Hipsters and Holli (I Never Said The Two Were Mutually Exclusive)

I had a moment the other day. One of those moments where your first thought is I have to blog about this. 
I was in Starbucks with my Mum, because we were in town and she was hungry, and I needed a wee. We were sat drinking tea and sharing a sandwich, when these two boys walked in. The first was wearing a tan frock coat, knitted scarf, winkle picker shoes, and that adorable hairstyle, where its all short at the sides, and longer and slicked back at the top. The second boy was taller, and dressed identically to the first one, only with a black coat. 
So these two kids walk in, and the first one instantly goes, "Ugh, so many hipsters."
I contemplated this statement after I had finished braining myself on the table due to the fact that I was laughing too hard, and I came up with this:

1. Those boys were the most hipster kids I had seen all day.
2. It's a Starbucks. That's like walking into a prison and going "Ugh, so many murderers." 
3. The only people apart from me and Mum were hundreds of very harassed parents with toddlers.

So, honey, I think you might be a little confused. I don't know, maybe they'd just walked in and accidently glimpsed a mirror.

I'd just like to take a chance to say best wishes to HB on her 18th. Baby, you will realize why I chose this post to mention it when you see your present tomorrow. I hope you like it. (4/4)

Why I Would Make A Terrible Bond Girl

So I act, right? I love it. Which means that quite often, after I've seen a film, I imagine what it would be like if it was real, and I put myself in different character roles, and different scenes, and it's great. So, of course, I tried doing this with some of the Bond Girls, and, um, it came out a little differently...

Bond walks into a bathroom, dropping his shirt on the way. Sévérine is already in the shower, running her hands through her hair. Bond steps in behind her, moving his hands around her waist. 
Sévérine: Hold up, bitch. The hell do you think you're doing? You can't just wander in here and get all touchy feely. When did we ever agree to that? What if I was on my period, huh? Then we'd both be screwed. Plus, I haven't shaved my legs in like, three months. I mean, I dunno, maybe you're a feminist and you're cool with that, or whatever, but I'm just saying it's something to be aware of. 

Bond and Sévérine are sat at a bar together, the latter drinking champagne  the former, a martini (shaken, not stirred).
Sévérine: What do you know? 
Bond: Well, it takes a certain type of woman to wear a backless dress with a Beretta 70 strapped to her thigh. 
Sévérine: Yes. A boring one. I prefer a shotgun stuck down the cleavage. 
Bond: Wha- 
Sévérine: Also I have throwing knives tied to my elbows.
Bond: I- 
Sévérine: And a machete on my shin.
Bond: But- 
Sévérine: Also I'm not 100% sure what the structure of my dress has to do with my weaponry. 

Bond and Moneypenny stand together in an office of MI6. Bond turns to walk away, as Moneypenny watches him go. 
Bond: In your defense, a moving target is much harder to hit.
Moneypenny: Who says I missed, motherfucker?


Or, you know, just maybe...
Bond walks into a bathroom, dropping his shirt on the way. Sévérine is already in the shower, running her hands through her hair. Bond steps in behind her, moving his hands around her waist. 
Sévérine: The hell did you get on my boat?

My Life Would Be So Much Easier If I Just Didn't Have Lungs

I'm ill, and it sucks. I hate being ill, because I do little enough at the best of times, but when I'm ill, my productivity drops below freezing. Actually, I just came up with a good system: from now on I shall measure productivity in temperature.

Anyway, I am ill, and I have so voice, which sucks balls, because this week alone I should have three drama lessons, one singing lesson, one elocution lesson, and one goddamn drama exam, which I now probably won't be able to do, if I can't talk by Saturday. Ew.
Plus, I missed media yesterday, which is always a downer, because my media teachers are incredible (especially MH, becuase unlike most teachers, he actually seems human, and isn't afraid to bully me, and accept to be bullied back).

Speaking of teachers, we had a fire drill the other week, while HB and I were doing some work, so we trudged outside, and I shoved my hat on, because it was freezing. As soon as it was over, we decided to go get a cup of tea before going back to work. I figured that since we'd only be inside for about five minutes, I'd leave my hat on, no one would care. Wrong, one of the teachers told me to take it off, and told me to not wear it again (it's against uniform rules). I said yes Sir, sorry Sir, because I'm a good student (honest). Then I saluted him. Because I'm a dick. Now he's out for my blood. 
We told MH about it later, and he made me fall off my chair, because I was laughing too hard at him skipping around the room singing about capitalism. I love school. 


Things I love while I'm stuck feeling sorry for myself:

Salvador Dali Eating A Bowl Of Surreal 
This Bat Skeleton Tattoo
Map Of The Roots Of State Names, Translated Into English
Knickerocker

Check out my tumblr

No, I Don't Think You Understand, I Am Q.

It was my brothers 18th this week! Congrats to him for living this far. He went out and got a tattoo of a compass on his shoulder. I am yet to see it and pass judgement.

Speaking of tattoos, my brother, step daddy and I all went to see the new Bond film last weekend (I'm getting round to the tattoos, honest). I'll be honest, I've never really seen a Bond film before. I've seen bits of some of the old ones (hello speed boat gondola), and once saw the beginning of Casino Royal, but didn't like the explosions. And I had no idea what was going on.
So I'll admit, I went into that cinema with very low expectations. However, there were two things I hadn't counted on; my developing love of cartoon violence, and Ben Wishaw. 
Let me clarify, my mother mentioned him to me the other day, and I thought, 'Oh, he's cute, I guess', and then thought no more about it. But goddamn, that man is a blessing on the acting world. Also, I am Q. Fact.
When I put glasses on, We do look disarmingly similar, especially the hair. Unfortunately  this has rather gone to my head, and I don't think my teachers are taking too well to the requests that they only call me by my initials. 

Oops, right, tattoos. Every time I end up in a new fandom, I always come up with a related tattoo that I will one day end up getting done. This time, it is 00Q on the inside of my left wrist. Because, my god, perfect couple. 

I'll be honest though, it was an incredible film. The plot was excellent, the dialogue to die for, and cinematography that would make the director of Sherlock weep. The only argument I have against it is that if you know you're going to be chasing assassins though Turkey, please invest in a tie pin. Honestly, it would have made the whole job much similar. Or you just wear practical clothing, instead of a very expensive suit.

In summary: I am Q, go see Skyfall.

What If Merlin Was A TV Cook?

In a time of cake, the destiny of a great bakery rests on the shoulders of a young chef. 

I am so, so not sorry for that.

(Background: James Morton from GBBO @ replied JW on twitter, and she made a joke that it was a sign. Then this happened.)

So There Was This Hat

I bought a hat last week. 

"Big deal!" I hear you cry. But no, wait, you don't understand. Let me show you.

Meet Anna Dello Russo, editor with Vogue Japan, and amazing fashion designer. She recently released a collab range with H&M.

Sexy box for a sexy hat. I could live in that thing, it's huge. 

 I was watching a program with my mother a while back called Show Us Your Wardrobe, and it was an episode featuring Paloma Faith. She showed off a hat that had been sent to her from H&M, to help with publicity.
I fell in love.

That is one big ass bird on your head there, Az.

So yes, I went out and bought the hat. I somehow, magically, got it half price, and I know that some people had been queuing for hours the day the range was launched to get their dirty mits on it.

Kind of a sexy bird, though. Right?

I am a very lucky fashionista.

Just A Quickie

Oooh, I haven't been on here for a while.

OOPS.

Live with it, it's my blog. ANYWAY, I've been busy. Like really busy. Let me tell you...
So I had my school play, which, oh God, it was amazing. Honestly, we did Dahling You Were Marvelous, a mostly unknown comedy by Steven Berkoff. It's an ensemble piece, featuring a horse of stuck up actors, directors, writers and designers all waiting for their big break, alternately complementing and bitching to each other in a ritzy West End cafe, after a show. I was playing a bloke (har har har), called Sid, a left-y fringe elitist, with a passion for expensive champagne. I loved him. 
My Dad moved house! He's in Wales now, in a sweet little bungalow, near his mum and my step mothers parents. It's nice, I know the area pretty well, and I've got my wee doglett up there, so yeah, Lot of getting used to, but it's nice. Also, I have a kick ass en suit. 
I have my grade seven speech and drama exam in two weeks! Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to it, but OH GOD it's scary. I have one last piece to learn, as well as my theory. It'll be fine. It'll be fine. Fingers crossed. 
On a similar vein, I'm doing a concert with my singing teacher next month, which, I'll be honest, I'm terrified about. I'll be doing a solo (!!!) of Let It Snow. I have to sit down, or I do the Nervous Sway. To be honest, I never stop doing the Nervous Sway, so I think I'm ballsed for life. 


THINGS I LOVE THIS WEEK

Neil Gaiman's books
Amanda Palmer's music 
This photo of the Queen
This blog post about Merlin

Whats new on my tumblr... 

Fuck Yeah Thespian Peacock is my life

The Knitting And Stitching Show

So I decided to go with the textiles department on a school trip to Alexandra Palace on Thursday, to see the the Knitting and Stitching show, as hosted by Twisted Thread. And it was AWESOME.
We had to leave school at stupid o'clock, to get to London by 11am, and then we had four hours to go around the two rooms it was held in, and just look at GOODNESS.
The first room was exhibitions from students and professional artists and knitters, and there were things like knitted dinosaurs.

I know. You're welcome.

There was also actual arty stuff, by far my favorite of which was the 'Jabberwocky' exhibition by Sue Walton and Ann Small, which was honest-to-god incredible. It was like all my favorite things in one 3x6 meter space. Big dresses, bones, dead flowers, and tea pots. What more could a girl ask for? 

There's a bunch of rusty keys in the middle of a bone heart. I'm not sure that 'adorable' is the right word here, but it's the one I'm going to use.

It's in sepia because, hey, turns out that camera phones don't have the best quality.

This. I want it.

See the collar on that dress? Here's a close up:

Again with the camera phone/picture quality thing.

So what you got THERE, is rusty pins (like what would be in a proper Elizabethan collar), and tiny bones, fastened down with string, and red wax. And it's beautiful. 

My favorite actual article of clothing from the exhibition was defo this dress, by Deimante Meilune:

What you see here, is a knitted dress, and a knitted suit. I would probably get married, just for an excuse to wear that dress. Sod it, if I ever got my hands on that, I'd never take it off. I'd go to Tesco's in that. It's made entirely out the finest, knitted lace you could possibly imagine  including the layering at the bottom. Admittedly  there may be some minor problems with the whole holes/see through factors, but I'm pretty sure these can be overlooked. 

All pictures belonging to Ariane Dean, many thanks to Jojo for names, and to Mrs Manvel for sneaking me onto the list.

It's Not Actually Dreaming If You're Awake And Not Drunk

So quite often I end up going into way too much detail about a dream that I had the night before,  to any friends who were apparently in said dream. 

Most of the time this is a downright lie. See, I daydream like, a lot, and my daydreams are always really interesting/funny/weird, so I feel a need to share them. However I also feel that if I go up to someone and say "I was sat in the library the other day and totally daydreamed that we ran away to Peru together and ended up adopting three children and living in a tree house." they will probably just back away and hope I don't know where they live.

BUT, if I say it was a dream (the kind you have when you're asleep), due to the fact that it was my subconscious creating the whole scenario, it resolves me of any creepy weirdness, and thus I escape without being labeled as a pedo. So quite often I end up telling people about these weird day dreams I have, but saying it was a night time dream. Even though it's probably just as creepy either way.

For example, I just got out of the bath, and I had a daydream that HB was talking to me about her media coursework, and ended up taking a photo of me, naked in the bath, and showing it to our media group. I would like to point out that this isn't entirely unlikely. Also, be flattered HB. The only person who has ever had the privilege hard luck to see me in the bath is CB. 

Normally I tell HB about this tomorrow, but say it was a dream instead. Now I'm going to face up to me demons, and tell her it was actually just a daydream. 
Not face to face, christ, what's wrong with you. I'm just going to tweet this to her and hope she doesn't stab me in the morning.

The Manic Sewer Bunnies Of Newcastle-Upon-Tyne

While In Newcastle this weekend

Me: Is that a rabbit?

Mum: Can't be, it's a tiny lawn in the middle of a flipping enormous city.

Me: I'm pretty sure that's a rabbit.

Mum: It's a rock.

Me: It's a rabbit.

Mum: It's not even moving- OH MY GOD IT'S A RABBIT.

Me: Yes.

Mum: Why is there a rabbit here?

Me: Why isn't there a rabbit here.

Mum: There are two more over there.

Me: I'm taking them.

Mum: I wonder if they live under the bushes.

Me: I'm going to hoard Newcastles rabbits.

Mum: But they'd have to travel over concrete.

Me: I'll open a geordie rabbit zoo.

Mum: Maybe they came through the sewers.

Me:...

Mum: Manic sewer bunnies of Newcastle-Upon-Tyne.