Mephedrone

[Old person rant]

Mephedrone is all over the news at the moment, because some people have died as a result of taking it as a recreational drug. A quick Google will provide you with all the heart-rending interviews with distraught parents that you could ever need on the subject.

The whole thing is driving me up the bloody wall. There's all these young people saying "it should be made illegal...it's legal so obviously you think it's safe to take". It's legal as a PLANT FERTILISER! You don't walk into Tesco, buy a bottle of bleach, drink it and then wonder why you're rather ill and complain that it's legal so you thought it was okay to drink.

This bloody nanny state (apologies for such a Tory catchphrase) is ridiculous! Why on earth should we waste money passing a law to classify a plant fertiliser as a class B drug? Are people that lacking in common sense that they think it's sensible to consume toxic chemicals? Obviously the answer is yes, otherwise it wouldn't be all over the news. I've just come to the point where I feel people should take a little more responsibility for their actions and stop blaming someone else.

[/Old person rant]

I realise I only blog these days to whinge about something-or-other, sorry! I am here and I am still reading :) - in a non-creepy way!

Home is where the heart is?

What makes a place home? I ask because I'm currently in the odd situation of living in two places; it's pretty much a case of one night here and the next there, the next back here and the next back there, and repeat ad nauseum. Ad nauseum because it's surprisingly stressful - I never really unpack, just put one set of clothing in the wash at wherever I am and pack the next set.

Both places are places where I feel comfortable. Both contain people I love. I eat and drink and sleep at both.

One is technically my home, the other is technically not. Consequently, neither feels right anymore. I know all the adages, all the turns-of-phrases...home is where the heart is, wherever I lay my hat (that's my home), etc etc etc. What makes your home your home?

PS. Hi, sorry I haven't been around much. Bad Claire.

Be Naughty

I was browsing a website earlier when I noticed the advert across the top of the page.  This is it:  

Edit:  Bum, the format of this page cuts it in half.  Link to see it properly: http://tinyurl.com/osqxek

I was a bit shocked, but I suppose that's pretty naive of me- there's a website out there for everything, I guess.  But for some reason I find this one of the more distasteful things online...the idea that someone would use a company dedicated to finding someone to cheat on your partner with.  That someone would CREATE a company dedicated to finding someone to cheat on your partner with!  

I suppose, really, that if someone's going to cheat, they'll cheat.  Then again, if that's the case, why does such a website need to exist?  You could use any dating website around, surely...

*Sigh*  I think I'm overly emotional, because this made me really sad.

PS.  Hi guys.  Sorry for the lack of presence recently- essays then revision and now exams.  But I have been reading, even if I haven't been posting!

...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D2FX9rviEhw

Yes, I have essays.  How did you guess?!  Anyway, this is epic.

The One

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gaid72fqzNE

I don't believe in The One.  It annoys me when other people do, and give me pitying looks.

Maybe I'm the one who's wrong!  Maybe I deserve the pitying looks...

Discuss.

Running

I really miss running. I haven't run for a good few months now, and sadly the weather is no excuse since I have a gym membership- though the motivation to GO to the gym in the first place is admittedly lacking.

The thing is, whenever I lapsed before, I'd just force myself to go and I'd be back into it, absolutely loving it. I had to drop out of the half marathon I'd entered for February, and since then...nothing. No motivation whatsoever. I've been out maybe once, and it was hell, and I nearly threw up, and I hated it.

I don't know how to go about falling back in love with it. I don't think they do couples counselling for sports. But I wish they did. Any ideas? I miss it so much it sometimes hurts, but I just don't know how to re-find my love for it.

:(

Apathy and lucky escapes.

Why are people so bloody unwilling to listen to professionals? Why do they take the easy route? Why do they think they're sodding immortal?

Say you thought you had something medically wrong with you. It turns out you don't have the serious thing you were worried about, but instead you have something else wrong with you which can be easily fixed through better diet and more exercise. What do you do? You make a deal with the doctor that you'll do more exercise (any exercise, actually, since you do absolutely fuck all, but you don't let him know that) if he gives you statins.

On the surface, this is a great idea. Exercise, statins. Problem (hopefully) solved. Except that as you nod and smile and say "oh yes, 30 mins exercise 5 times a week, yes, of course", what you're actually thinking is "ha, no bloody way...I'll just rely on the drugs, that'll be fine".

And when someone else later suggests that you actually bloody DO the exercise, you whine that you don't have time to exercise. Except that in December you spent about 20 hours carrying out a hobby that does not raise your heart rate enough to constitute exercise. That's about 10 hours more than the 30 mins of real exercise 5 times a week would take up. So clearly you do have time.

It's called sacrifice.

And then you come out with the classic line "But I can't". I have said this myself, before, and it was pointed out that I am not that special. I am a human and am built to move, to raise my heart rate and function properly. I can exercise. So can you.

"But I don't like exercise." How do you fucking know?! When was the last time you exercised? Oh, when you were 16? Well, that's only 42 years ago, I'm sure you're exactly the same person you were then! Maybe in 42 years something's changed. Maybe it was simply the classic dislike of team sports that you were forced to try at school. There are SO many other ways of getting fit that don't involve running round a freezing cold field in shorts kicking a bit of pig-skin. Don't be so ignorant.

"Oh, we'll probably buy a cross-trainer or something." Don't fucking bother. You won't use it, just like you won't change your diet, you won't drink less, you won't stop to wonder why the doctor suggested you do these things. What his motive might have been. Oh, I don't know, maybe it could be an attempt to stop you dying?

Oh, not a big deal. Fair enough.

Christmas

It's predictable, yes, but I would honestly like to wish you little lot a very happy Christmas. I hope you've had good days, and will enjoy the next few too.

Two of the many many highlights of my day (I got so many amazing presents):

A rhyme which was on the gift tag of a present from a certain friend; his family have a tradition whereby each gift is adorned with a rhyme/riddle that describes either the person it's for, or the object enclosed within. It's the first time in 8 years of friendship that I have been honoured enough to get a riddle! So I thought I would share it with you...here it is:

In 40 years, when you are old
(if I may be quite so bold)
when you have a housewife been
to the needs of children seen
then from this you'd take a sip
and as it passed across your lip
you would think "how right for me!
This housewife drink that I here see!"
By now you will have guessed, I fear,
what lies within the paper here.
So all I say is raise a glass
to 8 years forward
and 8 years past.


And another highlight- my aunt and uncle and cousins gave me some beautiful bracelets, and they wrapped the box in French newspapers, and string- they told me they'd saved a special page for me, and this was it:








And now I shall go back to watching Doctor Who! Best wishes to you and yours.



When the days are the shortest, the nights are the coldest,
The frost is the sharpest, the year is the oldest,
The sun is the weakest, the wind is the hardest,
The snow is the deepest, the skies are the darkest,
Then polish your whiskers and tidy your nest,
And dress in your richest and finest and best...
For Winter has brought you the worst it can bring,
And now it will give you
The promise of Spring!

Love, actually?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/edinburgh_and_east/7784366.stm

I am swamped by essays, so I will simply ask you to read, and tell me what you think!

Cosmopolitan

I know, I know...two blog posts in as many hours, bad me!

Anyway, I have a confession to make. My name is Claire, and I have an addiction to glossy magazines. Company, Elle, Glamour...but especially Cosmopolitan. This is the one magazine that is universally hated by men, and I can be oh-so-cynical about the women who read these magazines, but to my shame, I am one of them. I just love the mindless laziness of curling up with a cup of tea and 304 pages of girlyness.

However. I just laughed myself silly at an article in the December edition. Sadly it's not online so I shall have to type up bits from it...

All I want for Christmas...

...isn't a boyfriend, thank you very much, says Tracy Ramsden.

Okay, fair play. Christmas is a time of couples and love, and sometimes it's bloody depressing to be single.

...But the more I thought about it, the angrier I felt about the negative messages dropped on us during December. There'll be the obligatory EastEnders scenes where the latest Albert Square dumpee drowns their sorrows in a whisky glass, and newspaper articles banging on about how to 'survive' the loneliest time of year, all because there's this myth that single equals miserable. But the truth it, it's not 2001 anymore and Bridget Jones is long gone. Single girls won't be spending Christmas day alone in their PJs and a crumped up paper hat watching The Vicar of Dibley with a bottle of wine and a family pack of mince pies.

At this point, I was thinking "yeah! Girl power!" and other 90s catchphrases...

...And Christmas is the season of hope. While your coupled-up friends have Christmas all planned out, we have no idea where we'll be or even who we'll be waking up with. And that's got to be more exciting than arguing with your boyfriend over who's going to stuff the turkey.

Er, right, because all couples argue over such things...but never mind, she's still being positive and advocating being happily single...

If you can rise above the niggles, you'll see Christmas really is a time for giving and recieving (phone numbers, hopefully!).

Wait, what? Suddenly she is planning to hook up with a man for Christmas? I thought she didn't
want a man...and so the backtracking and confusion begins...

I once met a cute guy (who I later dated) after he let me wear his jacket in a freezing-cold taxi queue. You see, you never know who might pop out of your cracker!

...Aaaaand it's all over. She has predictably slipped straight back into "never mind dear, you'll find someone soon. He'll probably be a drunk twat who will eventually break your heart, but hey, it's better than being alone at Christmas!" mindset that characterises Cosmopolitan writers. And then, the article ends with an absolute gem:

Next month: Tracy goes in search of Mr January!

Ugh. Clearly this woman is distinctly unhappy being single, but for the sake of pop-feminism, has tried (and failed) to make it seem like not having a boyfriend is great!

Newsflash, people. Being single can be great. Being in a relationship can be great. Being single can be shit. Being in a relationship can be shit. And now I'm off to read my christmas horoscope with extra added lovescope!!!111!!1!1!oneone111!!

I feel...

...Utterly detached from the majority of the student population.

Today, I would quite liked to have put up a massive sign, informing (admittedly, a minority of) the female population up on campus that university is not, in fact, the fashion parade they seem to think it is.

Yes, I'm sure that boy in your seminar is absolutely drop-dead gorgeous and you would do anything to catch his eye, but it is raining. It is also bloody cold. Tiny shorts and goosebumps are not a good look. Nor is your best party frock that barely covers your bum, and stiletto heels that you cannot walk in without looking like a pregnant duck. In front of me. Very slowly. When I am trying to get to a seminar.

Newsflash, ladies: a coat keeps you warm, and dry! Miracles will never cease. Add a hood or an umbrella, and some kind of footwear that does not comprise of a scrap of cream coloured satin, formed into a ballet-pump shape to this, and perhaps you will not find it neccessary to totter around with your girlfriends, holding a Media Studies textbook over your head, squealing that your hair is getting wet, and your beautiful cream shoes with diamante hearts are turning grey, muddy, and very wet.

Also...in a seminar on the politics of ingestion of tobacco and alcohol, I felt embarrassed, twice, and I don't think I should have done. The line "I mean, who in this room can honestly say they've never tried a cigarette in their life?" was voiced by a girl much like the ones I described above. Er, that'd be me then. "SERIOUSLY?!" Yes, seriously. No, my friends didn't try with any real effort to pressure me into it when I was younger. No, I wasn't intrigued. No, I didn't think it seemed cool and grown up. Luckily I was not alone on this, there was one other girl (from Zimbabwe, with a very Christian upbringing) who hadn't smoked, either.

The seminar continued and the aforementioned girl came out with a very similar line; "Who in this room would honestly rather have one expensive glass of wine than a load of vodka and red bull?!" It was meant to be a rhetorical question...everyone laughed, smiled, and nodded. Apart from me. I would rather have one nice bottle of wine than three of Lambrini. I would rather drink gin and tonic than vodka and red bull. I would rather end the evening mildly tipsy and happy having had an evening of enjoyable conversation with people I like, than being put to bed coated in my own vomit, various men's saliva and beer, and god knows what else.

I realise I sound incredibly holier-than-thou, which is probably unfair of me. I spent a large proportion of my first year very very drunk. On vodka and snakebite and turboshandy and alcopops and Corky's and Sourz and all manner of revolting things. I did the evenings and nights of downing a shot of something bright purple or blue or green, pulling a face of utter revulsion and screaming "wooooo, another!" I'll probably do it again, on occasion. But I swear the people in my seminar would have been less surprised if I'd said that on weekends I like to dress up as a bumble bee and skip around town.

Oh, I'm probably just getting old. According to my 14 year old cousin yesterday, you become no longer young at the grand age of 21. Live with it, folks...

Third year musings

Do you realise that everyone you know someday will die
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes - let them know
You realise that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realise the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

This morning, I was sent this link. The person who sent me it quite often sends me links to posts by this guy, and I quite like him. He's down to earth, and funny. But reading the blog post above today, I smiled ruefully and sighed and thought "if only it were that easy...he has no idea how much work I have to do!". Over the last couple of weeks, I have found myself turning to people and saying "it is harder this year, isn't it? I'm not just imagining it?" and they all agree. However. There is no real reason why my third year should be harder than second year; all but one of my modules are mixed 2nd and 3rd year. The only explanation for this percieved rise in difficulty of the work in both my and my friends' minds, is that we are working harder. That we are putting more and more pressure upon ourselves to perform.

The air is full of panic. Occasionally talk turns from essays to exams and inevitably to post-graduation plans. We talk, briefly, and then there is a pause in which we all consider ourselves doomed to a life working in McDonalds, and then one person will say "anyway, let's not talk about that!" and we giggle in a terrified way and smoothly glide into safer waters.

Simon Stevens, the author of the aforementioned blog, wants us to take a deep breath and stop for a moment. To take the time to enjoy life. To slow down and stop racing towards the finishing line at breakneck speed and to appreciate all that is here and now.

What do you think? Is it that simple?

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

The Social Politics of Food

The above is the title of my wild module this year, and I am taking a break from essay-writing ("'Eating disorders need to be understood in the context of the meaning of the body in high- or post-modernity'. Discuss.") to write this blog post (hey, it's better than Facebook!)

Many women who would not describe themselves as having particular problems with food share the same feelings about eating and femininity. "I have quite a good appetite really, but if I'm out with a new boyfriend, I always pick at my food - you know, as if I wasn't really interested in food. I mean, it's not very romantic really to eat like a pig, is it?'"

This intrigues me. Because I have always thought that men prefer someone who eats like she's loving it (ironic that that's almost the McDonalds jingle). Within reason, obviously...grabbing handfuls of chips and forcing them into your mouth isn't particularly attractive in anyone...but I have ALWAYS thought a man would prefer a girl who likes food, who eats heartily, who enjoys the taste and the act of making and consuming food.

Obviously the above quote was spoken by a woman with anorexia, who was (I think we can safely say) clearly not in the most logical frame of mind. But there are a lot of people who feel like her.

I sort of liken this to the same mindset that some women have with relation to sex: lights off, or at most, flattering candlelight, holding your tummy in, hiding your bum, hoping to hell that the guy you're with won't notice your cellulite/stretchmarks/that mole you've always hated/the fact that you haven't shaved your legs. To (totally mis-) quote Belle de Jour (my absolute favourite woman of the last few months); "Holding in your tummy is not sexy. Slapping your ample behind and inviting him to ride the wobble, is."

This is all potentially a result of thinking I am too skinny, of having always believed this. Some photos recently appeared on Facebook of a school trip when I was 14. General reaction from the people around me (none of whom knew me back then) was shock, and comments like "god, you were really skinny" and "I wouldn't have fancied you back then". What's interesting is that I still believe I look like that, despite logically knowing that I am perfectly capable of inviting an abstract gentleman to ride the wobble.

Perhaps if I had always been the opposite; had always struggled with losing weight, as opposed to putting it on, I too would feel like the aforequoted anorexic woman: that men like self-restraint; that women should be contractive. Having read around the subject for this essay, I know that 21st century post/high-modern Western society dictates the above. Women should be contractive. There is (one could claim) an epidemic of corporeal disenfranchisement. We should all be aiming to master our selves.

And so, I find myself once again wondering if my mindset is absolutely, completely, totally, truly-madly-deeply, 100% off-kilter with the rest of the population. And if so, why?

Chivalry and feminism

Today I got thinking about chivalry. This was prompted by a few events: a man let me onto the bus before him, and then a different man let me off the bus before him. A bit later, my (male) friend opened a door for me to walk through first. I said thank you to all of them, but then I pondered the fact that I'm sure some women would be massively offended by these acts; inferring that the men were implying I am incapable of standing in a queue, or opening a door by myself.

It doesn't cross my mind that these men, or indeed any others, would be thinking that I'm feeble and as such need help from big strong men. If a man carried my shopping for me, I'd be grateful, because it would save me from hurting my hands and arms, but I wouldn't expect it. Equally, I wouldn't expect a man to always open doors for me; if I am faced with a closed door that I need to get through, I will open it.

It bothers me that there are women who think that feminism means hating all men. That it means fighting against men and putting them down and considering ourselves (as women) to be better and stronger and more intelligent and...well, generally better than men. It bothers me that it is frowned upon to enjoy being treated in a gentlemanly way occasionally, and to not see it as a huge insult.

I'm waffling, as always. But am I really wrong for enjoying having doors opened for me? For being flattered by it? Maybe I'm being presumptuous in believing that men are less likely to do these things for other men...but I don't think so. Thoughts?

In other news, I am officially getting old. Over the last few weeks I have been heard to say such things as "What isn't she wearing?!", "That's not a skirt, it's a belt", and most recently; "Well maybe if his hair wasn't infront of his eyes he'd be able to see where he was going!" (after an emo youth ("youth"? God, I really am old...) with perfectly 'messily' coiffed hair over one eye and half the other walked straight into me). I am also considering buying thermal underwear. No shit.

Hello CFS.

So, I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. All my blood test results from the other day came back normal, so I went back to see the doctor and he said that whilst there's no test for it as such, he would confidently diagnose me with it. Yay. Mild end of the scale, of course, some people with CFS can't walk across a room.

He told me not to run my half marathon in February. I have never wanted to ignore a doctor's advice so much, as now.

I feel a bit sad that I'm going to have to alter my lifestyle. I'm nowhere near being a typical student, I don't go out and get trashed every night (more like once every few months, if that!), but I do stay up very late talking to friends (I'm up till 2 or 3am most nights) and I recognise that that has to change.

At the moment I can't seem to work out in my head how much of a big deal (or otherwise) this is...so apologies if I come across melodramatic or blasé. Neither is intended.

Sleep, don't weep, my sweet love
Your face is all wet and your day was rough
So do what you must do to find yourself
Wear another shoe, or paint my shelf
Those times that I was broke, and you stood strong
I think I found a place where I...

Ships that pass in the night

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle... because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

I have been thinking about the way that people enter our lives, often largely through coincidence, and then leave again. I recently got back in contact with a friend who I used to work with; we were close, but after I went to uni we drifted apart. He is now engaged to his long-term boyfriend (last time I spoke to him, he was single) and is moving across the country to live with him. I'm not naive enough to imagine that we'll magically become best buddies, but it's nice to touch base with him again.

I'm not close with anyone I knew at primary school anymore, though we're all civil to each other and occasionally catch up via Facebook. It's almost the same with secondary school, with the exception of L and K. L and I have that sort of friendship whereby we can go weeks, months, without talking, and then pick up exactly where we left off. It's lovely to know that she'll always be there, but that we live our separate lives. However. She has been having a really rough time lately, and to my shame I didn't know when it was at its worst. In fact, the first I knew of it was when I phoned her from a train for a catchup, and she burst into tears at me. L doesn't cry. It was a shock. I'm now trying to make the effort to hold on tighter.

K had a baby a couple of years ago, and (perhaps to my shame) it is largely thanks to him that we keep in touch. I was with her when she took that pregnancy test, and I feel that her son (and her, of course) is a big part of my life. I wouldn't want to miss him growing up for the world!

I find that living as a student forces you to live in a strange dichotomy- "home friends" and "uni friends"...I often find that when living in one realm, it is painfully easy to loosen your grip on the other. However, as one friend once said to me; "I trust that we have a solid enough friendship that you'll still be there, even after a lack of communication" (or words to that effect), and I suppose it really is all about trust. Trust that while everything changes, your friendship won't change all that much. Trust that you still matter to each other. Trust that when push comes to shove, when one really needs the other, you'd still cross borders, climb mountains, ford streams...that there ain't no mountain high enough; ain't no valley low enough; ain't no river wide enough to keep you apart. For the most part, I think my friends would.

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing;
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,
Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and a silence.

Canterbury

God, it's good to be back. That's not to say it hasn't been a hard couple of weeks, because it has, but I love being here. My new house is beautiful...



We made purple satin curtains to replace the monstrosities that were originally in our living room (see photo on top above), my room is full of my stuff (see photo above), I have amazing new shoes (almost hidden under chest of drawers in photo above)...they're midnight blue with fuckme heels; I'm not usually a shoes girl (see very expensive trainers next to fuckme shoes in photo above) but these are beautiful. I am in love! We also made three collages out of cards we'd been given, cuttings from magazines, and my photos:







(Forgot to take a photo of the third one, but you get the idea!)

We have worked our way through a little over a litre of Bombay Sapphire, copious quantities of tonic, ice, and limes, several bottles of wine, and a hell of a lot of pasta (our oven is broken so we're restricted to things we can cook on the gas hob). We have flowers and candles and cushions and internet! We have a home phone number. Our sofa is purple. I have learnt to love tea and often switch on the kettle before doing anything else after walking through the door. We have Hotel Chocolat house dark chocolate Batons on the coffee table. We have cheesecake. We have local cider and cobnuts. I joined a gym! Today we went to Choral Evensong at the cathedral and the anthem was Nimrod "Lux Aeterna" from Enigma Variations by Elgar (seriously, nothing could have made me happier).

Last Saturday we had a big night out when my friend Sophie came to visit (along with my housemate's boyfriend, who is a permanent resident on weekends). Cosmopolitans FTW:



(Could I look much happier?! And yes, the bar (Boudoir Bar, it's beautiful) had run out of Cosmopolitan glasses.)

For all this happiness, it hasn't all been marshmallows and blue skies. My first week was bloody hard, and yesterday the Black Cloud crashed down on me far heavier than I expected. My doctor suspects I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but wants to rule out Diabetes first with a fasting blood test (which will be on Wednesday). I have buggered up my knee and I'm not sure how though I suspect the blame lies with the resistance training I've been doing with weights at the gym. So that's my half marathon training set back for a while. Lovelife-wise it hasn't been great either. I realised I'd been messing someone around a bit and had to hurt him. Which sucks. Cruel to be kind, I guess, but I feel royally rubbish about it. And on top of that, it's all very well being sensible and grownup and recognising that life isn't a fairytale, and some things just couldn't work however much you wanted them to, and that it's impossible to know how someone feels, and that it's bloody difficult to tell the truth about how you feel...it's all very well to know these things, and to be these things...but sometimes I feel like Carrie in SATC... I’m looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love.

But hey ho. It's not all bad and I'm actually quite content with how it's all panned out. Plus, I had an excuse to quote xkcd, which, even though I didn't mean it seriously, is always a good thing!

I feel okay.

How are you?

Politics, Belief, Money, Sex...

The above topics (amongst many others) are topics that are commonly regarded as dangerous to discuss at dinner parties. I further this to "dangerous to discuss with anyone you don't want to risk arguing with"...I once had a discussion with my driving instructor in which he basically said that all civilians killed as a result of warfare "deserved it" (bear in mind this is only "them", "our" civilians of course are and were innocent); I got so stressed that I almost drove off the side of the road!

How important do you think similar viewpoints on such issues are, within friendships/relationships? I can't imagine becoming romantically involved with someone who had drastically differing opinions or feelings towards such major life-encapsulating topics, though I think a friendship would be easier to maintain despite differences, indeed, I have a friend who I simply don't discuss politics with, because we both end up upset.

Someone once said to me that they didn't care about politics because they didn't feel it had any relevance to their life. I was totally shocked; to my mind, politics is everything. It may be messy and upsetting and downright frustrating that the political state of the country, indeed of the world, is so messy, but I feel that it is our duty to care and to take an interest in it. This is my upbringing, I'm sure, but maybe it's also because I'm female and after years of having the lessons of the suffragettes etc drilled into me, I feel that the right to vote is essential. And that apathy runs the risk of being the beginning of the downfall of liberty and democracy.

I'm never entirely sure where I stand on belief, which is perhaps hypocritical given my perhaps overly-strong feelings about politics. I like belief/faith/spirituality. I don't like organised religion. I don't like the things that humans do in the name of a god.

I find it amusing how uptight we all are in this country about money. It's bad manners to ask how much someone earns, how much they spent on something, how often they go on holiday etc etc etc. Several people think I'm a spoilt brat after discussions on money. I disapprove of the private sector. Money is definitely a dangerous topic.

Sex....'nuff said. Even assuming that homophobia is dying out (and I don't actually know how true that is...), the vast contrast between people's sexual behaviours is astounding, and a vanilla type may be massively offended by someone who's into BDSM.

Combine them all, hold your dinner party, and sit an extremely right-wing fundamentalist Christian billionaire who thinks sex should only occur after marriage next to a fluffy liberal middle-class atheist who's slept with a dozen people. What happens? I'm willing to bet it wouldn't be the start of a lifelong friendship!

Rantble over...how important is similarity of standpoints in founding a friendship?

My new job...

http://cycling.justanotherpairofeyes.co.uk/

:)

Gossip girls and boys

Further to my previous post, I am getting royally fed up with gossips. Quite why it is neccessary to take what someone's said, twist it slightly, and pass it on is beyond me. I am part of a country-wide network/community and gossip travels like wildfire within it. There is no six degrees of separation in it, it's more like two. So if something happens, everyone else knows about it. If something is said, you can guarantee you'll have a text from someone asking if it's true you said it...and more often than not, you didn't!

I'm not saying I'm an angel and that I've never heard something scandalous and passed it on. I'm also not claiming to have superhuman abilities to ensure that I remember things word for word and repeat them as such, without altering any inflection whatsoever.

I just do not understand why it's so effing difficult to keep one's mouth shut, and to not deliberately stir things.

Yours,

Claire "quite pissed off now" Routh.