Ellie Speaks...

Biscotti, Biscotti, Biscotti!

2012-02-11T09:54:00.000Z

The Italian student within me has been craving biscotti ever since my coeliac disease diagnosis in September 2009 and I have FINALLY found a gluten-free recipe. YAY. I made these on Saturday night after a very indulgent day of sitting on the sofa watching ' A Room With a View' and playing piano for two hours straight. I love our home kitchen because there's so much space, so many interesting expensive ingredients and you can actually tell when the oven is ready. Bonus.

I used this recipe here, substituting the flour for Dove's Gluten Free Plain Flour and adding a teaspoon of Xantham Gum along with the baking powder. Note to fellow Brits: make sure you translate the temperature into metric. I didn't and nearly incinerated my almonds!

I'm planning to make these again and sit and watch all three Godfather's back to back. Whoever said doing an Italian degree was hard!? NOM NOM NOM.

The Truth About Kindles

2012-02-10T11:31:00.002Z

Way back in November I commenced the journey towards Kindlehood and succeeded when, under the Christmas tree, sat a lovely little Amazon package containing the tiniest little Kindle I ever saw. Despite its overall cuteness, I still regarded it with the utmost suspicion.

'Will you take me away from second-hand bookstores? Will I forget how to turn pages? Will I even use you?' I asked it.

Here's the thing, I have a Kindle and yet I still buy books. I browse bookshops with my Kindle sitting snug in my handbag. Some days you'll find me sat with a paperback drinking coffee in Boston's and on other days it'll be my Kindle. Rather than limiting my reading experience, it has actually expanded it. Though Books maketh a home and I will continue to buy them to furnish my walls, but one cannot lug one's home through the streets in a satchel.

It is the perfect purchase for travel, but also the perfect purchase for students. I can now download reports, PDFs, set texts and dictionaries onto my Kindle, significantly reducing how much I have to carry into uni on a daily basis. This is good for my back and for the environment - no more unnecessary printing! The screen isn't backlit and it isn't touch screen, so it still feels like a book, I still have to turn the light on if I want to read in bed. I can even enlarge the font to make it easier to read when I'm tired. It is going to be BEYOND perfect for my year abroad next year, I can truly live out of only a suitcase if I can have all my books on a Kindle. Again, this won't stop me buying books, I'll just make sure they're only in German or Italian so I HAVE to read them. Overall, I'm very happy with my Kindle and encourage all you readers to rethink your prejudices and see the practicality in this little device.

My friend Jessie and I LOVE our Kindles

Thank you to everyone who commented on my post. Your views were very helpful and insightful!

Oh Comely

2012-02-05T09:00:00.000Z

A couple of weeks back I went to visit my lovely friend Jessie and she introduced me to this wonderful new publication called Oh Comely. It's incredible. It's so quirky and interesting and, unlike most £4 magazines, is not full of adverts and the same old same old articles about how to dress to impress, bag the guy, have great sex and lose weight. I am SO bored of reading those things, but one needs something to waste away a good long train journey. I love how beautiful the layout is and how sumptuous and nostalgic the photos are. I love the random articles on the history of biscuits and rubbers, new artists, DIY make your own shoes and REAL people stories that don't make you gag or cringe. I felt like I'd actually learnt something new, albeit somewhat useless, but useless information makes for great conversation, non?! After flicking through Jessie's Summer 2011 issue, we both bagged ourselves the latest Oh Comely on the way to the station and I read it all the way home. Tee hee. Here's the website if you're not yet yet convinced of its greatness.

What The Season Brings: Snow

2012-02-04T23:02:00.007Z

I'm sitting here, wrapped up in blankets, eating my homemade gluten-free biscotti (recipe and photos to come) and staring out my window at the beautiful beautiful snow. Even though snow is rather a nuisance in Britain seeing as we're not that used to it, I can never complain when all the white powdery goodness starts to fall from the sky. I love it. I always think of snow as something that happens once in a blue moon, in fact, I'm pretty sure I can count the number of times it snowed throughout the whole of my English childhood (about 5). Part of me loves how it brings the world to halt with it's stillness and its beauty. I love the cool silence it brings and how it makes every indoor activity that little bit more cosy. I did take some photos of my window view, but I'm afraid my camera cable is back in Brizzle so tumblr pics and old photos will have to do. SNOW YAY. I only hope the trains are running tomorrow, I do need to get back to Bristol quite promptly (pray pray pray!)

Got Green Milk?

2012-02-04T09:00:00.000Z

Okay, so I'm officially terrible at this outfit posting thing. I am clearly not cut out to be a fashion blogger. Thank goodness this project has some sort of focus and costs me zilcho otherwise I'd be in such a crazy crazy clothes shopping mess.

These photos were taken almost two Sundays ago after church. I wasn't intending to take any outfit shots, but I really liked how much green I was wearing - I even had a green top underneath my green coat. CRAZY. It was also one of those days when you finally straighten your hair and realise how long its got - YES I FINALLY HAVE LONG HAIR! (but it needs a cut - look how split the ends are!) Finally, it was my first photograph with my new glasses. I've been getting a lot of comments about how I wanna be a hipster Zooey Deschanel look-a-like. Now, I love Zooey, I loved Zooey before most of my friends knew who Zooey was, I got my flatmates into Zooey, I could not be a bigger Zooey fan, but the hipster glasses were a completely practical choice. I have big eye lids and big eyelashes, my old glasses had small lenses and my lashes used to get stuck and it used to bug me how I could see over the rim etc. etc. Big frames eliminate all of these issues and make it easier for me to see and read, which is why I have glasses in the first place.

The milk is completely random and there to emphasise how completely spontaneous this is. I'm usually more of an orange milk drinker anyway (1% fat milk) perhaps its a metaphor for how I like to live my life, sat on the fence in between skimmed and semi. I would also like to thank Louis who risked his life (he nearly got run over by a car) to take this photos and also re-edited them (the first batch were so artsy you couldn't see that my coat was green, and the whole reason I like this outfit is because of HOW MUCH GREEN THERE IS!) He is great and so is milk, so drink it, cos it's full of calcium.

BLAH BIKE

2012-02-03T21:20:00.004Z

For those of you who follow my twitter account, you'll know that, now my foot is all healed, I've been back on my bike (or Cassie as I like to call her) I had a bit of trouble with the gears, I was convinced there were three, took it to the bike shop and turns out it only has two. GREAT. Bristol is full of hills, cycling is fun. I bought some lights, a helmet and a fancy German lock (all credit to Louis) and I've been riding pretty regularly. However, the gears are still shoddy and the poor little thing squeaks and squarks its way around Clifton. On Wednesday night, the little silly cycle decided to break whilst I cycled up Whiteladies, meaning I only had one gear with which to cycle up a MASSIVE hill and it wasn't the easiest one. LOVE LIFE. So, I've finally come to the conclusion that this bike is not right for Bristol - it would be perfect for Amsterdam, or Oxford or Bracknell ANYWHERE flat. I'm really sad, because it's really beautiful and I really wish I lived somewhere flat so I could ride it. However, I need to be reasonable and realise that for once in my life practical must come before pretty (NOOOOO!) So I'm going to have to sell Cassie *sob* it's very distressing because now I have to look for an ugly bike with horribly low handle bars and lots of gears. Anyone who knows of a pretty looking bike that would be decent for Bristol SEND ME DETAILS. Much love, Ellie x

The Lahloo Pantry

2012-02-01T17:26:00.000Z

My perfect finish found me sitting in a new cafe in Clifton. After seeing their stall at the Clifton Christmas Market, I made a note to visit the Lahloo Pantry once my exams were over. I was not disappointed. Unlike most Clifton cafés this little hideout is a table service sorta place, which usually intimidates me, but the staff are SO SO super friendly so I wasn't really phased. There is a significant lack of armchair, but the snazzy decor and blankets on chairs deffo made up for it and I soon found a comfy spot to perch and read my book.

The tea list might seem quite daunting for the indecisive tea drinkers out there, but fear not the staff are always happy to recommend something for you and I enjoyed a lovely cup of Grandpa's Anytime Tea. YUM-MY. It came in this adorable tea pot and look how PERFECT the cup is for an afternoon of reading! I also treated myself to a macaroon, because who knew that they were gluten free!? It was so so yummy.

So, although not a place for the skint student, I will definitely be returning when I fancy treating myself. NOM NOM.

My Need for Faith

2012-02-01T09:00:00.000Z

I've noticed how easy it is to spiral. To look at our tangled, stressful lives and try to analyse and unpick the mess that we find ourselves in. We try to be mediators in our relationships, perfectionists in our work, Buddha in our rest and effective users of time. Why are we so surprised at the relentlessness of life? Why do we put ourselves under so much pressure? Why do we give in to this exhausting circle of life? I swear the clock ticks faster everyday, I'm certain my to-do list increases and that bright, heavenly light on which I thumb tack my hopes and aspirations grows dimmer and dimmer.

I think that perhaps I'm just a hopeless case, that I am unqualified for this job of life and that I should just plunk myself in the corner of a well-cushioned room with a novel and just shut everything else out. We all marvel at how fast the seasons pass, how old we are getting, how big the kids are growing,. New generations are taking to the community stages and filling up the school halls with their fancy iphones that we could only have dreamed about when we were their age. The metaphorical umbilical cord that used to pull us back to the next is growing longer and longer and we suddenly wonder how we drifted so far from home, from that safety net of routine and regular meals.

And yet, this is all on ground level and I am forgetting that I am merely a pawn in a much greater and better plan. I am not called or created to be my own master, for I will surely fail. My life is too much for me: too beautiful, too busy, too manic, too gorgeous, too blessed.

This is why I MUST have faith in something greater than myself.

A Kodak Moment

2012-01-31T09:09:00.001Z

So, apparently Kodak are going into administration. This makes me sad. It also makes my prospective project a little poignant. Last week I decided that I spend far too much time behind the camera rather than enjoying the moment, consequently I have decided to document this entire term only via disposable camera. I'm allowed to use my digital for blog posts etc. but if I want to capture memories then I need to use this little Kodak beauty. I figured that because I won't be able to see the instant outcome of the photograph and developing film is expensive, I will take less photos and spend more time IN THE MOMENT whilst still having something to remember it by.

I'm really, really excited. I had forgotten how much fun disposable cameras are and I can't wait to see what the photos look like. They're also 2 for 1 in Boots at the moment, so a MASSIVE bargain.

Who's with me!???

Things I've Learnt:

2012-01-31T08:00:00.003Z

Last weekend I went on a retreat with my old church. We talked a lot about role models and how they can define, derive and direct, at the same time as influence, impress and inspire. I think it's important to recognise that role-models are not necessarily people, they can also be styles, movements, trends, technology, attitudes. ANYTHING. The church is infamous for having role models, mostly in a good way, but sometimes it's so easy to turn good role models into idols. Christians, myself included, are hugely susceptible to idolising preachers, worship bands, super churches, mission organisations and jobs in the church above Jesus. Whilst these things are often good and praiseworthy they can get in the way of the purpose of faith. I don't want to be someone who imitates others, I don't want to be in a church that tries to be exactly like another church. I am, however, interested in imitating Jesus so I can be who he's created me to be and being in a congregation that pursues Jesus' heart for their community. That way I can be free.

Free:

...to be my forgiven self.

...to follow Jesus wherever he leads ME.

...to face 'risk' without being ruled by it.

...to celebrate other's blessing.

...to be part of HIS community.

The Gloves

2012-01-30T18:04:00.003Z

DISASTER. Snow is forecasted and I have no gloves (only scabby ones sent to me by Mum 'love you!') so instead of rushing down to Primark to buy a cheap pair of little mitts, I walked to the vintage shop in the Arcade where I found these Norwegian wool gloves. I had to spend a bit more than I would have done in Primark, but I'm definitely going to make sure I don't lose these because they're SO beautiful! Very happy with my ethical purchase. Also, everyone check out the vintage shop in the Arcade, the woman who runs it is an absolute gem!

The Workspace

2012-01-30T07:56:00.000Z

I have a workspace fetish. This does not mean, much to my parents dismay, that my own workspace is ever particularly tidy or organised, instead it means I stare at my desk and wish that I had some sort of Matilda-like power to move everything around without having to lift a finger. This has yet to happen. Thus I have to satisfy my craving for lovely workspaces by browsing tumblr, there is, I kid you not, an entire blog dedicated to displaying workspaces and yes of course I'm a diehard fan.

Here's Mine:

I would just like to say, that I was watching Gilmore Girls in Italian and therefore it counts as revision!

Everyone tells you that a good working environment will increase productivity. For my friend Katie, her workspace is simply her bed. I can't work from my bed because I will just fall asleep and tell myself that napping is healthy and will certainly increase my output once my brain has had a little rest. I also find it extremely hard to work in my room, not because I get distracted by DVDs or my typewriter, or books, or making tea or coffee, no for some reason I seem to find my walls exceedingly interesting, I just sit and stare at my them, FOR HOURS. I can do creative work in my room, like writing blogs or letters or play ideas into little notebooks. I can have my quiet time in my room because I have it, for the most part, a place of rest. Sometimes, I can might be able to read a journal article but only if I find it interesting, it has to FEEL like recreation.

So, my solution: find a good library. By good library, I mean one that makes you feel brainy and inspires you to be like Rory Gilmore or Hermione Grainger. Although I love the ASS (arts and social sciences library) the colour choices (lime, purple and grey) sometimes make me feel a bit queasy. Also, their coffee is horrendous and overpriced. Last year I found the library that ACTUALLY makes me work: the Wills Memorial Library. There are two options, the law section or the earth sciences section and they're both as pretty as the other. I LOVE THEM. Six hours spent in those four walls generally equals a lot of work getting done. YES.

Where are your most productive workspaces!?

The Perfect Finish

2012-01-27T15:59:00.003Z

In the past week I have: written an essay, sat three exams, written two cover letters (one in Italian, one in German), completed all of my year abroad forms, attended 2 rehearsals, started a new church (as in attending not creating!), held auditions for The Vigil, travelled across the bridge to have a singing lesson, had my first Thali Cafe meal and learnt how to make a fish tail plait. It has been successful, it has been stressful and it has been blessed. So, after having a very indulgent shower (lots of singing), a very yummy dinner at Zizzi's, half a tub of ice-cream and 10 hours sleep, I can finally sit down and do this...

Mid (academic) Year Crisis

2012-01-24T13:57:00.004Z

Recent events have pointed to the glaringly obvious fact that I am not a linguist. A communicator? Perhaps. A grammar geek? Wannabe. Languages buff? Wannabe. Can I can pelt a plethora of foreign words into the air accompanied by wild gesticulations to make myself understood? Yes. Will this get me a degree? No. I always thought, that when the linguistic element of my degree was sabotaging my self-worth, I could seek comfort in the essays and presentations of the more cultural aspects. However, my essays have descended into mere brain farts that, though eloquent and enthusiastic, show no sign of a rational, academic mind. I guess, I'm good at certain aspects such as remembering words, but never the ones considered important. For example, I know the Austrian word for mug: 'Häfel'. I'm good at doing further reading and taking pages and pages of notes, but actually writing an essay? No, no, no. So here I am, sat at my desk, drinking Lady Grey tea and stuffing my poor self-pitying face with chocolate and wondering why on earth I chose to do a languages degree. It is mid-exam week, so these thoughts, although not helpful, are somewhat explainable. I'm tired of exams. I've had 5 years of constant examination. I'm tired of revision. I'm tired of all the coloured pens and the stupid flash cards and the stupid timetables and the stupid booklets and the candidate number ( I REALLY HATE CANDIDATE NUMBERS!) and squeaky chairs and cold halls and clocks that you can't read. BLAH.

Enough. Just because I can't do my degree, doesn't mean life is hopeless, right!?

At this present moment, these are the things I believe to be good at:

Drinking tea.

. Not answering text messages.

. Moving to music (I hesitate to call myself a dancer, but I can move VERY well)

. Not doing my washing up.

. Reblogging things on tumbr.

. Writing lists.

. Talking.

. Making coffee.

. Singing (on most days)

. Saying 'yes' to everything and filling up my calendar.

. Travelling to places that I've never been and staying with people I don't know.

. Tapping (not tap dancing, but I can put my tap shoes on and make a good racket)

. Miming to Bing Crosby.

. Getting library fines.

. Hoarding. (I recently cleared out my wardrobe and found a cork collection in a Hollywood Bowl pencil case and a vast selection of keyrings - WHY!)

. Starting a project and never completing it.

. Putting on mascara.

. Dressing myself (on most days. Although yesterday I actually looked like Where's Wally)

. Wearing glasses. I have no beef with my blind eye. I do not resent having to wear them.

. Ranting.

. Wearing down the heels of shoes.

. Making a mess.

. Wanting to play the ukulele.

. Buying 'old things' ,like broken film cameras and dusty books, and pretending that they're useful.

. Eating humous.

. Highlighting Bible Verses.

. Watching Gilmore Girls in various languages.

. Making my room smell of coffee.

. Putting on weight

. Reading letters

. Wanting to be Zooey Deschanel

. Laughing

. Gesticulating

. Making sweeping generalisations.

. Sitting in coffee shops pretending to have a deep, creative mind.

. Wikipediaing Musicals whilst listening to the soundtrack on spotify.

. Losing gloves.

What career/degree involves all/some of these things!??

The New Yorker

2012-01-21T09:04:00.002Z

I woke up yesterday with Sting's 'I'm An Englishman In New York' going round and round in my head - I do THE best move for the 'I'm an alien' part of the song (next time you see me allow me to demonstrate!) Little did I know that the big apple would sort of be a theme for the day. When I finally got home from my slog at the library, what should be waiting on the doormat but a brand spanking new copy of The New Yorker. YAY. I got a mini-subscription to the mag for crimbo and I love it. The articles are always so interested and beautifully written.

These photos are courtesy of Ellie my housemate, who I grabbed as soon as I got home so we could catch the last bit of light. I wore this outfit for a date on Wednesday night and liked it so much that I wore it again the next day (since becoming a student my hygiene standards have slipped dramatically). As much as I dig these trousers, I hardly ever wear them, which is silly because they're so warm and I feel so 'bookish' when wearing them.

This necklace was another €1 bargain from the Paris market, all nice and vintage. I really need to restock my jewellery box, I had a bit of an unfortunate spat last year where all the chains kept breaking. I'm also in desperate need of stud earrings! So perhaps my clothes budget can go towards some new ones. These shoes are honesty my favourite pair of shoes in the WHOLE world. I always dreamed of owning a pair of leather brogues, because they LITERALLY GO WITH EVERYTHING. However, I didn't have £40 to spare. Alas, I got these leather babies off ebay for a mere £6 - C'MON!

I also had some fun using pixlr-o-matic to edit these photos. My friend Fiona introduced me to the website and I'm addicted. It's so fun! For those of you who wanted an iphone for instagram and hipstamatic - check it out! It's free.

The Next Stage of Grief

2012-01-20T13:57:00.000Z

Trying to remember you

is like carrying water

in my hands a long distance

across sand

Stephen Dobyns

How To Beat The January Blues: Listen To These And Bop

2012-01-19T14:23:00.004Z

Whenever things get too much, I always crack out some old school tunes and boogie around my room. I call it 'The De-Stress Bop' where you literally bop all the stressyness out of your body. So below I've linked you to some of my favourite bopping tunes. Please, if you're feeling blue, stop what you're doing and just DANCE.

Hall & Oates are so funky. I love there stuff cos it just makes you feel so happy. You'll probably recognise this song from the film 500 Days of Summer (FAVE!) every time I listen to it, I pretend that I'm Tom from the film just strolling down the street all happy-go-lucky. THIS SONG WILL MAKE YOU SMILE.

Whenever I go out on the town I always want them to play this song, it gets everyone on the dance floor and just reminds me of my friend Kate (the irish one) strutting her stuff in Lounge and me trying to copy her (but failing miserably!) Stevie is a classic 'pick-me-up' choice, my bro gave me double-disk of his greatest hits for my birthday once - literally MADE MY LIFE.

I remember this song coming on the radio whilst I was in the car with Dad once, we pretty much shoulder-rolled it all the whole way home and then went straight to the computer to download it off itunes. My housemate Ellie has recently got into Motown and we played this the other night to make us feel all happy and jivey. I like to pretend I'm Beyonce in Dreamgirls, grab a hairbrush and swan around my room lip-synching to all the soulful harmonies.

ENJOY!

How To Beat The January Blues: Get Organised (in a fun way!)

2012-01-19T13:43:00.004Z

For the past two years I have anticipated the January Blues and bought a DodoPad. This is partly because my Januarys tend to be bursting with exams, revision schedules and rehearsals as well as to-do and to-get lists for the New Year. I have to be organised and tend to rely a lot on my paper diaries or school planners (I still can't do technology when it comes to schedules, mainly because I love the phrase 'I'll just pencil you in' and you can't 'pencil-in' on an iphone!) However, paper diaries can be so dull and intimidating with all that black and white and no space to write little notes (apart from the last couple of pages - pointless). This is where the Dodo-Pad comes in. It's fun, it's spacious, it has places to doodle, it has little boxes so you can plan your day in blocks (LOVE THIS!) and every week the page colours and fonts change, plus there's usually a silly limerick or two flouncing about. This year I went for a mini-pad seeing as half of my year won't be spent at university, so I needed a one that could fit in my handbag (or one of my excessively large coat pockets!) So far, it's continued to exceed my expectations and makes me so happy every time I write a list or 'pencil-in' and appointment. GO BUY ONE - IT'S NOT TOO LATE!

Hobnobbing at Spoons

2012-01-16T18:36:00.006Z

Hobnobbing:

a) to associate on very friendly terms

b) Archaic: to drink together

So this is a very late outfit post: apologies. I have a confession, I always thought 'Hobnobbing' meant to walk and skip gaily, perhaps whilst knocking one's knobbly knees, alas it doesn't mean that all! It does however explain the context behind this outfit. These photos are actually from just outside Whetherspoons near Park Street and were taken just before we were about to enter said establishment to hobnob with some lovely people from church. YAY.

This outfit was perfect for Sunday. I felt smart enough for church, dressed up enough for lunch with friends, but comfortable enough to go straight to rehearsals afterwards. I'm so glad to see these boots again, they are my favourite winter boots, but they were impossible to wear with my broken foot, because they have a slight heel (which is why I look slightly taller in this picture!) so it is a true testament to my healed foot that they are making an appearance again. However, my favourite part of this outfit is the necklace - I found it for €1 at a street market in Paris and I love how unusual it is. It looks like it's been made out of bark! Hahaha.

I would also like to apologise to all the people who had to witness my ridiculous jumping/outfit post ordeal. Feel free to laugh at me. I can take it.

What The Season Brings: The January Blues

2012-01-12T19:19:00.005Z

Below is my to-do list. It's horrendous. Most of the entries are continuous, like German grammar and vocab - language learning is never 'done'. RAH. I compiled this list whilst having my lunch break in the library the other day, I got so depressed that I turned it over and started a new list 'How to Beat The January Blues'. I always pay attention to lists, so I thought that by making a list of fun/comforting things 'to-do' I might actually give myself a break and have a little bit of fun. It's so easy to wish January away, there's nothing particularly special going on and there's so much pressure to get going with the New Years' resolutions and most educational institutions foist a load of exams onto their students. I didn't write down anything particularly exciting, just things like 'make a pot of tea' (making a pot of tea rather than a cup of tea dramatically changes the taste. Trust me) and 'use some zingy shower gel'. A lot of people kept picking up my to-do list and showering me with sympathy, only to then turn over and laugh. Yes, I write lists to myself with little notes like 'Watch your favourite TV series - you only have to watch your favourite episodes!', I also take silly photos of myself on photo booth so that when I get overwhelmed by revision, I just have to look up and see my goofy face and it makes me laugh. IT'S CALLED SELF MOTIVATION PEOPLE.

Anyway, I thought as this months' 'What The Season Brings' I might share this little Beat The Blues list, because I'm sure I'm not the only one groaning away the month. That way I can make sure that I actually put the list into action (LOVE blogger accountability) and maybe you too, may no longer feel so blue.

A Sunday Stroll

2012-01-08T21:04:00.005Z

My bones hold a stillness, the far

Fields melt my heart

Sylvia Plath

This morning was beautiful. I went for a run and felt my heart soar when I saw the view from the Downs. So, I dragged Louis out for a Sunday afternoon stroll. Our mission was to see the sunset on the Suspension Bridge, unfortunately by the time we'd finished eating lunch the clouds had appeared and our view wasn't as spectacular as I had hoped. We did discover a new street, just off Royal York Crescent, all pretty and regal and intentionally hedged in to keep us ragamuffins out. The doors were gorgeous! We were saying how you could just picture a horse drawn carriage clip clopping round the curve and lots of pretty regency ladies stepping out on to the pavement. Our walk also gave us the chance to check out the new Hipstamatic Disposable iphone app - it's really, really cool. It basically acts like a disposable camera (no way, you say?) so you can't see the photos until you've finished the 'film'. I really like how they turned out - these are some of my favourite places in Clifton! It certainly doesn't feel like January - I didn't even need a coat! But it was still cold enough to want to return home for a cup of coffee, chocolate pudding and the final episode of BBC's Pride and Prejudice (Colin Firth is such a dish!) Oh, I do love a good walk on a Sunday!

What do you like to do on a Sunday?

'You'll Feel Better When You Get There'

2012-01-07T20:28:00.004Z

I can't remember whether the above sentence belongs to my mother or my grandmother, nevertheless its echo bounces and chimes off the dusty walls of my memory, becoming more distinct in times of timidity, laziness, fillness (feigned illness) and dread. It's never the soft and angelic whisper of childhood nostalgia, but rather the piercing, infuriating phrase that is so often proved right: you do feel better when you stop being a wet whiney flannel and face the music, even if you'd much rather snuggle up in a onesie and watch BBC costume dramas on repeat.

One of my favourite photos of Bristol EVER. Taken by Louigi

This time last week the thought of returning to university had foreboding connotations. All I could picture was exams, deadlines, small, messy rooms, mould, cold, incomplete to-do lists, library fines and sleep deprivation. I was supposed to return last Tuesday, but managed to put off returning (properly) until today (I went and had a cheeky visit to my friend Jessie in Warminster, but more on that later.) Mum drove me down yesterday and as we were approaching the city, I was once again enraptured by the deep affection this place evokes within me. The car winded slowly up to Clifton and I couldn't help but grin at all the light, brick buildings, the resplendence of Wills Memorial building and the ethereal beauty of the Avon Gorge. I was reminded of the fact that I really do have two homes now: one is comfort, familiarity and a place to recharge (aka. Bracknell) , the other is adventure, academic opulence, a place to be challenged, a chance flourish (Bristol). When I stepped into my (tidy) room this evening and stared at the arrangment of books and photos and put on my Digital Radio and made my self a cup of tea in my Denby teapot, I felt like such an ungrateful fool for being so reluctant to return.

Things always seem more scary, impossible and stupid when they're just thoughts and fears floating about in your head, but when you actually get on and do them you wonder why you wasted so much time worrying. I am so ready to crack-on with my essays and revision and all the planning that needs to get done for my year abroad. I need to stop making lists (I'm restricting myself to ONE a week!) and just start doing things, more importantly I need to just place all my 'stresses' and 'fears' for the day into God's hands, it's amazing how much more efficient I am when I let him direct my day.

Hate to say it, but my mother (or grandmother) is right: I ALWAYS feel better when I get there.

A Day of Studying

2012-01-06T09:15:00.002Z

So here is my first outfit post. I haven't graced you with a full length photo of myself, partly because there was no one to take it for me but also because I wanted to mix it up a bit. Did anyone have that Misfits card game where you got to mix up the head, the middle, the knees and the feet of different characters to create a hilarious looking person? Well, I decided to go with the card game feel only sans hilarity (I hope!)

This is my standard 'I've got a long day of reading/note taking/organising' outfit. The main objective is comfort and ease, so naturally I turn to my faithful jumper and leggings combo. Bristol has fuelled my charity shop jumper collection and this particular one is a man's wool/silk dark grey jumper from Gloucester Road. It's large, but has a narrow fit so I can wear it like a jumper dress (because I'm short!) The red scarf was 65p in the Salvation Army shop on Stokes Croft - I originally bought it as a Christmas present but I liked it too much! These socks are from Next and although rather expensive in my eyes, completely worth it. They are so comfortable and they act more as slippers.

Finally, when I decided to leave my study cave and venture out to Santa Fe coffee shop for a change of scenery, I donned this rather wonderful hat (my £5 River Island bargain!) I've always wanted a trapper and this surpasses any of the ones I've tried on before. My ears are SO warm. My faithful TOMS are really as comfy and practical as they are ethical and, unlike the their slip-on siblings, these booties don't make your feet smell and actually have a grippy sole. PARFAIT!

My friend Gemma and I are in the process of creating a blog dedicated solely to this No Clothes For a Year Project, partly to make the process a little more fun for ourselves but also to document DIY Projects, potential pitfalls and any lovely clothes swaps that come our way. WATCH THIS SPACE.

The New Project: NO CLOTHES FOR A YEAR

2012-01-05T14:47:00.005Z

So many clothes yet nothing to wear: the mantra of the fashionista. Did you know that, on average, women only wear 20% of the wardrobe 80% of the time?! It's RIDICULOUS. After getting ride of 1/3 of my wardrobe over the Summer and STILL not having enough room to store all my clothes, I have decided to be ruthless with myself. Inspired by my friend Gemma and this lovely lady's blog (who pretty much sums up the reason why I want to do this!) I have decided not to buy ANY clothes for a WHOLE year. There are, however, a few rules/exceptions:

1. I can buy underwear and tights. But only on a NEED rather than WANT basis.

2. If I get a job which requires a certain style of clothing or a uniform of sorts (eg. suit/black smart stuff) I may purchase items but ONLY from charity shops or ethical companies.

3. If going to a posh 'do' and none of the dresses in my wardrobe feel appropriate, I may purchase an outfit, but again ONLY from charity shops and ONLY after having raided my friends' wardrobes.

4. I can make clothes with a sewing machine and knitting needles.

To prove to myself and to the blogging world that I have enough clothes in my wardrobe to create outfits for an ENTIRE year, I propose to do AT LEAST one outfit post a week. This will hopefully get me out of my style rut and wearing some of those items of clothing that I can't bear to part with and yet never seem to don. Wish me luck!

New Year: Find A Balance

2012-01-05T13:59:00.004Z

Yes, I, like millions of other social networkers, am about to jump on the resolutions bandwagon, albeit rather tardily. I am a self-professed bandwagon sceptic, but I think coming up with achievable resolutions is actually a very healthy activity. I still maintain that it is never to late for a new start, so I might be amending these in April, June and even December! Nevertheless I have waded through my wishy-washy aspirations for 2012 and come up with a simple, rather skeletal plan of action. Firstly, I identified my concerns for the year, which were: my spiritual health, my physical health and, in a sense, my academic health. I find the success of these three aspects of my life determine my mood and comfort, I then thought of 4 attainable targets to make life a little easier and more focused.

1. Tithe. I can be REALLY lazy with this and it's time I stepped it up. I believe that regular giving will change my heart attitude and make me more generous with and thankful for what I have. It will also force me to regularly assess my financial situation and help me save for my year abroad and other little adventures.

2. Drink less caffeine (notice I didn't specify!) I have recognised in myself a rather anxious disposition and a little shaky monster that starts jamming in my veins after a couple of cups of coffee. So I have decided to limit my intake to 2-3 cups a day. That might be 3 cups of caff tea and 1 cup of decaff coffee, or 1 cup of coffee and two cups of tea. I'll, of course, let myself off for special occasions like essay deadlines and late night chats, when caffeine is naturally required. I hope this will make me less shaky and less annoying to everyone.

3. Keep the Sabbath. It's one of the 10 commandments and yet I ignore it completely. I have decided that I will no longer do any uni work on a Sunday. This eradicates the last minute panic before a Monday morning, enables me to go for lunch with church people and allows me the chance to enjoy rehearsing without the nagging pressure of academic work. It means I'm going to have to sacrifice certain things and be a little more organised, but it will help me feel a lot more rested before the crazy working week ensues.

4. Learn 20 new words a week. I am DETERMINED. The 5 words a day rule I made in September was a bit too much to ask, but I think I could definitely commit to learning 20 new words in German and Italian a week. I find that when I get into learning vocab I just want to learn more and more, so hopefully by starting small and manageable I might be able to eventually increase my intake without having to make a new rule. Wooopah! This will inevitably help me improve my fluency and knowledge of the languages I love so much. It will make things A LOT easier.

Another thing, which isn't much of a resolution because it's hard to measure; I want to change my attitude towards life in general. I don't want to wish this year away, I don't want to store up all my hope and excitement on holidays, reading weeks and weekends, I want to enjoy and appreciate every working day. I want to relish every second, but at the same time not heap unnecessary expectation on to each and every single moment. Basically, I need to stop being so highly strung and realise that not everything has to be in routine. MUST EMBRACE SPONTANEITY. I guess this year is all about finding the balance, God willing.

It's Time For A SHIFT In Perspective

2011-12-31T16:00:00.005Z

I stand once more at the brink of a life-changing year, and I can't help but wonder anew whether New Years Eve would still be better spent at home by myself. Oh the folly of expectation! I have yet to learn my lesson that succumbing to New Year's hype, however good natured my intentions, will continue to leave me with unravelled and unsatisfying plans 7 hours before midnight. Woohoo. But let us not despair, I owe 2011 a good ringing out and this little blip will not deflate my balloon of joy just yet.

No, even though everything within me wants to slump disheartened into my PJs holding my lavender scented dinosaur, accompanied by a couple of my witty Kendrick girls to usher the New Year in with jolly hockeysticks and a good dose of Adovocat, I will push through my cynicism and feed the burning spontaneity that, in Bracknell, is so often neglected.

I'm going to splash glitter on my eyelids, pack a change of clothes and hop on that train with my Kindle and a flask of Christmas coffee. I will revel in the sights and smells of my favourite city teetering on the threshold of its next chapter, then, I will stumble through the underground with my oyster card to get to Hammersmith where I shall meet with some uni friends to attend SHIFT: an event for 20-30s who want to bring about a culture shift. Perhaps spontaneity is the veil that, tonight, cloaks my deep dissatisfaction with comfortable Christianity (apologies, over passionate, at a loss for a better expression). I am going to London tonight because nothing is going to stop me from spending New Years Eve worshipping my saviour and uniting with people who are as passionate as I am about making a difference to society. I'm not saying that those who cannot and would rather not attend said event are not life or world changers, I am merely advocating that, for myself, attending this event is a statement and a declaration of how I mean to carry on.

New Year's Eve is so often an anti-climax as the passing of time becomes more prominent and feels more relentless than ever. We turn inward to either languish in self-pity or abet our own self importance and then forward to a long or short, unachievable list of resolutions. I am insanely bored of hailing December 31st/January 1st as the genesis of new beginnings. The bible tells me that everyday is a new chapter, a fresh start, another helping of grace. So let us party, let us celebrate but let us not be afraid, let us not heap monumental significance on the coming year and place too much human expectation on poor 2012. God has gone before us and we just need to follow him step by step, day by day, minute by minute, breath by breath.

Christmas Eve To-Do List

2011-12-24T21:27:00.002Z

1. Watch some Christmassy musical cheer: Judy Garland singing Have Yourself a Merry Little

Christmas and Bing singing White Christmas. What more could you want!?

2. Arrange presents under the tree, then sit and admire all the pretty decorations.

3. Get out all my Christmas stories and put them by my bed so I can read them before going to sleep.

4. Do some last minute wrapping. I love the classic brown paper and string. It's cheap and cheerful!

5. Dress my American Girl Dolls in their Christmas dresses. Possibly my favourite Christmas presents of all time - I love these dolls!

6. Dig out my stocking and hang it on my door. Stocking homemade by my mother.

7. Have a raclette dinner with friends and family. Christmas Eve tradition. SO MUCH CHEESE.

Now I'm ready to wrap up, bundle into the car with some of closest friends and go to midnight mass at Guilford Cathedral (we did this last year, it's become a bit of a tradition now). I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas! To all my fellow bloggers, I expect lots of gorgeous Christmas Day blogs (please!)

HAPPY CHRISTMAS

A Cheeky Brunch on Gloucester Road

2011-12-22T10:23:00.003Z

To celebrate the end of term a few of my house mates and I decided to mosey on down to Gloucester Road for a spot of brunch. Clifton was too expensive and we were keen to test new waters and determined to scour the array of charity shops for last minute Christmas presents. After a few tentative menu readings we settled on The Social, found at the mouthpiece of Stokes Croft.

It was a perfect, perfect choice. The interior is so rustic and cosy, with lots of lovely Christmas trees and twinkly lights. The seating is split between large, squashy sofas and straight backed wooden chairs, the tables between coffee tables, small round tables, tables for four and large trestle-like wooden beasts. There is essentially a table and a chair for everyone! We grabbed an intimate table for four along with a couple of their hardback menus and started perusing the Breakfast choices. Being a wheatard* it's often a challenge to find something with suitable ingredients let alone something that actually tastes nice! Brunch and Breakfast menus are generally off limits for me because bread seems to be the meal staple. However, The Social serve a Bubble and Squeak with Poached Egg brunch, making my order unusually simple (I usually have to be a bit creative and create my own meal out of sides or omit certain parts of the dish) My friend Ellie had poached Eggs with Hollandaise sauce and Shumi and Nicki had toasted sandwiches with mushrooms, beetroot and fries.

The coffee was good, the company delicious - overall an incredibly successful outing. I will definitely be returning sometime in the New Year!

After eating our fill we headed straight for our Charity Shop mission, starting at The Salvation Army shop. We all came out with items for £2! What a marvel, charity shops that are actually cheap! I, unfortunately, had to cut my bargain hunting task short, as I had to catch my train home, but I gather the girls continued the cheap, festive fun all the way up Gloucester Road. JEALOUS.

Where have you bought most of your Christmas Presents this year? Shops? Internet? Ebay? Handmade?

What The Season Brings: A Bit of Deutschland

2011-12-21T17:23:00.006Z

As may or may not know, I lived in Germany for two years as a child, which means I experienced two very German, very wonderful Christmasses. They were idyllic, partly as a result of childhood nostalgia but also because Germans just know how to celebrate Christmas. There is the promise of snow, and AUTHENTIC Christmas markets and Lebekuchen and Kinderpunch and huge Christmas trees and gorgeous toy shops and tasteful decorations and beautiful nativity scenes and proper wooden nutcracker soldiers chocolate covered fruit etc etc. As a family it's hard to celebrate Christmas without evoking elements of our time spent in Deutschland, whether it's looking at our German Christmas decorations or making Gingerbread houses or still celebrating St. Nikolas on the 6th of December, we can't help but be reminded of those two very blessed years.

So, when I heard about the German market in Bristol town centre and that REAL Germans were operating the stalls, I felt a huge compulsion to go and indulge in some German festive cheer. On my last night of the term, we wondered down to Broadmead and I ordered us a Bratwurst with extra Sauerkraut IN GERMAN - it was SO SO yummmy. The market stalls themselves still felt a little bit tacky, but if Christmas markets outside of Germany were all really authentic and beautiful then there would be no reason for people to visit the originals, so I wasn't too fussed. It was just a lovely way to get into the Christmas spirit - we even walked passed Christmas Steps, I have ALWAYS wanted to be near Christmas Steps at Christmas time, not for any particular reason other than to say I was there...hahaha.

It was so nice to wrap up all snug in our winter woollens - but what has happened to the weather since!? This Christmas is so mild!

Christmas in Clifton

2011-12-21T09:18:00.005Z

I really love Clifton and I really REALLY love Clifton at Christmas time. Everything is so quaint and classic and family friendly. The Saturday before last I was strolling back from my little jazzy jam with Hornstars when I bumped into my friends Jonni and Alex. They told me that I should run home, grab my camera and head to the Christmas Fayre on Royal York Crescent. I'm SO glad I went, even if I was all by myself.

The Crescent was filled with all things Clifton, from homemade bunting, lucky dip, a barber shop choir, a very wholesome Father Christmas Grotto (not Santa, we are in Clifton DARH-ling) and not forgetting a stall from Lahloo Pantry - a new cafe in the village. I had a lovely chat with the man on the cafe stall and he even gave me a free mince pie with my hot spiced apple drink (I didn't have the heart to tell him I was Gluten free...and I did actually have a cheeky nibble - it was really good!)

It was really rather perfect. The view from Royal York Crescent is quite spectacular and formed a stunning backdrop for this charming festivity - it just made me fall in love with Clifton EVEN more.

What The Season Brings: Christmas Markets

2011-12-20T21:18:00.002Z

Christmas markets are really rather gorgeous. That's why Laura and I made sure we visited the one on the Champs D'Elyseé during our whistle-stop tour of Paris. It really got us in the Christmas spirit. We picked up some 'vin chaud' and perused all the colourful stalls - unfortunately it was all a little out of our price range!

The original plan was to buy dinner, but €6 for a Sausage is a bit steep, non? I hate to say it, but we ended our sparkly, parisian evening in McDonalds - hahaha. So classy. It was still lovely to enjoy an evening full of christmas lights, music and cheer.

Oh The Irony!

2011-12-14T09:30:00.004Z

My Dad has always gone through various musical phases. the most prominent (or the ones I remember the most) have been the country music and the jazz episodes. As I kid I could quite happily bop along to the Dixie Chicks or Lyle Lovett and Shania was pretty mainstream back then, but I couldn't abide jazz. I honestly detested it. I'd complain whenever it was put on in the car or whenever Dad wanted to show off a new CD to his friends. It'll be of no surprise to you that I was a pretty vocal and opinionated tween, and I distinctly remember one evening kicking up a massive fuss about Dad putting on Stacey Kent after dinner, when one of our family friends (knowing that I was an aspiring Charlotte church wannabe) challenged me. He said that he was sure my music taste would change eventually and that I might even be more of a jazz singer than a classical music singer, to which I scoffed and went off in a sulk.

Over the years I have grown to appreciate jazz more and more and ironically Stacey Kent now holds the most number of albums on my ipod! But what makes me laugh EVEN more is the fact that on Monday night I had my first gig as a 'jazz singer' (let's keep that in inverted commas because I still sounded pretty musical theatre!) but that's not the point, the point is that I got paid to sing jazz and I loved EVERY second of it. The band were honestly the most talented musicians I have EVER had the honour of playing with and I've definitely caught that jazzin', scattin', improvisin' bug.

God has such a sense of humour. Isn't it funny how our tastes change so drastically? I guess the lesson here is never say never!

Paris: The Eiffel Tower

2011-12-10T09:12:00.001Z

So, like I said, I managed to get up the Eiffel Tower. Now, I'm not usually one for tourist attractions, in fact I usually steer as far away from them as possible - I dislike crowds and I can't abide long queues (this is why I'm not that great with theme parks - I'm too impatient) however, the Eiffel Tower is definitely worth the wait AND the money. I tried desperately to be chic and nonchalant like Audrey and Fred in Funny Face, but alas that's not so easy when you're silently unbalanced. We used the lift for most of it, but we did have to climb down to the first floor to use the toilet - I tell you it was terrifying!!

But the views, ohhhhh the views. My mother is a sucker for views, annoyingly so, I remember we went on a walking holiday in Germany once, and apart form like 3 photos where we were drinking hot chocolate or looking grumpy in our walking boots, most of them were of views (you know the kind that aren't actually possible to catch on film). I tried my best to capture them, but my camera ain't no flashy DSLR and I my photo editing software is incredibly modest. But they were incredible!

We were fortunate that just as we were stepping off the tower it started to light-up! It was awesome but unfortunately we couldn't stay long to admire it because we'd both forgotten to bring scarves and the temperature dropped quite suddenly.

What The Season Brings: Pumpkin Pie and Holiday Inn

2011-12-09T19:38:00.005Z

2 weeks ago, after a crazy week of deadlines, Louis and I decided to kick started our holiday cheer by baking Pumpkin Pie and watching Holiday Inn. It was so much fun. We followed the recipe from Delightfully Tacky except we used a real pumpkin (from Gloucester Road) and Mrs. Crimbles Gluten Free Pastry. After carving the pumpkin we put the flesh into the microwave for about 20 minutes so that it was soft and gooey a bit like the tinned stuff (only more organic!) I went a little too crazy with the butter, so our pastry was a little bit salty and Louis went a bit nuts with the nutmeg, but other than that it was pretty yummy!

I also bought us some vanilla coffee because Whittards were having a 25% off day. I love the smell of vanilla coffee it always reminds me of America and Christmas and it was the perfect accompaniment for our pie. It was so perfect to be in a warm kitchen filled with the sweet aroma of vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg and pumpkin listening to Christmas Music and making a mess out of a gourd.

After our baking sesh we sat and watched Holiday Inn, which is possibly my favourite Christmas film of all time. Listening to Bing crooooon and Fred Astaire do his firecracker dance is definitely the best way to welcome in Advent. Plus, it was shown through a projector - how many times do you get to see the old classics on the big screen these days!? I feel so very blessed.

What are your favourite Christmas films?

PARISSSS!

2011-12-09T18:00:00.008Z

Ohhhhh, it was wonderful. Just wonderful! I love Paris, I now understand why people love it so much: it's so historical, classy and yet totally liveable at the same time. I NEEEEED to live there at some point in my life. Our weekend was so special in that it gave us (Laura and I) a chance to properly catch-up on life, love and future, it was a break from my heinous workload and it was really awesome to be in a place that is connected with part of my family history (my great grandmother was involved in the Salvation Army in Paris a LONG time ago) and to rekindle my love of the French language (one day I will speak it properly and make my ancestors proud!)

Seeing as we were only in the city for just under 48 hours, we were unashamedly touristy. Our first stop was Notre Dame to see the beautiful Nativity Scene and lots of candles, then a few pit stops at various cafes followed by The Eiffel Tower and Christmas Markets on the Champs D'Elysees. Despite my horrendous cast (as you can see my photos lack the elegance and grace that one so desperately wishes to attain on a trip to Paris) I managed to get to the top and the views were just stunning, it was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon and the sky was just about to turn that lush rosy winter pink. We then hurried back to our hotel for a nap (walking around Paris in a boot cast is pretty tiring!) and then spent the evening at the Christmas Markets.

The following day was grey, drab and wet, so we spent most of shopping, or should I say window shopping - Paris é trop cher! We also wandered aimlessly around Monmatre, bought the standard Beret, had a coffee in the standard independent Art Gallery and managed to do a bit of Christmas Shopping before hurrying to Gard du Nord to buy postcards and the farewell Macaroons. I really didn't want to leave. I'm so glad I bought that massive Paris poster and the Fresher's Fair in October, at least I can wake up to a Parisian view every morning. I'm so pathetically desperate to go back - I want to find an apartment, speak lots of French, read Les Miserable and go to the theatre. If anyone can provide me with this opportunity, please comment below!

I returned to Bristol wonderfully rested, although a tad disorientated, as my first stop was Louis' Jelly Party but it was great to be in love with Bristol again and not frustrated by it. There's nothing like that fresh Somerset breeze and those colourful box houses to make me feel like I've come home.

Currently Listening To: Bonjour, Paris - Funny Face

Christmas Is Coming!

2011-12-01T11:07:00.006Z

Happy First Day of Advent! Christmas is coming!

Je Vais Allé En Paris*

2011-12-01T10:49:00.003Z

On one of our many Thursday afternoon adventures, my friend Annie and I found a soft black beret for £1 in Topshop. I remember Annie insisting that I bought it, after all, she said, you're going to be a languages student and (apparently) all language students have berets. We got thinking about other places I could wear the beret, and that's when the subject of Paris first came up. Both of our families have houses in France, but despite spending almost every summer in shutter-clad french villages and despite driving around Paris, we realised that we hadn't actually spent time IN Paris. I, personally, have been to Disneyland Paris and even spent a week working in a restaurant JUST outside Paris (we even got the train to Gard du Nord and ran out like a crazy thing on to the streets of Paris for like 3 minutes of Parisian bliss!) but I have never BEEN to Paris. I've never seen the Eiffel Tower or strolled through it's streets or drunk its coffee. We both tried to find ways to get ourselves to Paris at the same time, after our respective French countryside holidays, but unfortunately a) we were too disorganised and poor and b) she died before the holiday started, which ruled out any spontaneity. I haven't had the heart to actively pursue a trip, until now, because it made me too sad.

BUT TODAY is the DAY. My friend Laura and I just decided to DO IT. We booked tickets on a whim, found a cheap ETAP hotel and will be off to PARRIIISSSS at 4 o' clock this afternoon to peruse the Christmas Markets, admire the view from the Eiffel Tower and have many a luxurious chocolat chaud pit-stop. I can't wait to spend 3 days with one of my best friends walking around one of the most MUST-SEE cities in the world. Please pray that our grief brings us joy rather than sadness, pray that we grow through what we share with each other and also, please pray for our safety, because I'm as scatty as anything!

Here are my packing essentials:

I'm just going to assume that the French in the title is wrong. Apologies.

What The Season Brings: The First Gingerbread Latte

2011-11-27T21:30:00.004Z

So this post should have been posted on the day that Starbucks released their magical red Christmas cups full of festive cheer, but I forgot. I'll have you know that on that day, I went to Starbucks twice, once with the lovely Kirsty for a latte and then again in the afternoon to sample the Christmas menu with my boyfriend. He ordered us an eggnog latte. It was gross, like egg covered in nutmeg and then shoved in a mug of coffee. So, my customary Gingerbread latte of the season had to wait for another occasion.

Thankfully, I have a wonderful new Austrian friend called Theresa who is just as enthusiastic about coffee as I am. So on Saturday morning we met in the Christmas clad Starbucks to sample the taste of the season, exchange vocab, talk German, talk English and talk holidays. It was great. It was so exciting to watch Theresa taste a Gingerbread latte for the first time! We decided the combination of ginger and coffee works because they're both bitter, but it was still too sweet for me. I don't think it'll be a regular purchase!

What are your pre-Advent traditions?

To Kindle or Not To Kindle

2011-11-19T10:49:00.008Z

When it comes to reading, I am ever the traditionalist. I love books. I love the smell when they're old and dusty and I love the smell when they're brand new. I love the sound and the sensation of turning pages. I love books with inscriptions on the inside cover and messages in the margins. I love underlining passages that I find interesting or inspiring. I love spaces and cafes with second hand books, they feel like friends of the community. I love how books make a house cosy and inviting, how you can read a family from the titles of the books they own. I love how books can be passed from friend to friend, family member to family member like a little piece of treasure. My gut instinct has always been to reject the concept of reading from a screen. It destroys the art of book making. Furthermore, most people I know who are avid Kindle users weren't the kids who spent every night under their covers with a torch devouring novel after novel, it's purely practical, they don't read literature that inspires a relationship between author and reader - this is in no way a criticism, merely an observation. If you have a Kindle and have the same attitude to reading as I do then PLEASE comment on this post and give me your opinion.

I have a lot of memories attached to books. For example, my small copy of Pride and Prejudice was give to me by my Grandma, I bought my hardback edition of War and Peace on a chilly December afternoon in a Clifton charity shop, my copy of the Communist Manifesto is from Hugendubel in Munich and my beautifully bound copy of Leben Michelangelos was discovered by me in a pile of books being given away, for free, by Bristol's German department.

I also live with two English students who, like me, love the physical act of buying books or receiving them in the post - there are always squeals of delight when Amazon brings us a package of paper-bound goodness. To wait for a book ordered from the internet or to actually go out and buy it in the shop shows an appreciation for literature, it's not an instant gratification. This is another thing that bugs me about E-Readers, is how it kindles our greed and need for speed. I also find that having too much technology clutters my mind and stresses me out - this is why I have yet to get a snazzy phone or be in anyway allured by ipads or other tablets.

However, I have dilemma. As some of you may know, I will be living abroad for a year as part of my degree. I have decided not to choose the studying option, thinking that a break from the academic pandemonium of essays and exams might do me some good. Thus, I am hoping to spend 6 months working in Germany and six months teaching in Italy. This will inevitably give me a lot of time to read for pleasure - something which, at uni, is hard to find. The problem is, I can't lug all the books I want to read over to the continent, it's impractical and expensive. When I was at the YWAM base in Milan, I met a couple who loved to read, but because of the community living arrangements didn't think it was practical to keep buying books, so they bought each other Kindles. For the traveller, it seems a good idea. I'm also one of those people who always carries reading material in her handbag, and by reading material I mean a selection of books of varying genres and significance. I just never know what I might be in the mood for if my train is late! My boyfriend gets SO annoyed with how heavy my bag is and I think my back is starting to get a little grumpy too. Again, a kindle may solve this problem! I told the girls in my flat, that I was tempted by a Kindle for purely practical reasons. They think I'm selling my soul. Katie said she would give her consent only if I promised to throw it away (or not use it) on my return to England. My predicament is a sensitive area for me, and I would love to hear some more opinions on the matter. Will buying a kindle turn me into a technology consumed Amazon robot, or will it supplement my reading habits by simply being a practical alternative that I can turn to in times of travel.

Birthday Treats

2011-11-18T14:35:00.005Z

So, this post has taken me nearly a week to write - I can't believe that I've nearly been 20 for 7 whole days. ARG, I'm so old. I remember when I was younger and watching disney movies, I'd look at Ariel from the Little Mermaid and think that 16 was a really grown up age to be, because Ariel was 16 and she wore a bra and got married. That's 4 years ago now! I'd never want to go back though. Every season of life serves its time and its purpose and I can honestly say, that right now, in this moment, I have never been happier. Even though 20 feels scary, it feels right. I know myself better, I understand how to express my quirks and passions, I live in a great city, with my favourite people and I get to study something I love. I feel incredibly blessed.

I think this year was one of the best in terms of presents. My lovely second-hand bike (WHICH I WILL BE ABLE TO RIDE VERY VERY SOON) was from my parents. She's really beautiful, with a gorgeous old-school leather seat, shiny handlebars and this really cool leaver thing which makes her fold in half (not whilst I'm riding obviously!) So she's coming on my year abroad wooop wooop. I also need name her - suggestions welcome!

Then there was the typewriter from Louis...IT'S SO AWESOME. It makes a ping sound and everything. I've spent a lot of happy hours (already) typing random crap on that thing. I love, love love it. My housemates got me some lovely cosy gifts, but I think my favourite has to be the two massive woollen jumpers from Gloucester Road. They've been keeping me toasting and stylish all week! I also got a beautiful new edition of The Great Gatsby from my friend Ben - I love getting pretty copies of books that you know you're going to want to read again again. Obviously, there was more, but I don't want to bore you with my birthday list - let's just say I felt thoroughly spoilt and my ipod has been updated with plenty of new music.

Another wonderful gift, was having my friend Fiona down from Oxford. I love that girl so much, she makes everything in life fun and interesting. I miss her a lot. So to have her join in wholeheartedly with my Ikea/Canteen festivities was really something special!

Here's to another adventure filled year!

What have been some of your favourite birthday gifts?

What The Season Brings: The last splash of colour.

2011-11-14T13:00:00.000Z

The days are teetering tentatively on the icy, naked tightrope induced by late Autumn. We no longer look to the trees for colour but to the pavements strewn with leaves and the cosy shop windows with their warming christmas displays. For us students, it's time for us to stare longingly at our radiators trying to justify turning on our heating, but knowing full well that 9'C is still subject to Jumper Heating*. It's time to start embracing those festive beverages in their seasonal paper cups, asserting that a Black-Forest Hot Chocolate is more of a wintery drink than something specifically associated with Christmas. It's that vacuous interval, cruelly abundant in assessment deadlines, where we have dissipated our autumnal enthusiasm, but are held back by tyrannical Scrooges from entering fully santa-suited into the start of the Christmas season.

I however, have one last burst of Autumn cheer to send your way. Just over a week ago, I embarked on a weekend away with Bristol's Christian Union to Ledbury. There we frolicked in a flurry of seasonal veg, banoffee pies, bonfires, sparklers and, above all, teaching from Exodus.

On the Saturday night, I, frustrated that my stupid foot injury had prevented me from taking part in a glorious seasonal stroll around the countryside, decided to walk about 10 metres from the house to take some pictures of leaves, sunsets and trees in all their closing glory. It was a stunning evening, defined by it's cold air, warm sunshine and that distinctively sweet aroma of goldening mud-soaked leaves. I hope you enjoy the pictures as much as I did taking them.

*Where you put on a ridiculous amount of layers in order to compensate for lack of central heating.

Sturm und Drang on a Friday afternoon

2011-11-11T14:19:00.006Z

One rather frustrating aspect of studying the Sturm and Drang movement (18th century Germany) is the way it evokes an obsessive poet in me. I'll be reading a piece of literary criticism and I suddenly find myself scribbling atrocious rhymes on the back of a flyer because I happened to look out of the window and felt the irrevocable desire to write about my experience of nature through the single-glazed glass.

Other than feeling like a massive boffin bordering on romantic (in the literary sense) fool, it is incredibly frustrating and proving potentially detrimental to the outcome of this essay. I know learning is supposed to inspire and I'm finding myself pouring over books until past midnight wolfing down any tips, styles and knowledge that seems relevant or that I can connect with. This along with my recent addiction to BBC Radio 3 and current gorge-fest of Vaughn Williams is making me wonder whether I'm turning into a bit of an academic recluse.

I remember an English lesson in the dusty treasure chest of Palmer Library at Kendrick School. We were reading Byron, rather enthusiastically (we were Kendrick girls after all) when our teacher told us very sincerely that we should all aspire to be 'culture vultures'. I love that image. Since that day I have clung to those words and tried to make them a part of my character. Culture is such a broad term, but in its simplest form it is the study of human beings, of their desires and stories, expressed through a range of mediums. I like to think that being a 'culture vulture' is simply another way of saying that I am determined to know as much about the world and its in habitants as possible. However, this might require me to leave my room every once in a while to actually experience culture rather that just reading about it...

Oh, but it's time for 'Composer of the Week' on Radio 3 AND it's Elgar. Tch, the world can wait an extra hour, surely?

Charis, Crutches and Churchill CU

2011-11-03T08:35:00.002Z

I've broken my foot (the cuboid bone to be exact). I'm going back to hospital this morning to get Charis (the cast) off and replaced (hopefully) by something less cumbersome (no offence Charis!)

Frustration interspersed with pockets of peace is the predominant emotion. I'm frustrated that I can't just jump in the shower, I want to go for a walk in the leaves, I want to ride my BRAND NEW bicycle and I want to be able to make myself a cup of tea without sloshing it everywhere. Yet every so often I yield to bed-rests's benefits and realise that I can still do a lot despite my temporary disability. I'm learning so much about patience, the value of friendship and the indispensable comfort that comes form time sitting in God's presence.

Last night at Churchill we readMary and Martha, discussing how necessary it is to be a Mary in what is essentially a Martha world. Don't get me wrong, I desperately want to get to my lectures, they don't call me Rory Gilmore for nothing, but without the pressure or rigid routine accompanied by my crippling frustration at my lack of independence, I'm having to rely so much on His strength rather than mine. Daily, hourly, even minutely (is that even a word!) I have to hand over my fears and anxieties to Lord, else I would spend my days horizontal (with my leg elevated, of course!) in bed staring at the ceiling and wallowing in self-pity.

Still, there is some fun to be had with Charis and Crutches. People have done a wonderful job of making her look pretty and we had some excellent lightsaber fights with the crutches last night. I'm determined to find the joy and hilarity in the situation - because it is pretty funny. I fell of my bike because my eyes were leaking. Classy, ey?

My Mother gave me some excellent advice: don't focus on what you can't do, focus on what you CAN do and get on with it. Wise words from an amputee! So please challenge me to have this attitude and MAKE ME DO SOME WORK.

yours sincerely

Ellie

What The Season Brings: Jumper Shopping

2011-10-31T08:02:00.002Z

The curtain has evidently fallen on Britain's unexpected Indian Summer, which can only mean that fluffy socks, wooly scarves, bobbly jumpers and Starbucks' red Christmas cups are lurking just around the corner. My preparations for the coming cold began a couple of weeks ago. Like a pioneer on the American homestead I have diligently harvested every charity shop and supermarket for warm clothes, seasonal veg and tinned soup, just in case we get hit by a Bristol blizzard and a quick trip to Tesco or Reg the Veg transforms into a life threatening expedition requiring ice-picks and skis. I have recently discovered that my windows are not double-glazed and since they take up most of my outside wall, my mornings are spent huddled under the covers, like the warm left-overs of last nights' meal might snuggle under the plastic tupperware when placed in the fridge. Therefore jumpers have become quite a necessity.

My annual Christmas jumper hunt was targeted predominantly at Gloucester Road: the edgy, bohemian, free spirited part of town. Louis and I screeched down the street, ruthlessly looting (legally) charity shops of their woollen (or polyester) goods. His jumper purchase was a lot more festive than mine, but I'm really pleased with my practical, cosy choices. We finished up in Cafe Kino (our new favourite place - blog post to come!) donning our acquisitions despite the fiery heat of the mid-Autumn sun and proudly sipping our ethical beverages. I'd really like to encourage you all to look at charity shops and ebay for your Christmas knitwear - not only is it so much cheaper and better for the environment/society, you're also more likely to find authentic, well made, better quality garments. For example, one of my finds was a long black jumper made up of 70% wool and 30% silk and it cost me a grand total of £6. Talk about a steal!

What are your autumn/winter essentials?

Creative Impulses

2011-10-22T08:46:00.002+01:00

It's Saturday morning, which in itself is loaded with potential. Like every other day since returning to Brizzle, I have woken up to the smooth and sophisticated sounds of BBC Radio 3, clasping in my hands, a piping hot mug of tea and balancing my bible on my thighs. I read over Pslam 16 - it's basically the psalm of my life right now, every verse is relevant to this day, check it out. The to-do list has just been written and apart from being a pile of yawn (except the 'learn songs for 'Anything Goes' callbacks this afternoon' - that's gonna be fun) it's also frustratingly uncreative. All I want to do is sit in a cafe and write pretentious thoughts in my journal, instead I'm going to be sitting in a cafe writing a German essay about recycling or something lame like that. Above are the notebooks I long to fill with interesting and meaningful ideas. My friend Gemma bought them for me from a quirky shop in Covent Garden a couple of weeks ago and I'm in LOVE with them. I always feel this pressure with awesome stationary to do something significant with it, maybe I should write my poems down in one of them or dedicate another to theatre ideas or perhaps use one for the music theory which I intend to learn eventually!

But all this fussing is futile for today refuses to embrace the filling-up of these smooth bound books of lined paper, instead it's pushing me down a road of practicality where I will spend my morning with my head under a towel steaming my sinuses with olbas oil and then proceed to battle my way through 'Die Leidung des Junges Werthers' whilst I stare in awe at the fiery autumn sun and try to suppress, until appropriate, all my creative impulses. YAY for Saturday.

I wish you all a pleasant weekend. Anyone doing anything exciting?

Where Lipstick is concerned...

2011-10-16T09:00:00.001+01:00

There's a part in Breakfast at Tiffany's where Audrey Hepburn's character, Holly Golightly, asserts that 'a woman can't read that sort of thing without her lipstick'. The 'thing' that she is referring to is a letter from José, her Brazilian lover, telling her that he has returned to his homeland alone and doesn't intend to marry her after all. Before she hears the words of the letter, she insists that Fred wait for her to apply her lipstick. Now I'm not here to gush about how great Breakfast at Tiffany's is, but this particular scene sums up the reason why I and many other women wear lipstick - to feel confident.

Now perhaps this confidence translates as sex appeal, for indeed when you hear the word 'lipstick' you are likely envisage that daring shade of red which hangs tentatively on the border of sophisticated and slutty. Get it right and you'll be another Marilyn, get it wrong and you'll end up looking like a porn star or Miss Hannigan from Annie (or if you're unfortunate, both) In the patriarchal societies of yesteryear, lipstick wearers were prostitutes or at least considered as such. However, as female empowerment has increased attitudes to lip colour have changed. The suffragists and suffragettes are said to have worn lipstick to rebel against convention, the 80s woman is said (according to my quick skim-read of google results) to have considered her Lippenstift as an essential part of her 'power suit' - her weapon against the dense glass ceiling she pushed against on a daily basis. I believe that lipstick has become less about seduction and more about confidence. Fashion magazines allude to the 'boldness' of wearing lipstick, implying that the stark contrast between skin and lip colour that the stuff induces requires a certain amount of intrepidity if it is to be considered a success.

In my generation there is a sense of lipstick being the lip covering of the daring and the sophisticated; the woman who wants to stand out. I have recently become a fan, not necessarily for the reasons stated above, but rather because when I hear the word lipstick it instantly conjures up connotations of Hollywood Glamour, classy, well dressed women, smart outfits and schmaltzy evenings filled with full moons and wafting jazz music - if you like, an amalgamation of Gatsby's cocktail parties and Rosie the Riveter's WW2 posters. Two of my favourite things.

I particularly like the aesthetics of lipstick. I'm not one for shiny things: diamonds are not my best friend. I like pearls, I like my colours matte, I like my printed photos matte and I like my face to be shine-free - hence I was never much of a gloss wearing teenager. I have recently bought possibly my favourite lipstick of ALL time - it's by Aldi's Lacura brand and costs about £1.99. Not only does it act as a lip moisturiser, it also smells divine and the colour reminds me of all the crimson leaves I see around Bristol - so perhaps it's a seasonal look rather than a year in year out investment. But I love how it makes my face feel complete, how the contrast of pale skin, brown eyebrows and pink lips establishes definition and therefore requires a lot less make-up. After application, I feel ready to stroll confidently down the street, swinging my arms and grinning widely with my pained smile. I wear lipstick for confidence.

See? No seduction to be seen.

What do you wear to feel confident?

What The Season Brings: Pumpkin Spiced Latte

2011-10-15T15:22:00.008+01:00

Soooo it's Autumn (yay!) I've done all the obligatory activities associated with the falling leaves, like buying stationary, ordering books, attending induction lectures, enduring Fresher's Fair, starting new notebooks (all things I LOVE) but I have yet to indulge in the more festive side of the season. So I thought I'd start a regular post called 'What The Season Brings' where I have to do a couple of seasonal activities a month and blog about them, otherwise time is going to get the better of me and I'm going to miss out on a lot of fun. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy experiencing and posting them :-)

First up is the Pumpkin Spiced Latte. Now this particular beverage seems to be the sacred nectar of every lifestyle blog and twitter account on the web - everyone is raving about it. I always thought it was an exclusively American thing because I'd never seen it sold in any of my frequented Starbucks however, whilst mooching around Clifton I saw that Coffee 1 had an Autumn Drinks Menu and low and behold it included a Pumpkin Spiced Latte. I made a mental note to find someone, anyone to go on a coffee date with so that I could taste this much sought after flavoured coffee. A week later, I hurried excitedly down Clifton High-Street with Louis to Coffee 1 where I proudly ordered my first ever Pumpkin Latte. The barista, a friend of mine, looked at me like I was crazy 'You want a Pumpkin Spiced Latte? That sounds disgusting!' yet I was determined, utterly resolved to sample it, my mother's words ringing in my ears 'You won't know unless you try it'.

It's awful. I was so disappointed and yet I wasn't at all surprised. All I can say is that I'm so glad I ordered two drinks, the second being a regular, unflavoured latte; after the sickly, monstrously sweet tasting gourd based hot drink my mouth was pleading for something familiar. People should just never mess with coffee. I'm enraged that they even dare call it a latte - there was no coffee and if there was I certainly couldn't taste it! Thankfully Coffee 1's regular lattes are pretty incredible and Louis agreed to switch drinks (he needs the calories more than I do) so the whole experience wasn't a total disaster. Later, I also found this article from HelloGiggles where a fellow Pumpkin Spice Hater spews out her venomous views on flavoured coffee and, like me, is an avid Americano fan.

Basically sweet coffee is for whimps, the goodness is in the bitter after taste. Punkt.

Milan: Sunsets

2011-10-03T13:25:00.004+01:00

I think the pictures say it all. Italy has beautiful sunsets. They took my breath away every single evening.

Milan: Waterfountains

2011-10-03T13:12:00.007+01:00

One thing I absolutely LOVED about Milan were the water-fountains, partly because they look awesome, but also partly because it was free water - BOOM (take note Bristol)

These fountains are dotted all over the city and the suburbs and on my first night my host taught me the best way to drink from them. You place your middle finger underneath the spout so that the water rises and then you dip your head and drink as much as you possibly can. It was so refreshing!

But there are other ways to drink from them, like placing your bottle underneath (standard), one little girl used the cup of a kinder-egg surprise, another man just shoved his head underneath and hydrated his entire face and another couple cupped their hands so that the water made a little pool in their palms.

As you can see, I tried to take a detailed photo account of this experience and ended up spraying water everywhere. Such a tourist.

Milan

2011-10-03T12:28:00.006+01:00

Okay, so I've been back nearly two weeks and still haven't posted anything about my crazy Milan adventure. It was a fantastic experience, one that I struggle to put into words, or rather I manage to put it into words but instantly become dissatisfied with my descriptions. However, I will endeavour to summarise the 7 days as eloquently as possible.

The DK guidebook describes the city as 'chic rather than attractive, a city of wealth as opposed to imagination'. This, for the most part, is a very fair description. Milan is not romantic, but it is elegant. It is proud, fashionable, uncompromising and especially honest (bordering on snobby). In September the tourists walk around in cut-offs and sandals, drowning in the humidity, whilst the locals are kitted out in slim feet jeans and heeled boots - not a drop of perspiration to be seen. I was a true victim of the climate. Me, a sweaty, fleshy white girl innocently wandering around in as few clothes as modesty would allow and consequently got refused entry into the Duomo!

We stick out like porcelain snowmen, with large cameras, loud voices and still hands, for the Milanese speak in hushed, dignified tones and gesticulate incessantly. Models are as common as tramps, hopping onto the Metro with their understated attire, long legs and clear plastic folders filled with beautiful, airbrushed photos. Dogs are everywhere and are often given better treatment than human beings. The children are like Prada clad Mowglis: mischievous and playful and despite their elegant attire look prone to scabby elbows and dirty knees. The teenagers are copper skinned, jean wearing, converse walking, backpack holding gangs, chattering excitedly and confidently striding around their city.

My time at the YWAM base, was a particular highlight. I had the opportunity to join in with their staff meetings and really feel like a part of their ministry. Every single person taught me something and inspired me to be more aware of God's daily whispers and to worship Him with more intergrity. My last night was spent dancing around to worship songs played by a large Italian builder on his guitar, whilst me and the other girls sang in a mixture of Italian, English and Russian. It was just gorgeous! I was also lucky enough to catch the backend of the Milan film festival, followed by 3 hours spent in a charismatic Catholic prayer meeting, which was enormously humbling and perspective changing. I spent a lot of time by myself, walking around the city or just reading quietly in the apartment. What I thought was going to be a crazy, manic week turned out to be a God-intitiated period of rest - just what I needed! That's the one thing I want to bring back to my life in England, as well as a passion for learning the Italian language. This year I need to prioritise rest (and language learning). I need to emulate the slightly more laid-back culture of the Italians and enjoy my surroundings without fretting that the time is flying by so quickly.

Music Spotlight: Mary Spender (AGAIN)

2011-09-29T21:17:00.000+01:00

Okay so y'all have already heard about this lovely lady, but after spending 2 weeks of my Summer with her in Edinburgh I just had to point you in her direction again. Mary's voice is SO unique. She's like a more soulful, more original Ellie Goulding. It's like Etta Jones and Cher meets acoustic guitar - perfect for snuggling up with a cup of tea when the weather (eventually) gets cooler. As well as being an accomplished musician (she played viola in our apocalyptic opera at the Fringe Festival) she's also a enviably brilliant person. Her new EP is currently in the pipe-line - I've already had a sneaky listen (being her friend and all) and it sounds gorgeous. It's going to be the soundtrack of my winter. So please take a visit to her Facebook or her Twitter - maybe check her out on Spotify and Itunes as well. She's going to be such a star!

Currently Listening to: Mary Spender - Memories

Blogger Spotlight: Thule Fiona

2011-09-24T17:05:00.000+01:00

It's high time I pointed all you lovely readers in the direction of yet another one of my favourite blogs. My gorgeous, kooky friend Fiona is part of the reason why Elliespeaks exists - I believe I was ranting about something in the library one afternoon and she told me to either get a blog and write it down or shut up and get on with my homework. She has been one of my biggest supporters and not just in terms of the blog, she's been a real pal through thick and thin. I LOVE HER. I'M HER BIGGEST FAN.

Her blog is one of my favourites because it's so honest. Fiona is an individual through and through, she has never been anything but herself and her blogposts reflect this - whether she is writing about Oxford, or fashion, or tattoos or her lust for all things Scandinavian, her voice is always fresh, interesting and candid. I find her fascinating: I love her opinions, I love her thoughts and I love hearing about her adventures - so please, have a visit over to ThuleFiona and be her friend. She also has an AWESOME blog layout.

Worship: a rant, a challenge, a reassessment

2011-09-18T14:22:00.001+01:00

I've been thinking a lot recently about worship at churches and conferences and how I hate the spectacle that it so often becomes. People raising their hands, people writing songs, people singing songs, people dancing, people closing their eyes, people on their knees - these are all beautiful things but if they don't come from a genuine awe of God and are more concerned with impressing others or trying to look holy then they are corrupt and meaningless and a danger to our relationship with God. Just as catholic symbolism and anglican liturgy can,at times, seem like empty, religious ritualism, so can our charismatic worship routines be just as void.

God is so clear about what he thinks about false worship. Here are just a few verses:

'what sorrow awaits those who have deserted me! Let them die for they have rebelled against me. I wanted to redeem them but they have told lies about me. they do not cry out to me with sincere hearts. Instead they sit on their couches and wail' (Hosea 7:13-14)

'Israel has built many altars to take away sin, but these very altars became places for sinning!...the people of Israel love their rituals of sacrifice, but to me their sacrifices are all meaningless' (Hosea 8:11,13)

'I will not accept your offerings. But my name is honoured by people f other nations from morning till night. All around the world they offer sweet incense and pure offerings in honour f my name. For my name is great among the nations...but you dishonour my name with your actions' (Malachi 1:11,12)

There's a church here in Milan that took a break from having worship with instruments just so they could realign themselves with what it REALLY means to worship God. What an amazing stand?! How many of us would be willing to be a part of something like that?

The Hebrew word to worship means to serve. So when we say we want to be worshippers we are saying we want to be servants. Servants are humbled before a master. So our approach to worship should emulate that of a humble servant.

I have to challenge this a lot in myself. So many times I find myself questioning my motives, which is probably why my hands are shaking so much as I type this because God has something very clear to say to me, to all of us about how we worship him. How I worship God in the private space of my own bedroom should be how I worship God in a public place. I don't need flashing lights, electric guitars, cracking vocals and jazzy tunes to be brought into presence of God. I don't need to be part of congregational sung worship in order to give him praise.

My spirit boils with discontent at the thought of sung worship becoming an idol in itself; when people respond more to the hype of a new song, a new album or a drum beat than the overpowering grace God shows us everyday.

I've been trying to find other ways to praise God that don't involve singing, clapping and rushing to download the latest Hillsong album. I want to praise God in all areas of my life, in my relationships, in my temperament, in my attitude to my work and my finances. I'm so sick of worship being confined to 30 minutes of carefully chosen, religiously rehearsed, structured singing. How can the spirit move if we hold so tightly to the reigns? I'm so sick of the focus being on the quality of music in the church rather than the quality of it's lifestyle.

So I'm opening up the floor and asking you to join me in my mission to practice new ways of worshipping. Please comment on this post with suggestions and let's encourage each other with other ways of bringing honest offerings to a God that deserves so much Glory.

AHHHHHHHHH MILANO.

2011-09-12T20:59:00.000+01:00

Apologies for the serious absence of blogs. I've had so many good ideas that all seem to be stuck in my journal as 'working progresses'. However this particular blog demanded an element of urgency seeing as its contextual significance is fleeting. For those of you who are unaware, I'm off on another little jolly tomorrow. It sounds pretty quaint and cultural, but in my reality the whole thing is less of a jolly and more of a big scary leap of faith. I'm going to Milan. That might not sound particular terrifying, but let me expand: I'm going to Milan, by myself to volunteer at the YWAM base, working and staying with people I have NEVER met, in a city I have NEVER been to, attempting to communicate in a language of which my ability consist of a mere smattering of generic phrases and random subjunctive conjugations. AH SCARY.

If you had spoken to me about this a couple of days ago, I would have fallen silent (totally out of character!) or perhaps mumbled a few corny christian phrases about how 'God's got it' etc. when inside it felt like my stomach was about to soar out of my mouth. I think the aspect of the trip that was crippling me the most is the fact that I have NO IDEA what I'm going to be doing out there. I'm not used to this. I'm Ellie Jackson of the lists, routines and overburdened schedules. When I go somewhere, I go there with a purpose, with a sense of direction and with some form of preparation tucked under my arm. But today as I was cheerfully packing and ruthlessly tidying my room, I had a little revelation and now I'm really excited. I'm seeing this trip as a challenge, a challenge to trust God completely. I'm not quite sure how this whole thing got from a cheeky email saying 'Hi, I'm learning Italian, I love Jesus, please let me stay' to an actual REAL-LIFE plane ticket and plan - but I'm sure He does.

So I'm excited. I'm excited because ANYTHING could happen this week, or alternatively NOTHING could happen this week. I might be stomping through the streets of Italy's fashion capital telling people about Jesus, or I might be roaming around the pavements eating gelato and pondering big DEEP thoughts. This is my act of obedience and I have enough experience of God to know that he'll honour that. I'm going to attempt to give you a daily update via ipod touch (WOAH TECHNOLOGY) but that may not be feasible. Please would you pray for me, because amidst my fresh enthusiasm there is still that pant-wetting fear and I would really really love for this week to be significant and fruitful. MUCH LOVE.

Edinburgh Adventures part 1

2011-08-19T17:53:00.001+01:00

The buzz and empowering atmosphere found at the fringe is nothing short of electrifying. I once described the experience like going to a buffet table covered in yummy, interesting, nutritious food. Although there's lots on offer and pretty much everything catches your eye, you are faintly aware that this is your last chance to try and experience everything on the table. Consequently you over pile your plate and gorge yourself in a theatrical, musical feast leave you feeling bloated with songs and plot lines and slightly nauseous from the amount of money that has been wrenched out of your wallet.

Participating in the Fringe is, so far, a very different experience. You don't overload your plate because you're terrified of being worn out. You wake up every morning convinced that a female octopus called Ursula or something less exciting, like a cold, has crawled down your throat and spitefully stolen your voice. Thus, each day starts with a flurry of hot water, steam, menthol and multivits followed by a trip to a local cafe to sit in silence and contemplate life. Sleep is precious and fiercely guarded. So are afternoon naps and flyering intervals spent sipping tea and chewing raw ginger.

The 10 of us in the production are sharing a flat in the centre of Edinburgh, just a stones throw away from the Udderbelly and C Venues. It's an incredible location. As a group we are an assortment of flavours and textures, some of us are night owls, others are morning birds. A few of us jump at the chance to party all night, whereas other prefer quiet nights in, dancing to jazz in the grubby kitchen and listening to Elgar's Cello Concerto on the sticky, leather sofas.

I'm beginning to appreciate each and every individual personality in the house. They've all grown on me like ivy and mould (in a good sense) and now I'm not quite sure how I did Edinburgh without them. We are a unit, a team and a family and so whatever the critics have to say about our humble opera, however successful our production turns out to be I know I will come away with some cracking stories, great flyering techniques, newly acquired musical knowledge and some brilliant video footage of Jack dancing, my sloth impression and Gemma cooking pasta.

Doubt

2011-08-19T17:43:00.000+01:00

So here's my confession: I doubt. Sometimes I doubt so much that my heart feels like it's being swallowed by a gigantic fish. I am terrified of being a souless, purposeless being, whose heart beats at regular intervals and whose life is controlled by the primitive desires of my anatomy.

When I doubt I feel like a failure, I fell like I've been lying to myself and to everyone else around me. Sometimes I'll read God's word and all I see are black and white letters on a flimsy page. Sometimes when I pray and seek God's voice, there is nothing but a wall of deafening silence.

But here's the thing: faith is a choice. What's more, we need faith and doubt to work hand in hand. As John Ortberg says:

I must have truth. therefore I doubt.
I must have hope. Therefore I believe.

Doubting stops us from being deluded and faith stops us from living in despair. If I didn't doubt, then I would have no reason to delve into the solid, factual truths of my faith.

Sometimes I just need to remind myself how God works. After every spout of terrifying doubting, I always arrive back at this conclusion: people who live with Jesus at the centre of their lives (this is not all Christians!!!) live with more purpose, love with more conviction and act with more humility. The lifestyle of people of faith is always, always more appealing to me. Ultimately, I decide that I would rather live my life like their was a God and find out there isn't, than to live my life like their wasn't a God and find out that there is.

Apologies for the changing of fonts - blogger hates me today

The Beginning of an Awfully Big Edinburgh Adventure

2011-08-16T23:52:00.001+01:00

I'm on the train up to Edinburgh. I can't quite believe how lucky I am - I'm performing at the Fringe for TWO WHOLE WEEKS. YAY.

This train journey has been beautiful but rowdy. At this present moment, I'm trying desperately and rather unsuccessfully, to drown out the drunken noise that boarded at Newcastle with Puccini. My eyes are heavy and the fold-out table on the chair in front of me looks more and more like a suitable pillow with each passing second.

Whenever I take train journeys through this part of the country I'm always wooed by the impressive and breathtaking beauty of the Northern landscape. Unfortunately, it's now completely dark, so unless we pass a city or a place with lots of street lamps, I only have a horrifically unflattering reflection of my face for company.

I did, however, catch the sunset. As we flew through York, the sky was bright orange, with pink undertones and a purple/grey overcoat. The latter became more and more prominent, along with the motorways, which began to line the countryside like Christmas fairy lights. Interspersed between the rolling darkness was a series of church steeples standing like fire torches against the gathering cloud. Soon there was Durham, with its impressive and almost haunting black cathedral catching me by surprise. We were greeted with fireworks in Newcastle, which acted like a sprinkling like of glitter dust pushing us further toward the fairytale kingdom of Edinburgh.

At Waverly station I was greeted by the Sanctuary Cast (that's the show we're doing by the way, check my twitter for me details!) They were tipsy with drink, whereas I was full on wasted with tiredness. I can't remember much of the journey after this point, all I know is that my face very quickly touched the cool side of the pillow and I was out like a light.

Something For the News: RN Reflections

2011-08-16T17:51:00.000+01:00

Ater the riots that have been broadcasted on TV over the last couple of days, it has been overwhelming and encouraging to see 1300 young people in one room determined to change the world for good. These teenagers are channeling that passion, fervour and leadership gifting into a far greater and more worthy cause. This is my first time as a leader at Rock Nations where I have felt significantly older than the teenagers in my care. I still feel like their older sister, but I now have the ability to step-back and truly reflect on how amazing it is to see a 13 year old completely in love with Jesus. There is a real spiritual maturity that emits radiantly from people in our youth group and I feel an outstanding amount of awe and pride at what God has done through us following Liam's leadership.

Over the last couple of days, I have had the privilege of meeting up with 6 beautiful 16-year old girls. Like many of their peers, they are faced with social pressures left, right and cent, to be thin, to be fashionable, to act a certain way, to achieve a certain status. But rather than succumbing to this straight-jacket of physical and social qualities, these young women are empowered by their love for Jesus to act differently. As a result of their faithfulness, their father in heaven has clothed them in a strength and dignity beyond their years.

If you could see how much they love one another, if you could see the way they worship with such reverence and conviction, if you could hear them prophecy, if you could listen to they way they pray, if you could experience the way they place their adolescent frustrations and issues into the hands of God, then you would not, you could not doubt the existence and the supremacy of God and you would not question the significance of Jesus.

I wish these girls had more newspaper coverage, I want these young women on the front of magazines giving lifestyle advice. Their wisdom and dignity does not hinder their fun, it doesn't prevent them from feeling young and making the most out of their teenage years, rather it enriches their entire day-to-day existence. Just spending time with them has brought me so much joy, they are the prettiest, loveliest most fun-loving kind girls, I have ever had the privilege of knowing well. what's more, I know that girls like them have been sprinkled all over the globe and their male counterparts too, are seasoning the earth with their integrity and passion for Jesus. The future for the upcoming generation isn't mindless violence, it isn't debt or a lower standard of living, but rather a passionate protest for people to do good, to love one another as Jesus loved us and to align their lives with the glorious plan God has for them.

Bristol Day 5 - Mocha Mocha

2011-08-10T07:00:00.003+01:00

So this is another coffee shop blog - my favourite! Last Friday was just gorgeous in Bristol what with all the sunshine, light breeze and fragrant heat rising off the pavements. I was very proud of my outfit that day too, partly because I made that green skirt myself. I love wearing skirts with waist belts - it makes me feel all girly, swishy and classic. ANYWAY, internet was still a massive issue, but Louis and I decided to try and branch out from our usual Boston Tea Party/Starbucks wifi habit and try new places, so we ended up in Mocha Mocha on St. Michael's hill.

The Location is pretty ideal for students because it's just around the corner from the ASS (arts and social sciences) library, although I have been reliable informed that as a result of this placing, there is often congestion in the coffee queue at peak times. BEWARE. Inside, it exudes the usual warmth and friendliness of coffee establishments, with lovely wood tables of varying sizes (places for couples and intimate chats as well as room for larger groups) with daily newspapers evenly distributed and the all-important chalkboard price lists. I had great banter with the baristas, who were enthusiastic enough to offer be a loyalty card - YEAH MATE. I ordered tea because it was too hot for coffee (I know, I'm a traitor!) and it came in a lovely big mug - just enough to inspire some form of productivity in myself. I have heard from people, who have taste-buds similar to mine and are therefore worthy of recognition and respect, that their coffee is also very good and VERY reasonably priced. They also do a great deal where you get a free pastry with your coffee before 10am (or maybe 11am, I can't remember)

We sat by the window, which is perfect for people-watching and inspiring procrastination when the daily grind gets too much. My chair was a bit too high for the table, so my legs got a bit squashed and I have a lovely dent at the top of my thighs, but that's the price you have to pay for a view, non!? Ironically enough, we left the cafe to grab lunch from Sainsbury's before ending up in Starbucks - our usual wifi hang out. We claim it's because we still needed to use the internet, but really we just wanted to be somewhere a little more familar to eat our bread and houmous.

Bristol Day 6 - Louis' Roof

2011-08-09T23:08:00.002+01:00

On Friday night we had dinner on the roof and were pleasantly surprised to find the sky dotted with hot-air balloons. I've never seen so many, so close before. It was one of those balmy summer evenings that fixes itself into your memory as the essence of Summer. Great food, great company, great surroundings. I love being on Louis' roof, because you can see for miles and you're on a roof, which is cool enough in itself.

Naturally, we got a bit camera happy and even after editing, these photos cannot capture the true beauty of those balloons and that sky. They moved in such a deliberate and peaceful manner and the two of us just sat mesmorized by the ever changing, ever re-appearing balls of colour.

Another thing I love about Bristol is all the beautiful houses and I particularly like the ones on Louis' street. There are so many varieties and as much as I try, I lack enough architectural knowledge to describe them justly. I just know that they're pretty and when I see them, I want to make homes in them. I want to invite all my friends to fill the rooms, I want to sit on the roofs with cups of tea and look at skies filled with hot-air balloons and stars and clouds and streaks of sun. I want to create families both biologicial and spiritual within those four walls, I want to invest in communities along their streets. It sounds corny, but they inspire me to establish a life that is brimming with different relationships

I'm so glad I got to see hot-air balloons soaring through the Bristolian skies, because I'm missing the Bristol International Balloon Fiesta (11th-14th August) There are so many postcards of balloons flying over the suspension bridge and other great landmarks and I just wanted to experience it for myself. Now I have.

Bristol Day 4 - The Rainbow Cafe

2011-08-05T14:54:00.003+01:00

So again, this post is 3 days late, but there is no wifi in my house so blogging has become rather awkward and expensive. On account of our serious lack of wireless fidelity, Thursday morning found me sitting in one of my favourite little Clifton gems, The Rainbow Cafe, drinking tea out of a striped pot and taking advantage of their complimentary wifi. I uploaded photos, checked and answered emails, watched the news, booked train tickets, got up-to-date on my blog reading and did a healthy amount of Facebook stalking. Pretty successful morning.

Anyone who has ever experienced Clifton will tell you that there is certainly no gap in the market for cute little cafes - the place is littered with them. The whole village is an educated, middle-class, working from home, yummy mummy, calm business man haven and you could say that there is a suitable coffee hang-out for each social sphere. Louis calls The Rainbow Cafe the 'yummy mummy cafe' and asserted to the whole of Clifton high-street that the place made him broody. I can understand what he means to a certain extent, it does feel like you're sitting in someone's house. It has a very friendly, domestic atmosphere and the menu is incredibly family/allergy/intolerance friendly - they even do a gluten free cream tea. They also serve squash, the crockery is all brightly coloured and the tables are covered with easy-wipe chequered table cloths.

However, The Rainbow Cafe isn't just a place for pushchairs and Cath Kidston nappy bags. Not only does it stay open until 9pm, the place also displays local art, plays local artists' music (and sells their CDs), hosts live music evenings and has a second-hand book shop in one of its alcoves. When I was there on Thursday, the place was quiet but for a few older, loyal locals having a great gossip/catch-up session with the staff. If there's one thing you take away from this particular coffee shop experience, it's the sense of community. It's nothing fancy, but it's wholesome and comforting and lovely. Another jewel in Clifton's coffee shop crown.

Bristol Day 3 - Orpheus Cinema

2011-08-05T13:20:00.002+01:00

We all love our cheap cinema tickets but unless someone you know is eligible for a carer or you're taking children to kid's club or maybe you're on that phone network that represents the colour of a tangerine and are ALWAYS ALWAYS free on a Wednesday, then reasonably priced cinema tickets are hard to come by. Oh, and don't get me started on the price (and occasionally the quality of )cinema food. Disgusting. Rip off. Heinous.

Last Wednesday Sophie, Phi and Becky went to Showcase cinemas in Winnersh to see 'Horrible Bosses', it was on orange wednesdays and I was able to use my NUS card, so the ticket prices weren't too blinding. BUT if I was paying for your average-joe of a ticket, it would have cost me £8.00! 8 POUNDS! I can't even mention the food prices because I'll just chuck-up, then there was the quality of food, which was just horrendous, and then the toilets, which were unusable (I had to squat, they were so vile!) and we ended up having to sit right at the front of the cinema (neck cramp anyone?!)

This Wednesday, however, was a very different undertaking. We scrambled up to the downs, barefoot, carrying a Tupperware of rice and a large bottle of water for our pre-film picnic. After catching some rays and chowing down some grub, we continued scampering (Louis' sense of urgency, time and direction often leave something to be desired) to Orpheus Cinema , which is at the top of Cranbook road, on the edge of the Downs. I would describe the cinematic experience as cheap and intimate, but that sounds a little bit like prostitution, so I'll leave you with a quote from their website:

This cinema is part of a Waitrose development that was carried out in the late 1960s and is built on the site of the original Orpheus Cinema. This was a very pleasant, typical 1930s suburban cinema with around 1,500 seats. Pictures are on display on the main entrance stairs.

This is a pleasant neighbourhood cinema in an affluent part of the city which has a very loyal audience and is also enthusiastically supported by the many students in the area... a little gem that still shines!

We saw the Tree of Life and we're still trying to work out what we think of it (and what it was actually about - but we're too proud and determinedly arty to admit that aloud) . But I'm a real fan of the establishment; you can pay £3.25 on a Tuesday afternoon to watch a film with a cup of tea or coffee. HOW GREAT IS THAT!?

What Orpheus looked like in the 1930s...NOICE.

Bristol Day 2 - My Favourite Bench

2011-08-03T11:36:00.004+01:00

This is my favourite bench in the whole of Bristol. I love it for three reasons 1) It's on a really beautiful and historical street called Royal York Crescent 2) The street, probably due to the wealth of its residents, is always calm and peaceful 3) It has an incredible view of the city and the surrounding countryside. I go here a lot to be still, to read, to think and to listen to music. I sat here at the changing of the seasons when the crispness of winter was starting to melt, I came here during exams to focus my mind and get some perspective. It's a really great bench.

I would just like to say that the Strongbow can is not mine. I'm allergic, remember?

Royal YorkCrescent is supposedly the longest crescent in Europe. The houses were built over the gardens and orchards of a former 17th century mansion and although building began in 1791, the street wasn't completed until 1820 as the french kept draining our money with their incessant warfare and revolutions. One website claims that it was this street that 'transformed the quiet little village of Clifton into a fashionable spa'There is a variation of designs because more than one builder finished the job, but the crescent is inevitably expensive, majestic and sun-soaked. Perhaps it is the rays from our favourite star that have christened this place as the pride of Clifton, deeming it suitable to appear alongside the Suspension Bridge on postcards of Bristol. If you are ever in Bristol, you should definitely take a stroll along Royal York before heading to the zoo or to a cafe or perhaps one of the yummy restaurants that will forever be out of my price range (speak of which, my friend Gemma's Dad just opened a new place and it looks FIIIIINEEEE. It's called Restaurant Fifty - check it out!)

Anyway, so yesterday morning Clifton was doing something pretty gorgeous. I don't know why, but I'm always more aware of the sky in Bristol and especially so when I sit by the suspension bridge or on my favourite bench. Yesterday when I stood there at 7:30, the celestial sphere couldn't quite make up its mind whether to rain or shine. The result was a water coloured canvas of soft grey, interspersed with rosy sunshine. It was glorious. I knew then that I had to blog about this place, take lots of pictures and do some lame trawling through google search.

Listening to: This Is The Day - John Rutter

Bristol Day 1 - A New Room

2011-08-03T11:04:00.000+01:00

Okay so this post is about 2 days late. Apologies. I've set myself the task of blogging everyday about a place in Bristol that I love or find interesting, just because it gives me the excuse to wikipedia things and take lots of photos (yay!) The first place I feel I ought to show you is my new room on Hensmans Hill in Clifton. I moved in on Monday with the help of my wonderful younger brothers who grudgingly carried my frivolous possessions (including my gorgeous trunk, which of course is completely necessary!) up 2 flights of stairs and into the Maisonette that I am sharing with 9 other girls I met in Halls last year. I hadn't actually seen my room before moving in, so it was a bit of a gamble, but I'm sure you'll all agree that the gamble paid off. I really, really love it: it has so much light, space, character and shelves! I particularly love the windows and the old chest of drawers. The shelves are, as mentioned above, an incredibly important feature for me - I have never had enough shelves before. I'm also in love with the mural of a tree on the wall opposite - it brings a little life and colour into what would have otherwise been a rather boring view.

From what I can gather, the property used to be part of a children's clothes factory and has since been converted into flats and maisonettes. It's situated just around the corner from Regent's Street in Clifton so I'm planning a lot of reading, writing, blogging mornings in all the various little cafes - I need to find my regular spot! We also need to find a local pub or bar for our house. AH! It's all so exciting and also a little bit scary because we have to sort out bills and TV licences and make sure our kitchen doesn't develop an extra filthy skin and that the bathrooms are always stocked with loo roll. But it does feel like home which makes everything worthwhile.

Honour Spotlight: Kate Moreton

2011-07-18T14:52:00.001+01:00

I have wanted to write one of these about Kate for a long time, probably from the moment I met her actually, but as always time and life got the better of me. More importantly I didn't feel like I knew her well enough to do her justice, but recently I've come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as knowing someone well ENOUGH, it is never enough, there is always more to learn. So here it is, why I love Kate from what I know of her and how she has impacted me so far. (I'm taking this moment now to put in a request to know her even better. Thanks.)

Firstly, Kate fascinates me. She may come across as intimidating but that's only because she is probably infinitely more interesting that you. And I love that, it challenges me. I recently read a couple of chapters of Captivating, a book about how women are created in God's image and so much of it rings true for Kate. She may not be a girly girl but she is a fiercely feminine woman of God.

There are many layers to Kate, one moment she is throwing banter (that rivals any man's) across the chaplaincy, then she might be viewing the world quietly and reflectively through her camera lens (she takes AWESOME photos!), or she might be leading a bible-study at SLOBS using REVELS (visual and nutritional aids - love 'em), or perhaps she'll be tying packets of Lovehearts to verses about guarding your heart to put on pillows, she might be running a CU weekend away, seamlessly, effortlessly and pretty much single handedly, or maybe participating in a weekend away, or she might be whizzing around on her bike or sitting in Boston Tea Party churning out wisdom to two very lost and tired cousins over iced tea.

Kate's the sort of person you can laugh with, the person you can guarantee will have brilliant ideas, the friend you can discuss theology and life with, without the fear of being shot down. In the time I have know her she has encouraged me, looked out for me, made me think about my position in life, inspired me to read my bible and forced me to buy Fairtrade chocolate (I'M ON A STUDENT BUDGET!!)

That's another thing, she has a massive heart for social justice. And she walks the talk. She doesn't churn out generic phrases to guilt-trip us all, she lives it day in, day out. It's not just third world poverty that makes her stomach churn, she is equally as passionate and gets equally angry at the poverty on the streets of Bristol - a challenge for all of us.

For me Kate is a great role model. I love it when she is open with me because I get to catch a glimpse of her inner workings and I feel so honoured and excited to know her. She has also been a companion for me in my grief, although we rarely talk about it, there is a silent peace and reassurance in knowing that she has some idea of my pain. There have been times, often in my darkest moments when she has texted me a verse that has restored my fragile faith and stopped me from feeling frightened.

Everyone who know Kate really well cherishes her. I have had numerous conversations where we have just gushed about how great Kate is. So this is a post to remind her that we love her and never, ever want to take her for granted.

P.S Kate, if you're reading this, don't hate me.

July 14th: The Day of Friendship.

2011-07-18T14:25:00.000+01:00

Last Thursday marked the year anniversary of my friend's death. The day wasn't an explosive landmark, but rather a quiet and confused realisation at how fleeting our lives are. Even though the day celebrated her memory it was centred more around the idea of friendship than grief. What I mean is that as much as I loved Annie and as much as I still love her, I was more overwhelmed by how much the day was a testament to true friendship and godly fellowship than by how much I missed her.

Since her death people's lives have changed. We have taken faith more seriously, some of us have moved to new cities, started university, started internships, some of us have started businesses, we have begun and ended relationships, we've been baptised, booked plane tickets to go and follow our dreams: we have been massively pushed out of our comfort zones.

Grief is a very personal thing, in that it can be monstrously self-indulgent and terribly lonely, so gathering together was a great way to take our eyes of ourselves, put our arms around each other and fix our gaze on Jesus. The whole day was spent with people who knew her well. In the evening we gathered at the Wade's to chat, eat and watch the DVD shown at her funeral. There was laughter at baby Annie with her wide eyes and blonde hair and knowing smiles at the photos taken more recently. Then we gathered in the garden to worship God together, singing and praying in the setting sunlight. It was beautiful, but real and awkward. There was a disaster moment with a lantern that, instead of going upwards into the open air, decided to go sideways into a tree threatening to burn the street down. But that's how these things should be. Imperfect.

One of the highlights of the evening was spending time with and praying for Annie's parents, Bill and Anne. Their faith and attitude to life is the most humbling and inspiring thing to encounter. It was so right to spend the evening with them.

I ended the day in the recently refurbished Mcdonalds at Millpond with Grace. We sat on the wide seats by the window, scoffing our chips, avoiding chavs and chatting about her upcoming Australia adventure. It's then that the whole friendship thing got to me. I am so proud of us, our group of friends, for moving forward, for seizing life by the shoulders, for continuing and strengthening our relationship with Jesus, for supporting each other, for taking risks and for not being afraid to love fiercely and deeply all over again. We lay ourselves bare with each other over and over again, pursuing relationships that are prodded and pushed with accountability so that our deepest fears and struggles can be exposed without judgement. I love them so fiercely.

One of the last texts Annie ever sent me was 'Thank you for letting me be myself around you xx' and it's one of the things that I cling to when I think about friendship because we really did love and accept each other for who we were and who we were going to be. I guess that's why her absence rocks my world so much. But the thing is, she's no longer the only one to be this sort of friend to me, as a result of her death I have been more determined to tie strings of friendship that will last a lifetime. I have friends who love me at my worst, hug me in my ugliest moments and celebrate, without jealousy, my best moments and most deliriously happy seasons. A lot of people feel sorry for me when I tell them about Annie, I understand why and I appreciate their sympathy, but really you should all envy me because I have experienced friendship that is intimate, fun and god filled before AND after her death, and let me tell you, it's one of the greatest things in the world.

30th June - Bristol Love

2011-07-14T16:05:00.000+01:00

It's 4:15am and after lying awake frustrated for the last two hours I figured it would be more productive to get up and eat some cereal. So here I am sat on the kitchen counter, eating whole earth organic cornflakes (naturally gluten free) drinking Sainsbury's basics orange juice and looking out over Bristol.

As of 3am this morning I am the only remaining resident on Floor 5 and boy do I feel it. It's not so much the loneliness but more the sense of finality that gets to me. So far I've avoided eating alone everyday this week by begging people to help me finish my leftovers- this has been incredibly successful!

I just don't want to leave this city that has made me so happy. I can't face packing up the room that I have lovingly fashioned into my own. I know it sounds a little overdramatic but as I sit here munching away and watching the sunrise over the buildings, I am more in love with this city than I ever have been. It's the home I have made for myself and filled with the family I have chosen. And yes I know I'll be back in September but that's a two month Boston-tea party-Stokes-Croft-Clifton-Village vacuum that, for the moment, doesn't bare thinking about.

Furthermore, the sun has risen on my last day as a resident in Manor Hall. I have loved every minute of my time here: I love it's character, the sense of community and its sense of fun. The people here have charmed me with their quirks and individual passions and I've thoroughly enjoyed watching us all develop, slowly growing out of the nicknames and jokes we were branded with during Fresher's Week. It's been great to colour in the blanks of people's personalities , to spend time learning about their lives over tea, coffee, angel-delight, chilli fries and library desks. The kitchen, apart from the glorious view, is a bit scabby, I mean the radiator just fell off the wall and there are lady birds everywhere and then there's the tiny shower and the two baths that have been used about once or twice throughout the year, but its been my home and my community and I'm going to miss it terribly.

Ah! There's the sun. I'm sat here overwhelmed with nostalgia at my memories of first year, sadness at the concept of leaving tomorrow and excited because I get to come back in September and do it all again.

Ci vediamo Bristol!

Blogger Spotlight: Musings and Leanings

2011-06-25T10:49:00.000+01:00

Being a part of the universal bloggersphere is a privilege and one I intend never to take lightly. Partly because amidst those aggy, teenage tumblrs that are littered with reblogs of depressing, self-obsessed quotes and the blogs with nothing but pictures from fashion magazines and even those who use this cyber-space outlet as a journal for private rants rather than carefully articulated thoughts or memories, there are many inspiring gems. So, I thought I would, every so often, direct you to one of my favourite blogs be it fashion orientated, God orientated or just plain fun.

My first 'Blogger Spotlight' is my paternal homeslice Andrew Jackson. I helped him set up his blog at the start of January and he has done me proud ever since. His blog 'Musings and Leanings' is one of the most thoughtful, profound and eloquent blogs I have ever read. At the moment his posts are primarily concerned with updates on my Mum's health as she completes her cancer treatment, but as anyone who has encountered such a journey will tell you, it often creates a vacuum for deep musings. So for anyone who likes reading people's stories and enjoys having an insight into the workings of the mind of a 40 something lawyer turned charity worker from Bracknell then pop over to his blog.

I'll leave you with two of my favourite posts to get you started:

A Hope I Can Stand

The Practicality of Vows

Summer Detox

2011-06-25T10:25:00.000+01:00

I feel like I need to detox my life, strip everything back to basics. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm a natural hoarder of emotions, memories and random crap that I reassure myself I will use one day for a fantastically huge collage of my life or for novel inspiration. I keep clothes that I promise to wear when my midriff shrinks and my thighs no longer touch, which, let's face it, is never really going to happen in my lifetime. I have clippings from newspapers and letters, cards and signed programmes that I read late at night when my irrational, hormonal self is convinced that nobody cares and is at risk of writing and publishing terribly self-indulgent blog posts about how living alone and surrendering to the single life of a crazy cat lady really is the meaning of life.

I leave Bristol on Friday and what follows is a three week stint of being skint in Bracknell. This translates as 21 days to clear out all the emotional and material junk stored up in my drawers both physical and metaphorical. I'm going to tidy, donate, pray and meditate. I'm going to read books that expand my mind and books that articulate my feelings. I'm going to get rid of 1/3 of my wardrobe (I WILL BE RUTHLESS!) and actually make those dresses with my free patterns from Burdastyle. I'm going to clear my schedule and possibly delete my Facebook for a while, just to give myself absolute peace and remove the temptation of procrastination. My summer holiday on a budget, or indeed no budget for there is no dollar to constitute a budget, will be productive and it will be cleansing and it will be DEEPLY relaxing. Once again this blog will serve as self-inflicted accountability (or should that be self-donated, for indeed accountability, although annoying, is undeniably useful and necessary!)

So, ladies and gentleman, would you kindly raise your glasses to the summer of the Zen-Ellie. May she ooze calm, tranquillity and the aura of tidiness from this day forth.

Basically by the end of the Summer I want to be like this partially faceless girl, twirling in a sea of floating red mushrooms.

An Epiphany: Suffering is a Blessing.

2011-06-16T18:03:00.000+01:00

11 months. Another milestone in the minefield of grief. I feel so disconnected from the life I shared with her. I think about where I was last year and where I am now, sitting content in the Bristol sunshine. It has suddenly dawned on me that I got everything I wanted out of this year. Everything. I barely recognise the girl in those old journal entries so confused, so bitter and clueless. Now that confusion has turned to clarity through faith, that bitterness to a bittersweet combination of peace and sadness that pumps continually through my veins and that cluelessness to a wisdom obtained only through the experiences that God has blessed me with.

A blessing. This is today's revelation. Suffering is a blessing, not because, as Thomas Mann would advocate, it makes us better artists but because it nurtures discipline and gratitude. The truth is God has blessed me through Annie's death; he has given me insight into his character and eternal promises. He has taught me so much through the life she lived and the impact she had on everybody. She was pure joy and pure fun. The friendship she gave me inspires me everyday. This blessing is of course not without its pain. Sometimes I feel like I've cried myself dry and there are still mornings where grief leaves me emotionally barren and I can't quite fathom the concept of her not being here anymore. I miss her sassyness and her fierce loyalty to her God, her church and her friends. her twitter feed makes me explode with giggles every time and her photos remind me that once this petite bundle of teenage beauty sat next to me in church, walked beside me and answered my text messages pretty much instantly.

I'll admit that there is still a fear of engaging with the reality of it all. It still feels to big and too devastating to comprehend. But I don't think I'll ever fully understand, I can only trust that God knew where our intertwined lives were headed, only plead with him to give me small glimpses of heaven and only allow myself moments to reflect and remember.

I never want to forget. I never want it to become something i can gloss over, partly because it has taught me so much about friendship, love, God and myself but also because my friend Angharad was the the sort of girl everyone should have the privilege of knowing and everyday I wish I had known her better because nothing I write will ever do her justice. This is why I continue to blog about her. It's my humble and albeit somewhat pathetic attempt at keeping her memory alive.

Pretentious.

2011-06-03T11:06:00.000+01:00

Definition: Attempting to impress by affecting greater importance, talent, culture than is actually possessed.

Recently I have really rebuked myself for using this word, partly because every time I hear someone use it it makes me grumble and hiss, but also because I don't think it's a healthy opinion, particularly as a christian to hold.

I have learnt that what is pretentious to some is precious to others. I often throw the term around about certain academics and their literature, but who am I to devalue the hard work of someone who has dedicated years of research and study to bring that book or paper into my hands? Furthermore, although I may not find that theme or topic particularly relevant to my life etc. that person has actually taken the time to reveal a little more about humanity, the human condition and the culture and history of our planet. As for 'pretentious' language, just because someone has taken the time to develop their vocabulary beyond mine in order that their expression has more clarity and sharper precision doesn't mean I have the right to belittle them for it.

People often call university students pretentious which I can, in part, understand and there are some people I have met here in Bristol who really do seem to fit the term well. But that's the thing, they only 'seem' to fit the term. No one is really pretentious through and through and by writing someone off as pretentious I am not taking the time to understand and get to know them, let alone love them. On this topic, it really bugs me when people who have never experienced university judge students as being lazy, wealthy squanderers. I can only speak from my own experience, but it would be a pretty expensive mistake to go to university expecting to spend all your time partying and mincing around coffee shops. Most people have worked incredibly hard to get into university in the first place and are still dedicating a lot of time to their studies now. We enjoy learning (SHOCK HORROR!) It's so great to be a place where you can spend the whole afternoon discussing socialism, literature and grammar rules without being labeled as pretentious.

Ultimately I feel that the word pretentious comes from a place of insecurity. We label things as pretentious when we can't contribute to a conversation about them or when we are intimidated by someone's talent or intelligence. We write them off because we're too proud to admit that we are out of our depth. It's not an attractive term, it's not an encouraging term and, above all, it's not a godly term. Who are we to judge people and their interests? Who are we to write off groups of people because we think they're too pretentious for grace? I would even go so far as to argue that if we call someone pretentious then we are actually putting a mirror in front of ourselves and turning the term back on us. Using this word implies that we believe that we are coming from a position of authority that allows us to have an opinion. I'm not advocating that we stop thinking critically about certain things, but when it comes to people we must make sure that what we're saying is constructive. If it's going to make a person feel inferior and discouraged, just don't say anything. You are not God.

Ice on our Lashes

2011-05-23T14:15:00.000+01:00

So, continuing with the precipitation theme of the previous blog...

I wonder how many of you have heard a phrase, a verse or maybe just a word that completely encompasses who you are and how you feel in that moment. Well today I found these:

Oh Annie,

I will think of you everytime I see the sun

Didn't want a day without you

But somehow I've lived through another one

These aren't words from my journal, or a liturgy from her funeral. These are lyrics by Brooke Fraser from her song 'Ice On Her Lashes'. Brooke Fraser as in Annie's favourite singer. This song that mentions her name so explicitly is on the album, whose conception and release date we followed so closely on twitter. This album that was released only days after he death includes a song about 'the cycles of grief' and calls her by name. The whole concept is just to stunning for words.

It's so clear to me that song writing, like literature, like art, is an anointed vocation. There is so much power in words for they will continue to speak for years to come, transcending the generations with their meaning. When I think about this with my God-goggles on I can't help but get excited about how when we put our talents and gifts firmly into God's hand, he just expands them beyond our wildest dreams. Brooke didn't know Annie, she doesn't know me or my friends or the family she left behind. That song was written and recorded in a studio in Australia about a year ago and that same song is overwhelming me now as I sit in the corner of Bristol University Chaplaincy drinking my coffee and trying to read about Italian crime fiction.

Grief can be such a lonely place, sometimes it borders on self-pity and self-indulgence, so when we are reconnected with a community of grievers through song, through words, through prayer and even through silence, God's peace that transcends all understanding filters through the developed toughness of our skin, seeps into our frigid hearts and applies deep heat to that dull ache that we force to lie dormant in our souls. It prepares us for love again.

I'll leave you with the bridge of the song. I hope and pray that it will comfort those of you have lost someone you loved, whether that's through death or through the end of a relationship. Take comfort in the fact that you are not the only one with ice on your lashes.

Did you find it hard to breathe at first?

Were you wounded and in disbelief at how much it hurt?

Now the aches still burning

But the world's still turning isn't it?

Currently listening to: Brooke Fraser - Ice on her Lashes

Rain.

2011-05-08T22:36:00.000+01:00

I love everything about summer rain; the smell of the warm, wet pavement, the refreshing relief of cool water penetrating the muggy atmosphere. I love wearing raincoats without jumpers underneath and wellies without socks, I love how the bright summer colours of trees and flowers become stronger, almost to the point of being overpowering against a grey, cloudy canvas.

I love that I can walk in the rain without getting cold. It's like having a warm bath, just ever ever so gradually. Saying this, I only like summer rain in cities and towns, perhaps it's to do with the whole pavement thing. I don't know. But I can say with absolute certainty that I really don't like summer rain on beaches, the sand gets all gross and your picnic gets all soggy.

I don't know what it is about today's rain that seemed so special - it just gave me such excitement and such joy. I love how the rolling of the thunder interspersed with the pitter-patter of raindrops echoed in my heart and were reflected in my emotions. It was more anticipation and the sense of adventure than sadness, a weather meditation rather than pathetic fallacy.

It reminded me of the Nooma video 'Rain' by Rob Bell, where he carries his baby son through the woods in the rain telling him that everything's going to be okay, emulating the way God carries us through the stormy patches in our lives. When I heard the rain outside my window this morning and as I opened my curtains to the tumbling precipitation I had an overpowering sense of being held tightly by my creator. In that moment the heavy, earthly matters weighing down my heart and my mind were replaced by a heavenly lightness, something which has undoubtably carried me through the day.

I guess there's just something gorgeously holy about rain.

1st May - Adventures of Bristol Linguists.

2011-05-08T22:16:00.001+01:00

I'm sitting in a train station in Leipzig full of drunk natives and weary travellers waiting for our delayed train to Berlin. Wait, not, it's not even delayed, the train we booked a ticket for doesn't actually exist, which means our hideously, eye-popping early start (5:30!) was completely in vain.

Lucy is pacing up and down the platform, partly trying to find a magazine stand and partly rehearsing her angry train-woman spiel for when the ticket officer realises we don't have the right tickets for the next to train to the capital. I'm remaining optimistic although it wouldn't feel out of character for me to either dunk my face into this cheap, bitter station coffee or run around the station breathing imaginary fire into the faces of drunkards and the people with the annoying dogs. Outwardly a polite english language student, inside an angry dragon.

5 mins later...

Lucy just told me that this train spiel is going to be a test of her German and my acting skills. She just leaned across the table excitedly with the line 'Oh my, your eyes leak. YES, you HAVE to cry'.

In all seriousness, this trip has been an ecclectic mix of awkward situations that have required an exhaustive use of Lucy's big, fat school dictionary. Including the time, when, after forgetting my pin, Sparkasse swallowed my card in the midde of Wittenberg. Terrifying.

Overall, nothing will ever phase us again. We are no longer fearful or apprehensive about our year abroad. We know we can jabber our way out in our undergraduate Deutsch whilst fluttering our wide, sleep-deprived eyes, or we'll just cry, or maybe just hide in the loo, or maybe God will be gracious and no one will check our tickets. OHHHHH I JUST WANT TO GET HOME.

2 mins later...

Quote Lucy: 'If they tell me to get off this train, I'm going to pull my pants down and pee' (desperate times call for desperate measures clearly)

2o mins later...

(after the train man had accepted our train-tickets without questioning us - thank you Jesus!)

Lucy: 'Oh, and I so wanted a chance to use the subjunctive'

Good Friday Reflections

2011-04-22T16:04:00.000+01:00

'I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise' Luke 23:43

Today I am living in the light of what Jesus has done for me. What he did on Good Friday saved my life, giving me the opportunity to walk with him for the rest of my days and guaranteed me eternity in his presence. What Jesus did today means that I will see Annie again, it means that whilst death still has its ache, it has lost its sting.

For the first time good Friday has lifted my eyes to heaven and to the party that is going on now. There is so much comfort in knowing where his children are. I bet she is sitting cheekily at his feet, chatting to him face to face. Wow. She's having the best Easter ever. Everything that I find confusing and mysterious has been made clear and real to her. It's so easy to say 'It's okay she's with Jesus now, we'll see her again soon' but when you actually believe it, it's overwhelming. She is WITH Jesus, WITH him. He's a tangible, physical presence in her eternal life.

I guess the way I feel about her death is similar to how I view Good Friday. I grieve for the suffering that must endured, yet I delight and find joy in the way it has glorified God and consolidated the reality of his love for us.

Thank you Jesus.

Prayer of Jabez

2011-04-21T21:35:00.000+01:00

Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, 'Oh that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.' And God granted his request.

1 Chronicles 4:9

I re-read the prayer of Jabez today and I suddenly remembered why it seemed so familiar and I felt the need to recite it aloud.

In my early teens I was given a book about it. I was inspired and decided to whisper the verse to myself and to God as my own prayer every night before I went to bed. My journals at the time were bursting with wanderlust, so perhaps I was taking 'enlarge my territory' very literally. Anyway, like most teenagers I soon fell out of the routine and forgot about the prayer entirely, in fact I don't think I ever considered the impact or understood the potential consequences held within those few lines of correspondence between me and God. I guess didn't God didn't forget. I can see now how faithful he was to my request.

My life so far has been rich, it has been wild, tough, painful and wonderful. I have travelled more than i could have possibly hoped for, I have friends peppered all over the world, seasoning my life in the appropriate moments and making me laugh through my tears. I have a great relationship with my family, parents who inspire me and who model a solid and beautiful marriage, brothers who I love dearly and consider great friends. Churches that support and release me in my gifting, people who nourish my musicality and give me amazing opportunities to perform. The chance to study something I love, in depth, at a great university. Yes my eyes leak incessantly and sometimes I get really tired but that doesn't prevent me from running headlong into the blessing that God has provided in my ever widening territory.

Body Peace: Fashion Blog vs. Fashion Mag

2011-04-21T21:09:00.001+01:00

This blog has been on my mind for a long time. It's one of those things I hate to talk about because it's such a typical girl issue. Nevertheless, it's had a massive impact on my day-to-day existence for a long time and only recently have I had the courage and the confidence to shoot down all the negative energy surrounding my appearance and body shape. I guess I just want to be honest and hopefully encourage someone along the way.

I have always loved clothes. The dressing-up box was by far my favourite part of any play room, not just because I was a natural drama queen, but because I loved fabrics, texture, buttons, collars, shapes etc. I loved trying on my Mum's clothes and admiring all her floral floatiness.

For this reason I have always had a difficult relationship with my body. I was the girl who hit puberty the same way a blind bird smacks into a window or a stunt car hits a wall. It was no gradual process. As a result I spent most of my adolescent years being significantly bigger than most of my friends, I often describe this period as 'The Beast Years'. I honestly thought I was hideous. I would spend a good hour every morning standing in front of my mirror tugging at my uniform in an attempt ot ease it into flattering my curves, then I would agonise over my hair and make-up, often re-applying and re-straightening a number of times. I was an avid reader of fashion magazines, I loved styling, I loved make-up and I loved pretty things. It was like being a magpie hovering over a nest of glittering goodies that you knew how to style but could just never get to. It frustrated me so much that I couldn't wear clothes like the models in teen vogue, at least that's what I thought, but really all I needed was someone to tell me how to dress my figure. Yes, I would love to be able to prance around the beach in a tiny bikini looking all tanned and toned, but even back then I knew that was a tad unrealistic for most people. I just wanted to wear great clothes and for fashion to be something fun rather than something stressful.

If only I had had access to the following fashion blogs. Real women, with real bodies journalling their personal style, un-airbrushed for all the world to see. If I could have seen how beautiful and happy these women looked, I wouldn't have felt so isolated. I wouldn't have felt like such a dork. I would have ditched Teen Vogue, stopped starving myself and enjoyed dressing my figure accordingly. Please take a look:

http://life-size-paperdoll.blogspot.com/

http://ticktockvintage.blogspot.com/

http://rhitbee.blogspot.com/

Another thing I have learnt and wish I had known, is that you grow into your body and your face as you get older. I have never been happier in my own skin, I can even look in the mirror on some occasions and know for certain that I look great. I just want to encourage all those girls who are currently screaming and clawing at their own reflection to read these blogs and start seeing the world through a new pair of eyes. There is not one perfect body shape, everyone says it, but you need to believe it. Wear things that make you feel good, even if it's not something your size 6 best friend is wearing. Don't look to Hollywood, celebrities or high fashion for inspiration. Be your own fashion muse. Dress for yourself, let your style reflect who you are - that's what makes fashion so much fun! Also, whilst you're at it, have a read of this Body Peace Treaty from Seventeen Magazine. I was given it at a conference in New York and most of it rings so much truth, even if it sounds a bit corny in places. Please print it out, sign it and stick it beside your mirror. I spent far too much time dwelling on my relationship with my body, it was such an unnecessary strain and such a waste of time - I would hate for you to do the same thing. I'm not saying I've got it completely covered, I can still spend ages getting ready in the morning because what I wear still has an effect on how I feel, but I guess what I'm learning is not to compare myself to anyone else and not to allow my weight or my appearance to consume me. My friends aren't my friends because I'm a 10/12., 5ft 3, brown-haired girl. They like me because I can talk the face off a palace guard and am generally a bit nuts. It's your energy, your temperament and your attitude to life that people really care about. Corny, but true. So go enjoy clothes cos they're great and styling is fun. My suggestion? Ditch the fashion magazines and start reading blogs. Oh, and remember that you're great.

Homecoming part 3

2011-04-19T21:25:00.000+01:00

For some reason I find it necessary, after cleaning my teeth, to put my toothbrush in a wash bag and stick it under the sink. This may not seem weird to you, but every time I go to clean my teeth again I forget where I've put it and have a major hissy fit, blaming anyone and everything for having stolen my toothbrush. It's pathetic.

Also, my Dad returned home with two Mars bars for my brothers. He gave one to Ben and then, on not being able to find the other one, turned the kitchen upside down, increasing stress levels everywhere, only to find that he had put it in the cutlery drawer. He then subsequently tried to put the full milk in the recycling and the empty one in the fridge.

My Mother has also gone blonde. For those of you who know my family well, the whole concept of a blonde, straight haired Janine Jackson is frankly absurd.

My family is, in a word, a little dysfunctional at the moment. We stress each other out one moment and then make each other laugh the next. It's hardly surprising under the circumstances but it's still incredibly frustrating. It makes home less relaxing and distorts all that cosy childhood nostalgia you expect to be confronted with when you walk through the back door. Yet despite it all, I have never been so desperate to be in Bracknell. It's good for my soul to be surrounded by the origins of my deepest fears and insecurities but also to uncover the springboards of my greatest dreams.

Once again Laura has saved my life. When to two of us drive around and sit in fancy places drinking tea, Bracknell becomes recognisable again. Yesterday as she grabbed my hands and prayed through my tears I realised once again how important it is to have friends like Laura. Today was just gorgeous, sitting in the grounds of South Hill Park, trying to ignore the diggers destroying the regency aura of the place, eating her homemade roasted vegetable soup, reading glamour and the prayer of Jabez simultaneously (we're very balanced) and just gushing about God's blessings in our lives. Today has really brought me home, centered me and focused me. I feel like I can finally move forward and begin to attempt the musical, academic and emotional challenges I'm going to encounter on my return to Bristol.

Homecoming Part 2: Remembering.

2011-04-05T19:52:00.000+01:00

Remembering. I miss her. This morning I actually rolled over and went to send her a text. It's been 8 months: somedays my heart understands and sometimes it has to be reminded once again of the whole disgusting tragedy. Being here, walking through and around the stage that our friendship was played out upon makes the hole all the more noticeable. My most vivid memories of her are in the summer months, so now that the air is once again warm and fragrant her absence seems even more incongruous. I found a bunch of messages with flight details on last night - I'd completely forgotten about our American road-trip. We were going to church-hop across the states, ending up in L.A to attend Mosaic. We were going to drive a Lorelai-inspired jeep, by college hoodies and take super hot photos of ourselves on a californian beach.

I know I can still do these things. Her death doesn't restrict or limit my experiences, nor does it limit the person I can become, but I know that when I stand on that beach with my toes all grainy with sand, I'll be sad. I'll want her there with me. I will feel bitter. It will seem so unfair not to share that moment with her. I still can't believe she's gone. I'm still waiting on a text,still anticipating her laugh, still expecting her to walk through my door any minute. The cycles/stages of grief are so no linear, they're like a big knot or a spirally doodle: confusing, frustrating and unexpected.

Yet one thing I have noticed about grief, is how it can bring communities closer together. I look at us, Annie's friends, and how we value our friendships so much more: we belong to each other. When she died our world's were shaken and a hole was shovelled into our lives and our friendship group, but instead of falling into it, we reach across it. When one of us is slipping over the edge, we hold on tighter, we send more texts, make more calls, hop on trains and pray harder. There is a quiet understanding, a silent yet reassuring acknowledgement of our shared pain whenever we come together. But with this shared anguish, there is also a shared hope for our faith tells us that we will see her again. What a day that will be. What a glorious, beautiful day that will be.

Homecoming

2011-04-05T19:40:00.000+01:00

I write this sitting in my favourite coffee shop, Santa Fe in Bracknell, drinking a medium vanilla latte (that I got free thanks to a full loyalty card- boom!) I was so ecstatic about getting a free beverage that the manager just came up to me and asked me to join their Facebook group. Yeah, I'm a coffee enthusiast, an avid advocate for coffee shop culture, I would make an excellent barista and yet Starbucks still refuses to hire me. Yes I'm still bitter about that.

Home. I'm home. It's good to be home. I was so ready to hug my Mum, to wake-up to the moody stare of Bertolt Brecht from the poster on my wall, to hear my brother singing show tunes in the shower, to drink coffee made by my Dad, to read newspapers with my breakfast, to lie on the sofa numbing my mind with OC reruns and Glee catch-up, to spend an afternoon walking around Bracknell town. You never really appreciate home until you've left it.

This evening I spent a good hour jamming with my youngest bro. Here's the evidence:

The Things That Come to You Whilst Standing Barefoot in a Park

2011-03-24T10:33:00.000Z

I promise you that I am not exaggerating when I say that I've reached that stage of tiredness when you feel like your face could fall off at any moment. My eyes are twitching and leaking, my normally clear complexion is experiencing strange red growths and I feel like I'm yawning not just with my mouth but inside my head as well.

It's my own fault. I'm doing too much. I seem to have taken busy to a new level. Over the last three months there hasn't been one peaceful, unoccupied moment: revision, exams, partying, opera, play, open-mic night, church stuff, visits home, degree stuff, CU stuff etc. etc. It's been stressful, REALLY stressful. It's also been REALLY emotional. It's been REALLY tough. Last night and this morning, I was reflecting on this term, how quickly it's gone, how much I've done, how much I've grown. In Elizabeth Gilbert's book 'Eat, Pray, Love' she talks about having a word that describes you, just one word and this week, too, my friend Andrew has been pestering me to email this guy with two sentences describing myself for our student weekend away and I've spent the last 24 hours thinking about both of these activities.

Last night was my first night co-leading Churchhill Hall CU in Stoke Bishop. As I sat there, it suddenly hit me how ridiculously random it was for me to be sitting in this guys' room, in a Hall 40 minutes away from my own, with guys I'd only known properly for a week, leading a bible study on Phillipians and still feeling completely at home. Then this morning a group of us met in Royal Fort Gardens by the mirrors to worship God (barefoot) before lectures. As we were stood in the dewy greenness, with all the mud oozing round our feet, singing our hearts out and lifting our faces to the sun, my sense of exhaustion and my business just seemed so insignificant. Both events just hammered home how much God is in control of my life, how God is putting me in places I would never EVER have put myself in and how much I am growing as a result of it.

So this is my word: OVERWHELMED. I am overwhelmed with emotion, lack of sleep, deadlines, grammar, opera music and emails. But I am also overwhelmed by God's goodness to me. I find it overwhelming how many opportunities I have had to perform since starting university, I find it overwhelming how beautiful the city of Bristol is in all seasons, I am overwhelmed by the quantity and quality of friends I have made, I am overwhelmed by the family that is the christian community in Bristol, I am overwhelmed by my course, overwhelmed by gorgeous music, fashion, travel, letters, literature, the chance to go to Edinburgh festival, my upcoming trip to Leipzig. You name it, I'm overwhelmed by it.

Daddy's Girl

2011-03-21T23:25:00.000Z

Today was my Dad's birthday and I really wish I could have been at home to celebrate with him. I love my Dad, he's a real hero. I love that he no longer works as a lawyer, but is now the Area Manager for CAP, a charity that helps people get out of debt. I love that he has started to get involved in politics, not because he wishes to climb the social ladder or because he wants any sort of power, but because he is passionate about social justice. I love how dedicate he is to my Mother, how he loves her so unconditionally and how he is standing by her in her time of need. I love how he writes letters to me, leaves cringey comments on my Facebook wall and turns up to my show with a bag full of gluten-free mincepies and newspaper clippings from the Guardian. I love how he refuses to write in biro and insists on having a fountain pen or a posh rollerball. I admire his humility and aspire to be as generous and as quietly influential as he is.

I could go on, but I don't think any words can really do my Dad justice. However, I give you the link to his blog - a recent venture of his and one he is very proud of. The man has always been a closest blogger and everyone should have a read, because every post will guarantee to make you laugh, cringe and cry - sometimes simultaneously!

http://musingsandleanings.blogspot.com/

Happy Birthday Dad. See you next week, I promise not to leave you mid-sentence again and this time my room will be tidy and my bags will be packed before you turn up at my door. LOVE YOU.

Hugs: the virtual ones, the real ones and the ones in boxes.

2011-03-16T10:37:00.000Z

I really love hugs. For me they are the ultimate display of affection. I love it when someone greets me with a hug, especially when I don't expect it! When someone hugs me they are acknowledging my need for physical intimacy, they are pulling me towards them, across the line of propriety and into their arms for a comforting squeeze. This close contact with another person is a immediate reminder to me that I am not alone, that I am cared for and that someone values me enough to think me worthy of a physical exhibition of love.

In my opinion, hugs are just as special, if better than kisses and are often more comforting than words. When someone wraps their arms around you they are making you take a moment out of your day to rest and to remind yourself that you are precious and appreciated. The physical support of an embrace often gives stability to emotions that are running all over the place, the kind that make our bodies feel all floppy, a hug can pull us back together in an instant. Whether you mean them sincerely or not hugs are brilliant. The less meaningful ones are generally from those who press just a little too lightly, whereas the ones that are intentional and thus the most satisfying a usually the ones that are slightly too long and almost violent. A good hug should be a like a massage, you want to hear a few back clicks and untie the knots and release the tension in your muscles.

Since being away from home I have noticed how much I took regular hugs for granted. It is only now, 6 months into my first year at uni, that I feel I'm getting enough hugs. When I say 'real' hugs, I mean hugs that occur with a person who is in the same place at the same time as you and these are obviously the most desired and the most satisfying. However, with the introduction of Skype there are now things such as virtual hugs. My friend Laura and I do these all the time, where we practically hurl our bodies at our webcams - it requires a lot of commitment and a degree of delicacy and whilst they are nowhere near as good as a real hug with this beautiful lady, they have become a bit of a tradition in our virtual conversations. We've even started to text and Facebook virtual hugs. The phenomena is spreading.

In the past couple of weeks, two incredible ladies (Sue Ranger and Sally Roper) from home have introduced me to another form of hug. The one in a box. Those who know me well know that I think post and parcels are just the best things ever! So when I went down to the Porter's Lodge to find large cardboard boxes addressed to me, filled to the brim with gluten-free goodies, starbucks cards, coffee, chocolate and little hand-written notes I was a complete wreck of happiness. I was so overwhelmed by their kindness and the fact that they had taken time to think of me in amidst their busy schedules. It really did feel like a pair of arms had shot out of the box and hurled me into an embrace. 'Here is a hug in a box' wrote Mrs Ranger.

So, I encourage all of you to up your hug-o-meter this week. Without sounding too much like a hippy, let's spread the love and let the people around us know we appreciate them :-)

8 Months.

2011-03-15T23:23:00.000Z

If I could freeze myself in time

I would have stayed in Munich

Repeated the elated steps I took from the U-Bahn

To the grass where I lay semi-dressed soaking up the sun

But even that wouldn’t bring you back.

You might have sent the same text over again

Wishing I was home celebrating with you

But I’d still be frozen in that moment

Happy but without you

I know I have to let time pass

I need to let you go

So that you can be happy, so that you can be well

I’m so thankful, so glad you’re safe for eternity

Not just in my memories, not just in my heart

But with the one who protects us all

Where you are there is love, there is peace

Whilst I languish in the empty space you left

You are smiling, laughing

Even dancing

Probably texting

I’ve realised that it’s not unfair on you

You life will continue to be full and abundant

The injustice is only felt by those you left behind.

It still feels like yesterday.

A Very Handsome Frenchman

2011-03-10T21:56:00.000Z

So we finally met the mysterious resident on our floor. We knew he worked for the uni and was a professor of something, but the word 'professor' always has wrinkly, grey, never sees the light of day (because he's always studying) connotations. Turns out, our resident is a storming fitty. A tall, handsome, well-dressed frenchman with a charming English-accent. I met him on my way into hall about 15 minutes ago, he was mincing very sheepishly by the front door and I wondered whether he was one of those creepy people the Warden is always warning us about. You know the ones who hang around the door and wait for someone to open it before following them in and nicking everyone's laptop. THANKFULLY, I didn't treat him too suspiciously and when he told me he lived on the 5th Floor I was practically overwhelmed with glee! Unfortunately I proceeded with a very Ellie-Jackson awkward-moment-filler and started yapping up the stairs like a strangled-poodle. The conversation was as follows:

Ellie: 'Oh you're the mysterious resident on our floor'

Frenchman: 'I am indeed, what were you expecting?'

Ellie: 'Oh you know, an ogre'

Frenchman: 'Really? Oh dear. I hope you are not disappointed'

Ellie: 'OH not at ALL. You far too...(want to say good-looking but catch myself just in time) polite to be an ogre'

(a little later)

Frenchman: 'What do you study?'

Ellie: 'German and Italian. I love it.'

Frenchman: Really? 'Well you'd love it even more if you were studying French'

Ellie: 'Yessss...*unconvinced mmmm sound*

(a little later)

Frenchman: 'Is everything alright with your eye? '

Ellie: 'Oh gosh, sorry. I'm not crying, it just leaks. Don't worry you haven't upset me'

Frenchman: 'Oh I thought it might be because you were so overwhelmed to have finally met me'

Ellie: 'Oh, well, you know, I'm just really, really pleased you're not an ogre'

It was at this point where we got onto the subject of plays/shows/pantos. He tried to barter for my RENT ticket for Wednesday night. He even said 'name your price' to which I replied 'I'm sorry but that ticket is priceless'. I did, however, give him some tips on where to find spare tickets (I'm so IN the bizz). I then shamelessly plugged The Crucible WHICH HE CAN'T COME TO EVEN THOUGH HE LIVES IN MANOR HALL BECAUSE HE'S GOING TO THE BADOCK PLAY. Honestly.

He then left to find the duty manager and as soon as the door closed at the end of the hall, the rest of the doors,as if in a movie, flew open in a chain reaction and very excited and giggly females jumped out in various states of attire to squeal and ask questions. We've all decided that now we know who he is, we're going to make him our friend. Next time we bake, he's getting a cake! Then just as he returns with the duty manager our wonderfully little Welshy, Emily pipes up with: 'COR if I'd known he was THAT buff I would have knocked on his door sooner'

The Welsh are so subtle...

I definitely just typed 'Handsome Frenchman' into google and got this image. But trust me, he's even better looking than this man, handsome in a 'Hugh Grant' way (as Ellie Poore says!)

Blessed

2011-03-09T10:46:00.000Z

I think one of the things people most look forward to when starting uni is the opportunity to meet new people and make new friends. For those of us who have lived in the same towns and attended the same schools for years and years, it's a burst of fresh personalities and a chance to rid yourself of any old stigmas, rumours and character traits that people have always associated with you. Then for those who have travelled around, moving from town to town, or indeed country to country, university promises stability and a chance to be in the same place for at least three years and subsequently the time to invest in some deep and meaningful friendships.

It seems a lifetime ago that I was sat in the main hall of Manor Hall on the evening of 3rd October listening to the warden talk about how he was still in contact with the people he had met in his Fresher's week. The whole 'the people you meet at uni will be your lifetime pals' spiel was more of a pressure than a promise in the first few Fresher days. I felt myself constantly judging and analysing those around me to see whether they fitted my 'lifetime friend' criteria and I theirs. I think everyone has that horrible feeling in the first couple of days, or even weeks when you go 'WILL I EVER BE CLOSE TO ANYONE!?' and there's always going to be a few lonely nights where you find yourself standing in Bunker with a drink you don't like, dancing with people you have nothing in common with and really wishing you were in bed watching Gilmore Girls and then there are the lonely nights spent watching Gilmore Girls by yourself because you have yet to meet anyone else who'll watch it with you. Students are complicated creatures...

Anyway, now the initial craziness of Fresher's has passed and I've finally found my own rhythm to the beat of University Life I am becoming more and more aware of how many incredible people I have met in the space of 6 months. My Mother will tell you that every time I phone home, I'm likely to mention at least 20 people who I've had coffee with or who have encouraged and supported me. In every area of my life at Bristol - Pip n' Jays, Manor Hall, CU, MTB, BOPS, German and Italian departments - I am surrounded by family.

The girls on my floor are a gorgeous and boiling pot of fun and girliness. We laugh, cry, make pancakes, dress-up, have movie nights in Pajamas and cook together. Each girl is unique and set apart in their dreams, courses, diets, personalities and fashion style, yet somehow we all stitch together to form a beautiful and loving patchwork of conversations, routines and memories. There's also numerous others in Manor, the boys on 0-West with their humous-making, chilli-nachos eating, guitar-playing, Gilmore Girls- watching amazingness. There's the drama king across the road with his horrendous mood swings, tropical fruit juice lovin' and insatiable desire to perform and, recently, The Crucible cast.

Church people are, in a word: inspirational. Every conversation I have with them is uplifting, challenging and dead exciting. I look forward to every Tuesday when we can just dwell in the presence of God together and I love that everywhere I go I am greeted by some Pip and Jay love. It's so precious to have someone on my course who goes to my church, someone who I can have some German grammar banter with and at the same time get excited about how Goethe's Faust really and truly reveals God's grace. Then there's the Pip n Jayer in my hall and the little community round the corner in their little house with their never ending cups of tea and conversation.

CU people, again, just overwhelm me with their wisdom and their love. There's the little group who have met every morning for the last week or two at 7:15 in the morning to pray for Christianity Explored - there's endless banter and tangents, but also heartfelt prayer and fellowship. There's the Hall group with all the cake and all the John's Gospel knowledge and there's the CU across the uni - the two dear friends who I go the library with after prayer breakfast, who make me laugh, encourage me go to counselling workshops and make me TALK about the things that bother me. There's the community on Goldney Road with the shared love for Cath Kidston, mature Cheese (private joke!) and there's numerous others who shower me with joy and biblical wisdom.

Recently, there's the sudden appearance of a second-cousin who lives in the attic of Woodland's Church. I love having a REAL relation so close by. Someone who shares so many of my character traits as well as my hair colour. Already, there is an intimate, godly and incredibly witty relationship starting to develop - something I am so thankful for!

Last, but certainly not least, there are the musical theatre/opera lot. I'm still very much in touch with and close to the cast of Little Women, perhaps it's because we all played family, perhaps it's because it was such an intimate and special show experience for all of us. In the past week I have met up with two of my 'sisters' for coffee in Clifton Village, planned baking sessions and had banter with other members of the cast on Facebook chat. I guess the little duo living in an adorable ground floor flat in Clifton Village ought to be mentioned explicitly. These two ladies have become the older sisters I never had - they let me share their wardrobes, make me gluten-free pizza, they listen to me cry and despair, they support me and try to understand my crazy dreams and aspirations. Gemma Chance is by far the biggest facebook stalker in existence, which is why one of her lifetime ambitions is to get a mention on my blog. So MENTIONED. Hehehe.

All that's left to say, is that the Warden was right. After relaxing a little and letting things run their course I can honestly claim that I have been overwhelmed by the quantity and quality of the friends I have here in Bristol. God has truly blessed me with a family away from home, a network of people running through every inch of my life so that I know that whatever storms I face, I will not have to face them alone.

Currently listening to: Shane & Shane Song of Surrender

These Feelings Are Real

2011-02-23T11:57:00.000Z

I've been struggling a lot lately with sharing my feelings - I say it's because I don't want to be a burden on people, that I don't want to be annoying etc. But recently I've been thinking that there's a lot more to the issue of being real than not wanting be a nuisance. It's something that latches onto my pride, the existence of which I often refuse to acknowledge. When I am open I often give sensored translations of my emotions; when despair has flooded my core I say that it is merely creeping in at the edges, when my heart aches incessantly with brokenness and grief, I assert that I'm just a little sore, when anxiety rattles my thoughts day in day out, I say that I'm a little bit stressed...nothing to worry about.

Why do I do this? Furthermore, why do I expect this from other people? There is something in our society that labels the depth and intensity of these emotions as overdramatic and almost fictitious. The strength of them and the concept of their reality is frightening and awkward to address. We often only experience them on a day-to-day basis in films and literature, thus we indadvertedly associate them with the epic and the cliche. We claim that, in movies, emotions like love and depression can be heightened and exaggerated through music and lighting, the same in literature through language and syntax - but I would argue that such emotions would have had to be experienced at such an intensity in order that such interpretations of feeling might be created. I often wonder, as someone who enjoys acting, whether once I experience a certain emotion I instantly and unconsciously mirror the response of a character in a film or a novel that I have seen or read. In these instances I am prone to beating myself up for being so pretentious and silly. However, I am now starting to believe that perhaps instead of mirroring these characters I am simply understanding them better and feel connected to them on a deeper level.

What's more, our response to these stories tells us a lot about the reality of these feelings. Why do we cry at those scenes in The Notebook? Why do we despair in the final moments of The Way We Were? In the Holiday we see Kate Winslet's character practically howl her way around her kitchen because the man she loved is engaged to another woman. Even though the plot lines in these films might be called smushy and cliche, the emotions that they represent are real. The silent scream of Meryl Streep in Sophie's Choice is certainly an excellent and potentially deliberate dramatic effect, but the reason it is so effective and moving is because it is rooted in reality. There are moments in this life that cannot be expressed in words or sounds or tears. The evil, injustice or pain of these junctures runs so deep that they leave us silent and numb.

I have noticed among my peers at university a fear of the 'deep' and an unwillingness to engage with the harsh realities of this life. Death is inevitable, failure is possible, heartbreak probable...and what about God? If he exists then surely he cannot be ignored, which is probably why so many are resistant to even investigating the possibility of his existence. They confine themselves to the surface level of their humanity only venturing into the deep every so often, whilst trying to brush over the fact that a tidal wave of profound emotion is nipping at their heels. We are deep, emotional, messy people. By straining the bigness of our emotions and feelings in the giant colander known as 'appropriate topics for conversation' we are not acknowledging who we are and consequently we are unable to fully address the problems we are facing. We might be able to suppress and quieten them for a while but they will continue to resurface. These feelings are REAL. Let's not be afraid of them.

It's All About the LOVE

2011-02-20T12:22:00.000Z

Floor 5 have recently started a new project. It's called THEME OF THE WEEK - we write a positive phrase in bright colours and stick it to the pin-board in the kitchen so we can all see it, then attempt to live out the next 7 days in light of it. The first one came about when a few of us decided to have a 'BOY DETOX'. The theme was 'because you're worth it' reminding us to not settle for second best and that there are more worthwhile things for us to focus on (for me and Katie it was our careers/degrees for Ellie it was make-up and London Zoo) This week was 'It's all about the love' which seems appropriate for a week that springs off from Valentine's Day.

I have only had a date for V-Day once in my life, the rest have been spent in pathetic and slightly unbearable adolescent disappointment and longing. Often the only one in my friendship group without a card or an admirer, convincing myself that no-one will ever be interested blah blah blah blah. There was one year when a group of us organised a massive sleepover, assigning each other dates and just giggling and enjoying the mush that surrounds Valentine's Day - oh to be a silly tween again!

This year I approached Valentine's Day with an overwhelming sense of contentment. The freedom and joy found in being single was a contagious concept on floor 5: by not having a date on the 14th you are free to shower EVERYONE with love. As a floor we gave each other cards, cheques of love, chocolate, home-iced biscuits and home-baked cupcakes. Bristol glowed with winter sunshine, fresh and energising and I felt happier that I have in a long time, identifying that what I long for isn't romantic love but love in general. I am so fortunate to have so many friends who love me so fully and completely.

I also realised that being single doesn't mean I have no men in my life. There are three gentlemen who make me laugh, accompany me to concerts, play house in Ikea, take goofy photos, send me books and letters, who hug me when I'm sad, who dance with me at parties and who inspire me everyday. The Jackson boys. That talented, godly, unbelievably mature and funny trio who keep my standards high and remind me that when it comes to love, second best is just not good enough.

The Battlefield of the Mind

2011-02-05T10:48:00.000Z

I learnt an important lesson this week: monitor your thoughts. I never realised how much of an impact my thought life had on my emotions and my day-to-day decisions! What I choose to think about and what I allow myself to dwell on can lead me into situations that I never thought I'd find myself in - situations which force you to confront who you've become in that moment and to question what happened to yourself and how you lost sight of your principles, dreams and character so easily.

I've recognised the danger of cultivating certain ideas and feelings - ones which you know are unhelpful. Something that started out as a tiny little seed grew wild across my heart and consumed my every waking thought. I found myself fabricating stories and dreams around it, permitting myself to live in my own parallel universe, and as a result I let down the guard around my heart, allowing the cracks of previous hurts to be deepened and ended up sobbing uncontrollably on my bedroom carpet when life didn't live up to my expectations.

However, there are two pieces of wisdom that I outrightly ignored this week:

Above all else, guard your heart for it is the wellspring of life Proverbs 4:23

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think of such things Philippians 4:8

These things are often so hard to maintain but are so necessary if I am to have a healthy approach to the way I live my life. By not heading to these wise words I totally pushed God out of my head and out of my every day and consequently, I felt alone and empty. My emotions swamped me completely as I tried to grab onto things that I thought would give me security. I must have appeared so desperate and pathetic to so many people, particularly yesterday morning when I appeared puffy eyed and sleep deprived in the kitchen. Thoughts, like words and emotions, can either bring life or death and thus they need to be controlled. The only way I was able to climb out of my hole was by praying furiously, spending time with loving, generous people and listen to happy, life-affirming music. I filled my head and time with things that are 'excellent and praiseworthy' and even though I woke up this morning still fragile and vulnerable, I didn't feel defeated for I know I have a strength that transcends all understanding lodged in the centre of my heart.

My Beautiful Brave Mummy

2011-02-03T14:32:00.000Z

So I went home last weekend. I claim to have many valid reasons for having hopped on a train to Bracknell at 8am on a Sunday morning, including exam stress, lack of food and a constipated washing basket. However, if I'm honest, the real motive for my trip was to see my Mum. To hug her, to spend time with her and have a conversation with her that didn't involve dodgy network crackles. And it was everything I could have wished for.

My first stop was church where I heard her speak on finding treasures in the darkness. It was such a privilege to hear her share her thoughts and her heart - I realised how lucky I am to have such a wise and godly influence in my life. I encourage everyone to give it a listen on the podcast at www.kerith.co.uk because she was FANTASTIC.

At home, I was greeted with gluten-free brownies and and tea and saturday newspapers - yay! It was so good to see her looking so well in spite of everything that is going on and to hang out with the rest of the Jackson clan.

Monday, we decided, was going to be Mother-Daughter day. But first things first: the nurse came in the morning to dish out the drugs and then our friend Elaine came over to cut her hair. She had been malting all over the house for the last couple of days and had come to the conclusion that it would be better just to shave it all off. I know I'm bias, but my Mum seems to carry the shaven head look with such dignity, there wasn't one tear and even though she said 'I feel more like a cancer patient now' she just radiated strength and beauty. In the afternoon we sat down, with brownies and tea and watched Meryl Streep in Sophie's Choice. Sounds like a rather morbid choice, but it's something we had planned to do for a while, being the crazy Streep fans that we are. We are kindred spirits when it comes to watching films, we always want to comment on excellent performances and creative direction and we'll always cry and laugh in all the right places.

That evening we stopped off at my favourite place in Bracknell, South Hill Park, for vanilla lattes whilst waiting for Sam to finish his singing lesson. She looked so elegant in her large black hat, sipping her coffee that I couldn't help but take a few photos. No one would have expected her to be a cancer patient! Back at home, she made gluten-free flapjack and then tried on her two wigs so that I could give my opinion. We styled one of them slightly differently so she no longer had a random bouffant! It was so comforting just to sit on her bed with my head resting on the bed sheets and chat to her about everything that's been going on. She is my rock, the person I go to when I need advice, who I cry to and who I hug when life's circumstances overwhelm me. She has taught me so much through her words but also through her actions - her strength, her enthusiasm and her stubbornness inspire me and I know I live my life more effectively as a result of her experiences.

It was so hard to leave them on Tuesday morning, for I want nothing more than to be there for both my parents in their time of need, yet I know that my place is in Bristol, that my job in this time is to pursue my future and create a new life for myself; but within that I can still remember what I have at home and through prayer and the occasional visit I can play my part in this chapter of my family's history.

Exam Week: A few thoughts on attempting to cry into bowlfuls of cereal, coloured ink and a squeezy-stress-cow

2011-01-31T17:55:00.000Z

I am SO glad last week is over. I worked like a machine (or as my friend Tom put it 'You worked like an asian Jackson' -beautiful) and now feel utterly deflated - I want to spend the next week eating proper meals, sleeping proper sleep and watching Gilmore Girls on repeat. Despite the obvious stress, there were a few glorious moments throughout my exam/essay deadline period and I would like to share a few RIGHT now.

1) On Wednesday afternoon I had already completed one essay and one exam. The night before I had gotten so hungry that I rebelled against my own immune system and devoured the little box of musli given to us in Fresher's week, that I, due to my freaky gluten-wheat-intolerant intestines, had stuffed at the back of my drawer and ALMOST forgotten about. So I'm walking back from the library, trying to find the momentum to walk up the hill back to Manor and make myself some lunch. Whilst in the library I had just read my Dad's blog on Mum's progress so I was feeling pretty low and missing home. I had gotten to that point in exam week when Kendrick girls just need to cry A LOT. You know, that massive bout of heaving sobs that lasts about 3 minutes and makes everything so much better. So to sum up, I was in need of cereal and a good crying sesh. I went to Waitrose and bought a box of gluten-free cornflakes with a bottle of milk then trudged up the five flights of stairs to room 5.5 where I sat on the floor and waited...and waited...and waited. It was soon clear that no tears were coming my way, so I ate some cereal, read some letters (one from my Aunt who had definitely had to much Sherry - this made me laugh A LOT!) and then doodled flowers all over my hands with coloured pens to try and cheer myself up. At the time I was still feeling pretty miserable, but with hindsight I can't help laughing at the pathetic little person sitting cross-legged on her itchy carpet squeezing her face together like a raisin trying to make herself cry. What a freak!

2) It's Thursday night and I'm on the home-straight. One more essay, then FREEDOM. Clearly, I'm going to be the only person hitting the books in Manor Hall that night; you know you're hard-core when the Chinese, the medics and the lawyers have left the room. Anyway, I'm sitting there struggling to come up with a coherent plan, desperately trying to avoid Facebook and staring longingly at the door where I can see a group of people dressed up like Harry Potter on their way to the 'Wizard Lounge' refresh event. About 2 hours into my work, Dobby appears by my side to show me his impressive papiermache ears, half an hour later my rather tipsy floor mates burst through the door to shower me with red, lipstick kisses and hysterical hycuppy giggles and an hour after that I begin to lose the will to live. I take a little jog round the library in my slippers to the sound of Dean Martin crooning from my Mac and then proceed to take stupid pictures on photo booth of me as a faceless druid, a jedi, a ninja and a duck. Throughout it all my trusty squeezy-stress-cow remains loyal and squeezy. When the stupid foxes began their flirtatious squealing in the garden, when I suddenly lost sight of my argument in paragraph 4, when my mind began to wonder, when I ran out of tea...squeezy-cow was there, patiently permitting me to squeeze his guts out - I owe him so much.

Currently Listening to: Mary Spender

2011-01-23T14:08:00.001Z

So my friend Gemma and I were avid stalkers of this lovely lady before we met her. Now we can officially say 'look how talented my friend is' rather than 'look how talented this girl who goes to my uni is'. WOOP. Happy days. In all seriousness, I've been desperate for an artist to come about who sings and plays and just IS like Mary Spender. Not only is a super amazing musician she's also an equally super amazing person. Her music is both real and whimsical, with her a voice that whilst rich and elegant still manages to retain edge. Have a listen. Download her EP.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DejIZF7kbkg