H is for….

HILARIOUS

…which is how I consider most people’s reactions to Margaret Thatcher’s death to be. Now I am not talking about the fact of her actual death, as death in any way is not, in my opinion, a thing to be celebrated.

A lot of people celebrating her death are acting as though she were still in power while it happened and thank goodness her reign of terror has ended. I mean, whether she is dead or not, she no longer had an active influence over the way the country is being run so her death or life, is of little relevance to the country at large.

The lady on this morning’s news was talking about how the very fact of her becoming Prime Minister was a good thing for women everywhere. When confronted with the numbers of women in the Conservative Party now (lower than in Thatcher’s time) and whether Thatcher’s legacy of empowering women really exists, this lady, who probably wasn’t alive when Thatcher was in power, said – and I quote – “She wouldn’t want that to be a measurement of her legacy. Yes, there are less women in the Tory party now but she wouldn’t want that to be the focus.”

Ok, there are numerous things wrong with this statement. Firstly, one’s legacy is now of their choosing, is it? Had Hitler said, before he killed himself, “By the way everyone, I’d like my legacy to be one of abiding love and acceptance of all fellow men and more hugging, please,” would we say, “You know what? Hitler didn’t want the numbers of the dead to be a measurement of his legacy. He wanted hugging. So let’s write the history books how he wanted them.” No, unfortunately we do not do this. So, Lady On The News, you are sadly mistaken when you say that we should not measure Thatcher’s legacy by the number of women in politics because she ‘would not have wanted it.’ The legacy you leave is little to do with your opinion of what it should be.

Secondly, o Lady On The News, you of great and infinite wisdom, you must be Margaret Thatcher’s daughter or friend or colleague because you are obviously her greatest confidante. Because you tell me, with such authority, that “she would not have wanted her legacy measured that way.” Wait a minute, you look about twenty. So you were probably born in the early 90s, when she was already a grown woman, had done her thing and was no longer in power. So I’m tempted to think you’ve never even met her and HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.

I’m not saying she did or didn’t want her legacy to be a certain thing or not. What I am certain of, though, is that you are making a random guess. How can you, o Lady On The News, woman of great opinions, know what someone you have never met, ‘wanted’?

Please, spare me this madness.

And then I logged onto Facebook. I should have known better. The madness continues there.

Now I am operating under two principles in relation to the whole thing. The first is that I didn’t live under her government so it would be wrong of me to weigh into such an emotive discussion to offer my opinions on something I never experienced, especially if the conversation contains lots of people who do have experience of her.

My knowledge is second hand or textbook-based and leads me to think negatively of her. In which case, my second principle comes into play, that if you don’t have something nice to say about someone, you shouldn’t say it at all, especially not if it goes so far as to rejoice in their death, never a good thing.

If she were still in power, that’s different. Then it is important to voice opinions and be dissatisfied and seek better ways of doing things. That’s called progress. It’s what makes us constantly strive for better things for ourselves as a country. But she is not in power any more. She was an old lady who was no longer running the country who had a stroke. Nothing is gained by saying I disliked her policies.

And so, back to Facebook, where the majority of my Facebook friends are my age. For this, read: too young to remember when she was in power.

“Ding dong, the witch is dead,” was a real favourite, as though the fact of her continued life was causing us all such problems.

“Doing more good than bad but still being criticized? The British citizens of this country will never be satisfied.” This from someone who can’t be much over twenty. I was puzzled about this until her father later posted a photo of Thatcher looking all patriotic next to a British flag. Ah, now I understand. I’m glad that it was distinguished that we were talking about the British citizens of this country. As I’ve heard the ones in Spain are constantly satisfied.

It’s just all a bit mad, really. It feels like people are ready to go outside and have a fight, should a differing opinion appear in their news feed. One person said she was having a Facebook cull of everyone who’d said anything positive about Thatcher. Woah there. We weren’t discussing her on Facebook before her death. Why are we now making or breaking friendships based on our feelings about her?

Hating or loving the things she did while in power won’t change them. The best thing is to try and make sure the things that are important to you are heard by the people who are in power now. Surely?

Welcome to Blognor Regis

I spent quite a while thinking up the witty title to this post, which is going to be about my day at the seaside, in a little town called Bognor Regis…. Writing about Bognor…. In my blog…. Blog… Bognor…. BLOGNOR! Blognor Regis. I was quite impressed with myself for thinking this up so just humour me, ok?

Spending a day in Bognor Regis was rather a spare of the moment thing. Had I forward-planned, I probably wouldn’t have chosen to go there. It doesn’t sound particularly attractive, does it? Bognor. I’d heard good things though so took the plunge and decided to go for the first time.

The first thing I did was marvel at this cutesy little food stall.

Cockles and whelks! Amazing! I doubled checked that I was still in 2012 and had not accidentally stepped back in time to the 1950s. I was indeed still in the present but the town itself was pleasantly somewhere back in the 1900s.

The next thing I reached was crazy golf. I obviously had to have a go. Obviously. I love a bit of crazy golf. It’s one of those things that I’m very rubbish at but insist on playing anyway (same with table tennis).

The euphoria of a round of crazy golf reached new heights when I spotted the amusements on the other side of the road. Omygoodness! 2p machines! I hadn’t played on a 2p machine in years. I was VERY excited. If you’re not sure what a 2p machine is, I will explain briefly. There are slots for you to put your 2p into. They slide down onto a drawer full of coins, which is moving back and forth. If you’re lucky, your 2p will push a coin or two off the drawer and onto the section below which has loads more coins on it and, should any coins fall from this section, they come out into a little tray and are your winnings.

Clutching my pound coin, I found a change machine and got me fifty 2 pence coins. Inevitably, I pumped all the coins into one machine, the logic being that the more I put in, the more would come out. This logic failed me, as it always had. My pound disappeared rapidly, plus any winnings, which I put straight back in.

While leaving, though, I heard a sound that made the coolness factor of my day increase by 200%. I heard the unmistakable song of a dance mat machine! Now I don’t mean to boast, but I have dancematted in Asia against a local dancematting expert and won. Considering Asia is the part of the world which is thought of as the dancematting home, I’m still quite proud of this fact. I spent most of my first year at university with blisters on my toes and legs that were constantly sore in my mission to be good at dance mat.

So of course, when I heard the dance mat machine, I was right there, pound coin in hand, selecting my favourite tune. I started out by getting an A on my first go. Of course I got an A. Second song, another A. Last song, I made a foolish choice and came out with a miserable E. I had chosen one which was much too fast.

Defeated, I left the amusements and went and sat on the beach. I had a really great magazine with me full of really great facts about stuff and sat marvelling. For example, Christopher Columbus was a Knight of Christ, an organisation which was the reincarnation of the Knights Templar after they were destroyed and a few escaped to Portugal. Also, dragonflies can see 175 images per second (humans can see 16).

After my being-amazed session, the sea was calling…

…so I had me a little (freezing cold) swim. I could hear loud splashes every so often and couldn’t work out what it was. It was like the sound of people hitting water at speed. Intrigued, I went exploring and found a group of teenagers hurling themselves off the end of the pier!

One girl had a cut on one foot and after jumping they would all climb up the rusty poles underneath to get back on top and jump again and it all seemed a little bit dangerous. They were having fun though and it was nice to see proof that young people still know how to have fun outside. I’ve never doubted it but there are a lot of grumpy people, who like moaning, who talk about how ‘kids these days’ don’t know how to have fun anymore and they just stay inside on Facebook all the time.

Next, I went to have a look round the town. There was a lovely little market, which consisted of clothes aimed at 60+ ladies, sunglasses stalls and sticks of Bognor Regis rock. Past this market there was a lovely old cinema which has been there for over 50 years. The sign outside let me know that ‘We Ar Emore Than Justa Cinema’ and I wondered if the person proofreading the signs had been there the same amount of time. ‘Yeh, there are loads of mistakes but I’m so bored, I don’t care….’

While walking back to the beach, I saw a bowling green and had to have a game. This is bowls, as opposed to bowling, which is played inside, in a lane, with skittle things that you knock down. Bowls is played on a green and you first roll a little white ball until it stops then try to get as close to it as possible with your four balls. Here’s a picture of me taking the game really seriously and concentrating hard.

After bowls, evening was setting in and there was only one thing for it – fish and chips on the beach. The sky changed from clear blue, to yellowy orange to pale pink and grey until most of the colour had faded and it was hometime.

Checking in with Chat

It’s that time again. Time to see what entertainment Chat has for us this week. I knew it was going to be a good one when I saw this on the front cover….

False a-llama?! Amazing. So let’s start at the beginning. Page 8 is the ‘Chat to us’ page. People send in photos, which tend to be stuff like ‘This is me on holiday.’ Stuff that is of no interest to anyone apart from the people in the photo. Here is one example…

The caption basically says, this is my mum at M&M’s World in London. Great.

There’s also an old photo section, which tends to contain a black and white photo of someone – again, no interest to anyone but the sender of the photo.

Next we get a few stories of the sex-pervert and strange-disease variety. The health pages this week contain a puzzling ‘fact’.

Apparently women with gum disease take two months longer to conceive than other women. You’ve got to be kidding me! This seems like one of those odd things from years ago, that dentists used to say to make people take better care of their teeth. Like when you’re parents tell you to eat your broccoli because it will make you run faster.

“It will, honest. You’ll get loads of babies if you brush your teeth!”

How on earth did they come up with this fact? Ok, let’s find a focus group of fifty women trying to get pregnant, and as a prerequisite, we’ll have half with gum disease and half without. It’s ridiculous. Some scientific researcher must have been super bored at home to have thought up that experiment to do.

Then, a few pages later, comes the best story, in my opinion. A woman, 42, living in England has fallen in love with a man she messaged on Facebook. He is Indian, living in Delhi, and 29. Here’s how it all started.

She stumbled across someone’s page, who has Brad Pitt as his profile picture. She says she ‘followed her instinct’ and messaged him.

WHAT INSTINCT? Seriously… What instinct? What instinct can you possibly have about a profile picture of Brad Pitt? She even says that he doesn’t have any pictures or personal info on his Facebook profile. So what possible instinct could she mean? That they both like Brad Pitt and, as a result, could be a match made in virtual heaven?

Anyway, married English lady messages. Young Indian man messages back, “He’s such a great actor.” And from there, it goes from strength to strength. A quick text conversation with hubby whilst in the supermarket ends her 11 year marriage, so now she’s free. Free to be with the love of her life… O wait, apart from all those miles between them… But never fear, she is a woman on a mission! She is going to go and see him next Easter. Phew, because for a minute there I thought it was getting ridiculous. But no, she’ll be with him any day now (by now, I mean next year). She says she’s going to buy a one way ticket and stay there with him forever. Good luck to her.

Next we get a few weight loss stories, then the TV guide. A programme called Obese And Expecting promises to be interesting watching.

Lastly, we have the Facebook Photo Of The Week.

How is that a photo of the week? There are no unusual camera angles, no beautiful light beams breaking through, no high speed cheetah hunt, no nothing actually. Nothing of interest. The caption basically says, ‘This is my daughter, Georgia, smiling.’ How utterly ridiculous is that? If that deserves to be photo of the week then journalism as we know it has gone much further downhill than I’d realised.

P.S. The llama story from the front cover turns out to be a peice about a llama who’s not psychic and can’t predict football scores. Amazing.

“I’m so different and unusual”

This is one of those things that doesn’t need to be said. When people write in their descriptions of themselves on their ‘About’ pages for Facebook or something, “I’m really wacky and random,” I just don’t believe them.

If you really were so unusual and wacky and different and cool and funny, surely it wouldn’t need to be said? It’s not as though I’d be chatting away to you, thinking how normal you are, and then you’d suddenly say to me, “Omygoodness, I’m really wacky,” and I’d suddenly think, ‘O yes, yes you are. Now that you’ve said it I can see it.’ If you have to point it out, it’s not actually that noticeable, so it’s not really true.

I went to university with a girl who I got on really well with. We stayed in touch a little afterwards. I moved to a different university to start a new course after one year, she left to go and live with a guy she met on the internet. I got a friend request from her on one of these social networking sites, it was before Facebook was really big so I don’t know what site it was. I went on her page….

Awfulness. There was a photo of her doing slightly shocked eyes and jazz hands with a bit of a mad hairstyle and her description of herself went something like this:

“I love making jewellery, I live in Ireland with the best boyfriend in the world, I have the best friends ever, I’m totally wacky and I love being quirky. Take me or leave me!”

Now, this is not only annoying in the way that I have already explained. It is annoying on two more levels. One is that she is the furthest thing from ‘wacky’ I could describe when I knew her. She was just down to earth and normal. A little bit mumsy, if anything. She wore a sturdy but unfashionable backpack and long, heavy, war-time-ish skirts. She was lovely. I loved killing a few hours in the cafe chatting to her. I never noticed how she looked really. And then I got this silly friend request about how ‘craaaaazy’ she is and I thought about her and thought how definitely un-craaaaazy she is. And I just didn’t believe her. I didn’t believe her description of herself and I didn’t really want to be friends with her anymore.

It reminded me of going to secondary school and getting all excited because I’d moved up a year so there were younger ones to boss around. You know, you suddenly get really full of yourself and think you’re extremely cool and everyone else is thinking about how irritating you are.

It’s like Danda says, “If you have to try for even one second to be cool, you ain’t cool.”

The second reason this statement is annoying is this whole ‘best in the world’ thing. This is so silly. Birthday cards that say, ‘To the best sister in the world,’ for example, are ridiculous. How can anyone possibly know that? Unless they have had every sister in the entire world and concluded this one to be the best. Yes, they might be great and kind and lovely but ‘the best in the world’? Did they donate a kidney? Did they die trying to rescue you from a treacherous river? Did they carry you single-handedly across a desert to save you from thirst? Did they? Unless you know what every sister in the world has ever done done for their sibling, it’s a statement you can’t make. People say it on Facebook when it’s Valentine’s or something. So-and-so has got the ‘best girl/boyfriend in the world.’ As though we’re all sitting there going, ‘O well, I thought my boy/girlfriend was amazing but now I realise that person’s actually is. I’m so jealous. I only have the second best boy/girlfriend ever.’

Diary of a desperate student

Now, I’m quite a strong willed person. I can put my mind to most things and can be strict with myself when necessary. The fact that I get up at 4.30am when I don’t need to attests to this fact. The following is a diary of what a law degree can do to a person in just one day.

07:40 – Woke up. Felt ok. Did twenty minutes of yoga and got ready for my day.

08:05 – Went to the deli in my pyjamas to collect some ripe bananas to make banana bread with. Decide to do it tomorrow. Today I will be focussed and will become the master of Land Law!

08:20 – Had some breakfast. Arranged my notes into a neat pile. Read over the notes I made yesterday.

09:00 – Did the dishes.

09:30 – Put the dishes away.

10:00 – Read over my notes again.

10:45 – Sat down with a question from last year’s exam paper about mortgages. Set myself an hour and got writing. Started out well. Felt good.

11:15 – Got disheartened when I didn’t really know how to move forward with the question. Got up to make a cup of tea. Checked Facebook. Ate a few Ryvita whilst in the kitchen.

11.30 – More Ryvita. More despair.

11.50 – Straightened my hair.

12:00 – More Ryvita.

12:20 – Finally finished all I could on the question on mortgages. The last bit had confused me so I didn’t attempt it. I thought I’d listen to the online lecture to see how to do it. Listened to the whole thing, only needing the end. Four minutes from the end, while finally addressing the bit I needed help on, it stopped, for no discernible reason. I became depressed and went to make tea. I found some hazelnuts and almonds whilst there and ate them all.

12:40 – Started a practise question on freehold covenants and felt overwhelmed just ten minutes in. Found the online lecture instead and figured I’d take extensive notes and try again later. I find the lecture and immediately tune out and start looking for things to buy on Amazon. Ate some dried figs and pecans from the kitchen.

13:00 – WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME! I HAVE EXAMS IN THREE DAYS! CONCENTRATE, LAURA!

13:01 – My concentration is broken by a large fly. I chase it around for ten minutes and eventually kill it with a study book. Also ate a yoghurt.

13:20 – I debate whether to get dressed.

13:21 – I decide against it. I eat a muffin instead.

13:30 – Finished the Ryvita. Found some walnuts and finished them too.

14:10 – Took up coffee drinking, which has never happened in my entire life.

14:25 – Made eggs and bacon and more coffee.

14:50 – Drew fake tattoos on my hands and legs for fun. Mostly pictures of catterponies galloping through forests. Ate some sunflower seeds and a muffin.

15:03 – Laughed because the lecturer said ‘argubably’ by mistake.

15:10 – Tuned in briefly to the online lecture which was running and heard him say something about ‘Prunella’s cows’ and realised, with amazement, that I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about.

15:30 – Something clicks, I sit down with some cases to read and a highlighter and suddenly my concentration arrives out of the blue and, with the help of two cups of coffee and nine cups of tea, stays with me for a few hours.

16:50 – My hand/eye co-ordination fails me as there isn’t room for it to continue operating whilst my brain is attempting to remember everything. I spill tea down my front and all over my leg and textbook.

17:25 – Still reading and highlighting. Have now eaten all the goji berries and pumpkin seeds.

18:00 – It was around this time that I lost the ability to spell or write legibly.

20:45 – Finally finished reading cases and had a barbecue to celebrate…

21:00 – Enjoyment guilt set in and I picked up my case book and kept reading til 22:45.

Vital stats from my day.

Amount of hot drinks I consumed = 21.

Amount of water I drank = approx. 2.5 litres.

Amount of ingredients I have left to put in cakes = 0

Amount of food left in the fridge = a few strawberries, blueberries and a jar of marmalade.

Amount of weight I estimate I put on = half a stone, easily.

Amount of times I checked Facebook = approx. 4000

Amount of times I checked my emails = approx 200

Percentage of time I spent despairing = 50%

Percentage of time I spent feeling ready for exams = 50%

POINTS TO NOTE –

1. I did not change out of my pyjamas all day.

2. I caught sight of myself in the mirror before I went to bed and I looked pretty rough.

3. I created 41 possible alternative careers for myself during this revision day.

What runs through my head when I go for a walk

Ok, I’m going to go for a walk now. O but maybe it’s too cold. Shall I read my book for a bit longer? No, go for a walk. But, erm, my comfy trousers for walking in aren’t washed. Ok, Laura, just wear different trousers.

Right, I’m out! I’m out of the house. I’m off. Uphill. I’ve forgotten my earphones, which is a disaster, I can’t listen to any music. Just keep going, it’s not that big a problem. Why are these children getting in my way? Can’t they see I’m walking?

I’m a bit bored now. It’s only been three and a half minutes, just get to the river then walk home. I don’t want to. Just do it. Ok then. I’m warming up actually, this is quite nice. My legs are a bit bored of going uphill though. Where’s the river? It’s so far! I can’t be bothered! I think I’ve done long enough now. Ten minutes is more than enough! Yeh, it’ll be fine, I need to go home and study anyway.

O look! There’s the river! It’s so pretty. Aaaaahh, I’m going to at least get to the river. O look how the sun reflects off the river. I’m going to walk along it for a while. I love walking next to the river. I love walking. Look at the lovely children, I’ll just stop to let them pass. I wonder if I could walk alllll day? I could go on a walking holiday somewhere! Trek a mountain range or something. I’d be so happy. Could I give up my job and just walk all day, every day? Just keep going next to the river for the whole day and see where I end up, and get the train home or something? Let me take a few pictures, what a lovely view. Quickly post them onto Facebook so people think I’m like one of those naturey people who’s at one with the earth and loves exercising.

I’ll walk to the next bridge I reckon, cross it, then walk back. That’ll be nice. Ah, it’s so lovely outside. Get rid of the jumper because I’m quite warm now. Um, where’s the next bridge actually? I’ve been going for ages and I can’t even see it. Hm. I can’t turn back, that’s like admitting defeat. Must. Keep. Going. It’s actually the afternoon now, omygoodness I might die on this walk. It’s been hours now! I’ll probably be found by another walker in a few months time, in a heap at the side of the path, exhausted and surviving off scraps that birds and badgers have brought me to keep me alive.

That’s it. I’m calling someone who knows the river better than me. Sure enough, they confirm that the next bridge is probably another half hour walk away. But I can’t turn back, that’s out of the question. I’ve reached the bridge. Ugh. Cross it. Now have to walk the whole distance back again! This is the worst walk I’ve ever been on! I hate walking.

Ok, I’m walking back, speed up a bit, it’s homeward bound. It will be ok. My legs are extremely bored by now. It doesn’t seem too far on the way back actually. There’s the bridge near home! Woop! I’m close. Ahhhh, over the bridge and bye bye river, I’m off home for a much needed cup of tea. I can slow to a stroll now. Omygoodness, I’ve been out for almost FIVE hours! Oops. Well, it’ll be fine, the study isn’t going anywhere. I feel quite good actually, I’m not in that much of a rush to get home. What a lovely day and what a lovely walk. That was sooo nice. I really enjoyed that. Mmmmm, time for a cup of tea.