Soon to set sail

So here we have it, everything is booked, insurance has been taken out even though I didn't actually understand all the legal jargon the woman was spurting out at me, and I shall be training it up to gay Paris ont he 3rd. Oh how I can't wait. Now, I am all too aware of the fact that I am one very lucky gal to be going away for 12 months, as part of my degree. I met up with a friend of mine recently, who stopped em mid-sentence, whilst I was harping on about how all I would do would be go to museums and jazz bars on my own, and said: 'My God, why the hell are you not looking forward to it??!'.
That's when I kind of realised how badly I am suffering from cold feet. Apprehension of death is far worse than death itself, someone had once said. Oh how very true. Yet, even that doesn't seem to shake the nerves off of me. I mean, I enjoy watching meaningless television, sipping my tea and watching my behind get rounder by the second, all the while listening to Robbie Williams new 'Rudebox' tune(which is really really painstakingly crap btw). I don't know, everybody around em keeps telling me that i'll be fine,that i'm a mouthy so and so and i will find SOMEONE to talk to. But hey, I'm not that mouthy, i'm actually cacking my pantyhoes at the mo.
What if they don't like em, what if i'm miserable and what if my landlady discovers that my new incense obsession is there to hide the fag smell? All these questions!!!
I mena, yeah I am taking the piss out of myself, but i am truly worried about this year's outcome,aon a social and professional level. After hearing some saddening news about a member of my family being slowly but surely taken over by bone cancer, it has given me time to think long and hard about what i'm actually trying to do out there on my year abroad. I know it's cliché, but these kind of things really help you put stuff into perspective. I don't want to look back on this year abroad, thinking wow, maybe instead of watching Edith Piaf and munching on chips, drinking my beer, i should have gone places and seen faces. I don't want to be there karakoeing 'Non, je ne regrette rien'.

Chill out, it's England, queues are part of the furniture

I just had a thought. After yesterday's events at Heathrow, many more people will have had their fair share of ups and downs concerning the administration and security measures that took place at the various airports. I really have no reason to complain about crowded streets and evils as so many people had their holiday/home plans axed as the various stewards and air hostesses shunned boarding passes in the last 24 hrs. A friend of mine, braving the stateof affairs and trying to return to her homeland, had her fix of misguided directions and ill-advised diatribes. She rang me late into the night, in tears and clearly upset at the idea of missing her flight and some of her luggage. Hearing someone close to you that stressed and that confused when Britain claims to be temaleader of the organisation diary is somewhat disheartening. Some may claim that these measures had to be taken out considering the current situation Heathrow found itself in, but i cannot help but wonder whether this is just yet another example of British flair when it comes to dealing with some form of crisis. The images of all these people stranded in the most soporific places on earth, with nothing to do but sit it out, really surprised me.
What would have happened had their actually been an explosion? What a sorry state of affairs we would have found ourselves in. Noone can be overprepared for such an occurance, but it seems to me that many a person amidst the 5,000 strong crew on land had any idea as to what they were supposed to be directing. This friend of mine as clearly distraught and by her take on the happenings, she had not received any kind of apology whatsoever from the BA crew, although they were the ones who cocked up. It amazes me how we cope, as a nation, in such situations. On Sky news, they had someone supposedly representing the security who came on. He stated that all persons carrying any liquids with them would be asked to taste these in order for them to take them onto the flight. He then said that whoever was planning on taking explosives onto the flight would therefore not taste the poisonous concoction. This included Suicide Bombers. He needs to go through his history books again, this high-ranking class A prick.
I'm hoping the said friend made it home ok, and had a good flight, conidering the circumstances. How is it that when we get a foreign president over, we are able to get the security measures just right, to keep everything sane, and to avoid a general sense of vulnerability, yet when it comes ot portecting the members of the proletariate, we fail miserably? Answers on a postcard.

And cue the wannabe-writer

So, what has happened in my life worthy of note? Not much, to be fair. Have finally sent off the article i have penned on the Nouvelle Vague, the French cinematographic movement. Hopefully, it will get a read and be posted on the site of some charity-based magasine. As for my actual life, i have decided that i am now ready to leave drabby London and set sail for Paris.
I hate the way it just hits you some days, the feeling of being unimportant nay inexistant amidst a crowd in the middle of a famous shopping street. You're tired, you wan tot eat something that is a)edible and b)easy on the student purse. Impossible to find, unless you fork out a tenner. I am so sick of this noise, this pollution and this lack of interest people seem to acquire when they spot you in their pricey shop. I may look like a pauper yet i think that the sales assistants do not have the right to look at me as though i am a lepper. That really really pisses me off, that look of indignation, that snort as you pick something up, and that assessment of your measurements, as though the clothes they sell would not fit the curvy silhouette. This belittlement is unjust and worst of all, it represents our snobbish state of affairs. I understand that shopkeepers(because, who's kidding? That is what they are) may get annoyed at the idea of having a few schoolchildren at a time, may shudder at the idea of a toddler brushing his sticky fingers against a precious outfit, but i am 19 for god sake. Not two or sixty-five. I'm not going to need their help, i'm not going to ask them anything, i just want to look. I'm not going to need a lollipop or a chair to rest myself on for a couple of minutes, just so i can catch my breath. It really irks me, this look of disapproval. I mean, who are they to judge?
I remember working for a famous high street shoe shop a few months ago. I am not saying i'm some kind of archangel, but i did *try* to treat every customer the same. And it was not easy, but i would not look down on them. Principally because THEY were the ones who could afford to go out shopping, and I was the one serving.
It really rattles my cage, that one.

As for the year abroad, well, i can't bring myself to calling up some dude in Argentina. Maybe becuase I'm shy, maybe because they will ask me what it's concerning and i will undoubtedly crumble under pressure, and ask for a coke on the phone. Does anyone else get the impression that when people are saying they're noting stuff down on the phone, they're actually playing hangman?

Maybe I lack human faith. Which is not good, considering i'm getting a job that i really don't know anything about, i'm living with a bunch of randoms and i need to make something of myself in the future months. I need to trust people and take things on face value, but i shall remain the eternal over-analyser. The kind of person who thinks that intonation is key to understand what someone is trying to say, regardless of how straight forward it might appear to be from the offset. But did he mean this, but she said it like that, and he rolled his eyes to the left are all part of my understanding make-up. I need to chill, sit back and relax i think!

''Notes from a small island..to a larger country''

Mayhem and I'm not even there yet...
So, turns out that my convention has not been sent back yet. That would be my passport into Sotheby's, and the guy who has it is on holiday. La vie est belle for some people. I hate being like this, stressy, worried and not looking forward to workin there on the 6th of September. However, accommodation has been found *yay* so all is not lost. The house is nice, well, so the website tells me, and the owners seem quite cool. Only hitch being that I can't smoke within the house. Better pack some mittens and a warm scarf when I'll be there, with my white stick in hand, wondering what kick anyone gets out of smoking, when their breath freezes over. Ha, I hear the non-smokers say, that's what you get for being an addict. And I will do what I always do in such a situation...Take another drag. As for what I have also been doing, year abroad aside, is quite simple. When all else fails, I find watching a good film a good substitute for wallowing in my sorrows...Roman Holiday is such a good movie. I love Peck and Hepburn and the chemistry they exude onto the screen( well, my laptop, but hey). God, I love an old movie.

I have also taken to writing, well, noting a few ideas down onto a word document. Maybe in a few years, it might take shape and be classed as a bored student's attempt at killing time and thinking she's the next Zadie Smith. But oh well. At least it keeps my mind off the turmoil around moi.

Having also surfed the net, and asked around for the best fashion blogs, I have come across quite a few on photogrpahy. Quite a few that make me squirm, laugh and carry on clicking. I never ever realised the internet and its avid fans could be so fun and intriguing. On that note, I shall do what I do best...carry on surfing and start wondering what else I could start, without the faintest idea of where it will take me...

And let the writing commence....

Well here goes. Thanks to reading a few blogs and seeing one in particular(a nudge to a Tanzanian princess) I have decided to write a journal, a memoir of my peripeteia and various escapades in Paris, and maybe even Buenos Aires. Here's to a new start, a new country and more fashion dilemmas than anyone could wish for.