{June 5, 2012}   So, End of Term…

It’s strange. I keep getting up early to find the whole flat silent. It always tended to be quiet, but now that lectures & exams are done, people have no reason to get up at 8 or 9. It leaves me getting up at 7 or earlier and having several hours of silence, not just in my flat but around the whole courtyard. That’s 3 buildings of apparent emptiness. I keep wondering if I’m the only one here. Whether everyone who was left in my flat went home yesterday, whether I now have the whole flat to myself. I thought that might be a quite freeing thought, but this silence and the cold outside… it just feels off. It’s not quite right. It’s not like my life in student accommodation in Cardiff. It’s something different, and while it does give me, at last, time to read my many books and watch movies and so on, it feels kind of empty. Almost like I have no reason to be doing any of this.

I don’t feel it, but I think I might be lonely. I think what I really want right now is to have people around, if not people to have fun and watch movies with, then at least to be able to hear other students having fun together. Yup, that sounds like loneliness. Still who needs friends when you have a TARDIS MUG. OH YEAH, YOU HEARD ME (modelled here by Iron Man and Thompson).

{November 2, 2011}   Non-Alcoholic Halloween Hangover

This morning I was pulled from my bed by my auto-kinetic limbs at 5 or 6am. Fire alarm. Everybody jostled out into the not too horribly cold courtyard and waited for the men in safety jackets to arrive and switch it off. This time they announced that this one was a drill, and that we could expect another one sometime this semester. Great. Back to bed. Only to be pulled by my manic legs again about an hour later by a second alarm. Toast. This time a much longer wait, because who’d’ve thought someone would burn their toast just 1 hour after they’d been evacuated at an unholy hour?

Instead of retreating back, I decided that trying to sleep for just another hour or 2 wasn’t worth it, so I got up and had a wander around town. After brainstorming for my fairytale story, sat in the park watching a couple of seagulls stamping the grass furiously (worm-catching), I went to my 2 hour lecture. 2 hours of yawning and head-pain and history.

There was more work to do, but after settling at home I was just too tired, so I had some time to just relax and think. I can’t nap during the day though. I sleep through everything (if I hadn’t been close to waking up anyway I’m sure I’d’ve slept through the alarm), but getting to sleep is a real problem sometimes. Anyway, in this time I had, I got to thinking about Halloween, and how I’d pretty much missed it.

I had a pre-Halloween evening at the secret event I blogged about yesterday, along with an unsettling but unsupernaturally toned Derren Brown TV show. Then nothing. Then nothing. On Halloween I had an early night and dreamt of nothing, let alone anything freaky. On Twitter yesterday I managed to see plenty of my favourite famous people having fun on Halloween, many going to the same party at Wossy’s place. Particularly jealous of Edgar Wright for meeting Teller, & of Teller for meeting Edgar Wright, but at the same time rather glad that I didn’t meet either – Damn these lasting social issues! It was all brilliant and lovely to see, but it did leave me feeling kind of left out and wondering whether I should’ve been doing something to celebrate.

After all that, I drifted off to sleep and had some weird, unsettlingly toned yet hugely comforting dreams, involving being in a magic school (proper arcane stuff, not cards ‘n’ coins), meeting people from my past, and meeting pretty much all the people I saw on Twitter, plus Dawn French as the lovely headmistress. In particular I remember that if I wasn’t woken by the alarm this morning, I would’ve been entered in a ballroom dancing competition with Derren Brown. What a lovely hangover from those Halloween thoughts, huh? Physically though, the interruptions and noise gave me a more traditional version.

So yes, I’m hung over from Halloween without even a sip of fruity blood punch.


So far, anyone who reads my blog regularly must wonder whether I have some kind of obsession with Derren Brown. I don’t know why, but I feel like I need to explain & justify; Consciously, I think that he’s a great guy who does really powerful and interesting work. He’s very entertaining and kind and quirky, which is why I talk about and reference and recommend him so much. I admire him hugely. But on the whole I’m not that big a fan. I mean he’s wonderful and all but, well I certainly wouldn’t say I’m obsessed. My subconscious on the other hand is gaga for him. It obviously thinks I don’t spend enough time dwelling on him and his work, which is why when I think about the nature of dreams during the day he’s pretty much guaranteed a cameo in that night’s dream, or why I drew him when I was drawing absent-mindedly on my whiteboard, or why when Rockwell’s “Somebody’s Watching Me” plays on my ipod I can’t help but think of him and all his shows that followed members of the public and wonder if I’m being watched… It really is like the conscious me and sub-c me are two different people. Just what is she like…


Mostly right now, I’d say it’s down to the fact that he’s got TV work out at the mo which is getting inside my head. Maybe sub-c will’ve calmed down on the Derren front by December. I’m not sure why, but I predict that Stephen Fry will be the new rage by then. Is Stephen doing something on TV in December? Is so then well done sub-c for remembering ’cause I haven’t a clue.



Goodnight! o

(I think I’ve focused on him enough consciously to stop a cameo, so will try another dream experiment and see whether he still turns up, and if not him, then who?)



p.s. Mmmm, tea.

{October 1, 2011}   Smoke & Mirrors

Today was going to be a magic day. When I’m in the practicing hobbies mode, I tend to allocate individual days to specific hobbies depending on certain things. It tends to go that if I have lots of energy it’ll either be juggling or guitar, and if I’m just mentally alert it’ll be either magic or art. So today was supposed to be for reading up on magic history and/or learning/practicing tricks. I did the shopping (1st time in Lidl – they are darn good you know, great prices but the bread’s solid as Memory Foam), had another walk and supped a mini pot’s worth of Earl Grey while people-watching… all of this helps to get me in the creative-inventive-artistic mood.

Today was going to be a magic day, but then I realised how expensive socks are. That was my one big quest for the shopping day; to buy some more socks so that I wouldn’t have to do my laundry quite so soon. The first place was selling bad socks at a blistering £5 a pair. ALL the other shops had no socks – I got lost in one place for a while, apparently trapped on the bottom floor from which you can only get out using the hidden escalator. I don’t know how to explain this… but personally I find there’s something particularly panicking about being stuck somewhere, surrounded by bland, large lingerie. I guess some part of me remembers that episode of Father Ted a little too vividly. But also I think there is something inherently spooky about a section of a store filled with near-naked faceless mannequins and wispy, weird-shaped clothing that comes in mostly white, some black, and the rest in old-ladies’-stockings-brown. Even La Senza had that problem, extending their colour range only to include the occasional flash of red or purple – and they’re meant to be specialists in that area! It’s like hearing of the greatest magician in the world, and then going to his show and finding that he only does tricks with sponge balls, cards and the chinese linking rings. Mostly I’m left asking why it has such a reputation when all it sells is mundane, boring, and in some cases actually kinda repulsive?


Today was going to be a magic day, but all the walking and the searching and the getting lost and the scary bras and scary prices and the cig-smoke smell of the flat I retreated to and the fact that according to BBC iPlayer I can’t watch Doctor Who until tomorrow… I just feel quite glum now. I just want to sleep and get rid of this blue mist and neck-ache and start over again in the morning. I just don’t understand why anyone would smoke anymore. Is it still cool in some places or in some groups? We all know the harm it does now; real permanent, life-shortening damage. And not to mention the cost of the damn stuff. I bet students that party lots and smoke have a lot more trouble with their money. I just don’t understand what could draw people to it, and to stay with it, when we know what it really is now. I just can’t see how you could start, and how you could bare to continue. I wish I was strong enough to confront people about things like this, because if they can’t confront themselves with the reality of what they’re doing to themselves, then maybe what they need is for someone caring to tell them they’re wrong.


One interesting thing that I did notice with all that walking was how everyone seemed to be drawn to reflective surfaces. It seemed like just about everyone who passed a reflective surface, be it a mirror or store window, looked in to check themselves. I don’t really understand that personally – is it something vain? Or insecure? I mean I think I’d only do that if I was on the way somewhere important and needed to make sure that I looked smart before I arrived. But with everyone else… they’re just so attached. There’s no conscious need to check, they just see it and for a few seconds they can’t look anywhere else. I like mirrors. I like to see myself in them too. But getting briefly transfixed by myself while I’m out and about? It’s like looking at photos of a friend when you’re spending time with another friend; it’s nice to see, but now is in no way the right time. You can stare into your own eyes and turn about and smarten yourself up, sure. If you want to appreciate the moment though, shouldn’t that be pretty well confined to being on your own, prepping for the day ahead or when you’re bored or getting philosophical about what it means to be you?


I guess it was a magic day after all, even if it was a little convoluted.


I just don’t understand how anyone could find any magic in their smoke and mirrors. But then again, I’m sure many of them won’t understand how I can see magic in coins and roses.

et cetera