blogs at Using My Loaf. We worked out a while ago that we have very similar music taste - her memories of The Bends are exactly the same as mine!
What’s
the first record (single or album) that you bought?
I
cannot remember the first record I bought. I can kind of remember asking my
parents to buy me a Boy George single when I was little. It was The War Song
from 1984 (thanks Wikipiedia!) In the early nineties I spent most of my pocket
money on tapes, some good, some bad. What I can remember is the first ever CD I
bought – Portishead’s Glorybox single in 1995.
What
was the first gig you went to?
I
am going to come clean and admit it was Take That at Wembley Arena. Janet's
answer made me laugh, mine is practically the same!
What
song reminds you of being a teenager?
Pretty
much any Britpop era song. Radiohead's The Bends album takes me right back to
the awkward/shy/DM wearing/raiding my parents booze/piercing my own ears/hours
of listening to music in my bedroom years.
How
would you sum up your music tastes, in terms of genre? Have your tastes changed
over the years?
I
would like to think I have a pretty open mind when it comes to music. When I
was younger (see above) I announced boldly to my uninterested classmates that I
only listen to music that has guitars in it, anything else is inferior. But I
opened my mind to dance music in my late teens and never looked back. I like
most genres of music now including some D'n'B, dubstep, and hiphop. What I
don't like is most mainstream pop chart stuff like that X Factor rubbish. And
Coldplay. I hate Coldplay.
Which
songs will always get you on the dance floor?
Pretty
much anything if I am drunk enough. I do not go clubbing anymore nor have I
done so since my mid-twenties. My friends and I have had many a discussion in
the pub in recent years about how we have bowed out gracefully and dancing in
public is a young persons’ game. Now that we are all getting a little older,
fatter and slower when we dance it just does not look right. We are in danger
of entering the "embarrassing dad dancing" territory! While I agree
whole heartedly with my pals’ wisdom, all this goes out the window after a few
drinks! After not dancing in public for a good 6 odd years, this year I have
danced on my own like a loon at weddings, made a twat of myself dancing in
wellies to 90's tracks at indie tracks festival and danced to the birdy song
drunk in a field in broad daylight. Yup, I have no shame, I am that
drunk person I’m afraid to say. Hey at least I am enjoying myself I suppose!
What
song makes you cry?
Hoppipolla
by Sigur Rós. It came out in
2005 when I lost my grandad and takes me back to those sad times.
What
are your top five favourite albums or artists of all time?
Hard
question, I have so many to chose from! In no particular order
1.
Leftfield - Leftism
2.
Nirvana - Nevermind
3.
Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream
4.
Now I cannot think of anymore timeless (to me) albums - Lets switch to artists,
I have loved the Chemical Brothers and Orbital for years
5.
Erm recent faves are Friendly Fires and Foals.
Do
you have any guilty pleasures when it comes to music?
I
love Robyn, Roisin Murphy and St Etienne. But I don't feel guilty about it. I
also like Gangnam Style!
If
you could sum yourself up in one song or lyric, what would it be?
In
reference to an earlier question....Maybe Murder on the Dance Floor - by Sophie
Ellis Bexter!
Are you bored of reading the precise details of my weekly spending? Tough! I'm finding it really useful to know that I have to post exactly what I've spent: it keeps my from cheating, which I would definitely be tempted to do if I wasn't publishing weekly updates.
Monday: £17.49 groceries
Tuesday: nothing
Wednesday: nothing
Thursday: £3 book
99p card
£3 new front door key cut (after I'd locked myself out for the third time in just over a
month, I decided the more spare keys I had stashed with friends and at work, the better)
£4.36 numbers for the front door
£9.90 cocktail voucher via Wowcher (urgh, I hate that name!)
Friday: nothing thanks to my lovely dad, who treated me to a meal out
Saturday: £11.97 groceries
£4.99 Mollie Makes magazine
£2.59 paint sample
£19.99 dress from New Look
£3.27 travel sized toiletries for my trip
£1.00 pasty from Greggs
Sunday: £2.75 bay plant for my kitchen
£9.99 scarf
£2.49 fairy lights
Total: £96.78
I feel like I bought loadsthis week, including some lovely treats for myself, so I'm surprised to come in under budget. That being said, I am so skint at the moment and should probably have tried to stay well below £100: October is seeming like a loooooooong month, and there's still almost two weeks until payday.
Tomorrow I jet off to Amsterdam for a few days before going to Yorkshire on Thursday, and although I'm going to try to be as thrifty as possible when I'm away, I won't be keeping such a close track of my spending and am going to ignore the £100 limit for one week only.
I am quite concerned that my brain works in strange ways. I do genuinely consider all my images to be linked to Sarah's previous ones but I also realise that the connections are pretty tenuous - and possibly only exist in my own mind - whereas Sarah's photographs always actually connect to mine. I post a sign; she posts ghost signs. I post a bench; she posts a seat. Far neater and more logical than my random mental jumps. Anyway, that's my explanation for the huge leap between the images today, from this...
to this...
Let me explain!
What I noticed first about Sarah's image was the texture of the bench: shiny and smooth where thousands of bums had sat, and rougher and more worn on the backrest. So I had that word, 'texture', rolling around in my mind for a few days. When my walk to the pub on Saturday took me through Welford Road Cemetery (cos that is how I roll at weekends; it's all graveyards and cider, like a 15 year old goth), my attention was caught by this little image. I love the juxtaposition of the smooth stone of the memorial with the wild, overgrown grass and the splash of colour from unseasonal daisies.
I am very much hoping that my mum doesn't suddenly start reading this blog, because these ideas have basically sorted my gift-buying for her for the next year. All of them are fairly pricey, but if you have a bookworm in your life who you love very much, they'd make great Christmas presents.
I don't take kindly to being told what to read (my poor friends Caroline and Jen have been trying to get me to read To Kill A Mockingbird and A Thousand Splendid Suns, respectively, for the last year. So far I have stubbornly resisted, because I am a pain in the arse), but any normal reader would adore receiving Mr B's Reading Year. Run by beautiful Bath bookshop Mr B's, the gift consists of an introductory consultation in which to discuss reading preferences, after which the recipient will be sent a book a month, tailored to their tastes. At £135 for the paperback version or an eye-watering £220 for the hardback, it doesn't come cheap, but as an extra-special gift I think it would be hard to beat. With my mum's 65th birthday - and, more importantly, her retirement - coming up early in 2013, I think I have the perfect excuse to splash out.
Erm, just look at that Hogwarts-ian library interior! This is Gladstone's Library, in Flintshire, and I would very very much like to visit. Amazingly enough, they charge just £87 for an en suite double room, including dinner & breakfast (and that's for the room, not per person). If you're not fussy about en suite, it comes down to £69 per room. The Library is, according to their website, "one of a kind - a residential library and meeting place
dedicated to dialogue, debate and learning for open-minded individuals and
groups who are looking to explore pressing questions and to pursue study and
research in an age of distraction and easy solutions." They run workshops and courses, or you can just visit to read, write, think... or walk in the glorious surrounding countryside. A trip to Gladstone's Library would make the perfect gift for a busy bookworm who needs a few days to unwind (*cough* me *cough*).
If you can't quite stretch to the full yearly subscription from Mr B's but like the concept, then the Willoughby Book Club might be the answer. The difference here is that you can get subscriptions for as little as three months - and there are choices for children, lovers of cookery or gardening books, and cult fiction fans amongst others - so it makes a more affordable gift. However, unlike Mr B's Reading Year, if your gift recipient already has the book sent they can't return it, which makes it a risky choice for someone who has masses of books. The WBC is a local company (based in South Leicestershire village Willoughby Waterleys) so I want to support them just for that reason: plus I love the idea of opening up a new surprise package every month.
Hannah very kindly let me do her bookworm interview a few weeks ago, and it's up on her blog today! Isn't it always the way though; now I'm reading it back, I keep thinking, "oh, why didn't I mention that". Ah well, it is what it is, and I - of course - loved writing about books! Do go on over and check it out.
My first guest post in the Music Monday slot is from Graham. This is his first foray into blogging but as soon as Leanne had the idea for inviting other people to write for Music Monday, I thought of him. Graham was the DJ at the indie/rock club I worked in from 1997 to 1999 and his choice of music was always impeccable; moving seamlessly from Soul Coughing to Britney to Nine Inch Nails. We've actually not seen each other for years (although I keep trying to make it to some of the gigs his workplace - Leicester Central Library - put on, something always comes up), but the wonder of Facebook means that we have many a dialogue about music and books. He very kindly agreed to write something, and has chosen Smells Like Teen Spirit. It was the first anniversary of my Mam’s death when I heard
that Kurt Cobain had died. We’d put the news on to find out the result of the
Grand National (my brother-in-law had put bets on for us, even though I didn’t
really approve of the race). Not everyone that afternoon at my house even knew
who Kurt Cobain was; I did. I’d also been following the grim events & media
circus of the previous months every Wednesday in the NME. I wasn’t a massive fan. I didn’t have any T-shirts or
posters, and never saw them live, though I did once see an Australian tribute
band called Teen Spirit.
In 1991 I went to the Reading Festival on the Saturday/Sunday,
mainly to see James, Carter USM, Ned’s Atomic Dustbin, & the Sisters of
Mercy. I didn’t even consider going on the Friday, but looking back at the
line-up I really should have. Plus, there’s a chance I would’ve watched this new
band from Seattle, on in the afternoon sandwiched between Chapterhouse and
Silverfish.
I might not have been a massive fan, but I liked them a hell
of a lot. I remember first seeing them on ‘The Word’, blowing me away with my
first hearing of ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’, but at the same time being convinced
that it was a Pixies cover.
The news item didn’t send shockwaves that far among my
family; they looked at me slightly oddly, not really getting why it had had an
impact on me. After all, we were there feeling real grief for someone that we’d
all known and loved; not some rock star junkie joining the sad and infamous ‘27
Club’.
Twenty years on, it still amazes me. It’s been over-played, over-analysed,
ripped off and covered. But, just stop for a moment, put the boredom or
familiarity aside, and listen to it; just listen
to it.
... enjoying the warmth from my log burner while I snuggled on the sofa watching Strictly & X Factor: my favourite way to spend a chilly Saturday evening;
... catching up on my reading for book group in the only civilised way: with a cup of tea and a homemade apple & cinnamon cupcake;
... finally beginning the task of stripping and painting my front door.
Also sleeping a lot, booking gig tickets, drinking cider in Firebug Bar, making plans for Christmas (and starting my Christmas shopping in earnest, which I haven't counted in my £100 challenge), having iTunes-related tantrums, and feeling nervous about my upcoming trip to Amsterdam, which is weird cos I usually love travelling alone.
And this week I have mostly been spending my money on...
Monday: £28.05 groceries
Tuesday: £3.70 goodies in farm shop, because I felt bad for the man behind the counter
£13.98 gloss paint
Wednesday: Nothing
Thursday: £15 petrol (I was so excited to get the price exactly £15 - I'm such a loser!)
Friday: £5.49 assorted decorating bits and pieces from Wilkinsons
£10.37 groceries
Saturday: £5.95 lunch
Sunday: £12.05 groceries
TOTAL: £94.50
After two weeks of over-spending, I feel much happier with this week's total (although I still seem to spending ridiculous sums of money on groceries - over £50 this week, and that was all at Aldi so I can't blame expensive supermarkets). It was possible the most boring week of spending ever though: gloss paint and petrol? Be still my beating heart. Although I did pick up some lovely Christmas decorations and a few gifts, which are definitely more interesting, I didn't count these in my total because I'm using my meagre savings for any Christmassy bits. Is that cheating?
