A Change is as Good as a Rest

January's been a bit mental really. I've taken a big step and resigned from a job that's basically been my life for two years, to go and face a fresh creative challenge. I am nervous, sad, excited and filled with anticipation. And vaguely worried - what if they don't like tea or swearing?


It's a timely change, as The Blonde and Grumpy Scot are also moving on to new challenges, and as well as being a big joint celebration this weekend, it's also a double birthday whammy. There was never any choice but to party in Edinburgh this weekend. It's the weekend that marks the beginning of the next era.

The partying began last night with the final end of month drinks for me. I had to be a bit sensible though and come home to pack. No'rn Ir'on, not so much. After falling through my bedroom door at 5am, mumbling "wrong room" and bouncing off the walls to get to her own room, I went to the bathroom. I immediately trip over her massive handbag, dumped inside the front door, along with her shoes, book and various other possessions strewn around the hallway.

My towel is in the shower for some reason, there's cash on the bathroom shelf and it generally looks like it's been used by a very drunk person. I think this is the extent of it, until I leave the flat to get to the train station. I find the front door open with her key in the outside lock still, and some more of her possessions in our communal stairwell. Brilliant.

I'm now safely on the train rattling through the lovely Yorkshire countryside lit by the winter sun and listening to Oddblood, the new Yeasayer album. Very good record. Looking forward to a reunion with two of my best friends in the world who have shared a journey with me including a LOT of tea, even more creative swearing, laughter and tears. (Mainly mine, Grumpy Scot has witnessed a few 'tired and emotional' scenes from me. Including when I left Canterbury where I sobbed uncontrollably for three hours like a mental. But we had been drinking cocktails all evening so I don't take responsibility for this.)

Right, onto Wild Beasts album, and I'm going to seek out the refreshments person in search of tea.

Tea on the train. I'm going to regret this aren't I?

Why can't they make child-free train carriages?

I've been quiet on the blogging front in January, mainly down to being preoccupied and manically busy. More of that later.

My attempts to write this blog have been hindered by various obstacles thrown at me from the Gods of Quality Writing, to try and to stop me actually publishing this post.

I am writing this on an East Coast train from London to the delightful city of Edinburgh. I've been awake since 5am since I was too drunk to even consider packing last night, after traditional end of month work drinks. The last time I packed whilst intoxicated, I took seven vests and no cardigans to Manchester for meetings. I actually employed the hysterical phrase "But it's an emergency!" to the bemused-then-frightened Primark security guard who initially told me I was too late to enter the shop. I think he recognised the genuine determination in my eyes, not at all undermined by my friend falling about with laughter in the background.

So, I learnt from this and got up super early to prepare my case. I am VERY excited about the visit to Edinburgh to see the Blonde, the Geordie and the Grumpy Scot. I felt great this morning, London was bright and it's always enjoyable I think to be up and about before the city awakens properly, lost souls dragging themselves home after Friday nights out; and the City roads unusually clear from traffic.

However this did not last. Despite my early morning tea, roughly halfway up a King's Cross station staircase with a bulging suitcase; my hangover said hello. People pushed past as I huffed up the stairs, scowling at other commuters and cursing anyone who got in my way. I was early for my train so I hung around the concourse. I encountered toilet cubicles not designed with luggage in mind (HELLO it's a station?! Anyone?), a man with a clear substance abuse problem and on a vicious-looking comedown who kept eyeing me up, and loads of children. I mean, everywhere.

Now, I am not anti-kids at all. I have a niece and three young nephews and they're an absolute joy. Even when they're being little bastards. It's entertaining for me as an Auntie because they're not mine. I can give them back when they start kicking off about sharing toys, or when you ask why they felt the need to refer to their unfortunately masculine female swimming teacher as 'Su-Bo', to their face. (That genuinely happened. My sister thought it best to move him into a different swimming class.)

The thing that bugs me about not kids persay, but people with kids, is their acceptance that it is ok to inflict them on me. It's not. Especially in a cold station when I really could do with a little more sleep and a big dose of water, paracetamol and espresso. I choose to not have had a baby. I am very much in child-bearing age but I don't want a child right now. I don't need to make allowances for anyone else.

What really irritates me about some parents (not all, I admit) is their lack of regard for you as a single woman who chooses not to have a grubby toddler leaving sticky fingerprints on her glasses. I choose to spend my money on gigs and socialising and selfish things. Why does having a child automatically allow you to think you're better then everyone else? Why should you push in front of me on the escalator? Why is it ok for you to hold me up because you have a daisy-chain of spacky kids trailing after you, with no spacial awareness, getting in my bloody way? Having a child doesn't make you better than me. It probably just means you're not very good at using contraception.

So having refrained myself from drop-kicking tots onto train tracks on my way to the train, I settle down at my table with my coffee, my tunes and the lovely free wi-fi so I can crack on with some writing.... only to find that Google has inexplicably made my blogger interface Swedish. Two problems. One, I don't speak Swedish. Two, I can't remember my sodding password.

With some frantic sighing and an internal monologue that made Malcolm Tucker sound like a primary school teacher, I finally reset everything. Just in the nick of time. There was a hot coffee which was about to meet the fate of being flung down a train aisle by a hysterical Northern girl. Now, everything seems ok. I can write some more, the sun is stunning over the snowy southern English countryside and I am heading to Edinburgh to see some dear friends.

Now, if only that screaming tot in this carriage would shush.

In The Thick Of It

It's a Saturday. I'm vaguely hungover. 6 Music is on and I've consumed three cups of tea so far today. After the kerfuffle of Christmas and New Year, it's funny how the treadmill of the banal just flings you right into another routine. It just happens to be in another decade.

That being said, January has been interesting so far and we're only sixteen days into it. There's something in the air this month, I think it's transition. Obviously, there's always transition since we're all victims of that unstoppable bastard time, but I just get this feeling 2010 is going to be a significant year. Friends are switching jobs, getting married, expecting babies, moving in together; all sorts of life-changing events are already marked in the 2010 calendar.

Nothing has really changed for me in January so far, I know I am going to remain in London for another year. I've already spectacularly defied my New Year's detox and gym resolutions, and the one about being generally sensible and grown-up. Though I have achieved one, which was about me stopping making a tit of myself in front of someone - I successfully handled their presence this week with no falling over, no squeaking, no accidental booting under the desk and generally came across as a fairly normal and competent person rather than the babbling teenage idiot which sometimes possesses me. In your face, resolution!

What has been excellent so far in January is the music I've already discovered. Suggested downloads:

Local Natives Airplanes - OC band, big harmonies, thudding drums and elating strings. S'nice.

Beach House Norway - ethereal, dreamy, lush. Good late night track

Vampire Weekend Contra album - Brilliance. Outdone their debut. Mad Afro meets NYC preppy with smart arse lyrics and insanely catchy riffs. If you spend only £8 on music this year, make it this. Start with Cousins, go onto White Sky then just rinse the rest of the album.

Animal Collective What Would I Want? Sky - more layered, electro, blissful loveliness


I've also been enjoying geeking out with a rather lovely iPhone app called Hipstamatic: adds great vintage effect photo filters and it's made to function like an old camera - nice interface and even nicer results. Let's face it, the iPhone camera is quite frankly a let down so anything like this is an improvement really.

One brand new thing I did today for the first time ever, was tried out my new Pax Vita accupressure mat. Lying on a mat containing hundreds of really quite sharp points probably shouldn't be pleasurable, but genuinely was. Perhaps it's just me that actually enjoys a low level of pain? After a few minutes adjusting, with some good tracks playing, I relaxed and afterwards felt genuinely warm and fuzzy. It's my new obsession. Apparently you can use it on your face too, so if you encounter me and I've got little marks on my face, it's just the magical mat and not me coming off badly in a fight with a hedgehog or anything.

The first day of 2010

Sunlight burning my eyes? Yep.

Mouth like a birdcage floor? Yep.

Head like some small animals had taken up residence in it and were having a metal concert in there? Yep.

It could only be a New Year's Day hangover. My first words of the new day of 2010 were,

"Urrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh.... someone make me some tea."

Animal Girl and KiteBoy felt the same of course. We felt guilty because of the glorious winter sunshine outside so rather than dying on the sofa which we all really wanted to do, we decided to make the effort to go and wander.

I made bacon sandwiches for breakfast, a task which should take no more than 20 minutes maximum. It took me in my champagne-muddled state, around an hour to make. It was going to be a tough day. Animal Girl felt particularly bad as she really disliked the 'dirty, minging' London water so had only consumed alcohol the evening before.

The simple task of showering took far longer than it needed to. I tried to make myself feel better by making a special effort with my hair and makeup. This did not have the desired effect of masking the aftermath of the NYE festivities. I merely looked like a hangover with really good hair and very expensively Lancome'd eyelashes.

We embraced the fact we'd awoken in a brand new shiny year in one of the best cities in the world and ambled from St Paul's to Tower Bridge and Southbank. It was a great way to start the year. Apparently though, every European was actually on this path today. After a good trek and a dip in my blood sugar, I threw a small strop about climbing the stairs up the Tower Bridge to walk along the top, with the whole population of Europe, and stayed on the banks of the Thames with my camera, capturing the first sunset of the year.

At Tower Bridge there was a little German Christmas market stall selling wurst, frites and gluhwein and for some bizarre reason, pumping out Tenor Saw's 'Ring the Alarm' - it's surprising how good reggae sounds in the City by the river in the sun.

Animal Girl is so called in this blog because she's obsessed with animals. She owns a rabbit named Tim (kudos for the human name) and two Dumbo rats who are very friendly and also have excellent people names. I'd told her about the rodents on the Tube tracks and we kept a keen eye out when we waited at the Tube station.

KiteBoy: "There's one!"

Animal Girl, getting extremely excited: "THERE'S ONE! A MOUSE, A MOUSE!!!"

I fell about laughing at the glee in her eyes and watched as lots of European tourists craned their necks to catch a glimpse of a London Tube mouse. She created quite a stir on the platform.

We wandered down on Southbank in the evening light, watching the neon carousel and listening to Big Ben chime across the water at 6pm, laughing at the amount of people queueing to go on the London Eye. We also stood puzzled at a street entertainer (I use the term very very loosely) who had a queue of excited idiots waiting to be bent into poses by him, to have a photograph taken. I tried to understand it. I really did. But it was just crap. And a dubious way for some guy dressed like he was in The Matrix to touch children.

By this point, we were dehydrated, hungry, frozen and still really hanging. An evening of cooking, eating and relaxing beckoned. KiteBoy was hardcore enough to get back on the beers. Me and Animal Girl stuck to water and tea and had an early night.

Goodbye 2009, now f*ck off because here's 2010

I wasn't planning on doing much on New Year's Eve. It's always a bit of an anticlimax isn't it? Last year I'd had a wonderful evening in Canterbury with good friends, and someone I thought I'd be seeing this year in with too. This wasn't to be and I was inevitably facing a New Year where I'd be running the comparisons through my head and feeling a little bit sad.

Plus, going out on NYE is always expensive, too busy and then there's the arse ache of getting home. I'd made loose plans to have a few people over, then during a very drunken evening round my oldest school friend's flat over Christmas back home, we hatched a plan for her to come down and spend it with me.

Thursday morning, Animal Girl and KiteBoy arrived outside my flat and I ran down excitedly to meet them. The car boot was opened to show enough stuff for a family of 6 for a week away. I pulled a case out of the car. Animal Girl commented,

"That's my makeup." I laughed, thinking she was joking. When the two of them had unpacked in my room and covered it in their stuff, it became clear that she did indeed have a separate suitcase for makeup.

We spent the day wandering through Shoreditch, Columbia Road, Brick Lane and Spitalfields and had a drink in Tracey Emin's local, The Golden Heart. I introduced Animal Girl to the wonders of the vintage shops in Brick Lane and made a resolution to get skinny enough to fit into a chic vintage dress this year.

So the plan for the evening was to just enjoy a civilised evening in, I'd cook something nice for dinner and we'd watch Jools Holland and pop some champagne at midnight. We watched the ITV drama 'Sleep With Me' which is based on one of my favourite books; it was a bit of a let down with some er, strange sex scenes.

We were all quite happy lounging around in our casual gear, but Animal Girl insisted on getting changed into a mini dress and 6 inch heels to see in the New Year. On my sofa.

Since the drinking had began around 3pm, we'd been careful to pace ourselves. Animal Girl had brought down Chinese lanterns to set off at midnight to float into the sky with our wishes for 2010. At five to midnight, the order was issued to get the Taittinger from the fridge and get the lantern lit. We excitedly switched to the live coverage from by the Thames to hear the Big Ben countdown. (Just a small side note, why on earth was Mylene Klass chosen to present that? She was atrocious.)

"Quick, get the lantern lit!" squealed Animal Girl. I prepped the bottle of champagne, poised over the balcony.

"Five, four, three, two, one, HAPPY NEW YEAAAAAARRRR!" we yelled out into the East London ether, as the champagne exploded over the neighbours' balconies below (sorry about that) and fireworks began to pop and crackle over the sky. We hugged and whooped and toasted what was sure to be a better year than last.

KiteBoy lit the firelighter in the lantern. They're much bigger than you think, aren't they? He kept it inside the flat to ensure it caught light properly, then took it out on to the balcony. Unfortunately, my balcony overlooks an enclosed courtyard so the wind gets caught in a trap of buildings. He held it, flapping over the balcony, about to let it go.

Me, worriedly: "Are you sure this won't float into my neighbours' balconies...?!"

Animal Girl: "No, Kite Boy let it go!! It's got all our hopes and dreams in!" (We were champagne drunk by this point)

The wind whipped the now raging firelighter encased in paper and the paper inevitably caught fire. We all yelled "Nooooooo!" KiteBoy was forced to drop the fire onto the dry wooden balcony floor for fear of burning his hands. (Or dropping his beer, priorities.)

Me, shrieking to Animal Girl who was just inside the doorway: "Get some water! GET SOME WATER!!"

Animal Girl totters out with half a tiny wine glass of water.

Luckily, this did actually do the job and our hopes and dreams lay fizzing and smoking on the balcony, a pile of half burned, soggy paper. Let's hope that this does not set the tone for the year and become a sad realisation of a metaphor.

However, something magical did happen. Just after we'd yelled our "Happy New Years!" the snow began to fall over East London, fat white flakes settling on my black cardigan. We grinned at each other and drank more champagne.

We spent the remainder of the evening watching Jools Holland and debating Florence & The Machine (Animal Girl hates her with a real passion, inexplicably.) We then enjoyed the 2009 highlights of Glasto and had more fizz when No'rn Ir'on came home from her Medieval Banquet evening (apparently, in a word, "shite.")

The Glasto coverage finished with Blur wowing the crowds with The Universal. Animal Girl and I came together as friends at 12, united by our love for 90s Indie, mainly the magnificent Blur. We've seen them together a few times, including their epic Hyde Park gig last summer. We ended the night singing The Universal at the top of our lungs and dancing to the live compilation of their perfomances over a decade.

What a way to end the year and see in a new one.

This is the next century
Where the universal's free
You can find it anywhere
Yes, the future has been sold
Every night we're gone
And to karaoke songs
How we like to sing a long
Although the words are wrong

It really, really, really could happen
Yes, it really, really, really could happen
When the days they seem to fall through you, well just let them go

No one here is alone, satellites in every home
Yes the universal's here, here for everyone
Every paper that you read
Says tomorrow is your lucky day
Well, here's your lucky day

It really, really, really could happen
Yes, it really, really, really could happen
When the days they seem to fall through you, well just let them go

Well, it really, really, really could happen
Yes, it really, really, really could happen
When the days they seem to fall through you, well just let them go

Just let them go

Animal Girl got put to bed by Kite Boy. Seeing as were all wrecked by this point, he wanted to put something by the bed in case she was poorly in the night. Rather than getting something from the kitchen he inexplicably chose the plantpot from the balcony which had been outside for 6 months and contained some manky soil and some rotting leaves.

She woke up in 2010 next to a fuschia pink plant pot; wondering just how drunk she'd been since she apparently had thrown up mud in the night.