With a voice, to the beat, I shiver

Sleepoverz

I run along the wet leaves that glint in the morning sunlight - witnessing the transition as the green morphs into orangey brown and death slowly takes over, pulling away the leaves with its invisible claws one by one until the trees stand bare.
Seasons have changed and we breathe in Autumn air... I remember the day a few weeks ago when the weather took a significant turn as the Arctic winds blew in and I opened my winter drawer with a sigh. The shops in town didn't take long to stock up on winter gear - walking into Primark you'd think it was Christmas day! Reindeer's or snowmen on jumpers, shelves stacked with fake uggs, silver ball balls and stocking fillers (all of which you leave the shop convinced you can't live without). We turned our heating on when we realised wearing gloves in the house was unacceptable. I sat down by my radiator that's strewn with colourful hippie pants (for decoration of course as actual usage won't take place for another year) and just felt the warmth of the metal; the water slowly heating up for the first time in a year inside the cold metal pipes, letting off a slightly burnt aroma hm.. 

Mmm nosh

I've been here for over two months now and I feel a Bristonian slowly coming on. I walk the streets with confidence, not because I won't get lost (that's inevitable), but if I do I now have a sense of where in the city I am. The street art splashed around the buildings are perfect landmarks for the wandering eye, I always wonder how they manage to spray so flawlessly at such heights.. the mystery adds to their edge I guess...
Stokes Croft is the urban/ indie part of town littered with funky alternative café's and trendy teens. Tesco seems to have the monopoly over here in terms of supermarkets and their attempt to move in on Stokes Croft was rejected with demonstrations and graffiti art - their failure lies splattered in big lettering that reads 'boycott Tesco' on the side of the most noticeable building on the street. That's one of the best parts about this city... the ability everyone has to be outspoken in creative and accessible means. Whether it's hula hooping for green peace, spraying cans against Tesco or singing about women s rights, you can have your say in any way (excuse the cheesy rhyme).

Rastafarian fences

Hehe

So Uni's officially started, back into an institution and a routine. I'm taking Psychology with Sociology and though the first year usually consists of the drab that you've spent the last few years working to get away from, it's interesting taking these courses in the transitional stages of a paradigm shift. Last week one of our amazing lecturers made a group of us literally stand up at the end of class ready to start a revolution against capitalism - until we realised we really didn't know what system to choose instead - I mean Russell Brand put out an easy foundation for everyone to understand but the structure needs to be built in order to be used. I still love the concept of 'The Venus Project' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zn8MRKOskw) but human greed is always a confounding variable.. 

Bathroom selfies?

A beautiful rainbow on a crap camera.

Growing up really does open your eyes to a lot of shit doesn't it? We're looking at benefit fraud at the moment, the warped tax system and how the world got to this point. I looked at my last on-line pay
 check of which 1/3 had been taxed (what?!) - I come into class the next day to hear about how Apple (and other large, wealthy cooperation's) manage to dodge tax by sending huge sums of money to various offshore accounts - now that sounds fair doesn't it? I think coming into this system after having lived in another one your whole life really underlines the errors in big red felt tip pen. What's great about growing up though, is being able to go to uni and read about the beliefs of old philosophers and sociologists etc with a sense of understanding, soon the little light bulbs begin to spark and then you're suddenly merging and building upon streams of your own existing thought until we decide what we believe..

Street art in Stokes Croft

Our lecturer's turned many of us into Marxists: anti-capitalism/ unequal division of labour/ greedy,profit based/ fucked system that we're all trapped in. Slavery was said to be abolished a while ago yet a page of the Metro was dedicated to the top 10 current countries with the highest count of slavery, England scoring 61st I believe? I wonder who had the first thought of their current disguise..'Here's an idea, let's not call them slaves, let's give them their freedom so they're not our responsibility and we'll cut their shifts to say, 4 hours? so we don't have to give them a break. We'll pay them less than their value so we can make a profit (that'd be minimum wage - that according to today's metro has reached an all time low :(- the average in Bristol is about £5p/h) and then there's no one to blame.' How our society's progressed huh?
It's interesting seeing the state of politics at the moment -if you look at the biggest superpower, the US of A! Who were recently experiencing a partial government shut-down because of the trillions of dollars of debt that they owe to China/ banks and the guys that own the banks. The US hold the reigns for a global economic recession that we have no control over - but what we are seeing now is the new method of communication that they are trying so desperately to control. The internet - and while we're aware that everything we say and do is being monitored by someone, somewhere...  they sit at the other side of the computer waiting for another Snowden to appear and release more vital information to the rest of us. Our generation is equipped with the tool to communicate that they've never had before, it's definitely gonna end up being the loophole to the solution..

Anonymous

The one that got away!

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YR4CseY9pk)) 
"Remember remember the 5th of November 
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason, why gunpowder treasonShould ever be forgot."
The evening of which was a demonstration all over the world lead by the sound political activist group 'Anonymous'. We originally planned on heading down to Parliament in London to stand together and peacefully protest against all the false promises that get politicians their vote, butt we missed our bus tickets so we chose more of a mental-protest :p
We sat on Brandons Hill, wrapped in jumpers with a couple ciders and J or two, overlooking the horizon of Bristol's buildings and harbour-side, while delicate plumes of multicoloured fireworks emerged from the black spaces between the houses. 10 of us stood along the hill, lighting the four corners of the cardboard that would soon bring to life another years wish. We waited patiently for the lanterns to slowly fill up with heat and then released them into the air.. most of them getting caught in the trees above while a lucky few got away.

Naww

I'm loving having a fairly stable routine again, morning yoga, a run, coffee and breakfast, uni, work, home, friends, out, bed. I've been working in care homes recently and am training to become a social carer. Care homes really open your eyes to old age - something that I'm not longing for.. "once an adult twice a child" has never rung truer.  Yoghurt's, jelly and ice cream, hot chocolate and tea, TV, hushed words, big nappies and personal carers - it's like reverting back into baby-hood again. One lady pulled a few heart strings when she started crying out for her mummy while a nursery rhyme played in the background over the cartoon of the multi coloured dancing mushrooms on TV.... I didn't really know how to respond..

Wide Eyes

But then there are other moments, walking passed a room of men and women singing in harmony just smiling - taking joy in the mundane as we once did, or the couple that have checked themselves in to the home together and still cuddle up next to each other every night. I guess old age is also a mindset, my grandma still has a young spirit, as do many others, I'd just hate to be incapable of really living my life, you know?

I'm revelling in my youth at the moment with a few crazy nights out in Bristol and the odd weekend in London. Deep house at Timbuk2, Lakota or Empire Theatre. Illegal raves in the countryside where dogs run rampant and police have no say, Drum and Bass nights at Motion where the ceilings sweat and reggae/ dub nights at The (dodgy) Black Swan. It was great going to 'For The Love of Dub' and watching Monassah (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MU7SuJOIEOQ) play - he's an old family friend that was playing at gigs my parents went to when they were 19.. funny how patterns carry through generations.

First usage of our shed!

M and I hit London for another night of spontaneous free loading, starting off at the Big Chill we progressed over to a house rave in Dalston, ending up in a flash East London pad. We looked at each other as we sat in a state we'd never experienced before, 19 years ago we were propped up in nappies playing with lego and here we were again, playing a slightly different game. Come 11am we were crawling out of the house and into a taxi, like aliens crawling out of their mothers womb for the first time. Heads on pillows, tights around our eyes to block out the sun and into the darkness we went. Only to wake up hours later and realise I'd missed my bus, again. So what should've been a £14 return journey turned into a £50 pound one.. but hey ho, we'd been pretty lucky the night before.
It's nice having friends in Bristol too, the 9 bedroom house is always the one everyone ends up at, zoning out to the deep thump of the bassy speakers as colourful balloons expand and white light fills the air. I just remember 2 days later, walking in and out of the living room to see J passed out in exactly the same position he'd been in 24 hours earlier. 3 days later the boys had finally decided to change clothes - some things I'll never understand.. 

Hospitality - Motion

But it's not all crazy, there are M and I's cook off's that always end successfully, with a movie and a bag of flowers. Our house is almost full though everyone's in and out visiting family or working around the country. Every bedroom has a bit of love and character, the little kitchen is constantly full of pots, pans, arms and legs as we duck and dive but manage somehow. 5 girls and 1 bathroom hasn't proved a problem yet but we've got our fingers crossed. The other night it was 3 girls, 1 car and no GPS - landing us in another county, escaping a near crash and arriving hours later to the big Sainsbury's for our 'cheap' shopping spree that rinsed our bank accounts. Cooking in bulk is the way to go to save money, so buying in bulk seems logical too, no? ;)

Motion in the ocean

The other day I walked home from uni and just stood in the sun for a minute to soak up a few rays and stay still amongst the movement. Don't you love the feeling of coming home? Especially after a day of Brizzly weather! Scrunching up your eyes as you climb up the steep hills with the wind hitting you in the face - you know winter's sending its signs. We managed to survive the storms though! With a tinge of disappointment after the excitement of the weather forecast's '80/mph hurricane winds'. I went for a run the morning they 'hit' (Bristol wasn't really affected) and got caught in the downpour, feeling the weight of my runners as each step got a little more difficult and soon it wasn't just the puddles making the splashes.. but there's something nice about being able to just run through the rain without hunching over and trying so desperately not to get wet, challenging the elements.. and then getting a cold the next day. Ok enough moaning, time for another cup of teea and an attempt to face the challenge of remaining sane while all the girls in our house PMS at the same time, uh oh boys beware... halloweens over but the bitches are out..

A funky tune for 'hump day' as M used to say <3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5nk7AsILlQ

Halloweeny recipe of the day: Pumpkin cheesecake 
http://allrecipes.co.uk/recipe/4522/pumpkin-cheesecake.aspx

A blink of summer sun

The girls <3

KL was filled with hazy excitement. It was different this time, 2 different addresses, a boyfriend on the other side of town (instead of across the room) and responsibilities. Dealing with those long awaited insurance forms, university applications, where to live, student loans… but somehow balancing it out with a few crazy nights out; seeing old and new faces, having friends from our travels dropping in and out to have a peek into our ‘other life’.

My boy

I love that initial adrenaline rush that hits you as you rush back into things. Telling the same stories again and again, yet somehow it doesn't get boring as you feed off the vicarious thrill from the other person. Spending time with J and the family, going out for yummy meals and enjoying the luxury of not having to pay for everything. We had a beautiful night with E and co. running around town to catch the last beats before the doors closed. It was frustrating coming back to '3am endings' after the all-night-all-day raves in Koh Phangan.. but that didn't stop it being eventful. We ended up at an unknown house, wondering with wide eyes where the music was. Around little apple speakers we crowded, as we made the springs on the bed bounce to the rhythm of the beat, while wearing our eye masks that were handed out at the Pyjama party earlier. The music flowed from the kitchen to the bunk beds, engulfing those in need of a tune, while all the while curious red eyes peered through the windows at the group that didn't stop moving. The flash of the camera went off, just as the bed collapsed beneath us resulting in a failed attempt at a group photo.. but as the blackness ceased and the party was hanging by a thread, we made our way out the door, in response to the first birds call. A group of invisible bats flew by in front of J's eyes so a taxi was called to his rescue; the rest of us wandered and hid from camera's galore until we found a spot by the pool. The sky got brighter and the day-folk awoke, the city was soon alive. So more taxi's were called after smudged make-up was wiped off and J and I began our days samsara..

That evening J made me his tuna salad -- a definite uni recipe that'll be repeated at the bottom of the page. We turned a movie on at 11pm, but soon after our eyes were shut, not to be opened until late the next day. 

Half the family waiting at the airport

Family lunch in Devon :)

The days following consisted of many things, mainly involving food. I cooked a Chinese meal for S and J, two of my favourite boys, as they watched stand-up comedy on youtube; had a delicious roast dinner with dad as we bonded of a glass or two of vino, and enjoyed the aromatics of a sweet last Indian meal (something that had become somewhat of a tradition over our travels) with both J and I's family, this time the quantity of food was slightly more manageable given that I wasn't wholly responsible for ordering. We raised our glasses to celebrate our return and our future academic decisions.. the sense of relief in both our parents was evident as we talked about uni as opposed to the guest house we were going to run on the beach.  

That evening, plans were up in the air as always, different people, different commitments, spread out all over the beautiful city of high rises and motorways. The pre-drinks turned into all-night drinks as my face became gradually more and more red and the older drunks began leering conveniently over the shoulders of the gorgeous young girls that were friends of their daughters, hm.. 2 other guys joined us that night and we swapped 'Thailand stories'; I slunk back in my chair breathing a sigh of relief and feeling grateful for not having ended up in jail, as their experience sounded horrible. The witching hour struck and the bill was paid, so we all journeyed home. A last scream of joy, a dip into sleep and the alarm was going off, it was time to for me to leave. 

Bartenders

It was a bitter-sweet end. I tiptoed around the bedroom, collecting the last bits and bobs that I needed, still feeling rather intoxicated, and throwing brief glances in J's direction, taking every look I could get before it was over for a while. My emotions had reached their breaking point and my head hung low as I held on to J for the last time this summer, and wept. It was going to be a long time, but like a lot of people have told me 'if the love exists, there's no reason it shouldn't last'. I gave J a last kiss, trying to wipe away the endless tears before the long ride to the airport. But by the time my taxi ride was over and the ever-talkative but lovely Z had dropped me off, my spirits were lifted and I walked into the airport with my head held high, fighting back the tears for the soppy rom-com that was to come on the flight.

This was an all-too familiar feeling. Sterile air, uncomfortable aeroplane seats and a little screen to keep you entertained. 'You came into this world alone and you die alone' is the quote that was running through my head. Co-dependence is so easy in a relationship. It's so easy to get used to the other person always being there to lean on or bounce off of. But once that sudden support system is taken away, whether it be your partner, family or best friend, it throws you off tilt a little, and like a child learning to walk, you have to really make the effort to get up again and again and again, until eventually, you're running.

I watched a silly rom-com on the plane and just let myself fall down, taking as much pleasure in the weightlessness as possible. 'The Godfather' which I'd never watched before (don't worry I've already been given grief for it), was the next in line and the sound of the guns and gushing of blood managed to dry the tears and put a different crease in my brow. Unfortunately it wasn't a direct flight, so we stopped for a few hours in Doha - not a particularly exciting airport. I'd taken the sleeping pill too early so wandered around with my head in a daze, trying to keep my eyes open for long enough to see the departures board. I hopped on the next plane just in time, and my head fell onto my pillow for a 5 hour sleep. The pressure in my ears began to build, so I woke up as we began to descend. I wasn't in the best state to talk, but my neighbour struck up a conversation anyway; He was a 34 year old Malaysian, that loved the UK and what started out as casual small talk turned into a full blown debate on the contrasting values between the East and the West, he was debating the West's case..

The whiskey distillery

A bit of passionate talk always manages to get the wheels rolling again, so no sooner had our debate ended, another conversation began. He was a 22 year old Brit that was sitting on my other side and flying home on his week off of work on an Oil Rig in Malaysia; the insight I got into that job was not particularly deep as it mainly revolved around 'easy work and lots of money' but that was no surprise... he turned out to be a lovely guy, and after the plane had touched down and I'd collected my bags, he offered me a lift into town. I kindly declined but felt a sense of faith in what was to come. I walked into the underground station to take the Heathrow Express to Paddington, feeling the cold gush of wind against my skin. I looked down at my thin, colourful hippie pants that were letting the wisps of wind lick my legs. I shook my head, I wasn't in Asia any more. 
From a tube to a train to a taxi to home I walked back in time, into the room I'd walked in and out of every day for 6 months before travelling began. I saw my best friend and roomie that had waited up for me, tucked under a white duvet with a laptop on her lap and eyes half closed. We squealed and hugged each other before beginning the non-stop chatter that only emerges when your heart's at its happiest. The mind is one incredible powerful tool, allowing you to go in and out of various modes of conciousness and flit from mood to memory to emotion to action. But when your heart has something to express, there should be no denial or fear, trying to interpret it using our logical rationale because the heart isn't rational. When that feeling arises, just see and feel the message it's telling you... like Malcolm Gladwell mentions in 'Blink' -  intuition is everything. Our eyes slowly drooped and we cuddled up next to each other, for my first night in London. 

Target practise in Islay with my lil cuz

Sheep skull, eek!

‘Situational distribution error’ is something I've mentioned before, but just to recap, it’s a psychological term that refers to what westerners tend to use when something goes wrong, they blame the situation as opposed to themselves ‘oh it was the roads fault we crashed..’. I was just about to write about money, and how it has a way of absorbing you, creating the illusion of power and greed (mainly because I'm just pissed off about the prices here). But if you apply the ‘fundamental attribution error’ to the situation... it’s not really the money, it’s more the value we choose to place on it, because at the end of the day, money is just an energy exchange, you get what you pay for. 
Money can be something you obsess about, calculating the cost of everything – which is what I began our travels doing. I planned to keep a tab of everything I bought and after an hour of trying, realized that if that’s what you choose to do, it just distracts from the experience. Obviously you've got to be aware of your spendings or you won’t have any left, but have fun with it. So instead of whining about the price of things here, I'm just going to try and think relatively without becoming obsessed, consumerism doesn't have to become you just because you're surrounded by it. 

Although the prices hadn't changed here, something else had... and it was putting everyone in a beautiful mood. Every year, my dads side of the family rotates who stays in our family cottage in Devon; the rotation is random, as is the weather, but somehow, whether it be luck or fate, our family always manage to get the few days of sunshine, that allow the cottage to shine at its brightest. The sun shined for a lot longer than just a few days though, from the very beginning to this present moment, the rays have continuously heated up the pavement, made the grass grow longer and the smiles widen. White clouds flying across a clear blue sky became the norm, and sun cream littered the shelves of all the local pharmacies. We spent a few days in London, catching up with friends, picnics in the park, bar tending for our parents house-party and then the morning after, when both mum, dad J and myself were on less than 3 hours sleep, we drove up to Devon (the majority of it was spent with our eyes closed and dad trying not to fall asleep at the wheel). The cottage greeted us with its usual familiar walls and furniture, warmth exploding from the Aga as we walked through the kitchen doors. Those 5 days were spectacular. Long walks over cliffs and rocks to our favourite beaches in the area, braving the bone-achingly cold waters for 2 minutes at a time, picnics and J's, fish and chips at the pub, treacle tarts, scones and a trip to town (where J browsed for toys and I for crystals). It all ended far too soon and we were walking back up that steep hill, passed our apple orchard, back to London. 

Street art in Bristol

Sunny days

Gran painting

Beginning a job that you haven't done in a while is always an interesting experience. I downed a coffee and made my way to the national portrait gallery where my company was holding an event. On entering I was greeted by a few old faces and a few more new ones. We caught up, the endorphins buzzing as we ran around with silver trays, serving champagne and canapés in black trousers and white shirts, while sneaking peaks of the beautiful art-work in the room. One painting in particular caught my attention, it was a large canvas that had paintings of Zebras, giraffes and a few words, this huge piece that took up the majority of the wall it was placed on, was outstanding, not for its detail, but for the fact that it looked as though it had been painted, by a 3 year old. Amongst all the detailed, abstract and extraordinary work in that gallery, this one stood out to me, why exactly was it priced at thousands of pounds when a child at nursery could have achieved the same feat during her break-time, and with a bullshit description I'm sure she could've charged the same amount. But I guess that's the big debate of art. What is and what isn't. It reminds me of the documentary on Marla Olmstead, check it out (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeyM9dG7Uzw)

J caught a crab :)

I legged it home, stuck in rush hour, to a delicious dinner cooked by my cousin E. It's so funny seeing family members get older when you always have a set age in your head of what they are. 'How's university' is never a good starting point when that stage was 5 years ago, but due to time's racing nature, it never feels like that long. We sipped on red wine and ate fresh chicken satay presented in beautiful iceberg lettuce cups and doused with peanut sauce. The accompanying dishes were just as amazing but I that dish was talked about for days after. 

We had a few days in London before journeying up to my uncles place in Islay, Scotland for our family reunion. One of those days was spent beginning my new job as a chugger (charity mugger) holding a bucket to passers-by, trying to keep a smile on my face and remain positive as people walk around you avoiding eye contact and pretending they're on the phone. Others however, like the ex-heroin addict/ alcoholic, do stick around. That day I was confined to 'outside starbucks' in Hampstead, London. A very small space means you don't have much to work with, so getting stuck in a conversation with this man, meant that there wasn't much room to escape. It was a bizaare experience, at one point he began pushing pressure points on my hand to 'release my anxiety' which actually worked, for about 10 minutes.. We then began discussing music as he used to be a musician as well as an acupuncturist (or so he says) I briefly mentioned how I like to sing, much to my regret, he began chanting 'SING FOR ME SING FOR ME' so at a loss I began singing for this man, in the middle of the street, outside Starbucks, in South Hampstead. It was an enlightening moment and my soul felt lifted, people put a few more coins in the bucket and the man sat down, happy and quiet. I thought busking might be the next way to go since it seemed to generate more profits than talking did. The man disappeared for a few hours and then returned. The people that worked inside Starbucks came out and told me they'd call the police if he kept harassing me, but I didn't really see it as harassment, it was more charity work than my bucket was doing so I didn't mind. Soon enough 2 police cars pull up and 6 policemen get out to surround the poor drunkard that just wanted a song. Now the passers-by had something else to distract them as they walked with their pockets jingling, away from the bucket. Don't get me wrong, some people were generous, but the police cars weren't doing me any favours. Another lady stopped by, a 'mentally ill' patient as she described herself, before we began discussing the unnecessary presence of this many policemen, when dealing with such a small situation. One policeman joined in the conversation and didn't seem to understand our viewpoint -- they didn't seem to help much either as after they'd left with him, he returned 2 hours later, with a big grin on his face and another can of beer..

Islay

Tomorrow is when I begin a month of charity work, and I tell you, I now have an immense amount of respect for those that dedicate their lives to charity in the face of such a ruthless world. It lifts your heart when you get a nice reaction or comment or smile, but asking people for something they don't wanna give, is never easy. The other day in the newspapers an article was released about 'where the charity money goes', to the big cats of course, but seeing as fundraising is the most available job in London at the moment, the lectures from the public on why they will not put a penny into the bucket, don't really help the messengers. So before the hard-work and lectures began, we jetted off to Scotland to check out a few sheep and do a bit of family bonding.

Castle park, Bristol

Our first flight to Glasgow was delayed by 3 hours, meaning our connecting flight was long-gone. Uh oh, a night in a b&b in Glasgow with a few pints and grim weather, none of us were particularly looking forward to it. But to our surprise, we were directed over to a different part of Glasgow airport, where we sat in the waiting room, drinking galaxy hot-chocolate in anticipation for our private jet to Islay eeek! Dad's contribution to the Margadales was some delicious cheese that was scoffed with grapes, crackers and wine after each meal every night. But the journey that that the cheese went on, was one that could be smelt by all. Dad sat at the back of the little plane with the cheese that made its presence known. We took off and soon, that wasn't the first thing on our minds as we flew over the beautiful green cliffs and crevices of Scotland. The glistening seas, hundreds of sailing boats and tiny houses spread sporadically around the land. Down, down, down we came until we landed smoothly on the runway next to the two 4-wheel drives that were parked at the end, with an excited uncle and aunt waving their hands in the air. 

The jet we flew to Islay!!?

We hopped into their cars and drove down the loch to rinse off the journey with a beautiful swim in the clear, fresh-water lake. Swarms of white swans could be seen approaching from the other end and white clouds twirled above the green rolling hills surrounding us. We hopped out and headed back to the beautiful house where dinner was served. 

Beers in the park with Adelaide and co.

For the next week we lived in luxury, cherishing every moment before student life began again. Meals of scallops, oysters and lobster, wines, cheeses and truffles. Clean white beds, long healthy walks, swims, jet-skiing, tours of the local Bruichladdich whiskey distillery, bonding time with cousins (and watching the little-uns get drunk for the first time, lmao at the fact that my brother gets Asian Glow too), games of rounders, cricket and table tennis, fishing, sailing, target/dear and rabbit shooting and surprisingly few family feuds. It was a long awaited reunion with the 17+ members of the Fuller family on the wonderful Islay estate. 
On the last day I went for a lone wander, determined not to get lost as I had done the day before. I skipped along the hills, past highland cattle and trout in the water below. Jamming and dancing like an idiot to 'Fat Freddies drop' with no sense of insecurity as the only eyes around were those of the huge cows and beautiful butterflies that flew amongst the ragwort (a weed that's deceivingly pretty but toxic to horses and humans alike). The blue sky stretched out in front of me - how amazing that everyone has the ability to share the same air, sky and beauty - we just have to look up once in a while. 

Painted by Rory McEwan, as he
started dying so did the things he drew

Rory McEwan

The journey back was longer than the first one, We used just about every mode of transport possible in Scotland, the 5-star ferry that came equiped with a casino, tv's, shops and canteens (where the boys managed to fit in a full Scottish breakfast), a car to Glasgow (seeing beautiful old castles woosh by our windows), a plane to london followed by a tube a train and a walk back home. A simple meal of choritzo, cherry tomatoes & scrambled eggs on toast was appreciated after the richness of the last week, and we fell asleep, with the hum of aeroplanes flying overhead. 

We spent J and dad's last days wandering cue gardens (the one park in the world that has every plant and flower imaginable), taking in the beautiful (and appropriate) artwork of the deceased Rory McEwan in his exhibition and eating delicious meals. The fambam have now left and I've began an internship with 'urbanfoodfest', as well as continuing the rather draining chugging, to keep the cash flow steady. I've fallen in love with my future home-town 'Bristol', greeted on my first day by a Rasta in the bear-park and old friends with fumes in the garden. So the sunshine still shines though the temperature has dropped; I manage the odd meal with friends, morning runs and yoga, the dry responsibilities of being over 18 and a bit of fun/ a fried brain after a 4-day bender at 'Wilderness Festival' that will be paid its dues in the next post. Keep reading! ;)

Last night at Wilderness

Recipe of the day: Fresh tuna salad

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/tuna-salad-recipe/index.html

The last of the Amsterdamage

T. and I

Leiden

Woke up in yet another strange room, it was still dark so I dashed to the loo to try to get back to bed before my mind officially announced itself awake. I bumped into my mate in the hallway and sighed at the thought that the day had started and bedtime would have to wait a few more hours. The miserable rainy weather made it feel early but we were going on midday by the time all the breakfast was on the table. We made a huge fry up, recycling the one available frying pan to make eggs, baked beans, bacon, mushrooms and the rest of the essentials. We wrapped up tight with our rucksack for the day and set off. Dressing for winter is an effort and a half. First you deal with the pain of getting out of whatever warmth you have on you, pushing through the cold to get into the shower and then layering up, tights, jeans, vests, t-shirts, jumpers then coats, gloves, socks, thicker socks, boots - and then you stuff yourself through the door feeling slightly like a Michelin man yet losing all insecurities about what you look like when you can still feel the cold through a million layers. It's the very end of October and the temperature has already gone below 0 - I'm terrified to think about how much worse it will get. 

Crystals at a local market

Our day was action packed, on our way down to the beach we made friends with a  'fun guy that made the rest of the journey slightly more colourful and silly - luckily the clouds had drifted away leaving a pristine blue sky. We took full advantage of enjoying the moment, rolling down sand dunes and hiding from the wind in cave-like indentations in the sand. We bought crisps, grapes and pears from the supermarket to munch on later and then began our stroll towards the little town of Leiden - I experienced 'kibbling' on our way down the windy beach front -- fresh cod fried in batter eaten with mayo. It was the perfect warm snack, followed by apple pie and hot chocolate in the closest café we could find, we sat there enjoying the luxury of the warmth in total defeat from the cold. We considered the 1.5 hour walk home, but decided to clink a few more coins and get the bus instead. A quick bite of a pizza, a little dance to 'Clint Eastwood' by the Gorillaz and we were off to the bus stop. We made sure we'd have at least 10 minutes so as not to miss the bus, as it was the only one coming in our direction for 40 minutes. This bus was essential to catch as one of my mates A. had another bus to catch back to London from Amsterdam and we were already running short on time. We teared up a little waiting for the bus to come, I lay on our pile of bags looking at the two boys in front of me who I'd watched grow into men over the past 3.5 years - wondering when the next time I'd see them again would be. We all looked defeated, but soon saw the bus lights approaching on the dark empty road. Our hearts dropped when it drove straight passed us, tactically ignoring the three teenagers that stood waving their arms in the middle of the road. We panicked and fretted for about 5 minutes, sharing our annoyance towards the dick bus driver before getting practical and working out what to do. We ran to the closest bus station that was 10 minutes away, and managed to catch the bus that was late for its post - thank god we made it. 

By the canal

We all hugged goodbye, A. went off towards Amsterdam and I journeyed onwards to the Hague to see an old friend that was waiting for me as soon as I arrived.  The evening sweetened up as we bought some banana's from the supermarket, in preparation for one of my new favourite snacks, purely due to it's convenient preparation time - banana milkshakes! 2 banana's, a cup of milk, water or ice cream if you want, blended - done. We snuggled up in bed with our shakes, a buzz from a light spliff and breaking bad on full screen  I don't know whether it was the series itself or our mental states but there were some points of the series that were beyond ridiculous, leaving us in stitches. A bathtub full of a decomposing body falling through 2 stories because the acid used to dissolve the body dissolved through the tub and the floor - It's an entertaining series so far, I'll give it that. We fell into a 14 hour peaceful slumber - the next morning the clocks turned back, winter has officially set in, yelp!

Popeyes

The sun rose slowly and we had a lazy morning in bed watching more breaking bad, munching on scrambled eggs, and pondering what we'd do for the next few hours together. Our pro-active minds kicked in soon enough and we went off exploring the Hague on the back of my friends scooter -- free transportation still comes with a price though, as the speedometer rose, the harshness of the wind could be felt on our faces as our eyes streamed. We made our way to a beach about 10 minutes away, the wind picked up as we approached the sea but at least it was fresh air? We walked through the main shopping centre for shelter, popping into T's mums shop for a little hello and having a light coffee and a cigarette for a pause. We walked passed the buildings that were responsible for imprisoning war criminals and laying down the laws on dangerous chemicals etc. -- this country's got such a high moral standard that it made so much sense that it would be the place where crimes etc. were put in question. We returned home and T. left his bike unlocked and leaning against the wall outside his house - apparently it's safe enough to do so! Something I'm not used to at all. It makes me think how sad it is that one has to assume the worst  from people in order to take precautions. After a quick milkshake at home, I jumped on the train back to Centraal station in Amsterdam. That evening we walked to another coffee shop 'Abraxas', picking up a bag of hot chips and mayo on the way, and returning home later that night with a stick of candy floss  crisps and an apple pie - using 'I'm on holiday' to justify my unhealthy eating habits.

Street art

The days are trickling down and we're down to only 2. The next morning began with a spot of yoga, followed by another coffee shop 'Popeye'. We began with a huge breakfast, that was closely followed by a Shawarma, 2 bars of chocolate and lots of tea. I'm fascinated as to how my stomach is coping with all of this, but it'll get it's break soon. Popeye's was a laugh, one mate A. from London sat for the majority of the time squirming over the cute Scottish waitress who stood at the bar seductively licking cream off her fingers and flashing him cheeky smiles - we were entertained. I decided one thing I needed to do while in Dam was buy a winter essential, so I chose boots given that every shop we passed had about 50 pairs on offer and all for fairly reasonable prices compared to London. So I left the others and set off to choose a pair. I spent the next hour stumbling all over the shop floor, stressing out over varying prices - leather or no leather, fur or no fur, heel or no heel ah! The trip was not successful  so we went home, with the mental promise of completing the boots mission the following day. 

Street art:
"We eat the poor to feed the west"
- scary message

That evening we made a full on meal using whatever ingredients we had in our fridge, and a few others. Make-shift ratatouille was the result, with bread and salad. Followed by an chocolate and vanilla pudding! We ate our happy muffins about an hour before we started cooking, and by the time we'd finished, the giggles had kicked in. We'd set up our night, loaded Ice Age 3 on the laptop, made a delicious meal, and got into our PJ's - it was all timed perfectly for once. The idea of watching a movie is always better conceptually, as our non-stop laughing and short attention span that didn't outlive 5 minutes at a time, didn't help us understand what we were watching at all - and failed to distract us from the white/ milk chocolate ginger biscuits, apparently they're a Dutch speciality, and I see why. After we'd ploughed through a huge meal that should have left us with leftovers for at least lunch and dinner, and the vanilla and chocolate pudding AND the bag of white/ milk chocolate ginger biscuits - we were literally left immobile, struggling not to laugh as our stomachs dealt with the immense amount of food that needed to be digested, yet somehow the drive for more more more beat the pain and we finished the entire bag. Eugh.

Street performer

Self explanatory?

I waved goodbye to Amsterdam as we made our way to Eindhoven the next day, I managed to buy boots in the morning which felt like an accomplishment in itself- munching on rye bread and brie (my staples for the week) we packed everything up and left the apartment. Returning to L's home with a warm home-cooked meal awaiting us, made us smile and appreciate the little things. The next morning was a struggle, getting out of bed and beginning the stressful journey to the airport. I stood in line as everyone was checking in, watching countless people in front of me being turned away as they were too late for their flight. I find that no matter how much time you give yourself, travelling is always a stressful process. On my way to the departures gate I found myself in an 'all day breakfast' restaurant that proved as quite a distraction. But I finally made it on to the plane with no extra costs and I zoned out to my tunes with a cup of English Breakfast tea - So what have I taken with me from Amsterdam? It's beautiful canals, flat grounds and beaches. The proof of a successfully functioning city that has legalized and controlled weed consumption, and a beautiful variety of Art, from the graffiti on the walls, to the street performers, to the huge museums and galleries that are scattered all over the city. Dutch food is one thing I don't particularly warm to however, processed meats and cheeses, lots of bread with a weird variety of spreads, and fairly bland accompaniments..  But that's was a minor flaw. Right now I lie in bed on an overcast Saturday morning, snuggled up with a comfy duvet, wearing my old school hoodie with a cuppa, back 'home' in London town.

Centraal station, infront of a big old crowd ♩ ♫

Recipe of the day: Ratatouille

http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/2903/ratatouille