A Little Strike Each Day Can Chop Down Big Trees

That Time We Discussed Current Events (Ooh, High Brow For A Change)

Hello, dear readers.  A second post in just over a week?!

It's almost like there was some kind of rough plan when this all started.

This. #relateable

In any event, the evenings are getting darker, people are trying to save up for Christmas jollies and the Christmas spirit is in the air.

Lego Boyfriend loves Christmas and huge baubles. Apparently.

I have even had my first slice of Christmas pudding.

Although it seems as though not everyone is full of festive cheer.

Life marches on regardless of the season and unfortunately that appears to have brought some rather poorly timed strikes.  Both Southern Rail and the Post Office have announced varying degrees of inconvenience over the Christmas period.

Southern Rail have organised a 48 hour walk out over the last week with further strikes to be announced in December and January.  As someone that used to commute to London, I understand how annoying this is for everyone involved.  Not just the commuters but also the poor sods that have turned up to work only to have abuse hurled at them by disgruntled and caffeine deprived commuters.  I get that it is annoying for everyone and that the Aslef union feel this is their only option at this point.

But...this all started over who was going to be responsible for opening train doors.

Or we could just...you know, do it ourselves.

...or...no? Oh ,okay then.

It was announced that no trains would run on any Southern Rail routes and left approximately 300,000 people displaced in what Talk Radio called 'the worst disruption in 20 years'.

...don't give me that! I remember the snow of 2010.

And before anyone cries 'lazy journalism' this is actually a picture from 2010.  So nyeah.

And despite my rather facetious claim above, the argument is a lot more complicated than who gets to push one button to open the door of the train.

Apparently.

The problem of course with all these trains being disrupted is not just the effect it has on the rail infrastructure but all of a sudden there is an increase in cars on the road as people try to find alternative routes to work.

As Steve so eloquently states below:

I wish the #southernrailstrike ends soon, so all their customers can use the trains again, cos they can't fuckin' drive! #normalroaduser

— Steve Harris (@steve99999) 13 December 2016

And just in case we need any further proof that Harry Potter has the perfect quote for any and every situation...

Hagrid doesn't give a fuck who closes the carriage doors on the Hogwarts Express. #southernstrike pic.twitter.com/I6ZyJrPZ6M

— The Grump Crusader ツ (@grumpcrusader) 8 August 2016

In other news, it's not just the trains that have the British public in what could be described as A Mild Flap.

Apparently the Post Office have joined in on the fun.

You should think yourself lucky that 'e-cards' didn't really take off  in 1994.

But, not to be outdone by Southern Rail, the Post Office decided to really infuriate the general populace by announcing a five day strike in the week before Christmas.

Fingers crossed you didn't do all your shopping on Amazon.

Oh...bugger.

IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS, RIGHT?!

(Namely the thought that my house is warm and devoid of screaming toddlers which leads me to internet shopping and wine drinking.)

Although, unlike Southern Rail, Post Office have insisted that it should be business as usual for 97% of Post Office customers.

Phew.

Incorrectly misappropriating political slogans. Yay. 

But seriously..sozlol to those of you that don't get to send out your Christmas cards this year.

I bet e-cards are looking pretty good right about now.

"Hmmm, festive and depressing.  I really just wanted depressing but if this is all you have I guess I'll take it."

...Or not as the case may be.

Speaking of the Post Office, does the strike mean that lots of boys and girls won't be receiving their postcard from Father Christmas this year?!  For those not in the know, if you send a letter to Father Christmas at the North Pole with your Christmas wish list, he used to send you a postcard to confirm that he had received the list and was working hard on all the presents.

I don't know if he still does or not because, sadly, we fell out of contact and haven't spoken for a while.

I mean, it's more recent than you would think, but hey...life gets in the way I guess.

...I think I read a fanfiction about this once.

Meanwhile, the strikes are making headlines in the papers:

'Christmas strike misery as Post Office workers stage five-day walkout and rail services are hit by industrial action' - The Telegraph

'December strikes do not signify new 'winter of discontent'' - The Guardian

'No trains, no cards and now no presents! Christmas strike nightmare gets worse as Argos delivery drivers announce they will stop working next week in a dispute over pay' - The Daily Mail (punchy as ever.)

'Argos strike latest: Delivery drivers announce three-day Christmas walkout' - The Independent

Wait...Argos are striking too? (Kind of thought the Daily Mail might just be making that up.  As usual.)  This saddens me because when I was younger we used to write letters to Father Christmas with our wish lists of gifts and toys etc.  This is obviously Not Unusual.

What was slightly strange was the fact that my mother and father used to sit my sister and I down with the Argos catalogue so that we could look for ideas.  Again, actually quite a good idea for despairing parents that have no idea what you mean by "that one doll in the adverts after 'Grizzly Tales for Gruesome Kids' but before 'My Parents Are Aliens".

However, it wasn't until I was much older that I realised how strange it was to write a page number and/or the 7 digit product code in my letter to Father Christmas.

Apparently, he only shops at Argos.

It's a good job I was am a naive and trusting child.

Well...if Argos drivers do go through with the strike, look on the bright side; that's a lot less vans and trucks on the road to make way for all those commuters!

I'll just leave this here and let you come to your own conclusions about my feelings on the matter.

Maybe instead of moaning about it (I know we are British but come on!) we should take the opportunity to appreciate what Christmas should really be all about.

Even the Grinch got it right by the end of the book.

So, forget the cards and the presents and enjoy spending time with your friends and family.

...unless of course you need to get a train to see them.  Then, in that case, just ignore this Blog, drink some form of mulled alcohol and cry on the inside like a winner.

Geez...no wonder these never took off.

If we learned nothing else from Christmas television adverts, it was that there's always Skype right?

And that you can rely on your family and friends to be rubbish at charades.

In any event, are we sure that the people striking didn't just fancy an extended Christmas holiday?

Which actually doesn't sound like a bad idea.

Any unions out there want to strike over the working conditions of paralegals?!

Well, might as well jump on the band wagon as trains are currently out of the question.

&&Fin.

Maybe Christmas, the Grinch Thought, Doesn't Come From A Store

That Time We Rated Christmas Adverts

It is 5th December and I have already worn my favourite Christmas jumper twice.

Yes, dear readers, the time of mulled wine, mistletoe and mince pies has returned.   2016 certainly seems to have flown by.  It seems like only yesterday a 7 year old was telling me I looked 35.

Not that I'm still bitter about that or anything.

Obvs.

Harrumph.

In any event, Christmas is in the air - X Factor had the Christmas themed show, I have attended a Christmas fair and I have even wrapped Christmas presents.

Plus, I got to go and visit the Boyfriend on board his cruise ship when he came back to Blighty for a day.  So turns out Christmas wishes do come true.

Yeah I know. That was too sickly sweet even for me.

Not to mention our television screens have once again become the very public battleground for the annual war for the best Christmas ad.

I think we will all agree that John Lewis have had the edge for the last few years which all started with The Long Wait and a little boy who could not wait to please, please, please get what we wanted and appears to have ended (for me) with Monty the amorous penguin.  (Sadly, the Man on the Moon did not make a particularly strong impression on me last year - sozlol).

However, other companies have certainly upped their game in recent years.

In light of this, I thought it only appropriate that we go through and rank the current gladiators stepping up to do battle this year.

Since we have mentioned them already, it seems only fair that our first entry is this year's John Lewis ad:

5. Buster the Boxer - John Lewis

This year's John Lewis offering was the rather sweet tale of Buster the boxer wanting to jump on a trampoline.

And...there isn't much more to it than that to be honest.

The woodland animals are cute in an overly CGI'd kind of way and the music is the melancholy leading to uplifting score we've come to expect from John Lewis.  But there was just something that didn't quite click for me.

I don't know what it is but it just doesn't seem on par with some of the John Lewis adverts of years gone by.

Although this is possibly the best parody I have seen since Cassetteboy vs The Bloody Apprentice.

Yeah...reckon they would have been higher up the list if the Trump/Clinton version was the official advert.

4. Home for Christmas - Waitrose

And in at number 4 is John Lewis' sister company: Waitrose.

This advert frustrates me because there is a lot I'm willing to do for a good mince pie (watch it, now!) but this is just taking it to extremes! Plus, points are lost because when I first watched this advert I thought the gruff sailor man had actually stamped on the robin.

And we all know I'm ridiculously jumpy so nasty little shocks like that are Not Appreciated.

Not to mention what is that crazy kid doing wasting good, Waitrose mince pies on the bird table?! I have watched birds eat worms and this kid is chucking out a whole mince pie?! And looks to be replacing it every day?!

Do they not realise how expensive Waitrose is?

And how 'experts' have predicted that the price of the average British shopping basket is set to triple following the fall out from Brexit?

Not still bitter about that either.

Harrumph indeed.

3. The Greatest Gift - Sainsburys

Ah, Sainsburys.

This is an impressive work of stop-motion animation and therefore deserves a fairly high spot on the list.

There is something very British about this advert - is it the soft voice of James Corden? Or taking the proverbial Michael out of our unreliable train services? Or the awkward wedging in of the 'that's so 2015' twerking?

In any event, it looks great, sounds great, includes an amazing cross-section of society and has a great message for the Christmas holidays.

...Or does it?

Whilst I wholeheartedly agree with the message that the best gift people can give is their time (that fact that I'm Very Poor as you all well know has nothing to do with this sentiment) and spending quality time with friends and family is what Christmas is all about, Sainsburys don't seem to practice what they preach.

Sainsburys will be open Christmas Eve, Boxing Day, New Year's Eve, New Year's Day and the following bank holiday.

Turns out the greatest gift you can actually give this year is super discounted turkey on December 26th according to Sainsburys.

Boxing Day sights: poor university students as far as the eye can see...

Boo, Sainsburys.  You lose points for this.

2. The Sing Song - TK Maxx

Well, if this week's Apprentice episode taught us anything it is that British people love anything random.

More like Lord Sugar has lost his mind.  Seriously, he has to pick his business partner from this sorry bunch?! (That's another Blog Post I suppose.)

TK Maxx has possibly the most random advert out there.

It's not warm and sentimental.

Or humorous and light hearted.

No; it's just...bizarre.

But it still brings a smile to my face when I see it.

And if you haven't done the claw hand clap at the end of the advert then you are Wrong.

1. Christmas with love from Mrs Claus - M & S

Now this has everything.

Warring siblings, an old happily married couple, a cute dog, a sad and untimely loss, gadgets, a sassy heroine, a secret only the audience knows, a happy ending and those glorious looking mince pies not left out for the birds.

Plus bonus points for 50 Shade of Red.  I see what you did there you saucy minx, Mrs Claus!

It's a winner in my eyes.

The only thing missing was a cheeky wink right at the end but I suppose we can't have everything now, can we?

This is my number 1 because I am only slightly not ashamed to admit that the first time I saw this advert, it brought a tear to my eye.  It feels really Christmassy, it features The Big Guy himself in a non-conventional way and feels modern and traditional at the same time.

This is a really subjective list, obviously, and I'm sure that many of my dear readers will have conflicting opinions but I think we can all agree that no Christmas advert list would be complete without the classic:

NOW I'M FEELING CHRISTMASSY.

Ahem. Or whatever.

Now some of you keen eyed readers may have noticed that Tesco is conspicuously missing from this list.  Tesco did not submit one big Christmas advert and have instead opted for several shorts featuring Ben Miller and his long suffering Tesco wife Ruth Jones.  Clearly, Tesco did not have the big budget that the other supermarkets managed to rustle up.

Maybe Tesco's kids have been leaving Waitrose mince pies out for the birds and now they can't afford big budget adverts.

Who knows?

Anything is better than the garbage Very.co.uk have vomited out this year.

Call it a poor man's 'The Long Wait' or what...

Eurgh.  I think that advert just gave me cavities.

Finally, honourable mention goes to Lidl for their rather sweet Kevin the Carrot ad:

I rather liked this one but the reason it didn't make the top list is because it felt too similar to Sainsbury's advert from 2015 about Mog's Christmas Calamity involving a rather clumsy feline.

Still, who can argue with the calming voice of Jim Broadbent?  He is one of the few people in this world that could make a poem about a carrot feel enchanting and whimsical.

Although, how I will eat my Christmas veggies now, I do not know.

Thanks, Jim.


Anyway, hopefully this Blog Post has put you in the Christmas spirit (even if we have just ripped the Christmas ads to pieces).  And let's just hope we can get through this holiday period without getting too bored of the same 5 adverts being repeated over and over again on TV.

Although if they want to just play Clinton/Trump on repeat that would be fine with me.

&&Fin.

Hobbies Of Any Kind Are Boring Except To people Who Have The Same Hobby

That Time We Talked About How To Enjoy Yourself On The Cheap

We previous discussed the fact that my boyfriend abandons me on the regular (aka he goes away for work). What you might not know is that I am also currently repaying a Career and Development loan (aka the Law Society fleeced me for even more money for a pointless piece of paper and I'm still not qualified. ...not bitter).

This is a qualified lawyer.  If this was a law student that statue would have been sold for food by now. Trust.

All of this means that I now need to find ways to enjoy myself on the cheap.

And thus, I have been indulging in as many free activities as possible.  These have, invariably, been a comedy of errors and therefore a Blog post is necessary.

So away we go:

1. Yoga at home

This is Adrienne.

Don't you just feel relaxed looking at her?!

Adrienne is my saviour.

I love yoga (potentially because it is the only form of exercise that I am semi-good at due to my alien, inherent bendy-ness). Previously, I have attended a yoga class in Southampton with Heather (I STILL LOVE YOU HEATHER!) which made sense when I worked in Southampton.  But now that I do not live or work in Southampton, driving to the class made less and less sense.

My YouTube skills (see Bear Grylls: Born Shiteater) led me to Adrienne.  I like that she doesn't take the practice too seriously and encourages people to find what feels good rather than sticking to what the poses should look like.

However, the major drawback to this method of yoga practice is that the teacher isn't in the room with you so you're not entirely sure you are doing the vinyasa (check me out!) correctly.  This is compounded further when you are trying to copy a miniature version of a lady on your phone screen propped up against a wall.

Anyway, because the teacher isn't in the room with you, they aren't able to correct you and/or push your limits in the best way and you end up in positions that maybe your body doesn't really appreciate.

By day 3 of the 30 day challenge, my buttocks ached in ways they shouldn't.  Although this may have had more to do with the fact that I tried to bend myself into a pretzel after several months of no exercise.  I am sure normal humans would not encounter the achy bottom syndrome that I suffered.

Hey ho, needs must and all that.

The 30 Day Challenge is a great way to get back into the practice if you have been away for a while.  The session are between 15-40 minutes so you might even be able to squeeze in some mat time before work if you are really keen.

Obviously, I will be in bed wondering what is wrong with you but don't let my judgmental eyes stop you.

Namaste. 

2. Home Waxing

This is less of a 'hobby' and more of a cry for help to be honest.

For anyone not getting my amazing Twilight references - boyfriend goes away, girlfriend endangers life and limb because "I'm an angsty teen and my life revolves around a guy - sozlol" and afterwards there is a dramatic loss of hair.

Well, I thought it was quite apt.

#isTwilightevenathinganymore

Anyway, I have previously mentioned my love for waxing so onto the step by step guide of my ordeal experience:

Step 1: Ensure Housemate has vacated the Premises.  I do not want an audience for the inevitable howls and yelps that are likely to ensue.

Step 2: Heat the wax up.  This took f-o-r-e-v-e-r.  This may have had something to do with the fact that I was melting enough wax to mould my own Madame Tussaud's figure but the wax wasn't fully melted for several hours.  In fact, my patience ran out and I started when there was still a huge solid chunk in the middle.

FYI - just as a kind of public service announcement; don't google image search 'lots of wax'.  You will be scarred for life.

You. Are. Welcome.

Step 3: Sit on the floor, on a towel, legs akimbo in a Very Unladylike Manner.

Step 4: Deep breaths.

Step 5: Use wooden lollipop stick to apply hot wax (NOT TOO HOT) to happy places.

Step 6: Allow wax to cool and harden.

Step 7: Realise that there is no going back.

Step 8: More deep breaths.

Step 9: Rip the wax off of your happy places which are now less happy and a lot more pissed off.  Hold in expletives.

Step 10: Admire handiwork and think the pain was worth it.

Step 11: Realise you have to do this like 30 more times and maybe it won't be worth it actually.

Step 12: Repeat steps 5 - 11 until you have achieved the desired baldness.

Hey, to each their own, man, amiright?!

There was a strange kind of satisfaction about the whole process. Enjoyment is not the right word; don't get me wrong - it hurts! But there is a weird compulsion to just keep going. It's like that feeling you get when you press a bruise. You know, where it kind of hurts but you can't help but do it again? ...no? I mean...me neither.

Not awkward enough to NOT write a Blog Post about though, clearly.

3. My Lego Boyfriend

My most recent project is a clear sign of my descent into madness.

But hey, what is a Blog for, if not to afford my dear readers the chance to mock me when they see me in public.

Years ago, a lifetime before Perfect Tinder Dates and Breakfast Bahjis, the Boyfriend was gifted a Lego version of himself by some work colleagues.

Here he is:

So. Cute.

Lego Boyfriend has been entrusted into my care whilst Real Boyfriend is away and we have lots of adventures planned for the next few months.

For the time being, I just wanted to introduce my Lego Boyfriend (checkered shirt and all!) and you can follow our adventures via photographs on my Instagram.  But Lego Boyfriend will also be making regular appearances on the Blog so hopefully we will be seeing much more of him in the future.

NO!

I love you, dear readers, but really.

Filthy minded the lot of you.

In light of my poverty, my friends and family have the joys of home made Christmas gifts so look forward to my fail tales of my attempts at creativity in due course.

What this whole experience, and in particular, writing this Blog post, has taught me is that...I need better hobbies.

&&Fin.

Long Distance Is For Those Knowing A Good Thing When They See It, Even If They Don't See It Nearly Enough

That Time We Got All Mushy

What The Buzz: #ThursdayThoughts

My first Thursday Thought was, why does Twitter love alliteration so much?

#ThrowbackThursday
#FeelGoodFriday
#FollowFriday
#MancrushMonday

What's next?

#TMITuesday
#WeepyWednesday
#StayInBedSunday

In any event, the Twittersphere was coming over all positive and motivational (which is more than can be said for the #NationalPoetryDay hashtag which was bastardized into #WriteAPoemForTheresaMay which were surprisingly witty, if somewhat harsh).

So, in order to spread a bit of motivation and happy thoughts across the internet, here are some #ThursdayThoughts for you all:

Don’t forget that the sacrifices you make now are setting you up for a better life down the road. #ThursdayThoughts #Motivation #Inspiration pic.twitter.com/uo0eYKP0SO

— Murray Newlands (@MurrayNewlands) 29 September 2016

5 Ingredients for Happiness#ThursdayThoughts pic.twitter.com/x5PdUWMH1T

— Gary Hensel (@gary_hensel) 6 October 2016

#ThursdayThoughts 🍁 October back to work it's dark outside the wind blows in my hair

It's a little cold ☕🍰

💕💞💖 pic.twitter.com/fdylyV0lvl

— kent kristensen (@kentkristensen1) 6 October 2016

My #mondaymotivation is to get #blogs ready by #ThursdayThoughts. #blogging pic.twitter.com/igAUyHxPxp

— Jonny (@MerthyrRanter) 26 September 2016

All the technology in the world will never replace a positive attitude. - Harvey Mackay #quote #ThursdayThoughts pic.twitter.com/h4ffbvooPz

— Bill M Moore (@bmoore_20) 26 September 2016

I was in need of some positive thinking today, dear readers.

It finally dawned on me yesterday that the BF is heading off to sea very shortly and will be gone for 5 solid months.  This information has been made known to me since January/February time so it should not have come as a shock.

But knowing it was due to happen 'at some point in the distance future and anyway it's only a Tinder guy you might not even still be dating at that point' and actually coming to the reality of it 'oh my God you are going away, I won't see you for 5 months and you will miss Christmas, New Year, our first anniversary, my law school graduation and Valentine's and everything in between' is very different and not altogether pleasant.

Now, don't get me wrong, BF is off on glorious adventures on the high seas so we are (resignedly) happy for him.  He is leaving his dredging life behind him and he is, in fact, going to be employed on a cruise ship (colour me jealous) so I'm sure he'll basically be hit on by old ladies, feasting on cream teas and pointedly ignoring the gym facilities.  (This is The Only Way To Cruise.)  But the point is that I won't see his face and get to annoy him by tugging on his chin stubble for a Very, Long Time.

And that is a hard fact to accept.

(Although I'm sure his stubble will be relieved.)

It's like a spiky safety blanket...don't look at me like that.

I know some people will be thinking 'is it even worth it?'.  (I know this because some socially inept people in my life have actually asked this question OUT LOUD.)

I am here to tell you inexplicably and most emphatically, yes; it is worth it.

As we have previously discussed the importance of having amazing people in your life that truly care about you so I won't re-hash old ground but it is still true.  The BF is one of those people and why would I want to settle for less for the simple reason that it is geographically available to me?

Plus...I've already seen the local Tinder offerings. Shudder. 

To emphasise my point about finding special people, I am going to share with you an ooey gooey story.  Stand by with your upchuck reflexes, dear readers.

NB: Some of the following circumstances and conversations may have been dramatized (slightly!) for humorous effect.

(It is (late) morning.  AJ and BF are sat in bed talking.  AJ occasionally pulls on BF's stubble and ignores the BF's manly winces.)

AJ: I have got such a weird craving for breakfast.

BF: I'm all ears.

AJ: I know this is really weird.  But I have a really strange craving for curry.  How odd is that?!

(BF refrains from commenting but is clearly recalling AJ's culinary expertise the evening before which consisted of pizza and steak.  BF wisely just smiles and nods.) 

BF: Right, I'm going to have a shower and then I'll rustle up some breakfast.

AJ: Okay, but I don't know how much food I have in the house.

(BF also refrains from stating that this is not unusual and he expected as much.  BF is actually Very Clever.  BF showers while AJ fantasizes about chicken tikka masala. BF emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam.)

BF: Right - all done.  You go and hop in and I'll make breakfast.

(AJ showers and thinks pilau rice wouldn't be too weird as breakfast.  AJ gets out of the shower and dresses before heading downstairs. There is the sound of something sizzling from the kitchen.) 

AJ: Oh my gosh - something smells amazing! Have you done Spanish omelette or something?

BF: Something like that...

(AJ rounds the corner into the kitchen and sees that the BF has made onion bahjis from the minimal supplies he has found in the cupboards. AJ effectively becomes the heart eyes emoji.)

Seriously guys....hold out for someone that makes you onion bahjis for breakfast.  And when you find them do not let go.

Even if you won't get breakfast bahjis again for 5 months. #ThursdayThoughts

Worth it.

&&Fin

If Music Is A Place -- Then Jazz Is The City, Folk Is The Wilderness, Rock Is The Road, Classical Is A Temple

That Time I Recounted Saturday At Wilderness Festival 2016

Hola, dear readers.  I know you have all been waiting with bated breath for the next installment of the Wilderness Blog Post.

Well...ta-da!  Here we are...nearly a month later.  My bad.

But, seriously - busy, busy life yada yada I know, dear readers, you have heard it all before.  So let us get right back in to the story.

Saturday

(In which I forgot to mention that we had tried to buy ear plugs for Ker-Bear from the many vendors around the festival only to be told they were all sold out.  But I did have some cotton wool pads so KB was able to stuff those in her ears to at least muffle some of the noise.)

Accurate representation of how cute the Ker-Bear is.  Even in the mornings.

On Saturday, we woke up bright and early to go and do mass morning yoga.

After a breakfast of tinned beans and sausages (actually the perfect wake up call), we toddled off to yoga with a change of clothes in our bags.

And then dynamic yoga occurred.

Which was amazing.

See? Looks amazing.

Apart from the fact that it was in the blazing sun and we hadn't drunk anything bar our now requisite cup of tea.

So by the end of it, KB felt faint and I was crying again.

(Don't know what is wrong with me so don't even bother asking #totesemosh #noimnotpregnantgrandma).

After a quick BubbleTea:

Seriously yum. 

We decided what to do for the day which included getting a Moroccan lamb wrap, wild swimming and going to a talk on the meaning of dreams.

And did not include me dashing off to the Portaloo every five minutes to try and push a demon out of me (#againnotpregnantgrandma). 

Regardless, we did all of the above. 

Which was made worse by the fact that I was wearing a crop top (I know, I am Down With The Kiddywinks) and I was hideously bloated during my 24 hour ordeal (#shitmaybeiampregnant). 

Thankfully, Wilderness is an upmarket kind of festival and there were portaloos everywhere with toilet paper in abundance and they were emptied regularly.  Which, I think I speak for everyone here, we were all grateful for. 

In any event (and moving away from the Portaloos (for a minute at least)) I went wild swimming in the lake which was awesome but freezing!  And I put my hair up because I am now in Swimming Mum Mode (#AGAINGRANDMA) whereby I do not want to get my hair all wet. 

This plan was foiled by the fact that I got all excited and cannon balled into the lake completing forgetting that water is liquid and can therefore be displaced by me and my giant, distended belly. 

So, of course, I instantly went completely under the water and dropped like a stone.  When, really, I should have been quite buoyant given all that gas....#tmi.

#wildswimming

Later, Ker-Bear and I wandered off in search of some intellectual discussions (and more Portaloos obvs). 

What we found was the Odditorium which was indulging in a discussion on the meaning of dreams before going on to explore The Haunted Moustache by Dr Bramwell and an enlightening talk entitled 'Big Willies' which we were assured would have visual aids. 

We didn't hang around to find out. 

Instead, the foreboding, grey cubicles were calling me name once more so off we trundled towards the tent to have dinner and buy Imodium. 

My dear, dear friends.

After taking the recommended dose (combination of counter assistant in a plarmacy + lawyer = religiously reading the instructions and following them to the letter), I was feeling much better. 

Which was a very good thing because Ker-Bear had started to become quite concerned and kept suggesting I think about driving home. 

But I couldn't bear the thought of leaving on our final evening without experiencing as much of the festival as possible.  So I pulled my big girl pants on (or off rather) and let out the squeakiest, longest symphony of flatulence I have ever had the ultimate pleasure of experiencing. 

And it was pleasurable, let me tell you dear readers.  My poor bloated stomach was quite relieved. 

(Not so sure the same could be said for the poor chap next door.  Definitely heard muffled laughter and then a hurried escape from the pod beside me.)

In any event, I was feeling much better and that meant that we had to Go Full Festival. 

Which was nowhere near as Full Festival as literally everyone else but hey! We tried.

Now, you may not believe this, dear readers, given my propensity to exaggerate and the Blog’s flair for dramatics, but I am usually what is known as The Sensible One of the group.

(Terrifying, non?)

In any event, I usually make good, rational decisions.  So it is with something akin to chagrin that I must report that, despite The Unpleasantness of earlier, Ker-bear and I headed into the festival intent on finding Tequila town and sampling the goods therein.

Tequila Town

Following a quick tequila, we wandered off to try and find The Valley which was a mystical area we had heard of but never been privy to.  After finding several dead ends and being told to turn around lots, we thought it would be better to get good seats for the Carnival extravaganza which was due to start at 9pm.

9pm came and went, dear readers.

Much like the feeling in my buttocks from sitting cross legged on the floor.

After what felt like ages (but had only really been about 45 minutes - which is a long time for old birds like us to sit cross legged) the circus started.

 

No silly captions because the photos speak for themselves.

It was incredible and Ker-Bear and I pretty much sat there with our mouths open for the entire performance.

So we were somewhat pumped to go and find The Valley as this would be the perfect way to end our weekend.

We queued up to get in to The Valley (after finally locating the entrance) and stumbled into a bunch of teenagers in booty shorts who all clearly liked the same weed scented perfume.

There were loads of people, the music was pounding, the lights were strobing.

And we promptly left after about 5 minutes.

Ain't nobody over the age of 21 got time for that.

Off we went to bed.

Sunday

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

That is the noise our dear camp mates woke up to at about 7.30am on Sunday morning.

That noise was us dismantling our tent/camp beds and lobbing all our metal poles together being passive aggressive due to the fact that the Camp Horrors had been making noise until about half 6.  This noise consisted mainly of screaming into each others' faces and finding this hysterical (well, from what I could gather anyway.  In no way were drugs involved.  I'm like... 90% sure.)

This plan was genius because the sun was back out in full force and everyone was just lying about outside their tents to try and get out of the heat.

Apart from one girl which I was actually growing concerned for until Ker-Bear informed me that she was breathing so I shouldn't worry.

The genius plan was somewhat foiled when one of the main offenders came over and offered to help us pack up whilst asking us about our weekend.

#awkward

We made a hasty exit and stopped off for McDonalds for breakfast which consisted of 20 chicken McNuggets for me.

...which I then re-heated and ate three days later.

Lucky I still had some of that Imodium left over!


And thus ends the tale of Wilderness Festival 2016.

After three sleepless nights, bloated stomachs, extended stays in Portaloos and the best damn Moroccan lamb wrap I've ever had, I will be doing it all over again in 2017.

#wilderness17

&&Fin.

Wilderness Is Not A Luxury But A Necessity Of The Human Spirit

That Time I Went To A Hippy Dippy Festival And Cried (Twice)

Hello, dear readers.

I am in a state of peace-like zen.  Partly due to the lovely weather:


But mostly due to Wilderness Festival.

Wilderness is a festival in Cornbury Park, Oxfordshire this year from 4th August to 7th August 2016.  This year was the sixth season it has been running and, my word, did they pull out all the stops.

When Wilderness was first created in 2011, it was described as a festival to celebrate the arts and the outdoors. The self-proclaimed ideal was to "bring together reciprocal talents, passion to build transformative experiences with a deep love of artistry and artisans."

Which all sounds a bit pretentious written down in black and white like that.

BUT, it was amazing.

Between music, dancing, tequila shots, yoga, bubbletea, Moroccan lamb wraps, making your own jewelry, adventuring into the forest, talks, wild swimming and Portaloos as far as the eye could see...there was never a chance to be bored.

Just have a look at the basic programme if you needed more convincing!

And, because I'm a lovely person, I thought I would share my experience with you all, dear readers.  So you can relive the magic as if you were there.

Thursday

Late.  I am always late.

However, Thursday I was actually up, packed and on time, wearing my wrist band, deciding whether I was cool enough for a bumbag (or if not whether I could get away with wearing one 'ironically') and waiting for my friend (who we shall lovingly call "Ker-Bear").

A selection of the goodies the Amazon fairy brought...

Ker-Bear was not so on time.

So, whilst I waited for her arrival the Glorious was treated to a much-needed clean given the amount of bird poo that adorned the passenger window, door and left hand side of the windscreen.

Beauty!

(As an aside; there is a very poorly bird near the BF's house that needs medical attention. Stat.)

In any event, Ker-Bear arrived and we promptly packed the Glorious to get under way.

Away we go!

Upon arriving at Cornbury Park (after one hilariously wrong turn), we soon came to the conclusion that we I had brought a lot of stuff.

And therefore Mathilda the Trolley was necessary!

My new best friend.

After about 40 minutes of unpacking, convincing the security man at the gate that we had really stuck to the alcohol limit (and his look of incredulity that someone actually abides by festival rules - lawyers #amiright), we had managed to organise our home for the next three nights.

Not too shabby!

After a brief respite, we decided to go for an explore into the Festival arena.  I did not realise how much space the Festival would cover.

Ker-Bear has an UP wrist band that tracks her steps over the day and tells her how much exercise she has done (I will not be getting one as I don't need any more things in my life explicitly showing that I am exceedingly lazy tyvm). And each day we would end up walking about 20,000 steps.  Which I'm sure doesn't sound too impressive until you realise that Ker-Bear's target was only 11,000.

We wandered around to get our bearings and decided on some key activities for the weekend:

1. Make your own silver ring;
2. Enter the Spirit Forest walk; and
3. Yoga at some point in time.

When we returned to camp for an early bed time, we discovered that someone had unceremoniously pitched up pretty much in front of our door.

At first, we didn't mind as it meant that at least no one was going to pitch their tent any closer so we still had a bit of space for our chairs and the camp mates seemed friendly enough.  So we assumed that this was a Good Thing.

Oh, how wrong we were.

Friday morning 3.00am

SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUTUP.SHUTUP.

It's amazing how quickly that mantra makes you feel like you are going insane.

The Camp Mates turned out to be Camp Horrors.

From 12-3am (ish) they screamed, shouted, played music and in general just were raucous (NOT what we had been expecting from such a Hippy Dippy festival thank you very much).

The true ramifications of this un-Godly behaviour would only become apparent to me in the respectable hours of the  morning.

Actual Friday morning 

(6.30am - the dawn light has arrived.  Inside a tent the condensation has started to gather and the occupants are acutely aware that the sun is definitely shining as they are cooking like boil in the bag rice. Lights up on a dozy AJ) 

KB: Amy? (From the other side of fly netting)

AJ: Yeah?

KB: I'm going to go for a shower and see what they are like.

AJ: Mm-hmm. See you later.

(KB toddles off in search of warm water.  Half an hour later KB returns and AJ is fully awake)

AJ: Alright, KB? Did you sleep okay?

(KB stares at AJ in horrified disbelief.  Her expression is clear 'Is that supposed to be some kind of sick joke?'  AJ belatedly senses the storm coming her way and braces for impact) 

KB: Right, let's just start this off with: I'm not a morning person anyway. So I'm already not happy. But I think I got about 2 hours sleep last night because of these idiots next door. (AJ refrains from pointing out that they are in a tent and The Idiots Next Door can probably hear this conversation fairly clearly). And I'm pretty sure they were doing drugs.  I heard them talking about coke and lines so that's fun. (AJ also refrains from pointing out that that is probably why they were awake so late.) And I was absolutely freezing (AJ refrains from pointing out that she had previously warned KB about the cool night temperatures. AJ is impressed with her ability to filter brain to mouth so early in the morning). And at one point about 3am I genuinely thought 'I can't do this and Amy is going to have to take me home'.  So no, I did not sleep okay and I feel shit.

(AJ ponders this for a moment and is slightly alarmed by KB's response as she is distressed and KB  is AJ's friend. Because AJ is the British-est thing to ever have Britished the next sentence pops out almost unthinkingly)

AJ: Well...shall we have some breakfast and a cup of tea? That might make you feel better.

(So they do.  And because KB is also the Britishest thing to ever have Britished; it works).

After (magic-weekend-saving) breakfast we headed into the festival with our picnic blankets and our water bottles.  First item of the day was Enter the Spirit Forest.  We went to the meeting point and saw lots of people milling about so we joined their group and followed them into the forest.

Where we entered the Land of the Fae and attended the Wychwood Ball by mistake.  Which we were supposed to pay for.

Whoops.

But it was awesome - it made us laugh, it made us me cry and it was a great start to what had not been a good day so far.

Also there was a really straight tree and KB was slightly worried by the amount of tree comments I made throughout the weekend.

Next on the to-do list was make our silver rings.

After we had bashed them with some hammers... #noshavingabovetheknee

The finished product!

Friday night we ended up watching Robert Plant for a while before meandering amongst the other bands and dancers that were around the Festival. We also marvelled at all the guests' clothes - the feathers, sequins, face paints and the bare legs.

Seriously, how do people survive the cold nights in shorts and crop tops!?  This is a mystery that I will never solve.

Because we are old people, we stripped off our multitudes of jumpers, I handed KB jogging bottoms and a fleece and we were in bed by 11pm.  Hoping for a slightly less disturbed night's sleep.

It was not to be. dear readers.

...To be continued.

(This is already a fairly long Blog Post so I will do Part 2 and 3 (Saturday and Sunday) in a separate post.)

&&Fin.