I just realised I have been neglecting bobbenblog in the midst of business, snowiness and christmassiness. Probably been spending too much time making up words but that isn't my fault. Currently I have been spending a lot of my time researching. For work/my masters/the sake of scottish history, whatever you want to call it. Without boring anyone unneccesarily, I've been researching the crimes committed by members of the covenanting movement in Scotland in the restoration era (from 1660). Basically covenanters are Presbyterians whose religious ways have been supressed after 1660 as the crown enforced an Episcopalian church structure on Scotland. So the covenanters decided to, amoung other things, have big unlawful religious meetings in houses or feilds (conventicles), make a mockery of the establishment by robbing, scaring, hurting and ravaging lawful ministers, as well as, y'know, rebellion and rising in arms against the crown. Day to day stuff for a covenanter. But anyway, it's a lot of work cataloguing all the names, dates etc and trials of these guys but there are some highlights to be found to keep you sort of smiling.
Yesterday, Stuart and I were working on it and we found a poor man who had his clockbag stolen. Sadly it turns out it isn't a bag for his clock, but some elaborate way of a bookmaker to keep betting slips safe. Suffice to say the ruffians were apprehended and said clockbag ordered to be returned.
The names are quite funny too. Here are a few notable ones: Mungo Kaip in Evandaill; James Greive in Mahill; and of course Andrew Darling in Apletreeleaves. Such Characters have diverse and amusing occupations. Indeed you will find shoemakers, cordiners, meilmakers, those who "keip an alehouse", nottars, wodsetters, and...wait for it... periwigmakers!
They do some ridiculous things too, take for example the man with the clockbag, well a bunch of lads happened be involved in a "henious riot seizing John Durrie of Grange and his horse, arms and clockbag; winding him".
Anyway that is what i've been up to and I'm sure there will be more fun times for all in the register of the privy council soon. Apologies to my blog, I itend to update it in festive ways as the season progresses
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
Thursday, 18 November 2010
haw bobo... elvis just scored
The alternative title is "male bonding?".
My dear husband came home from football training last night and had a bath. I asked him if he had a good time and he was dicussing what happened when he mentions that "taz" took the cardio training part. "taz?" i asked. What kind of a name is Taz? Of course, I should have known. This is a bunch of men, from the West of Scotland, who congrogate to train for an amatuer football league. Other information to mention is that where Stuart comes from most of the men base the majority of their lives around football, and on the days of their matches many of these men are hungover and smoke on the sidelines at half time.
It turns out that Taz was not the whole story. Taz isn't the captain but he is the vice captain or whatever. I ask more and find out that Taz comes with a Baz. Taz and Baz, football kings. This is fairly funny to me so I ask what the other ones are called. He goes through those on his side this week. Of course there is Coyle - who I know as Martin, because you see in the real world we call eachother by our first names -, Baz was on his team, so were Rab and Jimmy. And the other side?
"Taz, Bobo, Elvis..." Stuart starts.
Hang on one wee minute here... Taz... BOBO... E L V I S? Say what? The king isn't dead. And Mr Burn's teddy bear from the simpsons now resides in Coatbridge?
"...oh and Boulder".
Boulder? WHAT THE FUCK? The guy is called Boulder. I think about it:
"Is he a big guy then?"
Stuart: "No".
"Ah, a small guy... it's ironic"
"No."
Oooookay. So aside from these stunningly named chaps I inquire as to the rest of the team who don't attend training. There is Rick, whose name is so boring to me at this point, and Manus. Of course, Manus is his last name, well his last name is McManus but for the sake of male bonding it is shortened: Manus. This is followed with Clark-y and Ford-y. Seriously if you ever want someone you know to know they are your pal but that your definately still have testicles, just add a y to the end of their name. If their name already ends in a y? Try Breezeblock, or Forklift (size need not matter).
I was getting quite into the swing of it then so I started my own suggestions: Was there a guy named Jonesy? What about Steve-o or John-o? YES, there is indeed one called Hanso - this reminded me of Funzo. There is Bobo, is there Rolo? What about Bovril? Big Pieman, Fat somebody? Oh of course, Chubber from school. Big Boaby? Is there a Big Boaby? There's got to be a BIG BOABY?! Apparently not. Prince? Shaking Stevens? How about Pebble, to go with Boulder? And while we're at it bam-bam, I bet him and bobo are thick as theives!
Stuart was kind of wanting to get back to his bath at this point so I retreated with these names intact smiling like the doofus I am.
"I'm going to write Bobben's oh so middle class take on male bonding and football related names" I said.
Poor Stuart.
But seriously, ELVIS???
My dear husband came home from football training last night and had a bath. I asked him if he had a good time and he was dicussing what happened when he mentions that "taz" took the cardio training part. "taz?" i asked. What kind of a name is Taz? Of course, I should have known. This is a bunch of men, from the West of Scotland, who congrogate to train for an amatuer football league. Other information to mention is that where Stuart comes from most of the men base the majority of their lives around football, and on the days of their matches many of these men are hungover and smoke on the sidelines at half time.
It turns out that Taz was not the whole story. Taz isn't the captain but he is the vice captain or whatever. I ask more and find out that Taz comes with a Baz. Taz and Baz, football kings. This is fairly funny to me so I ask what the other ones are called. He goes through those on his side this week. Of course there is Coyle - who I know as Martin, because you see in the real world we call eachother by our first names -, Baz was on his team, so were Rab and Jimmy. And the other side?
"Taz, Bobo, Elvis..." Stuart starts.
Hang on one wee minute here... Taz... BOBO... E L V I S? Say what? The king isn't dead. And Mr Burn's teddy bear from the simpsons now resides in Coatbridge?
"...oh and Boulder".
Boulder? WHAT THE FUCK? The guy is called Boulder. I think about it:
"Is he a big guy then?"
Stuart: "No".
"Ah, a small guy... it's ironic"
"No."
Oooookay. So aside from these stunningly named chaps I inquire as to the rest of the team who don't attend training. There is Rick, whose name is so boring to me at this point, and Manus. Of course, Manus is his last name, well his last name is McManus but for the sake of male bonding it is shortened: Manus. This is followed with Clark-y and Ford-y. Seriously if you ever want someone you know to know they are your pal but that your definately still have testicles, just add a y to the end of their name. If their name already ends in a y? Try Breezeblock, or Forklift (size need not matter).
I was getting quite into the swing of it then so I started my own suggestions: Was there a guy named Jonesy? What about Steve-o or John-o? YES, there is indeed one called Hanso - this reminded me of Funzo. There is Bobo, is there Rolo? What about Bovril? Big Pieman, Fat somebody? Oh of course, Chubber from school. Big Boaby? Is there a Big Boaby? There's got to be a BIG BOABY?! Apparently not. Prince? Shaking Stevens? How about Pebble, to go with Boulder? And while we're at it bam-bam, I bet him and bobo are thick as theives!
Stuart was kind of wanting to get back to his bath at this point so I retreated with these names intact smiling like the doofus I am.
"I'm going to write Bobben's oh so middle class take on male bonding and football related names" I said.
Poor Stuart.
But seriously, ELVIS???
Wednesday, 10 November 2010
materialism
I really like things. Don't get me wrong I know what is most important in the world but when everything is settled and what's most important is safe, then the love for possessions reigns. And why shouldn't it? Sometimes you can be out and see something that just jumps at you where something about its design, its look or its feel in general is shiny and you are a magpie. For me sometimes it really isn't things that are expensive or specifically desired for other fashionable reasons. For example, I love to collect broken suspensions you find at the side of the road (Someone else has probably found my broken suspensions over the west of Scotland as I seem to go through them nearl every year). I like to rescue things people have lost outside and pick up stuff lying on the ground. Some people find this disgusting, some find it beneath them, some find it trashy; but if there is something someone has dropped and will not return for, that could be rehomed and reused then why not? When a neighbour throws out things and there is something of use I'll take it. When I'm walking along and I see a dropped phone sock I'll pick it up. Maybe I'm scum to you now but a wee whirl in the washing machine and it's as good as new.
Aside from this yes I do like to buy things too. I enjoy shopping. I like shopping for things for the house, changing the colour scheme or adding some new items that make your house feel fresh and revived. I like to shop for clothes, little dresses that make you look like a medieval backsmith and fingerless gloves of all different coloured stripes. I like to go to shops that are too expensive to buy a lot of things in and get one special item, like hoody dresses from American Apparel or my yellow coat from that shop Joy on Queen street which closed down too quickly. I love to buy presents. For most people the idea of christmas shopping seems to elicit either waves of stress or the groans associated with children dragged out to the supermarket. I love buying things for other people. Getting something I think they will like based on something they previously said or something I have tried and love and then wrapping it perfectly to see them open it and hopefully really like it. That's how I can support my case for the atheist christmas; reciprocal giving.
With that said then all I leave is a few pictures of some of the lovely new possessions I have after my recent birthday, thank you materialists.
Aside from this yes I do like to buy things too. I enjoy shopping. I like shopping for things for the house, changing the colour scheme or adding some new items that make your house feel fresh and revived. I like to shop for clothes, little dresses that make you look like a medieval backsmith and fingerless gloves of all different coloured stripes. I like to go to shops that are too expensive to buy a lot of things in and get one special item, like hoody dresses from American Apparel or my yellow coat from that shop Joy on Queen street which closed down too quickly. I love to buy presents. For most people the idea of christmas shopping seems to elicit either waves of stress or the groans associated with children dragged out to the supermarket. I love buying things for other people. Getting something I think they will like based on something they previously said or something I have tried and love and then wrapping it perfectly to see them open it and hopefully really like it. That's how I can support my case for the atheist christmas; reciprocal giving.
With that said then all I leave is a few pictures of some of the lovely new possessions I have after my recent birthday, thank you materialists.
Sunday, 7 November 2010
the life and times
I was thinking about it recently and my blog seems to consist, in the main, of mostly me delving into the past and linking it to the present, or angry rants primarily aimed at the shape most resembling a bullseye in the logo of many popular retail outlets. I realise I don't seem to blog about my current affairs that much and if I do it becomes awfully poetic, involving some sort of philosophy on my life/life in general and thus my blog becomes a neurotic paradigm of my life. In order to remedy this I'm going to discuss what's going on just now. I am going to bypass the need to illuminate the reader as to the contents of my breakfast and who said what behind who's back &tc.
Currently I feel very frustrated in my ability to communicate what I'm really thinking. This isn't due to my not being vocal but is about the channels through which I am able to do so being blocked. I guess that people all have multiple interfaces in which to communicate - different people (work, family, friends, strangers even), face to face, phone, letter, email, social networks, blogs - and I am sure that people use each of these sources to converse in different ways about a multitude of varying issues. I mean, we all have friends or acquaintances who we are completley superficial with. Sometimes this is due to the depth of that person, be it in terms of the relationship or, sadly, brain power and sometimes it is due to the context. For example see my old blog about having silent companions at the gym or take Stuart who has a lovely woman at the canteen at work who enthusiastically asks about his life despite seeing him for at most 5 minutes a few times a week. And then at the other end of the spectrum we have those most intimate relationships, partners, family, close friends, and indeed even such as social networking where a lot of time and effort is exerted and the layers of interaction are dense and related.
For myself, recently I feel I have lost not only many superficial layers, but also some of those more impenetrable lines of communication, and I'm at a bit of a loss because of it.
This is going to sound so pathetic: I've lost facebook. Now I'm not an idiot, and I don't live my life through this website, but I do enjoy going onto facebook as part of my internet routine and seeing what's been happening. Ok I know facebook reminds most people of social butterflies with hundreds of friends arranging nights out and posting the drunken photographs resulting the next day, but there are a lot more subtle things I like. I like being able to send stupid jokey messages to stuart throughout the say (yes, even though i see him ALL THE TIME); I like getting absurd news stories linked on facebook and having little chats about the content within; I like to keep up with people who I hardly ever see but am able to feel like if I did meet them again tomorrow they wouldn't be a complete stranger; I like to be able to post up what is on my mind at any given point in the knowledge that those who care will see it and those who don't are at their own free will to ignore it, or remove me from their wall or even friends. Contrary to popular belief, removing a friend on facebook really isn't the stab in the back it is made out to be. The point is I like that I can be myself. 99% of the people on facebook for me are superficial acquaintances. The other 1% are (meant to be) the people who don't mind me being completley honest becuase they like me for who I am. Recently this has changed.
There have been additions to my facebook friends of people who normarily wouldn't use facebook. Friends of friends who you don't know but you know they know the original friend well. (new) Family. Remember that time when a member of your family was taught to use facebook and you thought "good for them, they will be able to KEEP IN CONTACT"? Well that's just it, now every status, every link, every remark is watched from the multiple cctv cameras of family with facebook. I know I am making my family sound like people who I can't be myself around and that's mostly untrue but online me is different to offline me. Offline me knows that integrity is important but that getting people's noses out of joint over stupid little arguments over it is not. Online me doesn't care about context and just really hates something and has to type it IN CAPITALS PROBABLY right now, sparing no detail or profanity, just to get it down and off my chest. Offline me knows that you acknowledging someone when something shit has happened is a caring person who is there for you without forcing herself all over the situation. Online me knows that no longer can she passivley "like" something for fear of it being interpreted that I actually LIKE the fact that something shit happened. Offline me is able to interpret people's tone of voice and body language when communicating and send the applicable signals back. Online me is able to do this with other people who were raised on the internet in a very subtle way, but some how always ends up failing to communicate the fact that I HATE WHAT YOU LIKE is a different sentiment online to offline. It's all oh so complex and I'm really feeling like I can't express myself via facebook now for fear of offence. I think the problem with facebook is that it tries to mesh the internet friend world with the real life people. The internet friends are friends quickly and the crap you post is a test to see if the friendship is worthwhile. When the real life friends join you some how stop seeming like a person with clear ideas of what they like/dislike and more of a self righteous dick who just can't let go. In fairness to myself though, sometimes things are utterly problematic. I do not like football. There are people I know who really do. In real life I would refrain from talking about it with them, avoiding strife. Online you are all just a bunch of facebookers and you know what I REALLY DON'T LIKE FOOTBALL and why can't you just let me say it and ignore me please. If you don't have anything nice to say and all...
Apart from this I've also felt like I have lost another two of these communication tubes, swimming pool flumes, if you will, in terms of people. I have two friends who recently have started to feel a little more like acquaintances. One friend was having a hard time and I felt so bad for her, like I had already been there somewhat and wanted to lend advice or at least non-judgemental support, so I did. And she replied, in a nutshell that she was busy and couldn't get back to me for a little while. A little while turned into a long while and during the long while I noticed that chatting to me was too much but being online in general was not. And that's ok, her choice not to talk to me, but I feel sidelined, like I wasn't good enough to help. She seems to still be in a bad place but I don't really want to help due to being fobbed off last time. I don't know, maybe I'm getting too prissy about it but I kind of expected that my help would be more worthwhile when time was lacking that image after image about tv shows and food. I guess that's the internet reality, a facade to be maintained. And I do feel bad for her, and I want to be there, but I've been the doormat in the past and I made a pact that if the only way I could be a friend to someone was to be the one always doing the running, then I wouldn't be the friend any more.
This pact leads to the other friend I am dissapointed in. A good friend has gotten a boyfriend and a part time job, and suddenly it's as if I'm invisible. I understand this of course I do I basically spend my life with my husband and even if you have the time when you are working you do just want some time to yourself. However it's the pretend friend dance that gets me. As if I am a child being told 5 more minutes over and over while hour after hour elapses. If I invite you to something and you don't feel like it, it's ok to say no. If I text you a time and a place, it's ok to say I can't rather than leave me hanging knowing that you never said no and I may still turn up. What's not ok is to not bother with my birthday. What's not ok is to say heyy we'll do something next week ok? and then just never get back. Just tell me you are too busy, just tell me you aren't feeling like it, just tell me you don't want to be my friend; it's fine. I just hate the dancing around the subject. I'm dissapointed again and I know if I really wanted I could press the issue and be more forthcoming in trying to arrange a time to meet up but alas my doormat pact is in place. I really like you and I understand your reasons for not seeing me, but I don't like to be deceived and I beleive that is what's going on. Honesty wins I swear.
So that's the reason I feel so frustrated and unable to express myself. True to this is the fact I've been searching for the phrase "express myself" the whole way through typing this and never quite being able to find it.
Do you ever feel as though the relationships you have made and the friends you know are slipping gradually like sand through your fingers? Right now, I'm just looking the other way.
Currently I feel very frustrated in my ability to communicate what I'm really thinking. This isn't due to my not being vocal but is about the channels through which I am able to do so being blocked. I guess that people all have multiple interfaces in which to communicate - different people (work, family, friends, strangers even), face to face, phone, letter, email, social networks, blogs - and I am sure that people use each of these sources to converse in different ways about a multitude of varying issues. I mean, we all have friends or acquaintances who we are completley superficial with. Sometimes this is due to the depth of that person, be it in terms of the relationship or, sadly, brain power and sometimes it is due to the context. For example see my old blog about having silent companions at the gym or take Stuart who has a lovely woman at the canteen at work who enthusiastically asks about his life despite seeing him for at most 5 minutes a few times a week. And then at the other end of the spectrum we have those most intimate relationships, partners, family, close friends, and indeed even such as social networking where a lot of time and effort is exerted and the layers of interaction are dense and related.
For myself, recently I feel I have lost not only many superficial layers, but also some of those more impenetrable lines of communication, and I'm at a bit of a loss because of it.
This is going to sound so pathetic: I've lost facebook. Now I'm not an idiot, and I don't live my life through this website, but I do enjoy going onto facebook as part of my internet routine and seeing what's been happening. Ok I know facebook reminds most people of social butterflies with hundreds of friends arranging nights out and posting the drunken photographs resulting the next day, but there are a lot more subtle things I like. I like being able to send stupid jokey messages to stuart throughout the say (yes, even though i see him ALL THE TIME); I like getting absurd news stories linked on facebook and having little chats about the content within; I like to keep up with people who I hardly ever see but am able to feel like if I did meet them again tomorrow they wouldn't be a complete stranger; I like to be able to post up what is on my mind at any given point in the knowledge that those who care will see it and those who don't are at their own free will to ignore it, or remove me from their wall or even friends. Contrary to popular belief, removing a friend on facebook really isn't the stab in the back it is made out to be. The point is I like that I can be myself. 99% of the people on facebook for me are superficial acquaintances. The other 1% are (meant to be) the people who don't mind me being completley honest becuase they like me for who I am. Recently this has changed.
There have been additions to my facebook friends of people who normarily wouldn't use facebook. Friends of friends who you don't know but you know they know the original friend well. (new) Family. Remember that time when a member of your family was taught to use facebook and you thought "good for them, they will be able to KEEP IN CONTACT"? Well that's just it, now every status, every link, every remark is watched from the multiple cctv cameras of family with facebook. I know I am making my family sound like people who I can't be myself around and that's mostly untrue but online me is different to offline me. Offline me knows that integrity is important but that getting people's noses out of joint over stupid little arguments over it is not. Online me doesn't care about context and just really hates something and has to type it IN CAPITALS PROBABLY right now, sparing no detail or profanity, just to get it down and off my chest. Offline me knows that you acknowledging someone when something shit has happened is a caring person who is there for you without forcing herself all over the situation. Online me knows that no longer can she passivley "like" something for fear of it being interpreted that I actually LIKE the fact that something shit happened. Offline me is able to interpret people's tone of voice and body language when communicating and send the applicable signals back. Online me is able to do this with other people who were raised on the internet in a very subtle way, but some how always ends up failing to communicate the fact that I HATE WHAT YOU LIKE is a different sentiment online to offline. It's all oh so complex and I'm really feeling like I can't express myself via facebook now for fear of offence. I think the problem with facebook is that it tries to mesh the internet friend world with the real life people. The internet friends are friends quickly and the crap you post is a test to see if the friendship is worthwhile. When the real life friends join you some how stop seeming like a person with clear ideas of what they like/dislike and more of a self righteous dick who just can't let go. In fairness to myself though, sometimes things are utterly problematic. I do not like football. There are people I know who really do. In real life I would refrain from talking about it with them, avoiding strife. Online you are all just a bunch of facebookers and you know what I REALLY DON'T LIKE FOOTBALL and why can't you just let me say it and ignore me please. If you don't have anything nice to say and all...
Apart from this I've also felt like I have lost another two of these communication tubes, swimming pool flumes, if you will, in terms of people. I have two friends who recently have started to feel a little more like acquaintances. One friend was having a hard time and I felt so bad for her, like I had already been there somewhat and wanted to lend advice or at least non-judgemental support, so I did. And she replied, in a nutshell that she was busy and couldn't get back to me for a little while. A little while turned into a long while and during the long while I noticed that chatting to me was too much but being online in general was not. And that's ok, her choice not to talk to me, but I feel sidelined, like I wasn't good enough to help. She seems to still be in a bad place but I don't really want to help due to being fobbed off last time. I don't know, maybe I'm getting too prissy about it but I kind of expected that my help would be more worthwhile when time was lacking that image after image about tv shows and food. I guess that's the internet reality, a facade to be maintained. And I do feel bad for her, and I want to be there, but I've been the doormat in the past and I made a pact that if the only way I could be a friend to someone was to be the one always doing the running, then I wouldn't be the friend any more.
This pact leads to the other friend I am dissapointed in. A good friend has gotten a boyfriend and a part time job, and suddenly it's as if I'm invisible. I understand this of course I do I basically spend my life with my husband and even if you have the time when you are working you do just want some time to yourself. However it's the pretend friend dance that gets me. As if I am a child being told 5 more minutes over and over while hour after hour elapses. If I invite you to something and you don't feel like it, it's ok to say no. If I text you a time and a place, it's ok to say I can't rather than leave me hanging knowing that you never said no and I may still turn up. What's not ok is to not bother with my birthday. What's not ok is to say heyy we'll do something next week ok? and then just never get back. Just tell me you are too busy, just tell me you aren't feeling like it, just tell me you don't want to be my friend; it's fine. I just hate the dancing around the subject. I'm dissapointed again and I know if I really wanted I could press the issue and be more forthcoming in trying to arrange a time to meet up but alas my doormat pact is in place. I really like you and I understand your reasons for not seeing me, but I don't like to be deceived and I beleive that is what's going on. Honesty wins I swear.
So that's the reason I feel so frustrated and unable to express myself. True to this is the fact I've been searching for the phrase "express myself" the whole way through typing this and never quite being able to find it.
Do you ever feel as though the relationships you have made and the friends you know are slipping gradually like sand through your fingers? Right now, I'm just looking the other way.
Saturday, 30 October 2010
cool
Today I posted an article I found on tumblr about a man who had chosen to forsake the necessity he felt to be and act "cool". It was quite a good article basically outlining how his 39 years on the earth had mostly been dominated by life choices based on what was "in" and on what everyone else thought. He decided to change gradually away from this as he was getting too old to pretend he was still a twenty-something hipster in uncomfortable clothes and uninspiring places. Fair enough. It's probably the sort of revelation people make often as they get older only their concious isn't quite aware of it being so overt.
However, I'm not quite so convinced. You are meant to read the article and consider the man to be striving to reclaim his own identity and you are meant to be proud of him for doing so. I didn't feel so. I'd done more to find myself by the age of 15 than he had by the time he was 39 and no-one cared. I have a big problem with the idea of popularity and being cool or trendy, and I think people who spend their lives attempting to be so (regardless of to what extent they succeed) shouldn't be pitied for having to do so, they should be pitied for the lack of free thought they exhibit.
The world is an oppressive place. Social structures and heirarchies attempt to shape behaviour in so many ways and everyone acting within society plays a part in reinforcing these ideas. Some people do this more willingly or are more aware of doing it than other blissfully ignorant people are. Here is an example. Stuart came home and told me that at work one of his colleagues criticised him for being too eloquent, only said colleague didn't say "too eloquent", he said something along the lines of "using big words to try and sound smart". At first glance this interaction may seem run of the mill, but it is really extensive layers of "whats cool" social culture reacting to the slightest divergence from the norm. Stuart's coworker disliked Stuart's use of his admirable vocabulary as it was different. Either it made Stuart look better than him, or he thought it made Stuart look negative and to be putting on a show. His response encouraged Stuart to come home and mention this in passing to me. Undoubtably this wont cause stuart to change his behaviour (as he is lucky to be someone comfortable enough in being his own person for it not to) but it was still impacting on him. The coworker has clearly been impacted on by cultures which have emphasised to him that a large vocabulary isn't a good thing, or that it is a threat. Stuart may seem cleverer than him, Stuart may seem to be "uncool" because of it. Someone else may have reacted to Stuart and this has effected said coworker. Either way, the culture the coworker has been involved in has clashed with Stuart's way of speaking, and made him no longer blend into the background.
This isn't specifically a critique of either person's views here, it is merely to highlight that people act in ways they do not explicitly understand to correlate with their own views or opinions. Namely: Peer Pressure.
Peer pressure, a topic first given this title to me in P.S.E. classes at high school, has been one of those ideas which irritates me due to the connotations which are always negative. Peer pressure is feeling obliged to act, and indeed even think, in a certain way due to the overwhelming opinion of those around you. For me at high school this was as follows. You had to look a certain way. You wore tightly fitted black trousers, tightly fitted white or blue shirts, preferrably with a "ben sherman" logo on the pocket but no other, and nike trainers. You wore makeup and styled your hair each day. You spoke in certain ways, using slang where appropriate. You didn't run or play games, you weren't interested in sports, you would walk in groups with girls, sometimes linking arms and you would "hang out" in certain areas where you were meant to in a group. You would have lunch in the town at the chip shop or deli, you would not have lunch in the canteen. You would however use the canteen for a snack between classes. You would not be clever, you would not try to answer questions in class, you would avoid getting top marks in classes and would attempt to blend in by getting average marks. You would not talk to teachers, you would do token "bad" things, you would talk about hating school, hating teachers. You would pretend it was cool to drink or smoke or have had sex regardless of your age or aversion to such activites. You would pretend to know rude slang terms and use them as much as possible so to divert attention from the fact you didnt know them. You would like the music played on clyde one, you would have to dance like a slag and at least dance, you would DIE if you couldnt go to the school disco even though you hated it, you would wear the clothes the cool kids wore, you would go the places the cool kids go, you would like the boys the cool kids liked, you would shun the friends you had a year ago because lo and behold they were now losers and you were to avoid them like the plague or be shuned by association. You were to try and look like everyone else so you couldnt be picked out the crowd. You were to try and talk like everyone else so there wasn't a stray voice. You were to try and do the same activities, imitate the rest so there wasn't a lone figure moving slightly off beat. You had to press the off button on your imagination. You had to hide your face when you weren't doing something worthy. You had to batter your brains in to sink to thier level. You had to damage your emotional well being to stay faceless. You had to spend each and every day constantly with people, trying not to do anything at all remarkable so you didn't step off the kirb and fall into the limelight for all the wrong reasons. You had to try and do all this without wanting to just go home, go to bed and just never wake up again.
School is an incredibly oppressive envrionment for anyone with an individuality. For the people who thought school was ok they probably havn't got the blinkers off yet. Either they are in denial about their whole lives or they haven't got the brain power to realise how they have been moulded to be just like everyone else. And indeed in essence that is it. Fitting in; there is no such thing. Fitting in is infact the stripping back of yourself. It is a bonfire of your identity and background. Fitting in is burning the germs off of a metal instrument with which to perform surgery. It is a purge and it is repressive.
Not long after I went to high school I began to realise the intense brainwashing that was indeed taking place curtosey of the inherent social structure and the hundreds of faceless idiots promoting it without second thought. Unluckily for me no-one else seemed to notice such dogma and this made my life rather hellish; though I bet no-one would have noticed while I was there. I am glad though. As much as school was the worst time of my life, I am glad it wasn't a walk in the park. I get to be someone who isn't a faceless moron like the majority.
I look at everyone I see as I go about my day most days and they all are the same. In town all the girls wear skinny jeans because they have been told to from so, so many angles. OMG this loser is wearing an aviator jacket in a magazine or on a picture in the front of topshop; now its a MUST HAVE. I can't belive these people don't realise themselves how they are being manipulated. And the other side is just as bad, oh yea I wear "uncool" clothes. It's cool to wear trousers too short for you becuase its "uncool". You are just as idiotic. Don't get me wrong I am not anti-fashion and I am not immune from the lure of advertising, but what happened to looking at something and going with your gut. Ask, do I find this item to be aesthetically appealling? is it a nice colour? does it have a great design? do i just like it because I've seen it a lot? or someone "cool" has it? or do i like it because the "I" on the inside of me wants it?
Why can't I turn around and say: hey guys, I hate the band nirvana. I just do not like the sound.
Why can't I turn around and say: I like to be clever, in fact, I have based all my acheivements on this and I got 84% for my dissertation. I am better than every single other student I competed with and thats ok.
Why can't I turn around and say: Actually drinking makes me vomit, so i dont drink and why would i want to go out clubbing where the bad music is too loud, people spill drinks on you and old men leer?
Why can't I turn around and say: I like GARDENING. I like to grow things for no other reason than to watch it happen. I like to BAKE. I am basically your gran. No I don't like whiskey it tastes like arse and I do like sherry; i have a sweet tooth.
Why can't I just do all these things and not have everyone make a big deal about how odd it all is? Why can't people just accept that just because one person doesn't like the thing everyone else seems to like it doesn't make them a freak.
I've been who I am all my life. With the exception of a few years after primary school where you weren't allowed to be a child any more, and before I just gave up trying and did what the hell I liked around the age of 15 I have been myself. I pity those oppressed people out there going out every single day and putting on an act. It is insane that the man who wrote that article took THIRTY NINE YEARS to realise he didn't like the things he pretended to like. I have no sympathy because he had no guts. Do something different, be yourself, what is actually the worst that could happen?
So whenever anyone talks about popularity, or trends, or being cool it makes me so angry. There are so many people out there creating a fake image of themself be it fashion victims out in town, faux "tortured artists" at the school of art, or band/tv show worshipping people on the internet, uploading select pictures of themselves so they come across in a certain way. Stop doing these things and stop ridiculing the people who dont because as long as you do that, any time you look at the "what was she thinking?" page in heat magazine and laugh you are reinforcing the whole system and then you have no right to complain.
I refuse to let this finish on a cliche, but if you get my drift you will be able to insert the most applicable here: .
However, I'm not quite so convinced. You are meant to read the article and consider the man to be striving to reclaim his own identity and you are meant to be proud of him for doing so. I didn't feel so. I'd done more to find myself by the age of 15 than he had by the time he was 39 and no-one cared. I have a big problem with the idea of popularity and being cool or trendy, and I think people who spend their lives attempting to be so (regardless of to what extent they succeed) shouldn't be pitied for having to do so, they should be pitied for the lack of free thought they exhibit.
The world is an oppressive place. Social structures and heirarchies attempt to shape behaviour in so many ways and everyone acting within society plays a part in reinforcing these ideas. Some people do this more willingly or are more aware of doing it than other blissfully ignorant people are. Here is an example. Stuart came home and told me that at work one of his colleagues criticised him for being too eloquent, only said colleague didn't say "too eloquent", he said something along the lines of "using big words to try and sound smart". At first glance this interaction may seem run of the mill, but it is really extensive layers of "whats cool" social culture reacting to the slightest divergence from the norm. Stuart's coworker disliked Stuart's use of his admirable vocabulary as it was different. Either it made Stuart look better than him, or he thought it made Stuart look negative and to be putting on a show. His response encouraged Stuart to come home and mention this in passing to me. Undoubtably this wont cause stuart to change his behaviour (as he is lucky to be someone comfortable enough in being his own person for it not to) but it was still impacting on him. The coworker has clearly been impacted on by cultures which have emphasised to him that a large vocabulary isn't a good thing, or that it is a threat. Stuart may seem cleverer than him, Stuart may seem to be "uncool" because of it. Someone else may have reacted to Stuart and this has effected said coworker. Either way, the culture the coworker has been involved in has clashed with Stuart's way of speaking, and made him no longer blend into the background.
This isn't specifically a critique of either person's views here, it is merely to highlight that people act in ways they do not explicitly understand to correlate with their own views or opinions. Namely: Peer Pressure.
Peer pressure, a topic first given this title to me in P.S.E. classes at high school, has been one of those ideas which irritates me due to the connotations which are always negative. Peer pressure is feeling obliged to act, and indeed even think, in a certain way due to the overwhelming opinion of those around you. For me at high school this was as follows. You had to look a certain way. You wore tightly fitted black trousers, tightly fitted white or blue shirts, preferrably with a "ben sherman" logo on the pocket but no other, and nike trainers. You wore makeup and styled your hair each day. You spoke in certain ways, using slang where appropriate. You didn't run or play games, you weren't interested in sports, you would walk in groups with girls, sometimes linking arms and you would "hang out" in certain areas where you were meant to in a group. You would have lunch in the town at the chip shop or deli, you would not have lunch in the canteen. You would however use the canteen for a snack between classes. You would not be clever, you would not try to answer questions in class, you would avoid getting top marks in classes and would attempt to blend in by getting average marks. You would not talk to teachers, you would do token "bad" things, you would talk about hating school, hating teachers. You would pretend it was cool to drink or smoke or have had sex regardless of your age or aversion to such activites. You would pretend to know rude slang terms and use them as much as possible so to divert attention from the fact you didnt know them. You would like the music played on clyde one, you would have to dance like a slag and at least dance, you would DIE if you couldnt go to the school disco even though you hated it, you would wear the clothes the cool kids wore, you would go the places the cool kids go, you would like the boys the cool kids liked, you would shun the friends you had a year ago because lo and behold they were now losers and you were to avoid them like the plague or be shuned by association. You were to try and look like everyone else so you couldnt be picked out the crowd. You were to try and talk like everyone else so there wasn't a stray voice. You were to try and do the same activities, imitate the rest so there wasn't a lone figure moving slightly off beat. You had to press the off button on your imagination. You had to hide your face when you weren't doing something worthy. You had to batter your brains in to sink to thier level. You had to damage your emotional well being to stay faceless. You had to spend each and every day constantly with people, trying not to do anything at all remarkable so you didn't step off the kirb and fall into the limelight for all the wrong reasons. You had to try and do all this without wanting to just go home, go to bed and just never wake up again.
School is an incredibly oppressive envrionment for anyone with an individuality. For the people who thought school was ok they probably havn't got the blinkers off yet. Either they are in denial about their whole lives or they haven't got the brain power to realise how they have been moulded to be just like everyone else. And indeed in essence that is it. Fitting in; there is no such thing. Fitting in is infact the stripping back of yourself. It is a bonfire of your identity and background. Fitting in is burning the germs off of a metal instrument with which to perform surgery. It is a purge and it is repressive.
Not long after I went to high school I began to realise the intense brainwashing that was indeed taking place curtosey of the inherent social structure and the hundreds of faceless idiots promoting it without second thought. Unluckily for me no-one else seemed to notice such dogma and this made my life rather hellish; though I bet no-one would have noticed while I was there. I am glad though. As much as school was the worst time of my life, I am glad it wasn't a walk in the park. I get to be someone who isn't a faceless moron like the majority.
I look at everyone I see as I go about my day most days and they all are the same. In town all the girls wear skinny jeans because they have been told to from so, so many angles. OMG this loser is wearing an aviator jacket in a magazine or on a picture in the front of topshop; now its a MUST HAVE. I can't belive these people don't realise themselves how they are being manipulated. And the other side is just as bad, oh yea I wear "uncool" clothes. It's cool to wear trousers too short for you becuase its "uncool". You are just as idiotic. Don't get me wrong I am not anti-fashion and I am not immune from the lure of advertising, but what happened to looking at something and going with your gut. Ask, do I find this item to be aesthetically appealling? is it a nice colour? does it have a great design? do i just like it because I've seen it a lot? or someone "cool" has it? or do i like it because the "I" on the inside of me wants it?
Why can't I turn around and say: hey guys, I hate the band nirvana. I just do not like the sound.
Why can't I turn around and say: I like to be clever, in fact, I have based all my acheivements on this and I got 84% for my dissertation. I am better than every single other student I competed with and thats ok.
Why can't I turn around and say: Actually drinking makes me vomit, so i dont drink and why would i want to go out clubbing where the bad music is too loud, people spill drinks on you and old men leer?
Why can't I turn around and say: I like GARDENING. I like to grow things for no other reason than to watch it happen. I like to BAKE. I am basically your gran. No I don't like whiskey it tastes like arse and I do like sherry; i have a sweet tooth.
Why can't I just do all these things and not have everyone make a big deal about how odd it all is? Why can't people just accept that just because one person doesn't like the thing everyone else seems to like it doesn't make them a freak.
I've been who I am all my life. With the exception of a few years after primary school where you weren't allowed to be a child any more, and before I just gave up trying and did what the hell I liked around the age of 15 I have been myself. I pity those oppressed people out there going out every single day and putting on an act. It is insane that the man who wrote that article took THIRTY NINE YEARS to realise he didn't like the things he pretended to like. I have no sympathy because he had no guts. Do something different, be yourself, what is actually the worst that could happen?
So whenever anyone talks about popularity, or trends, or being cool it makes me so angry. There are so many people out there creating a fake image of themself be it fashion victims out in town, faux "tortured artists" at the school of art, or band/tv show worshipping people on the internet, uploading select pictures of themselves so they come across in a certain way. Stop doing these things and stop ridiculing the people who dont because as long as you do that, any time you look at the "what was she thinking?" page in heat magazine and laugh you are reinforcing the whole system and then you have no right to complain.
I refuse to let this finish on a cliche, but if you get my drift you will be able to insert the most applicable here: .
Monday, 25 October 2010
viruses are gay
I seriously cannot stand being sick. being ill. being unwell. being poisoned. even being that annoyingly childish and english term, poorly.
Every year, without fail, I get ill. And by ill I mean either a) the flu b) some sort of/combination of infections (be it urinary, chest, kidney etc etc) or c) the imfamous virus. Of course I get the minor ailments we all get, colds, upset stomachs, being run down, rashes and the like throughout but I also seem prone to these epic, flooring illnesses which I bet some snotty child passed onto me.
Just now it's a "virus" (which is the doctor term for I don't know what's wrong with you, but it sucks). It's always a fever (or temperature whatever), it's often a messed up bowel, sometimes cough/runny nose/sore throat/sinus bother, always hot and cold periods, sometimes achey, ALWAYS NAUSEA. Always.
If there is one thing I just cant stand it's nausea. If there is one thing worse it is actually being sick. Since I was young I have hated it and gradually I have developed a paranoid fear of throwing up. I think it probably started when I was young and my brother went through a period where he was physically sick a lot. It probably was only a few stomach bugs he had or something but you always make things seem a lot longer, or more dramatic when your young. My bedroom door was right opposite the bathroom door in the house and anytime anyone was sick I could hear it and I couldn't stand it.
I remember feeling sick and sitting in the study/spare room in the house on this old sofa which was really bulky and round with very firm cushions bound tightly. I sat upright with a duvet on this sofa because I was scared if I lay down I would feel more sick. I fell asleep upright.
I remember if I was ever in my own bed feeling sick I would distract myself from it by imagining riding horses in a riding lesson (which I did when I was young) I would choose the horse and play out the exact sequence of the lesson in my imagination to quell it.
I remember not vomiting for about 3 years straight and bragging about that record which would be broken only days later.
I know its all psychological but I can't stand it and I can't stand other people and I can't stand tv protrayals either.
Aside from that being unwell in any degree is just totally depressing. You think that it seems fun, not having to work/study/whatever, being able to just watch tv, read, do nothing, and sleep during the day. It's never like that though. Maybe it is for other people but I hate it and would rather be working any day. Watching tv is depressing because its either your sensitive to sound and its too loud, or the distraction isn't enough and your too shit to watch it so you just have to sleep it off. Reading is only likely if you feel up to it and even then reading for ten minutes tires you out so much that you feel ten times worse. Sleeping is ok if it makes you feel better but it either makes you feel worse (ie lying down with a cold, being unable to breathe) after or you end up sleeping away four days of your life with nothing to show for it only that you can wear clothes that aren't pyjamas again. You probably cant eat properly either. Take just now for example, this "virus" I have means I can only eat the following food: bread; pasta; rice; crackers; bananas; potatoes. And you can only eat them if you dont already feel so nauseous that the mere thought of a banana makes you gag. Also, who wants to eat plain pasta? I hate carbhydrates so much. When I feel a little better I have these immense cravings for a giant steak. Which I cant have. Of course I can have liquids, joy of joys. You have to drink LOADS of liquids for some reason, even though it makes you pee like every 10 minutes so you have to get up off the sofa and stumble dizzy like through the house which in turn makes you nauseous again and the giant steak seems like hell itself.
There is literally nothing good about being ill. I defy you to tell me I'm wrong.
I hate it so much and I just want to be better.
I know this was a very depressing and whiney blog but I'm sick so I don't care.
Also.. why does my body decide that NOW is the perfect time to plague me with the hiccups every bloody hour?
Every year, without fail, I get ill. And by ill I mean either a) the flu b) some sort of/combination of infections (be it urinary, chest, kidney etc etc) or c) the imfamous virus. Of course I get the minor ailments we all get, colds, upset stomachs, being run down, rashes and the like throughout but I also seem prone to these epic, flooring illnesses which I bet some snotty child passed onto me.
Just now it's a "virus" (which is the doctor term for I don't know what's wrong with you, but it sucks). It's always a fever (or temperature whatever), it's often a messed up bowel, sometimes cough/runny nose/sore throat/sinus bother, always hot and cold periods, sometimes achey, ALWAYS NAUSEA. Always.
If there is one thing I just cant stand it's nausea. If there is one thing worse it is actually being sick. Since I was young I have hated it and gradually I have developed a paranoid fear of throwing up. I think it probably started when I was young and my brother went through a period where he was physically sick a lot. It probably was only a few stomach bugs he had or something but you always make things seem a lot longer, or more dramatic when your young. My bedroom door was right opposite the bathroom door in the house and anytime anyone was sick I could hear it and I couldn't stand it.
I remember feeling sick and sitting in the study/spare room in the house on this old sofa which was really bulky and round with very firm cushions bound tightly. I sat upright with a duvet on this sofa because I was scared if I lay down I would feel more sick. I fell asleep upright.
I remember if I was ever in my own bed feeling sick I would distract myself from it by imagining riding horses in a riding lesson (which I did when I was young) I would choose the horse and play out the exact sequence of the lesson in my imagination to quell it.
I remember not vomiting for about 3 years straight and bragging about that record which would be broken only days later.
I know its all psychological but I can't stand it and I can't stand other people and I can't stand tv protrayals either.
Aside from that being unwell in any degree is just totally depressing. You think that it seems fun, not having to work/study/whatever, being able to just watch tv, read, do nothing, and sleep during the day. It's never like that though. Maybe it is for other people but I hate it and would rather be working any day. Watching tv is depressing because its either your sensitive to sound and its too loud, or the distraction isn't enough and your too shit to watch it so you just have to sleep it off. Reading is only likely if you feel up to it and even then reading for ten minutes tires you out so much that you feel ten times worse. Sleeping is ok if it makes you feel better but it either makes you feel worse (ie lying down with a cold, being unable to breathe) after or you end up sleeping away four days of your life with nothing to show for it only that you can wear clothes that aren't pyjamas again. You probably cant eat properly either. Take just now for example, this "virus" I have means I can only eat the following food: bread; pasta; rice; crackers; bananas; potatoes. And you can only eat them if you dont already feel so nauseous that the mere thought of a banana makes you gag. Also, who wants to eat plain pasta? I hate carbhydrates so much. When I feel a little better I have these immense cravings for a giant steak. Which I cant have. Of course I can have liquids, joy of joys. You have to drink LOADS of liquids for some reason, even though it makes you pee like every 10 minutes so you have to get up off the sofa and stumble dizzy like through the house which in turn makes you nauseous again and the giant steak seems like hell itself.
There is literally nothing good about being ill. I defy you to tell me I'm wrong.
I hate it so much and I just want to be better.
I know this was a very depressing and whiney blog but I'm sick so I don't care.
Also.. why does my body decide that NOW is the perfect time to plague me with the hiccups every bloody hour?
Monday, 18 October 2010
the best kind of days
It's been a very odd, very trying weekend. And yesterday morning's wakeup was marred with the cold shivery-ness of still having to do that f-ing book review. I needed to sort out both of these things tout de sweet to keep my brain from jumping a level down on the happy-o-meter. What I mean is that when things are going well you advance up levels of happiness in your head and with every graduation, wedding and funding grant you bounce up another level. Problem is that once you get there you get used to it and it is also more instable each level you go up so little ruptures in the landscape tend to upset far more easily and you can fall down a lot quicker. So to remedy these problems I sat down first thing and wrote the arse out of that book review. I don't think Ian Cowan should expect a rave anytime soon. However, to solve the former was and is a lot more troubling. Without going into the detail of the weekend (hospitals, chinese commie-hackers, broken parties, people bending, expectations waning...) it was a lot harder to fix than doing the book review.
So first I cleaned the house. I don't know if it's the same for anyone else but cleaning is kind of theraputic to me. I like to clean. You don't need to use your brain in any real way to do it. It is menial work, yet it's not wasted on the slovenly public but cherished on my own humble abode. It's light exercize and I am a firm believer that a tired mind needs a tired body or the balance is all off, and rest will be bi-polar. It is satisfying to the n-th degree. Your house is messy and you clean it and it makes everything feel more at ease, in order and lacking the disarray that inhibits calmness. So yes, first I cleaned the house.
Secondly I went to the gym. I had to go to work for 1.5 hours first but then I went to the gym . Infact I invested in the university gym membership that morning (it only took me 5 years) so I didn't have to find change. Also I was out in my Van Morrison t-shirt which is a bright yellow neon type one and instantly makes you feel of sunny disposition. At the gym I ran 5k and for some reason it was on the crazy hill climbing setting so I had to climb hills too. This made me sleep very well which is all part of it.
Thirdly and finally I came home and watched tv for a while, ate warm food and hid under blankets with mollycat for a couple of hours which is always good.
Despite all my efforts yesterday though I still feel a bit off and I always tend to brainwash myself. Sometimes this is by watching television and sometimes it is a bit more introspective. Here it is: I worked out one of my favourite days. And I'm going to describe it.
22nd December 2009
It was 22nd December 2009. It was me and Stuart's four year anniversary but that wasn't the point. It was a week or so into the crazy snow. Well, the crazy snow that had covered most of Scotland, lots of England and even bloody London - all except Glasgow. And this 3 days before Christmas. So I was angry and frustrated at the lack of snow and I was waiting on Stuart getting home. I can't remember if he was at work or if he was doing something else but I was waiting on him. Anyway we had been planning to go to the Christmas market at St Enoch Square with Jamie and about an hour before we were heading out... it started snowing!
So by the time we left there was a covering of snow. We donned our winter items, hats, scarves, gloves, coats and boots, and headed out.
We walked into town and hit george square as a myriad of horizontal flying snow, traffic and fair ground rides.
We were meant to be going ice skating but it was snowing heavily now and not exactly being experts we settled for drinking mulled wine in the tent they have. The tent has picnin benches with rugs, blankets and cushions on the seats and a disco ball inside.
Then Jamie arrived! And we headed to St. Enoch Square.
We got to the Christmas market and it started hammering it down with snow. It was like fog and you could hardly see the other side of the stalls.
We proceeded to make some crazy faces then headed in to the new Hamleys store for some snowy respite.
We wandered for a while then Jamie left (i think he was working?) and Stuart and I headed home via Georege Square again. They had turned on the lights and everything was perfect.
Then we walked back to Jobe and made a snowman in the back before heading inside to drink sherry and bacardi with cats and hotwaterbottles.
I don't think theres anything wrong with wishing for a white christmas. I don't think theres anything wrong with emulating a Victorian style christmas either. Last year I was worried I was getting into the christmas spirit way too early and limited myself to not doing anything Christmas prior to November (including shopping). This year this isn't as much of a problem - it is already mid October. Stuart and Dad's birthdays are past, Halloween is around the corner and my birthday too. From then on out it's Christmas time. If something is so important, so great and so fussed over you may as well extend it and enjoy it. I'm so anti grinch this year.
So first I cleaned the house. I don't know if it's the same for anyone else but cleaning is kind of theraputic to me. I like to clean. You don't need to use your brain in any real way to do it. It is menial work, yet it's not wasted on the slovenly public but cherished on my own humble abode. It's light exercize and I am a firm believer that a tired mind needs a tired body or the balance is all off, and rest will be bi-polar. It is satisfying to the n-th degree. Your house is messy and you clean it and it makes everything feel more at ease, in order and lacking the disarray that inhibits calmness. So yes, first I cleaned the house.
Secondly I went to the gym. I had to go to work for 1.5 hours first but then I went to the gym . Infact I invested in the university gym membership that morning (it only took me 5 years) so I didn't have to find change. Also I was out in my Van Morrison t-shirt which is a bright yellow neon type one and instantly makes you feel of sunny disposition. At the gym I ran 5k and for some reason it was on the crazy hill climbing setting so I had to climb hills too. This made me sleep very well which is all part of it.
Thirdly and finally I came home and watched tv for a while, ate warm food and hid under blankets with mollycat for a couple of hours which is always good.
Despite all my efforts yesterday though I still feel a bit off and I always tend to brainwash myself. Sometimes this is by watching television and sometimes it is a bit more introspective. Here it is: I worked out one of my favourite days. And I'm going to describe it.
22nd December 2009
It was 22nd December 2009. It was me and Stuart's four year anniversary but that wasn't the point. It was a week or so into the crazy snow. Well, the crazy snow that had covered most of Scotland, lots of England and even bloody London - all except Glasgow. And this 3 days before Christmas. So I was angry and frustrated at the lack of snow and I was waiting on Stuart getting home. I can't remember if he was at work or if he was doing something else but I was waiting on him. Anyway we had been planning to go to the Christmas market at St Enoch Square with Jamie and about an hour before we were heading out... it started snowing!
So by the time we left there was a covering of snow. We donned our winter items, hats, scarves, gloves, coats and boots, and headed out.
We walked into town and hit george square as a myriad of horizontal flying snow, traffic and fair ground rides.
We were meant to be going ice skating but it was snowing heavily now and not exactly being experts we settled for drinking mulled wine in the tent they have. The tent has picnin benches with rugs, blankets and cushions on the seats and a disco ball inside.
Then Jamie arrived! And we headed to St. Enoch Square.
We got to the Christmas market and it started hammering it down with snow. It was like fog and you could hardly see the other side of the stalls.
We proceeded to make some crazy faces then headed in to the new Hamleys store for some snowy respite.
We wandered for a while then Jamie left (i think he was working?) and Stuart and I headed home via Georege Square again. They had turned on the lights and everything was perfect.
Then we walked back to Jobe and made a snowman in the back before heading inside to drink sherry and bacardi with cats and hotwaterbottles.
I don't think theres anything wrong with wishing for a white christmas. I don't think theres anything wrong with emulating a Victorian style christmas either. Last year I was worried I was getting into the christmas spirit way too early and limited myself to not doing anything Christmas prior to November (including shopping). This year this isn't as much of a problem - it is already mid October. Stuart and Dad's birthdays are past, Halloween is around the corner and my birthday too. From then on out it's Christmas time. If something is so important, so great and so fussed over you may as well extend it and enjoy it. I'm so anti grinch this year.
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