a message to middlesbrough football club.

Dear Middlesbrough Football Club,

Today I have signed up for your boro+ package, which will cost me an indefinite £4.49 a month. This is a negligible sum of money, yes?

Well, no. Simply when I consider all of the money I am currently spending on food, gas, electric, my car, my phone, my internet, and my TV; I think it's fair to say that this expense could be done without. The best thing, by all means, is the fact that I live in Leeds, and my car radio can (loosely) pick up the live match coverage. Sadly, I live in a less-than-affluent area and if I left my car open so I could hear it from the house whilst I cooked a meal on a minimal budget, it would almost certainly be stolen. Either that or the car battery would inevitably die and I would end up needing to rely on a neighbour to help me to recharge it. I haven't spoken to my neighbours yet, having only moved here a short time ago and working very long hours, I've not really had an opportunity to say hello.

So, my beloved football club, for whom I was a season ticket holder for six years before I had to move away, how do you suggest I foot the bill? What do I sacrifice so that I can know what's happening? Do I reduce my food budget? Do I stop driving and save the petrol? Do I sell my phone to pay off the contract and stop talking to my friends? Do I give up the internet and sacrifice my studies or do I sacrifice hot water, or even better, water?

I followed you unconditionally for as long as I could afford. You let me down so many times and I still was proud to call you my club. Now, however, your money-making ploys and genuine attempts to push me away are leaving me disillusioned and, most notably, poor.

Admittedly, I will continue to give you my constant support. Please let me.

fifty shades of what it's like to think like a man.

I'm sitting on the train and a woman on the table opposite me is reading fifty shades of grey. The unmistakable scent of oestrogen production mixed with that little bit of guilt is definitely in the air.

I'm not sure I understand how so many people have been drawn in by this book. It makes very little sense to me, sex and literature are like putting steak with ice cream, you like them both but you wouldn't ever put them together (unless you're seventy, and mental, and everybody understands that you're quirky beyond belief)

There are so many eligible bachelors out there, why not find one, fulfil the needs the book is trying and failing to offer and then read a Harry Potter when you're done?

Either that or save yourself four quid and have a cold shower.

reasons to stay in bed.

At the moment I'm finding it increasingly difficult to actually get up on a morning. I was once a perennial early riser, midday was pretty much a dot on the horizon as I prepared to actually do something with my day.

Now, getting out of bed is an impossibility. Why? I think I've reduced it to about five factors.

1) Nothing to get up for that is more fun than sleep. How was it that once upon a time we would actually want to STAY UP?! Unless I'm going to the pub then I go to bed relatively early because it's a nice place to be.

2) Xbox- I don't really use my Xbox for what it's made for. I use it to watch films and TV shows because in the housing built before the days of TV signals, as well as the removal of the stronger analogue TV signal, getting any form of signal via an areal has now gone. I like TV, probably more than I should but seeing as the football has now gone then what better opportunity to catch up with my favourite shows?

3) Unexplained additional tiredness- I'm more tired! This probably should have been number one. It explains almost all of my issues. If you're more tired, you're going to spend more time in bed, that's a given.

4) Comfort- It's comfier to lounge around on something a) designed for your comfort and b) in your pants.

5) I can play music I love- There is never the dull, offset beat of 'niggas in paris' coming from my room, there just isn't. As things stand I'm on my second playback of 'For Emma, Forever Ago' by Bon Iver. Truly beautiful music.

So basically, until compelled to do something else, my bed is where I'll stay.

pokemon

I've always been really, really impressed with the way that Pokemon has stayed so timeless.

I can still play it today and get a buzz from it, basically the exact buzz I got when I was naively happy with everything when I was saying goodbye to the nineties and getting my first gameboy colour and Pokemon Yellow, followed by Gold. Now, on Heartgold on the Nintendo DS the format has stayed almost exactly the same, and the amount that I'm impressed by it has wavered in no way whatsoever.

It's a nice game to play. Simple, fun, and offers an emotional bond that you simply don't find in most other games. The way that the modern game designers format their 'anything is possible' format is wonderful, and does literally allow anything to happen within the parameters of the game, games like Fable, and like Mass Effect (which, don't get me wrong, are excellent, but then again they did both take years to make). It doesn't seemingly need to be so complex though. We were happy with our anything could happen format within a few towns and an abundance of catchable Pokemon.

Most importantly, it takes me back to my childhood. I miss my childhood. Being twenty is fun but everything you could look forward to (I.E before the world of work swings round and bites you on the arse) has now been and gone, and I loved that time.

Now I have to get back to Azalea Town to fight Bugsy. Ciao. 

the day boro trended

Today both Middlesbrough and Jonathan Woodgate trended on twitter. Now four years ago this would have been, well, not expected, but not quite so shocking as it is today.

The signing of Woodgate has caused a small amount of conflict, people unsure as to whether it is the best thing for the club. I can tell you now, it will be. Even if he's injured all the time, even if he's the same prat he was when he was here last, it doesn't matter. I can guarantee we're paying him pennies by comparison to his wage while he was here in 2007, wearing the lamentable white with a blue hoop away strip (which, if memory serves me correctly, is the first strip he wore for the first team, vs. Arsenal).

He's had a poor year at Stoke, granted, but he's been deployed predominantly as a right back. One thing that he is, regardless of all the aforementioned problems, is a big scalp.

We've lost our captain, so who better than the local lad who's played in the Champions League, for Real Madrid and scored the winner in Spurs' first tournament win in their recent resurgence to take his place? The odds on him gaining captaincy must be high, very high indeed.

I'd say give him a chance, but in all honesty, we really don't need to.

moving house

As a group of people, students have to be, easily, the most nomadic people to occupy housing (legally, or if not legally not bending the rules).

We seem to be bleeding dry the possibility that we can be temporarily footloose, the fact that we can just linger for a year and then spend our next year in a place we've only previously seen for ten minutes. We move in with people we've known for six months, we probably wouldn't have done this if we'd stayed at home, but at home we have much longer friendships, me personally having made most of my friends at school before I came to uni.

The stupid thing is is that it costs us more money to do this. I don't mean pennies more, either. Since I moved two days ago I've been to IKEA with my housemates and not only did it cost me £11, it also cost me my masculinity. I found myself saying 'I like that bathmat, but I don't think it'll go well enough with the shower curtain.' I admitted from that moment that I was taking metrosexuality just that bit too far, and that I needed to take stock of my life.

So basically, if I can conclude anything from this irrelevant rambling, it is this. Students really need to think about their decision to move, and whether or not they care about expense being spared.

It's not just financial.

education reform

Michael Gove has been on his high horse yet again. Trying to encourage the class divide between those who accidentally voted his party into power.

The dream of trying to get O Levels back is basically his way of saying 'there are idiots and there are their intelligent counterparts- the two must not be mixed.' Now I was by no means a clever kid. When I started secondary school the chances of me going to university looked slimmer than my physique, which at the time was alarmingly thin.

Now, at twenty, I'm a substantially brighter little button. Overall I'm not the same person I was then. I don't live in a constantly bemused state trying to make the best of pragmatic tasks that are beyond me. I'm heading for a 2:1, maybe a 1st at university, and my degree will come from the University of Leeds. It's not in doubt that I have changed academically since I was 11. It is for people like me, who are not common might I add, that show the possibilities offered by the GCSE scheme.

Granted, it isn't perfect, but if the old system was a vision of perfection then it certainly wouldn't have been changed.

Go forward, not back.

the national health

Sometimes an album comes along that is like someone placing your life in an audio-descriptive channel on TV.

It's not the first time Maximo Park have done it. Lyrically empathising is what they do best. They seem to have me on live pause and have followed me through school and college, then university, stopping at the times they deem fit and summarising what is going on. I'm not the only one, many have made a similar claim. 'I use the big words, but I just can't join up the dots' from 'Wolf Among Men.' This does have, however, it's alarming factors to boot. It shows just how similar we all are, and that a man I've never met can tell everyone how I feel better than I can.

Over the years they've hit me with songs like 'kiss you better' and 'russian literature,' songs that were never going to see the top ten but were just fantastic, particularly for the lyrics. Breaking up, making up, all the little in between moments, all covered by their frankly underrated discography.

I'm going to see them perform in Newcastle in November. Excited beyond belief.

gay marriage

I saw a site earlier called 'Coalition For Marriage' [http://c4m.org.uk/] and came to a realisation I hadn't previously made. I had thought I was against gay marriage in the Church. This was mainly down to the fact that the Church is against gay marriage and, to my knowledge, always has been. If you're the moral guidance centre for a lot of people, regularly changing your mind is a bad idea.

I read the contents of the site, however, and found it to be very, very aggressive. I am not allowed to quote it, but the basic jist is that the benefits of institution of marriage, as has been known for thousands of years, is the best institution and making changes to it would cause those benefits to be put into disrepute. Bollocks. Where is this evidence? Show it to us. Why not show us the benefits of equality? Why not show us the benefits of not hating someone for their beliefs? Why not teach us about the benefits of a loving family?

In fact, what I would say to any gay person is if that is what these people want marriage to be, then let them have it. Yes they can have their smiley faces on the day, but the only thing that you don't have is the blessing of the institution that dislikes your beliefs.

You don't need that. Nobody does.

losing interest

I have no interest whatsoever in the exam that I am sitting tomorrow.

The main reason for this is that it is so late in the year, very much thanks to my placement, which, whilst I enjoyed it, has become a clear attack on anything resembling a social life. What it has done has caused issues in two periods of time. First of all the January return of all university-goers, and then the latter stages of the year, Facebook being overloaded with invitations from strangers to the 'END OF YEAR' events that I would genuinely love to attend, but alas cannot because of my exam revision, which I have become so disillusioned by that I genuinely have done a dangerously minimal amount.

This time tomorrow I'll be sitting outside an exam hall, nervous beyond belief about an exam that I can't see myself passing. I'll follow that up by getting blind drunk so that I can not be fussed about my academic lack of ability. I have academic ability but I also have fields of interest, which are not the fields that I'm being examined in this week.

Wish me luck!

so... england at the euros?

Unlike everyone else, I actually thought previous to the game against France that England had a chance of winning the tournament. Why is this? Well in all honesty the key to their success will be their organisation, their resolve, and potentially most importantly their ability to not care that the nation hates their 'boring' brand of football.

It was inevitable, was it not, that England would play boring football? That they wouldn't go out and chase the game but would, in fact, play counter-attacking football from our admittedly sturdy defence? We seem to neglect, as a nation, that England have arguably the best league in the world in the Premiership, their midfield (minus Henderson) is one that any club side would water-at-the-mouth over, and we have never done well at a tournament since 1966 so finally the pressure was off.

The minimal expectation can be a blessing, which renders this entire post redundant because of the intent held within it. I would like us to believe we could win it.

The problem is, that would be our downfall.

the strangeness of the jubilee

It's The Queen's sixtieth jubilee, congratulations, you have, by all accounts, been a very good queen.


However, the premise of a jubilee is one that confuses me. It's essentially the whole country joining together on what must be a difficult day for her majesty, the anniversary of the death of her father. We basically celebrate the death of a man we once sang for the safety of during a World War, and before the pub closed (a tradition that petered out over time, and would probably explain why the likes of Wayne Rooney don't know it). 

I've never been much of a royalist, to be completely honest the whole idea of a democracy with royalty makes no sense whatsoever, they're essentially a family that go on a lot of holidays to visit people that we, as her loyal subjects, couldn't give less interest to as we work tirelessly to ensure that the places that we work do not suffer the death associated with a double-dip recession.

But hey, what an ambassador she is. Thanks Ma'am.

guilty pleasures

We all do it, sitting in front of our computers, knowing that we shouldn't be. Procrastinating.

It took me thirteen hours to write 1500 words earlier this week; the last six-hundred took me somewhere in the region of twenty minutes. Why the extra time? Well amongst other things, Facebook. There's something about Facebook isn't there? The ease at which we can burn away a day doing nothing but clicking and looking? The worst thing is I don't really think that this is a bad thing.

The time our elders spent sitting doing nothing is the time we spend being an online socialite, talking to people we wouldn't ordinarily have the nerve, or the interest, to talk to. It also allows people to keep in touch from distance without actually talking. You can see through photographs and the like what they are doing, and don't have to have that awkward moment in which they speak to you and you have to run away because of a prior engagement. Convenience personified.

There is, however, a new feature that means that we can know if we're getting the silent treatment ,or being ignored. I DON'T WANT THAT?! I mean yes, fair enough, they might have had to do the aforementioned 'run-away-for-prior-engagement' but then paranoia kicks in, we fear not being liked, particularly with traditional British reservation that means that we don't confront our issues head on, this means that being able to know categorically that someone doesn't wish to speak to you, or at least being made to think like that. It is not good.

This has been my procrastination for the day, until my ukulele arrives. wey.

business end of the year

It's reached that time of year again that we all have to hand in our essays, do our exams and present our findings on whatever it is we've learned. For me, third year is fast approaching and this is a terrifying prospect.

I feel completely unprepared for the real world. Education is, barring the part-time jobs on the side, the only thing I've ever known. It could be the only thing I will ever know, my career paths seem inevitably intertwined with education. I don't feel like I know anything more than when I started. I do feel more intelligent but perhaps that's just because I take more notice of things around me.

Today I have to give a presentation on Sufi Islam. Which is exciting to a degree because I find different religions consumately interesting (I'd hope so, considering the degree you've chosen, you might say) but to be honest the prospect of standing in front of a room of people trying to explain something that I don't really understand beyond what I've read is quite a nerve racking thing. I wish I could have had the last three months to actually get my head down and do some work.

That would have been wise.

return of the larry.

I’m back! I needed some time to do work and get my head together. So, what’s new?

New job, nearly finished year two of uni, and maybe new intentions on the career front, or maybe yet, basically what I have now is a complete indecisiveness about what I want to do with my future. I wanted to teach, but after my placement I'm not sure whether I want to throw all of my eggs into the basket that is education. I've never been out of it before, I don't know anything else apart from McDonald's and my many, many jobs around that.

That said, do I want to escape academia and go into something consistent, with the threat of it becoming mundane? The great thing I learned about working in a school was that two days are never the same. I never dreaded going in, I didn't even mind getting up early, in fact it forced early mornings to become part of my routine in everyday life once I finished. Now staying in bed until half nine causes guilt beyond which I can't compare, which I'm well aware is shameful for a student.

I've decided more or less what I want to do for my dissertation. I'm going to look into IVF and the various religious views on it. I'm well aware it divides opinion throughout religious communities and it's something very close to my heart, so to learn more about it is intriguing and, as sad as it sounds to get like this about an essay, excited.

But now I have to throw an essay together on Sufi Islam, which I thought I'd enjoy a lot more than I actually am.

Wish me luck!

things that we just can't compare.

Yesterday I was talking to a classmate about the issues involved with comparison between Christianity and Islam. Now my knowledge of Christianity is somewhat limited because I don't take any particular interest in it; but I'd like to think I've seen enough of it in my life to be able to discuss it. Essentially though, belief in Jesus (as the son of God, as opposed to a prophet) is paramount.

The issue now with comparing it to Islam is that this is, for all intents and purposes, shirk as you are worshipping something that is not God. Shirk is the only unforgivable sin and exists due to the age of Jahilliyah in pre-Islamic Arabia. People worshipped idols, which filled the ka'ba; now the centre of Hajj (one of the five pillars). This, against the belief in God of monotheism, is wrong in the eyes of any Muslim. It is fortunate for Christians if Islam is the true religion as they see Muslims see Christians as 'People of the Book;' and thus can achieve the same paradise.

But naturally if you are, as a religious believer, breaking another religious believers' only unforgivable sin it would certainly be wrong of you to assume that you could compare the two.

bahrain grand prix.

How could they possibly think it was a good idea to put a Grand Prix in Bahrain? A nation with security forces not trained for such a huge event; a nation with potentially hostile inhabitants; yeah should be fine, just cross our fingers and hope nothing goes wrong. Oh wait, the Grand Prix hasn't even happened yet and someone has been killed.

So what can be done? Well they can cancel the event; but would they do such a thing with such a massive money spinning event the day before it happens? Well of course not, because lives don't matter by comparison to money. This is clear throughout history; but as much today as ever. One life for hundreds of millions of pounds/dollars/whateverthehellbahriandealin? Deal. As long as someone's pocket is being lined then they just don't care.

The problem is, without this you can aim for ideals like Marxism, then it's goodbye normality and hello North Korea, but that's another rant for another day.

We are about to see the combination of a heavy handed police force and a controversial event; it is almost certain that lives will be lost in the next few days.

Better many disappointed about a sporting event being cancelled then any amount dead. Sod your money; no amount is worth lives.

drunken one nighter and five years in prison

I will start this post with something of a disclaimer. You might well disagree with me; you could hate the things I'm about to say, but frankly I think that Ched Evans, Sheffield United footballer and now prison detainee has been hard done by with his five year sentence given today.

Now before people jump down my throat, I do not for the smallest amount of time imaginable agree with rape; however, I do disagree with the ambiguity that the British legal system has in place in regards to this issue. There should be cast iron rules about what rape actually is. This lad has been put away because he had sex with a drunk girl who was on her own on a night out. Now where is the responsibility held by this girls friends? She had been left alone, she went home with a man, they had sex. Three tequila slammers earlier she might have consented with a clearer head; but from the information given on the case he didn't use force. This case will have been making an example.

I will reiterate, what on earth were her friends doing? 'Oh look she's too drunk to make her own decisions, let's leave her on her own and see what happens.' With friends like that who needs enemies? Also has her life been ruined when she was already enjoying the fruits of a one night stand with another footballer (who somehow got no reprisal for his actions?)

The jury has passed it's verdict, but for me the jury is still out. I think he was stupid, I don't think he's a rapist.

pro-life-computer-hackers. imbeciles.

In twenty years I've seen things that are bemusing, things that are irritating and things that are just plain strange.

All of these things, be they small, big, or in-between, have never compared to an article I found in the news today. People have been trying to hack into the computer systems of the UK's biggest abortion provider, BPAS. Why do I find this strange? Well it's not the fact it's been done, there are enough people in the world to actively disagree with abortion to attempt this; but there have been THOUSANDS of attempts. Even so, why is this strange?

Well, it would appear that you need a degree in I.T if you are going to have any chance of showing an active disagreement with abortion. Now I know a lot of I.T people and they are predominantly male. So as I see it, it is men who are trying to cause problems for the abortion clinicians. This makes no sense to me, as men cannot comprehend what the woman is going through.

Well, get a bloody grip of yourselves. I, for one, neither disagree nor agree with abortion, it is entirely experiential, it is something that I would hope that people I care for are not involved in, but less for the 'I hate the fact you are killing a baby' and more a 'wow, this must be incredibly difficult for you.' The last thing I would want for close friends or family going through the said procedure is some cretin at the other end of a broadband line interfering with the technology that is going to help them along the way with the hardest decision of their lives.

So, you thousands of men in your anonymous waves, find another way to be a pain in the arse.

not a belieber.

I have, as many of you will already know, a very specific taste in music. I like stuff played on actual instruments and performed without intonation of the voice within one note (which admittedly is all Mariah Carey's fault).

I'm often told I'm "getting my indie on" thanks to my ridiculous dancing style or lack of intent to dance to shit. Not only are the majority of chart songs lacking in instrumental influence but also the lack of lyrical pizazz; I just don't like them for what they lack, I need songs to actually say something relevant to me. Give me 'Russian Literature' by Maximo Park over 'Baby' by Bieber. By comparison, 'more empty buildings, for invisible men, no market value to justify the price of the rent' or 'Baby, Baby, Baby, Oh.' What an offering Biebs, what an offering.

Not only that, but with pop music comes waves of fools hoping that one day their hero, for example, as my title pertains, Bieber, who exudes everything wrong with society, not so much for his music but for his incessant band of followers who have coined their own term, 'beliebers.' Now not to go on a rant for too long about the issues involved with the term, but WHAT?! I mean seriously, WHAT?!?! There's nothing to believe in, he exists for God's sake. They could claim that they believe in his ability, but this, my friends, is bollocks, because your belief in his ability is a naive belief that puberty will never directly affect his vocal chords. Here's news for you guys, it probably will, unless he's getting hormone treatment, in which case this is surely like doping in sport, but never mind.

So essentially the only thing I really want is for my music taste to be the generic taste of the world.

Or would that make it mainstream? Oh. Dear.

fax is a bastard

BLOG ABOUT IT.

justification for the aforementioned non-smiling commuters.

Yesterday I got on a train in Nairn, which would take me to Aberdeen, then take me onwards to Darlington. Nairn-Aberdeen was your typical train journey; starting quietly and by the time you reach the final destination you can't move for the bags, elbows and fidgity natures of the people around you.

Then, after a long wait in Aberdeen we hopped aboard the 'nicer' train, which we would be calling our own for the foreseeable future. This is when, contrary to my previous blog, I had an epiphany as to why commuters never smile. The reason is
rude fellow passengers.

How can I justify calling complete strangers rude? Well, simply, I can't. There's no way to get an evaluation of somebody's persona without actually talking to them. There is, however, room to guess what they're like.

A fellow passenger played music loudly from her mobile. It's fair to say that whilst I can appreciate that Adele has had some smash hits in recent months I really don't care for her enough to listen to her against my will. The fact that the person playing the music didn't give me this freedom made me conclude that she was in fact rude.

And then the group that advocated the culmination of sophistication walked through the train, selling cider for a quid and talking at a volume only generally found on a nightclub dancefloor. The fact that these men lacked the social skills to talk amongst themselves at a moderate volume made me conclude that they were, much like their music loving friend, rude.

That said, I'll still smile at people who aren't, as they're suffering as much as I am.

going to scotland

Getting on the train tomorrow and going on a wonderful nine hour extravaganza of a trip to see family PROPERLY up north.

As a result this blog will probably fall by the wayside more so than it has been of late, I might get one in over the next week but in all honesty I've started to lose interest in it. I write what I think but at the moment I'm not thinking about much. Sad, admittedly, but true.

Scotland may give me some thoughts, nothing like a seaside town to explore the imagination! Might go running up the beach in a vain attempt to get a bit fitter.

Wish me luck!

avoidance of getting fat.

A four-months-too-late New Year's resolution; Larry got back to the gym today!

That, alongside a hangover was admittedly not my greatest idea. My physique, whilst apparently good is actually waning under the strain of excessive alcohol consumption and over-eating. Time to get on a treadmill and eat some pasta and drink something healthy without my usual pint-big mac-pint-big mac habit interrupting it.

I'm amazed that this phenomenon has only just hit my body. Twenty years of eating the most I physically could, every single day and now I can't and I need to diet (well, not diet but be more sensible). Boo-hoo.

Going to cook a chilli tonight. WIN! (mainly because if you ate chilli every day you would NEVER get fat. Little fact for you there guys, use it if you wish.

bad weather = broken body clock.

None of us ever really want to get out of bed, particularly those of us living the student life.

Normally I'm an exception to this rule. Recently, however, I've found myself more tired than usual. Why is this? Lack of exercise is probably a lot to do with it. Also, and presumably most importantly, is that I never actually stop thinking about everything. I over-think. For some reason this isn't working for me any more- I've always done it; went through school as the friend of the properly clever kids; and sixth form with similar intellect surrounding me- I had to be clever, or if not clever then at least witty, quick, sharp.

So now I have a dilemma. Continue as I've always been or try and change? I'm twenty; I've been like this since I was eleven; but it's getting me nowhere now. Will it ever? Has it ever? I don't know, wish I did. Will it take more effort to change who I am than it will to try and rediscover how I did it before? It's fair to say that uni hasn't helped at all. Also; as my title pertains, the weather hasn't either.

Not usually one to complain about the weather. However, if March is warmer than April then there are massive problems. It turns my body clock on its head. If my body clock is already destroyed then I have no chance of staying awake. If it wasn't so implicitly suicidal I'd probably intend on sleeping forever.

Maybe I can stay as I am but simplify everything; wait till Summer and sit on my arse, gleefully doing nothing but drinking in the sun.

Living the dream, I know.

MATTHEW MAGUIRE HAS HAD A HAIRCUT TODAY

This is the new finished article, Matt looks delightful, I'm sure you agree. Okay, maybe not, but this is a bad camera angle; and he hadn't showered when this one was taken but I'm sure that you'll all agree that anything beat the 70s footballer barnet he was donning previously.

Now we just have to convince his missus that he actually is more handsome this way...

loan day: the simple pleasures.

To all of you students in the last few days-gone-by:

Happy Loan Day!

Just had a Woodside road trip to big Asda- bought a barbecue. This summer, as a result, will be exceptional. However, thanks to the antics of Matt and Fax I can never return to the Skyrack.

Cheers boys.

april fools day

Having got home from work at about 12:45 this morning; safe in the knowledge that April Fools Day was upon us, it was impossible not to take up a prank.

The premise was simple, the response was exceptional.

After toying with the idea of phantom pregnancies of friends, we decided a simpler concept was a burglary. Our house, to the knowledge of Hannah and Tanya (the Woodside WAGs), had been broken into, ransacked and purged of valuables. We then rang Fax, waking him up but warning him to expect a phonecall in the next five minutes or so. The panic was exceptional. Couldn't have gone better.

Matt may have taken it a bit far when he claimed that the fish was dead on the floor. What criminal is really that sadistic?

By all accounts, he probably would be.

panic buying!

OH NO! WE ARE GOING TO RUN OUT OF PETROL AND NEVER BE ABLE TO CARRY OUT OUR DAY-TO-DAY TASKS; WHATEVER WILL WE DO?!?!?!

Shall I tell you what we will do? Nothing.

As a nation we've been through two World Wars; we've survived Maggie Thatcher and we've sat through a double dip recession. What do we, as British citizens, actually do about anything? We sit, we make a cup of tea, we take the next most convenient option, and we most certainly don't panic. Let the panic stay in America, let them keep the stereotype of crowds of running, screaming and looting. In Britain we are subdued, we pretend things aren't happening and we most certainly don't panic.

And pasties, God help us all, are being taxed. How could we ever survive? Oh, I know, we could ignore the additional price and just eat them because we like them. Out of the budget there are many things I could complain about; much like last year.

That said, what, if anything, is the point?

anchorman two: a risk worth taking?

THERE IS A NEW ANCHORMAN COMING OUT.

YES. What could possibly be bad about another film in which Ron Burgundy plays the loveable/loatheable role of San Diego's main anchor?

Well, actually, a lot. I hope they do the predecessor justice and that they don't make a cheap imitation akin to the lamentable 'Pirates of the Caribbean 2, 3 & 4' or Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.'

I will be overjoyed if the next film has even an ounce of the quality (or ironic lack of) that anchorman one had; not to be desperately pessimistic but there is a strong possibility they could let us down.

I just don't want to be upset; anchorman is, after all, one of the best films of my generation.

hip-hip-hip-hooray/let's get messy in the sunshine!

It's March; and the sun, as my title eludes to, has got his hat on.

It's warm! I'm loving the nice weather, and now that I've finished my essay I can actually enjoy it (and, y'know, ignore the pile of work that's sitting in my bag for the time being...) with a pint.


I mean yes, admittedly, the booze, whilst freely flowing does offer a trip into the memory banks and reminds you what things are like when you're sober. Those little niggly issues that all of us want to ignore all the time but never can; those massive issues that control our lives and make us wish we could just hibernate for eternity- they all come out.

Would we change it? Probably not, because as long as the bants are freely flowing we can embrace an evening getting 'merry' and forget the impending repercussions. Then, when we do get irritated by the goings on of our lives, we know it's time to go home, eat some toast and go to bed.

Quintessential British behaviour, in a nutshell.

satyagraha.

Today I have to finish a 2,500 word essay. It will almost certainly be incredibly sunny outside all day and by way of alternative to making use of such excellent weather; I will be cooped up inside the library pretending that the weather is as miserable as I am.


For those of you that are interested, however, I'm doing the essay on Gandhi. Amongst other things, Gandhi was an incredible leader of men. It's actually a bit of a shame that more people don't understand his work or what he did. He used a concept from Hindu/Jain teachings called Satyagraha. Satyagraha was Gadhi's means of nonviolent protest; it's very similar to 'turn the other cheek' from the Bible.


This was most clear during the Great Salt March; in which he protested against taxation on salt. Having walked 241 miles in 24 days (aged 61!) he walked into the sea, collected some salt from a wave, breaking the law as he did so. Then his followers, initially approximately 70 but as the march went on grew to tens of thousands, followed him and did the same. They then took a beating from the British authorities but refused to fight back.

Sorry for the history lesson; blogs will return to normal as of tomorrow.

sunday trading

Sunday trading is, if you work weekends, one of the most irritating things known to man.

For me, in this ever-expanding secularism that we appear to be endorsing rather than just accepting, we should get rid of Sunday trading all-together. Why? Well, it's simple. You are, as a Christian (or Jew, or Muslim who have different Sabbath days) allowed to have the Sabbath off on religious grounds.

So if I could question a cultural issue, why then must we continue to not live our lives as normal just because it's Sunday? I don't like sitting on my backside watching daytime TV but my hand is forced by the fact I can't do anything until 10:30; and there is no reason for this.

The most irritating factor, admittedly, is the days in which you work through the entire trading day; leaving one unable to buy food and thus starving for an evening.

Is starving students really what the Sabbath was for?

daylight saving problems.

I think it's about time we got rid of the daylight saving time system; purely on a selfish 'it seems to always come at an awkward time for me.'

This time last year we were frantically trying to get our portfolios done for our various modules; doing an all-nighter with an extra hour somewhere in the middle is not fun. This year I had a 6AM start to work; which essentially (as far as my body clock is concerned) means I have to get up at 4AM just to get into work. Bad, bad, bad times.

I just don't think an exhausted nation merits whatever it is we actually gain from this lost hour. As for those of you that had a lie in (you know, because it's Sunday and you can) you are the lucky ones; hopefully one day I'll be living it up in a school and not worrying about getting up at a time that is detramental to my sleep patterns.

It's time for sleep, definite bedtime when I finish work.

pound for two games

Last night I went to the SU after a lot of persuasion to get my housemate to join me.

We ended up playing pool all night, not to make a massive point of it, but I didn't lose a game all night, just saying. It was probably to do with the blood-alcohol ratio of my opponents by comparison to mine, the self assigned designated driver.

Also, I have never laughed so much at one game of pool in my life as that of my difficult-to-persuade housemate and my other housemate's missus. It's fair to say I fell on my arse laughing and why?

He played the worst shot in the history of the game. Many can vouch for this; however I am keen to make a point of it myself that he let the pressure get to him, and this made me laugh. Probably harsh, but oh well, do I care? No.

Also, did I mention that I didn't lose a game all night?

anonymous hecklers

As far as challenges go; an active disagreement with somebody's blog is one that I would happily encourage, normally.

The issue I take with this band of hecklers is that they do everything under a disguise. They are happy to insult me and my writing but without the ability to show their face as they do so.

This is fortunate in one sense. It is fortunate for them; as many of my regular readers will be able to look at them and say 'what a freak' (as many have). It is also fortunate for me, because I love a debate, my degree is essentially in analytical argument and thus I find it relatively easy to respond to anything, particularly in writing.

As for the negatives; it is quite insulting. Not the part where they disagree, no, that's relatively simple to contend with, everyone's entitled to their opinion. It's the parts in which people insult my social skills, for example. So this is a challenge; if you consider your social repertoire to be even half of what mine is then don't spend your time sitting in front of a computer screen sending anonymous insults to someone who literally writes blogs because he gets up early in the morning thanks to a broken body clock and needs something to fill the time.

Or you could just show your face and I could at least know who I'm responding to.

why you might annoy me in a spellathon.

As promised, today's post will be, almost entirely, a rant about people's inability to spell.

There are words in the English language that everyone should be able to come to terms with. I often feel like a snob for making a point of the fact that people don't know how to spell words that are just simple. I've always been a good speller; I was the slightly thick kid at the back of the class but somehow the phonetic alphabet was given to me; I'd love to know where from.

As I grew up I found myself able to write rants especially well. Why? Simple. My grammar is good. I know where particular words need to go to make a coherent sentence. How do I know? Again, simple, I listened in school. GCSE English was a goldmine of knowledge that would one day be applicable to me. It has proven to be so, especially considering I'm doing a humanity.

So yes, everyone should be able to spell.

home from home

I decided to go home last night; Middlesbrough home, that is.

Having missed Mother's Day through work, and knowing that my betrothed, Middlesbrough F.C. (UTB), were on TV, I could kill two birds with one stonecould see Mammy for a late Mothers Day love-in and could also do what is arguably one of my favourite things, and watch football with Dad! Win win situation.

I could also see my sisters. For those of you that don't know, I'm a triplet. Having spent every day together for the best part of 18 years its fair to say that I miss them; they're good crack!

I went through a phase of never ringing home earlier in second year; which I wouldn't recommend to anyone. Picking up the phone is the easiest thing to do; especially if you actually like the person on the other end of the line! I didn't realise I was hurting people with what I was doing; thought my life was full; little bit of fact to all  of you uni students; your life isn't full. A pint at the SU might seem like your busy; but nobody is benefiting.

Use your time; copy E.T.; phone home.

girls don't like nice boys

The age of charm has come to an end. Any man who considers himself to be anything less than a whore can agree on that.

I like to consider myself quite a charmer. Buying drinks; talking as if I'm not the only person in my world and just generally hoping to be interesting. The problem I've found recently is that nobody wants that. Girls are happy to walk past the nicest man in the room and go for an absolute anus.

This last Saturday I was standing near a girl (nothing more, just standing near), dancing and presumably complaining about the standard of the music to the people I was with. A man who for all intents and purposes appeared to be a complete stranger came up and slapped her square on the backside. How did she respond? She kissed him.

This is never, nor will it ever be, my style. Gentlemanly behaviour gets us all a long way in life; through jobs, friendships and various other types of relationship, if we actually choose to do it. The issue isn't with being a gent though. The issue is with what people look for. Are people consciously targeting being treated as second rate? "Treat 'em mean keep 'em keen?"

Bollocks. Not in my repertoire. 

purpose

In philosophy we're currently ascertaining whether life has meaning.

Let me save you all the self-discovery; life has meaning because that's what we give it. Regardless of God; regardless of the depths of despair and regardless of pain. Life does have meaning.

How can I prove this? Well, I can't. Honestly wish I could, but it's not something I'm able to do. None of us can. We can, however, conclude that we aren't all nihilists (we don't all reject social norms and principles) and we live by norms and principles. As a result our meaning becomes the way in which we interact with others. If we focus upon ourself then we will end up not having any view on the important things in life and it will follow that we have nothing.

Live through interaction everyone; make life important. People make us who we are.

Or at least that's my angle.

what actually happened.

Okay, I've learned that people have been hearing various stories, reading blogs and learning half a story. This is an excellent medium to tell you exactly what I did. What I did wrong; what wasn't wrong of me and what I'm going to do from now on.

It was Woodside Christmas. Me, my housemates and our girlfriends all shared a Christmas dinner and shared presents with one another.

That was the night that I said 'I love you' too many times.

Weeks that followed left us increasingly distant. I eventually visited and this made a now-common-knowledge anxiety disorder take hold. She was physically sick with nerves as soon as I walked in the door because she couldn't tell me how she felt.

That was when she handed me the letter. The letter that was three sides of A4 but said absolutely nothing. All I took from it was that I was saying those three words too many times. I mean yes; it was Christmas. Yes; I was about to leave for six weeks. But no. Too often.

This caused an issue for me. Limits, for me, are not what a relationship needs. It showed me that we weren't on the same page any more. It showed me that the weeks that followed, in which I would be on placement, would be very difficult indeed.

Over those six weeks we didn't speak much. I had family die and family move to Australia. January 2012 was arguably the worst month I've ever had; she still wasn't there.

So about a fortnight before I was due to come back; we broke up.

I decided to visit a friend (yes, a girl), and she found out. I won't go too far into the contents of what happened, but lets say that even if I was in the wrong on that one, this friend wasn't; but suffered one of the foulest messages I have ever known anyone send a stranger. I responded by telling her exactly why the end had come about and how she had now lost me for good.

Then we made up; out of convenience.

Then she started blogging. To anyone with a shortened understanding of the merits of not being with me be sure to read 'singledom = :) ???' tis an excellent read.

And since then, I've heard that everything I thought was mutual in our break up was in fact false. How do I know it's false? Because she's told good friends of mine an absolute crock of shite.

Apologies everyone, I'm well aware that I said that this wouldn't happen; but now it has and I hope you can merge what you've heard together to realise that I'm not actually the person I'm being painted as.

admittance that childhood is over

Nobody actually wants to grow up. So why not just not do it?

Wasn't life better with that childish exuberance where anything was possible? No romance; no job; no over-excessive workload from university (which, for all intents and purposes, is school).

Even the horrifically hormonal teenage years, with an imbalance of everything and not understanding how your life could possibly fit together. Every argument, every poxy homework and every day where they said that you're not doing enough to do your exams well. Every little niggling emotion of the girls you fancy soon to become common knowledge only to be forced into embarrassment when the lack of reciprocation of the said emotion becomes even more common knowledge; and the eventual realisation that being yourself will never get you anywhere; a conclusion eventually turned on its head when you realise all anyone actually wants in sincerity.

Then the hard work kicks in and society forces us to settle into adult life early. We end up in relationships. We end up twenty-year-olds regretting everything we've done in our lives because our lives only began at sixteen the day that school was over; and four years of regret is enough. I've done utterly stupid things in the past. Been too nice; too harsh; too strong willed; the list goes on.

Life, before sixteen (which wasn't actually proper life, but anyway) was simple; the simple things were fantastic and you could see life as it was meant to be.

Lament for the days, they're dead and gone, the world made it this way.

being considerate

For all of this time I've basically bitten my tongue; I've said a lot of direct things in an attempt to make myself feel better; never directing anything through this blog, nor will I ever.

A blog isn't a place for meaningless rambling; it has to mean something to you. There are, however, implicit regulations. Don't defame anyone. Don't use it for evil. Don't do a Mark Zuckerberg. I generally use it to empty my head of the less important thoughts to allow me room to consider the bigger ones. As a system, this has worked. It hasn't offended anyone, it hasn't made anyone miserable and it hasn't offered any thinly veiled digs. It's always been factual too.

This is me basically saying from today onwards I will continue to show consideration to others in this medium because defamation of character and quietly going about making someone look bad is wrong; and will hurt people. I'm drawing a line under this soap opera that the majority of you will have an awareness of and saying I won't mention it again.

Let's hope for some reciprocation.

messy room

To those of you that don't know, I'm generally an obsessive compulsive cleaner.

This is predominantly my Mammy's fault, having been brought up in the tidiest house IN THE WORLD. Now though, the mess in my room somewhat accurately reflects my life; everything's a bit messy but it'll be relatively easy to clean up. The problem is, I just can't be bothered. I'm appreciative of more when things are messy; I thought I wasn't at first, but I've come to realise that the best way to live your life is without a masterplan; taking each day as it comes.

Admittedly, the mess can't omit too far. If I let people down because I can't keep track of everything then it'll be bad; I return to the key point of almost every other blog I've made, the thing we all need is simplicity. There is such thing as a simple mess. I can do the rudimentary stuff and let the mess go over my head all the time. Simple, yes?

Well, most certainly not. I think its time to tidy up.

under-age

Went out last night to O2 in Leeds for what should be an excellent event, Propaganda.

The problem with it was that it was full of people who weren't old enough to enter the establishment. They'd got in through means of fake I.D. I appreciate that they want to go out but I'm in a very difficult position having taught people of that approximate age whilst on placement.

I planned to have a pleasant evening with a friend and ended up trying to work out who was a fair bit younger than me. Not the best way to spend an evening! So to reiterate, I think that if you want to go out you should.

But if you need parental consent to do so, its probably not your scene.

new game

I've been waiting for SUCH a long time for mass effect 3 to come out. This might sound incredibly nerdy, because it is. Thankfully, I don't care! Its marvellous that every now and again someone can say 'here's a hobby for the next two months, enjoy!' Simply excellent!

I'm not going to sit around on my arse until I get deep vein thrombosis; eating nothing but doritos and living my life through the game. That would be foolish. What I can do, though, is live as I always have, reaping the rewards of a day well spent studying; doing housework; or whatever I seem to have taken my hand to; and knuckling down to an hour or two of mild enjoyment of a game that is, if its predecessors are anything to go by, excellent.

But I'm not playing it yet, I have a hangover from two days spent in Newcastle drinking for birthdays of friends. Excellent time had by all (I hope). 

commuters never smile

I visited Newcastle yesterday, and realised something.

Whatever train/bus/form of public transport you ever get, it is an absolute rarity to see someone smiling. This is not a conclusion I've just come to, it's something I've noticed basically since I started second year at university (and had to get the train pretty much every day). I've tried to change it in the past, by doing something obviously stupid, for example, but still the amount of smilers on the platform remains seldom.

How to fix this? Maybe we'll never know, maybe we're resigned to a life of miserable commutes surrounded by the never-happy (or maybe once-upon-a-time happy) travellers resigned to the fact that they'll never actually get out of the rat race that is public transport.

Conclusion: Keep Smiling.

another bandwagon. the kony issue.

'The next twenty-seven minutes are an experiment"

The majority of us heard it. The majority of us now want to do something about it. Arguably the most potent words we have heard as a nation this year.

The problem is that within those 27 minutes there isn't actually anyone who grapples with what 'invisiblechildren' does, will do or could do. There are flaws.

For example, Kony2012's outgoings against it's profits are minimal. It also supports the Ugandan and Sudanese armies, which are rife with accusations of rape and pillaging. Kony is a bad man, granted, but by supporting 'invisiblechildren' you are indirectly supporting the acts of the armies, which are loathsome.

Naturally, such a bandwagon can have incredible effects. If Kony is caught, and I hope he is, then 'invisiblechildren' will have been a major success.

Just be aware of the cause of what you are following; quite rightly, but quite blindly.

the old fashioned bandwagon

It was a matter of time, was it not, that I would end up passing comment on the free-rolling bandwagon that is blogging? That must be what this blog is about, surely?

NO! 

This bandwagon is much older, and 'bandwagon' is in fact the wrong word, because this is more of a roller-coaster. This roller-coaster is football. How? Because it creates a paradigm in which everyone can be impressed, everyone can have a view and everyone can have a little bit of disdain. So how does this roller-coaster/bandwagon come into play? Well to anyone who watched Arsenal vs. Milan, one would assume you gave 'The Gunners' a fair amount of support.  This can be with no allegiance to them whatsoever, no plans to ever support them, but they were against a side that is not of your own nation, the possibility of the positive experiences of your compatriots is the essence of why you climbed aboard this wagon just before it started rolling.

The same can be said for my club; for those of you that don't know, this is Middlesbrough. After three years in (what we would consider to be) the footballing wilderness we appear to be on our way up. As a once-upon-a-time season ticket holder (that I gave up when I moved to Leeds) this is a very exciting prospect.

Lets hope the hype can be lived up to!

pressure

We all feel pressure. Even those who, like me, pretend we don't.

It's impossible not to get snowed under sometimes, sometimes we need to find a balance in our lives that just isn't possible to locate. Sometimes we need to have more sleep, have a bath, etc..

Personally, I prefer to not obsess over the tiny details in life, leaving room for the massive stuff. Its the predominant reason for this blog. I can get rid of the overspill of thoughts and stick to the stuff I need. If we all look at our lives we'll probably come to similar conclusions, there are overcomplicated factors of our lives that we can do without, but don't because it feels like we're doing the right thing; be that in our uni life, our jobs or our romantic lives.

I'm not suggesting we should close our minds to the world, that's not practical or realistic, but we can, most certainly close off ourselves from what we don't need; once we start doing that we may actually realise the amount we don't need and start living for today.

Which, after all, is all we really can do, because today is all we have, waiting for tomorrow is a gamble.

petrol

I put £10 of petrol into my car last night to go and collect my housemate from work.

The sad reality is that this didn't even give me a quarter tank of petrol. Now admittedly the petrol pin on the Kia Rio is questionable in its accuracy, inasmuch as if I'm driving up a hill I have substantially less petrol than if I'm driving down one. Living in Leeds, which is essentially just a mass of hills, means that I scarcely get an accurate idea of where I can get to on the petrol in my car.

It's a sad state of affairs, not only the price of the petrol itself but the fact that as a nation we seem to just accept it as the norm.

It is not the norm. We pay substantially more than our European neighbours. Even the Greeks, who have no economy to speak of.

Okay, time to do some philosophy, ethics, world religions, peace and peacemaking and New Testament... probably should have done this earlier!

PS, Happy Birthday Booth m'love!

food and drink

Yesterday I received a phonecall from a housemate who I haven't seen for a while. It took no time at all before we decided a trip to the pub was on the cards.

Having not eaten all day it took three bottles of the wonderful desparados to have me a blithering mess, talking absolute nonsense. After my fourth, we got the train and relaised the my car was at Burley Park train station and that I, in my stupour, would not be able to drive. This posed a problem, safe in the knowledge that I had a 7AM shift. Naturally, as always, I concluded that driving was a bad idea, and a risky one, and that I would collect the car in the morning.

This is an excellent thing about the new generation of drivers. Drinking and driving, at least in my friend circles, is condemned as a very bad thing. You not only risk your license and your job prospects but also the lives of yourselves and others. Not a risk worth taking.

So we walked to another pub for some food. I got an embarrasingly small amount of food and this morning I got up ten minutes early and walked to collect my car.

Those of you that wouldn't do that ordinarily, take this as a lesson.

ping-pong

On our travels the other day me and my housemate went to the BIG ASDA.
I've written it like that to hopefully adequately portray the size of it. You take a normal sized supermarket; give it travellators and put another store of the same size underneath it. Complete it by giving it its own McDonald's restaurant and boom, there you have it. Impressive.

We were trying to find presents for Jack (who as I mentioned in a previous post isn't very well) and on our travels stumbled upon a ping-pong set for a pound. PING PONG. A POUND. There was no way we could possibly refuse. We bought it (amongst all of the presents we got for Jack, a list as long as one's arm). Not deterred by the fact it was too small for our coffee table, we put bottles of irn bru on either side. We now challenge anyone to partake in the 'irn bru woodside table tennis tournament.' It will be the finest example of a tournament you have ever seen and I dare any of you to come and have a look.

This is what student life is about. Impulsive, exciting and most importantly simple. Its simplicity is key. This is our last opportunity to live the easy life. I for one will be taking advantage of the easy life until it disappears for good and I wave goodbye to education and hopefully say hello to educating.

Scary, I know, but all the more reason to live for today! 

channel four

It was inevitable, was it not, that there was going to be a little bit of uproar about last nights show 'Make Bradford British?'

This is because they showed a disproportionate amount of negative opinion about the ways in which people think immigrants can contribute to society. It's also not the first thing that the lovely people at C4 have done that has been negatively stereotyping one set of people. I'm not saying I haven't seen racism around. I'm not saying I'm condoning the fact it happens. I'm saying that it is easy to find the negatives in society, but sometimes ignorance is bliss. Sometimes it is better to ignore the blind ignorance that sits just outside your door. Sometimes it is better to accept moronic behaviour as moronic behaviour and just let it go over your head.

Before anyone says that I don't know what discrimination feels like, welcome to the world of a 6"7 man. I'm even discriminated against by inanimate things. Doorways, basement rooms and trousers, all things that cause me physical struggle. I'm not saying that this is as bad as being racially abused, but I've had that too. Being called a 'skinny white boy c##t' was the highlight of a night in Manchester last August.

I'm not saying we should all come together and love each other, I know that there is currently an obvious lack of possibility. I think the modern generation could fix this, so long as the generations that follow are integrated properly, through schooling. But for now, it is a sad state of affairs, but we must just accept what we have.

Because after all, racists are the most bigoted of folk.

friendship

How does one define friendship?

For me, its what you can share with someone. Those little things that nobody else can know and that nobody will discover unless you open up to them? Well yes, but it comes in different forms too. It comes as a mutual agreement that you appreciate each others' company. It comes by chance. Chance is probably the most crucial part. The world isn't pre-determined. Time moves from moment to moment and the only way to look back is through memory (and this is coming from one of the bow-ties-are-cool-brigade) If you make good friends, you're lucky. I have.

What about when friendship goes sour? Arguments, a lack of intent to make it work, differing interests, growing apart? The easiest thing to do is to blame the other person, never speak of it again and move on with your life. It's never that easy. Never. It takes effort, it takes intent, it takes a realization that you'll miss that person in your life. Most of all it takes a mutual acceptance. Mutuality is to friendship what Obama is to presidency (has a lot of good intentions but probably won't stay very long).

The sooner people realise that I'm holding my side of this agreement, the sooner I can get on with my life. Telling me one thing and others another will only hinder things.

Time to sit and wait, I suppose.

P.S. don't know if he's been reading this, but get well soon big Jack! No more red meat on the barbie for you though...

househunt

Went house-hunting today, looked at three houses.

Two were nice-ish, not the standard that we're living in currently but nice enough. Liveable.

The last one was appalling. There was a distinct lack of effort put into not only its upkeep but its initial development. Generally this wouldn't bother me but according to unipol this was a FIVE STAR property. What constitutes five star? Well decorated? Apparently not. Shower facilities for anyone over 5"6? Apparently not. Furniture that matches? Definitely not.

Never one to pick up on jobs I can't do myself, but its fair to say that I've wallpapered in the past and did a substantially better job than that offered by the landlord. I could do better aged 13 when all I was doing was applying paste in a vain attempt to help my Dad decorate the house.

As for the furniture issue, the modern age has allowed us to buy furniture that matches at EXTREMELY low prices.  Why would people not take advantage of this?! Why oh why would anyone combine the curses of the cheap and the non-matching? Absolute nonsense.

They really need to establish a substantially better system of accounting for houses. The current one is too happy to give a rating that lasts a decade but never checks or re-checks the eventual hovel that people are paying a ridiculous amount of money for. 

69

YES the title is 69,

I'm assuming you all want to know why.

Today, I received a result with feedback for an essay, which was graded at 69, the highest 2:1. I also received a lecture about how to write an essay. Counterintuitive at best. This is for two reasons.

1) I was one mark off a 1st. ONE MARK . I could have tried to ensure that I got that 1st, granted, but with such a level of work I struggle to see why I should be lectured on standards. I referenced correctly, I used a broad range of topics. It makes one ask the question 'why should I bother?' It creates a paradigm in which success feels like it is being punished.

2) Essay writing style is a very personal thing. You can't teach it. You can take issue with spelling; grammar; lexis; etc, but these issues are supposed to be ground out at school. Don't teach children how to spell, it will affect them in later life. As a self professed 'Grammar Nazi' I find it hard to work out how people can spell words incorrectly. Obviously I'm not saying that every word is easy, having studied the dhammacakkappavattana sutta last semester in world religions I know this as well as anyone, but you should be able to tell your variations of similar words apart (you're/your; it's/its). That said, if you haven't learned by now, will you ever? Should special dispensation be given to those who never acquired the ability to spell and hope that we do better with the next generation?

Well, no. We should have done it right in the bloody first place.

back to normal.

Back to uni today! Relatively excited. Naturally I have a stupid amount of work to do before I even start, just finished a reading on manipulating the human gene line, nice little topic to start the day. It is very interesting though. This is the beauty of religious studies, it is at the heart of so many debates and is why I love doing it.

This argument for example can turn about 38103108547 different ways in terms of arguments you can make. For those of you that don't know, manipulating the human gene line is just a fancy way of saying 'genetic engineering.' You can actually ask whether or not the human race is playing God, leading into a philosophical debate about the possibility of determinism (the idea that everything is pre-determined, thus questioning human free will) and then move into whether or not we should be allowed such power. You can then question if such power actually exists, does God exist? If God is allowing such suffering is he evil by making ground rules preventing the ideal of 'prevention rather than cure?' If we can make these changes to the human genome then is this pre-determined world one in which God is letting us do all this? Well not for me, but I'm an atheist.

Personally any arguments against the human genome on behalf of God will make Him seem petulant and thus will give Him a negative characteristic which will disprove Him. Americans will have bumper stickers saying 'God loves Huntingdon's disease' because by definition he must love it if he is omnibenevolent (all loving) but it is a foul disease that can, one would assume, be eradicated by this treatment along with proneness to certain cancers, and a list as long as my arm (and my arms are LONG).

How can any human being say that this is not a good thing?

I don't disagree with genetic engineering to make your children prettier (as if it were actually possible! ha!) For me, if technology becomes available to allow such characteristics to be brought to fruition then how is this different to cosmetic surgery? I think any parent would pay handsomely to get good looking offspring, as physical attractiveness along with brains is a great step to success. Also, having been brought into this world by a treatment which allows fertility I struggle to see the difference human genome therapy and IVF, for example.

As my title pertains, yes, this is back to normal.

PLACEMENT

I've just finished my placement for my second year at uni. This consisted of six weeks, or what should have been six weeks, in a specific workplace of our choice. Or at least it was our choice if we wanted it to be our choice, we could put this time of our lives in the hands of the professionals if we so wished. This left me with a dilemma. Do I stay or do I go? Not knowing any schools in the Leeds area meant that I could either pay rent in Leeds but live in Thornaby (my hometown) or alternatively ask the office to assist me so I could find a school in Leeds that would take me for five weeks (because week six was half term). I opted for the latter. Bad. Move.

What eventually happened was that I had seven days to find a placement. After asking the office for help they spent three months chasing shadows. THREE MONTHS. It took me one week to do the same job, in fact one day, a tank of petrol and a panicked expression on my face, to be precise. You see, for me, if 75% of students that apply for a placement through your office actually get a placement, you shouldn't plug this as a good thing. This leaves an excess of
25% of students still seeking a placement after the deadline has passed. Not acceptable.

So the placement started. Good times! At my old school, wearing a shirt with elbow pads and a woollen tie, I looked like a throwback from 1960s geography. This, along with my height, did not go unnoticed. I challenge anyone to walk into a room full of 11-12 year olds wearing ANYTHING out of the ordinary, or being interested in anything out of the ordinary, or just looking out of the ordinary. Here stands a six foot seven man who loves R.E, like I said, out of the ordinary. They will pounce on it, you have to be witty. In a classroom you NEED to be witty. Those lacking wit will lose the respect of the students almost immediately.  The second they feel they can walk all over you is the second they grasp the nettle and do so.

Three weeks passed in a heartbeat. Sixth form placement began. Teaching students little more than two years younger than oneself is an interesting turn of events. You realise how much you've learned since you were in their shoes. You learn how much you have grown up. Socially, academically, generally. A level students are like a lite version of university students. The problem is, like with any lite version, there is still a vast amount of the finished article hidden beneath. The challenge is to know everything they need to know. I had a weekend to learn this, and did. Well done Larry.

Anyway, back to normal life. Just spent the last fortnight drunk or hungover (alongside a 3000 word report for the contents of my placement).  Wish me luck.