So, Blob really likes Adele. Either that or she hates her. I haven’t quite worked out her pattern of movement. Every time I play Adele she rolls around like a lunatic. So, Blob, this one is for you. (Apologies if you despise her with a passion and are in fact trying to escape your prison, rather than dancing.)
New Home.
Yesterday we moved into our new house, in a posh suburb of Solihull, Birmingham. It is odd for me, to find myself here, not just back in Birmingham, but here in a place that seemed to me whilst growing up, home to an alien race of people with money and horses and Jaguars. (The car that is, not the animal, unfortunately.) Here I am though, about to embark on a whole new chapter of my life, one that will be the most important and terrifying to date, most likely ever. The house is rather lovely, a proper house for grown-ups and children and dinner parties, naturally only one of those things will ever be featuring here. The idea of being a grown up is dull. Eternal youth and irresponsibility will prevail.
Life carries on in the people I meet, and everyone out on the street, and all the dogs and cats, and the flies and rats. In the rot and the rust, in the ashes and the dust.
—Peter Gabriel, I Grieve.
I knew I was wrong to jump straight on in, to this picture so pretty, but he is so pretty to me. And he doesn’t know, just how far I would go just to kiss him, he doesn’t know how I pine.
—Kate Walsh, Your Song.
Vent
So.fucking.much.to.do.
I am literally plagued with things I need to get done, some small and manageable, appointments for various things, others ridiculously huge like, finding a fucking house to live in. It doesn’t help that my concentration appears to be basically zero, I can focus on something for an hour if I’m lucky, then I just feel like curling up in a ball and crying for a few hours before doing something totally inane for the rest of the day. I feel kind of disconnected from reality, I have no routine, no job, no real focus in life and without anyone to help with stuff, I do kind of feel like smashing my lap top into smithereens and just getting hideously pissed.
Not a good plan, granted.
Oh Lana. Bit of a fail.
Taken from the BBC adaptation of P&P which I absolutely adore. This scene in particular, not just because of the obvious aesthetic qualities but because of the stunning acting as well as the perfect dialogue and fabulous chemistry between Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle.
“Yes but your good opinion is but rarely bestowed and therefore more worth the earning.” Quite.
It is not time nor opportunity that is to determine intimacy, it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days more than enough for others.
—Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility.
INSANE PARENTS
- Mother - Can I have fifty pounds?
- Father - Not a chance.
- Mother - Give me fifty pounds or I'll start putting cow pats in the fridge.
The Habitual New Year Blog
After mulling over a deeply personal entry, I decided to delete what I had written and narrow my thoughts down to a few simple points. There are some wonderful things in this world, and I plan to fill this coming year with them.
- Family and friends who stick by you, no-matter how bad things get.
- Knowing there is always someone you can call.
- Houses filled with music and laughter.
- People playing guitars, Queen & Pink Floyd on ridiculously loud.
- Books that you can’t put down, no matter how tired you are.
- Writers who inspire you to quote them incessantly, much to the annoyance of those around you.
- Jane Austen, Milan Kundera & Bret Easton Ellis.
- Comedy shows, stand-ups and sketches you laugh about for days on end.
- Tim Minchin’s hair.
- Holding hands, waking up to the warmth of someone else’s skin.
- Films you can watch a thousand times or more.
- Paul Rodgers and Lana del Rey.
- Loving, being loved, appreciating and learning.
- The existence of Christina Hendricks.
- Photographs of family holidays and childhood memories.
- Live music with friends, travel and spontaneous gatherings.
- The smell of horses, the feel of an animal’s fur.
- Bad American TV shows that offer nostalgia like nothing else.
- Good food, nice wine, tea with two sugars.
- In-jokes, reminiscence and true connections.
- Writing something truly inspired.
- Beautiful photography.
- Learning new things about yourself, making new friends.
- Getting rid of those who bring you down, surrounding yourself with those you love.
- Long late night chats.
- Blogging, smiling and hoping for a better year to come.
WANT.
(Source: captainfarrell)
(via clarexxo)
Lullaby
More ingenius lyrics from Tim Minchin…
I don’t know what else I can do to try to hush you
My heart says “I love you”, but my brain’s saying “fuck you”
And hoping a child trafficker will abduct you
At least then I’ll get a few hours in bed.
I’ve shushed and I’ve cooed and I’ve even try to sing
“Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da” in the exact voice of Ringo
Now all I have left is to hope that a dingo,
Will sneak in and rip off your fat bitching head.
Hush little baby, don’t say a word
Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird,
In the hope you get avian flu
The nice folk in A&E will take care of you.
That’s it, close your eyes, shhh, not a sound
I can barely see your tiny chest move up and down
One thing they don’t mention in the parenting books;
Your love for them grows, the closer to death, they look.
“You won’t understand, but you will learn someday, that wherever you are and whatever you face, these are the people who make you feel safe in this world.”
The second greatest Christmas song ever, only beaten to the post by the Pogues, naturally.
