28 August, 2011

'Nother story?

Really bored, so I'm going to try my hand at yet ANOTHER story opening (Attempt Number Three, if you will...). Here we go.

Even before she opened her eyes, Miriam 'Mirri' Osbourne knew where she was. Snatches of last night were gathering in the far, littered corner of her brain, taunting thoughts, flinging themselves round like strumpets, reminding her gleefully of the evening before and why it really wasn't a good idea to start with Red Bull Martinis, and go steadily downhill from there. Groaning, she shifted slightly in...bed? The floor? A sofa? Having worked out where she was, and why, Mirri's excact whereabouts were still drastically unspecified. All she could possibly hope to divulge was that, no, she wasn't naked, yes, she had a monstrous hangover, and no, she didn't take off her makeup last night. The latter was probably the first thing realised, if anything; Mirri really was very vain. Before the evil gremlins started jackhammering on her skull, she just about had time to compute the sticky, gummy residues on eyes and lips. This, perhaps, in part, was why she hadn't yet opened her eyes; but of course, the main reason was that Mirri was AFRAID. Afraid of her surroundings, the company in which she may find herself, the state of her face, hair and clothes, and various other things too dull and tedious to express here, but nonetheless extremely important to the fuzzy, alcohol-saturated brains of a newly 25-year-old girl. But, onwards and upwards, things had to be done. Oh, if only, if only Mirri could have leapt energetically up from wherever she had settled in the not-so-early-hours of that very morning. But no, all she could possibly muster was the strength to finally open her eyes. When she did, the sight that greeted her was, not altogether shocking, merely slightly depressing...a Pepto-pink kitchen, with a slightly grubby black-and-white-tiled floor. Christ, Mirri thought, have I really come STRAIGHT from the 90's? Oh dear. You see, Mirri had woken up in numerous, surprising locations before...the skip up Valley Road, the Ladies' in a pub just off Cork Street, the works. Oh yes, this was one classy lady. But what was strangest about her waking location, was that this was the kitchen of Mirri's boyfriend, Classic Bill; called such, because he had the classic, clean-cut, all-American good looks, and seemed slightly Stepford-ish, too. No, that isn't fair, Mirri silently berated herself. Responding to a fairly urgent-sounding text from him last night, she had hastened over, clad in nothing more than slightly grubby pyjamas, but wearing (thankfully!) a bra. The sight that greeted her as she let herself in through his battered front door was one to be remembered for a long, long time; scores of friends and family, congregated in the shabby living room, amongst which clusters of brightly-coloured balloons lurked. Upon her arrival, the collective shout of 'SURPRISE!', coupled with the simultaneous release of three-dozen party streamers had well and truly knocked Mirri for six. Blushing at the memory, she realised that she wasn't even wearing decent, freshly-washed pyjamas. A good-looking girl at the best of times, Mirri nonetheless instantly hated all Boden, Joules, White Company and La Redroute female models, for making nightwear instantly cute and irresistible. Still, if she'd have turned up in one of the more...questionable, shall we say? If Mirri had turned up in one of the more questionable, but very fashionable lacy negligees that she kept just or wafting glamorously round the flat in, there would've been more than a few raised eyebrows, methinks, especially from Uncle Mark, and Grandpa Eddie.

27 August, 2011

The word ''prejudice'' is thrown around a LOT these days...

If I called someone a 'massive gayer', would it make me a homophobe? If I admitted that yes, okay, I once had a nightmare about midgets coming to get me and ever since they've freaked me out slightly, so I can't watch 'Seven Dwarfs' without breaking out in a cold sweat...would it make me discriminatory towards the vertically challenged? The thing that sparked off this post was the little ID verification thing. You know, if you want to send an email or something, then the computer will get you to type out the random letters and numbers that you see, just so that they can check you're not a spammer; computers cannot recognise the blurry shapes and colours of the characters in the way that humans can. But anyway; have you ever noticed that, next to the handily-placed text box in which you type your answer, there's a little icon. This icon symbolises the ability to change the process of the text identification, if you're blind for example; OR, if you cannot decipher it, the computer will reload another text-thingamajig. And this icon? The disability sign. I think we all know the one I mean...the little stick-person in the wheelchair. Okay, so where's the protest against THAT symbol then?! Where's the national outcry, the claims of, 'Not EVERY disabled person is wheelchair-bound', and, 'OH. So you have to be in a wheelchair to QUALIFY now, do you?'. Because that's what the public is like nowadays. New Labour have ingrained this into our brains, the need to be absolutely, one-hundred-percent politically correct, all the time. This is what we're reduced to; do I call him black, or coloured? Why is it that we always refer to spiders and insects as, 'He'? What happened to sexual equality? Just because someone's leg is broken, should we call them disabled? Or temporarily disabled?

As you can probably guess, me being very cutely and adorably...Conservative (pauses. Cue *winces*) means that I don't have much time for these bleeding-heart Liberals, as, in the end, all that the opposition is good for is reminding us why we believe what we believe...and why it WORKS!

15 August, 2011

Robbo v. Banksy.

A few nights back, I was watching the program Graffiti Wars on Channel Four, a program which I had intended to use as a filler to try to sleep, but ironically kept me fizzing with indignation throughout much of the night. The fact is that, since having watched this television show I now believe myself to be firmly on the side of King Robbo. Not to veer into the intricacies of their feud, I will however say that the two of these rival artists (Robbo and Banksy) have been having somewhat of a petty, one-upmanship fight on the walls of Camden Lock, as well as in and around London...
Until Robbo decided to finally be taken seriously as an artist by showcasing some of his earlier and more recent pieces, in the same studio where, several years earlier, Banksy had also achieved notoriety by doing the same, the war of the graffiti was very much in his [Banksy]'s favour; he was granted permission to graffiti in broad daylight, on public property as his graffiti was considered 'street art' and therefore a public asset, to be lucrative, and cultivated since his following developed, a trendy, hip bunch of people who got off on subversive, anti-political and consumerist humour. I bet his fans all wear berets and listen to trendy bands like...I don't know, The Forlorn Shepherds and laugh loudly at foreign, un-subtitled films in cinemas to show that they get the obscure French humour. In short, everything I hate; trendy, anti-capitalist, quirky backwash, encapsulated in cropped jeans and hip shoes.
To get back to the point rapidly, this is not something Banksy agreed with as, obviously, there was only room in the graffiti world for one anti-capitalist, political anarchist to stick it to the man. Sorry, may-un. So, he tried everything to sabotage Robbo's innocent attempts, culminating in the defacing of one of Robbo's earliest, historical pieces, unreachable by anything save a boat, and so very, extremely very deliberate. Five night preceeding his [successful] showcase, Robbo went out, by boat, as he had all those times before, to remove this graffiti. But he didn't get a chance to. He was found the next morning, with severe head injuries which resulted in him being in a coma for little under a year. Today, I found out that he was released from Intensive Care and ''appears to be making very good progress'', which damn well he should. I know it's highly ironic that I berate Banksy of his climb to fame and fortune when the program on C4 was made, interviewing Robbo himself, several times; but then again, you'll never hope to meet a more humble man than him. Tall, lanky but get so delicate and artistic in the way he defaces public proerpty...I know it sounds ludicrous but he's as close to an artist as you can get in these circumstances, which is probably how some people would describe Banksy, but...not really.
Banksy painted a thrice-life-size portrait of the actress Zoe Kravitz, to promote the new film that she was in. He painted this on an assigned wall in Berlin, coincidentally right alongside an earlier 'painting' done by Banksy; although he was commissioned for the piece, Robbo wasn't technically granted official authority, but he was still able to do the piece in broad daylight. It took him all day, and, working only with spray paint, self-built scaffolding, and an A4 piece of paper upon which was the image he was determined to realise, Robbo created...art. Say what you like about any of his other work, but I challenge any person reading this, be they supporters of the graffiti world or otherwise, to defy me in saying that this is artistic. Does this not give us a preview as to what potential lies ahead? Well, yeah, I think so...

so, to conclude...I think that Robbo is pretty much a bit of a genius. And Banksy? Well...he's overrated. And very arrogant. He sincerly hopes that he gets the 'lack of recognition which he deserves', so that shows you something (said and meant with extremely heavy irony...).

Oh, and one more thing...I showed my brother this program yesterday morning, and also...I've spent the past almost-week educating everyone in my household, be that family, pets, friends etc. about the conflict between the two artists, given them plenty of opportunity to research and even directed them to the various relevant information pages. So, there you go. This blog post is, yes, mainly about me and what I think, but that's what blogs are for. This is excactly why I wanted wone in the first place, to share my opinions and views. Even though this is a new subject, I'm pretty sure it's a very important one. So, yeah. G'night!

And I can't, no, I won't hush, I'll say the words that make you blush...

Is it true? Is it true that my blog might be, albeit a little-known corner of whimsy in the Internet, somehow misread offensively, almost 3,000 times (according to my page-view counter)? Do I have to do what almost every other blogger that I've seen does? (And oh yes, I've done my research...and how!) because I don't want to. I look at these other uniform pages of mindless words on the internet, and I just get BORED. I should say, if you hadn't already guessed, that my blog is an absolute reflection of my personality and my being; funny, awkward, little bit frivolous but, all in all, something that you'd do well to learn by ;D No, I joke. But the point I'm trying to make (in my long-winded way) is that I'm truly, truly sorry. I honestly am! Although my presumptions may be overtaking me somewhat, I'd rather look a fool for apologising presumptuously for nothing than swanning through my blog, and the times that I have, simultaneously insulting and irritating my viewers (what little I may have). I do realise that an awful lot of points that I have may be exceptionally strong, sometimes unfairly strong as well...for example, my views on right-wing politics, abortion, Robbo over Banksy...whatever. (That last one is coming up in a next blog post). What I wanted to say was that I AM sorry, for whatever may have offended you. But, likewise...I'm not going to change. Like Ed Sheeran says, I'm not going to stop talking, to stop saying the things that I want to say...the fact is that it's a really, surprisingly rare thing nowadays for people like me to actually have an opinion of their own...to be genuinely interested in things, to be interested in a subject enough to pursue it further...school isn't for losers!

11 August, 2011

''Ze List''...

Last week, when I was being all sad and hormonal, I had a huuuuuge conversation with my Dad about everything; it was literally about an hour and a half long, honestly one of the best I think I've ever had. It was mainly about how we see ourselves, and what we both want to achieve. See, a big similarity between my Dad and I, and indeed the vast majority of our family, is that once we've set our eyes on a goal and we want it badly enough, we won't stop until we get it. Some people might say that's unhealthy, especially at such a young age, but really? I think it's unhealthy to have NO aspirations, to want everything to stay excactly the same as it is now. To be honest, that's really quite...boring? Imagine if, God forbid, all I wanted to do in life was settle down in Newbury, get married, maybe have a couple of children and work at Vodafone HQ? I'm not saying there's anything wrong with working at Vodafone or anything like that, it's just that I live in Newbury now and an awful lot of my friends' parents work there, which is what they want to do when they're older, because it's easy. Me? I want to get work experience on a film with my Auntie and her friends in London, crash at her's for a week or two and gather all the contacts I can to add to my not-inconsiderable database of connections already :L I'm really lucky to be honest, I'm lucky that I have such an encouraging family...both my parents have changed somewhat since they were children, since they got married, since they had us. They've both set in mind what they want to do in the future and how they can achieve that from where they are now, and this, along with other things (obviously), has contributed greatly to my respect for the both of them.
But I digress. I now have a big, not confession, more 'revelation' to make you to, Blogspot. That revelation is that I have a list. Yep, a big ole' list. And I started this list, what, a year ago? In that time it's grown and grown, and changed somewhat. It is a list of everything I hope to achieve as I get older, and so I don't forget what is really important to me. I use other people's examples and experience to produce reasonable, achievable goals but at the same time set for myself some decent challenges. This list has been hidden in various places around my room for a year and it's now being made public, purely to reinforce my intentions and make sure that I can't back out of them if they're up, online, in black-and-white. I know what some of you must be thinking, ''Well, not really; she could just delete the post'' but I don't DO that. I've never deleted one of my posts up here, because, even if some of them take all of two minutes to write, every single one means something, maybe something more than whatever the title and subject of it is. So, without further ado, here is my List. I'll keep the original paper copy to add any more goals whenever I need to, but for now this post will suffice. So here you go...

1) Make more friends, don't just sit in the corner. I know it's not your fault that they're mean to you but if you were more sociable and you didn't always read in class etc.. then you'd find it easier to cope.
2) Don't rely on Charles so much, it would make your relationship a lot better if you were more independent.
3) Don't rest on laurels at school! You know you're clever, I know you're clever but what use is brain power if you never use it, eh Beth?! Don't just save it all up for exams.
4) You know excactly what irritates Mother and Father, so don't bring it up in a conversation, or, if it is brought up, don't try and fight your point if it's not worth it. Just learn to walk away.
5) Learn to surf properly!
6) Keep your room tidy all the time, we both know it depresses you when it's messy. Organise your clothes if you have to.
7) Find a best friend.
8) Go BASE Jumping at 16.
9) Listen to more mainstream music sometimes, you might like it.
10) DO MORE ON YOUR BLOG. (Heh heh heh)
11) Eat more healthily.
12) Go to more gigs!
13) Really do try and find more friends.
14) Do what people tell you once in a while.
15) Get on better with Wills.
16) Learn to fight your ground if you have to.
17) Be as principled as you like, if you straighten your case properly it really doesn't matter what your point is.
18) Stop straightening hair OR buy heat protection spray.
19) Don't wear so much eyeliner.
20) Get your own style!
21) Get in touch with Hannah, ask in advance about work exp.
22) Focus on the good points in life, don't just let everything bad get you down.
23) Be braver.
24) MAN UP! HPV Jabs aren't that bad!
26) Be honest. It's easier.
27) Work out what you actually want to do when you're older. It makes it easier to answer people when they ask, that way.
28) Repair relations with Mrs. Hersh! For real!
29) Join more clubs next year.
30) Get Twitter; blog promotion???
31) Go shopping, you need a new style.
33) Be on your guard, don't let the girls at school trick you.
34) Don't spend all holiday at home, make some plans. You have a new calendar, USE IT!
35) Put some more stuff on iPod, it's getting old.
36) Revise Blink-182 for the gig :L
37) Get to know Charles' family better.
38) Really do keep room tidy.
39) Spend less time in your room.
40) Be funnier?!
42) Go to people's houses more?
43) Stop being so paranoid, things are going well.
44) Learn to brush/laugh people off easily.
45) Sort out clothes.
46) Block everyone on Facebook who's giving you trouble.
47) Talk to Mr. Metcalfe.
48) TRY to get on with Whitmore.
49) Move tutor groups??
50) Spend more time with Millie!!
51) Ace Gang sleepover...SOON!
52) Get a flat in Kensington; look into house prices?:L
53) Plan room redecoration.
54) Be braver
55) Try to be less hormonal, be a bigger help round the house.
56) Organise loads of sleepovers in the summer.
57) Try and do well in setting exams.
58) Try harder in Triple.
59) Get Options straight.
61) Be happy.
62) Don't let them get to you, you have a lot of friends now.
63) Organise sleepovers/meet-ups with newer friends?
64) Look into babysitting, extra money.
65) Be honest to everyone. Leave behind people that irritate you.
66) Help out in Kent, don't miss people too much.
67) Get CCF/Uniform sorted.
68) Get school books sorted.

That's all I have so far, and before you say something like, ''That's not really goals, that's more of a reminder-list'' then just think...look over some of my older posts if you have to (I don't care, I have pageviews to BURN!) and then try and understand why every single entry on that list, to me, meant a lot, and took some doing. There were definitely times when I considered ripping it up because there was too much to do, too much to try and sort out, and being the kind of person that I am, I'd rather just ignore it and hope it would go away...but in the end, I really did man-up and I've accomplished pretty much everything on that list. Obviously, apart from future plans. It helps, too, to get a clear picture in my head and the entries are eclectic and varying, I know, but that's the beauty of it! The fact that none of them really relate to each-other directly (unless I wrote the same one several times, that is) and they all have equal, or nonetheless great, importance to me. Another reason for doing the list was that it encouraged me to do more stuff so I could cross it off, therefore making the list smaller and less daunting. I love how I was so taken with the idea of ticking it off that I even contemplated buying some gold-star stickers for myself to further encourage it. But hey, I'm doing pretty well. Do you guys have any goals?

05 August, 2011

The one who...

At a request, I've decided to move this on to my blog because, really, for these three girls, there's way too much love and a lot of emotion going into these and Facebook...just isn't really appropriate :) won't do names, just initials.

First, under heavy duress there's M.S. Ooh, that rhymed.
I think that there's a lot to be said for spending 48 straight hours with a chick, creating more memories in the process, being alternatively excessively healthy and gluttonously UNHEALTHY. We stayed up till two am, her educating me on the first three Star Wars films, then both of us darting across her room at random inervals to stick our heads out of the window and gasp in the refreshingly chilly air. We both share common interests, such as dinosaurs, Pokemon, being a bit silly and having awesome friends, yet we have enough differences to provide us with stuff to say, the key ingredient being Marmite. That's a big sparring partner between the two of us. Not to mention the fact that she is beautiful and gorgeously funny, witty and intelligent (because, yes, it IS the minimum requirement for all my friends, just so I don't make them look bad...I JEST!) there's the fact that already she gets on so famously with my Mum, my Dad and my Brother. Why, just last night she felt like part of the family, eating chilli on the floor with us (because we're lazy, not because we're poor), laughing at my Dad, chatting with my Mum and gigling at the bickering going between me and my bother. Hah. hen forcefully spooning me all night, not getting out of bed until her Dad came to the front door and going home in her pajamas. All in all, a good 48 with a very, very good, if not fantasical, beautiful, stunningly attractive best friend.

Secondly, the elusive and fantastical R.V.
I don't just respect her for having one of THE COOLEST surnames I think I've ever heard in my life, ever. I also respect her for dealing with everything. That sounds a lot more dramatic then she'd probably prefer, which is another reason why I love her so; she is never one to make a fuss, always just gets on with things. Occasionally, yes, she'll crack but what teenage girl doesn't? And considering how awesome she is, I think it's pretty fair to say that she's of a really strong character and, although I wouldn't want to try it, I bet I could throw any situation at her and she'd deal with it famously. Another reason is her free-mindedness. That's probably not a totally valid phrase, but what the hell? She is so worth making up a word for! Being in the position that she is, with lots and lots of admirers and friends surrounding her, but some of them being slightly unsable, she's brave to consider everyone's opinions before her own, try her best not to hurt anyone with wha she chooses to do, and always has reasons for doing it. When I was going through a hard time at school, because of one of her friends mainly, she always had a kind word to say to me; we didn't have an overly strong friendship but whatever rapport we did have didn't change because of her friends, which again shows her strength of character, as a lot of people would bend and fold to fit in with the crowd. A final reason? Well, she's beautiful of course. Say what you like about it, but when someone is truly gorgeous in their hearts and minds too, it shines through making them stunning on the outside; which of course, only enhances her hopelessly good looks. She is her own kind of perfection, the kind that works for her. She is perfection that everyone recognises but no-one else possesses. To conclude, this girl never, ever takes her friends, family or looks for granted; she is grateful for everything she gets, always takes the time to help someone who needs it and never puts herself above anyone else. Trustworthy, reliable; she is one of the very first people I'd call if I needed help.

Finallemont! M.N.
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA she has a rude surname :L I remember in Year Seven when she used to be closer to me, I'd get HOURS of mileage from that. Seriously, it was just...the best thing in the world! At the start of Year Eight we were borderline inseperable. Not even joking, I will always remember the double sleepover we had just before Christmas of '10 (literally JUST before...22nd at mine, 23rd at hers, back at my house at lunchtime on Christmas Eve). We were like sisters, making all our plans for the future, dancing, giggling, having an awesome time. I don't really blame anyone for the change we went through. I think it was a combination of tough times at school, separate personal issues and changes we were both experiencing. We were both developing, changing, growing older and part of that was needing space to see who we could be. I went down the stupid, emo, attention-seeking path for a while. She became a chav for a week (a gorgeous one, even so!). Then we had tension at a time when both of us were happy with our places in school but not with our images. We both changed again. And now? Now we've hit a happy middle; we both repsect each-other, love each-other to pieces still and, even as our looks change, and even though it's probably ancient history to her, I admit that our friendship, that closeness we shared, never left me; it's never going away. She will always, always be like a sister to me and I'm so happy that our lives are slowly merging once more...I feel more confident hanging around her and her friends, we interact more outside of school, our friends are slowly meshing...even if we don't want the other's lifestyle, we'll always have a great deal of respect for each-other, that much I'm pretty certain I can guarentee. What I've noticed happening is the excact same chain of events that lead us to become friends originally. Maybe, and I hope it's true, history is repeating itsself and we'll go through this once again. I hope so, I really hope so. I love her to bits, the funny, gorgeous, beautiful, irreverant girl. Surprising at times, yes, but always with the same familiarity I long to possess; example being that you could go away, not see her for a year and when you came basck things would be excactly how you left them. This girl does not change without a fight and when she does? It's always for her, no-one else.

Okay, done! I'm not doing this for anyone else, you guys aren' special. No, I kid, comment if you want one ;)

04 August, 2011

*sarcasm* Thank you???

After everything we did.
The fact that this pulled the four of us amazingly closer together, the fact that we were all here for you. You were our broken heroine, the one who still fought with the weight of her betrayal hampering her life. We respected you for that; everytime we jokingly called each-other sluts, you practically welcomed the insult with open arms, always saying, ''Yeah, I know''. It broke our hearts, the three of us, your three best friends; you called us that, with eyes shining, as we all hugged you and plied you with sugar and ice-cream to help you forget. We didn't, never could, hate you for what you did. We know it wasn't all down to him, but it certainly was not just you. You didn't deserve that scarlet letter painted over your head, hanging over you. You're so beautiful, even with all the pain of that betrayal. Everyone else who knew, they didn't know the extent of your repentance and the unforgiving guilt you always felt. Yeah, I'm over-dramatising the whole situation, making it sound more romantic than its actual sordid, teenage counterpart but hell, this is what we all feel. Us, your best friends, the ones who share your dreams and know every single emotion.

And now, to coin a readily-made phrase, comes a kick in the teeth. From a semi-reliable source, I've since discoveered that you want to repeat this encounter, to go through all this seemingly unbearable ''pain''. Or not. I don't know; is it real? Was the emotional downfall you seemingly experienced even real? Or is my newfound information merely a ruse, to save someone elses' skin?
I want to believe the latter; I know you wouldn't ever want to hurt anyone. And you know how much this could hurt people involved. Sure, people are reading this thinking, hey, it's none of [my] business, which indeed it isn't...directly. I was not there, I do not know the sequence of events firsthand. My speciality isn't the how's, the why's and the wherefore's. I deal with the emotion, the consequence of the girl so ravaged by guilt.
You didn't eat, talk, sleep, for days. You lived, as you put it, on 'caffeine and regret'.
Not for a second do I doubt the reality of your emotions; no-one could fake that much remorse. It's too painful. But I do wonder why. I do wonder if you're doing this to hurt yourself...to hurt us? To hurt the person involved. Maybe you're doing it for closure, or maybe just because you want to. But we, your best friends, deserve an explanation.
I don't hope you read this. Indeed, I hope you're thinking about what to say to us, how to explain in a way we'll understand, because we don't, and we want to understand. We really do; any screed of information that could possibly help us empathise with you, that's what we want...all we want...to help you, to catch you if things go so badly wrong again, for a second time.
Or maybe I hope that you'd have no idea what I'm talking about, indeed if I were to put this forward to you then maybe you'd look at me as if I was quite mad. Maybe that's what I'm hoping for. But either way, I know that whatever I'm hoping for, it always involves you being happy, looking forward to your future, being the girl we fell in love with.
Whatever you choose to do, keep smiling, be careful...stay safe.

02 August, 2011

Marks & Sparks

In this world of much-ado-about-something political correctness, why, I ask myself, is it still being subtly promoted, in my eyes? Well, not promoted as such and this next example IS NOT, repeat NOT racist in any way.
Black people. Fought for civil rights and racial equality since, ooh, the 1700's? Finally fully achieved with the help of Martin Luther King in the '60's. But, then...why is it suddenly okay to have that foisted back on white people? And other ethnic groups...Asians, Pakistani's etc. SOME black people (this is from experience so don't you dare call me racist) think that it's okay to make fun of a white person for our skin colour, they call Asians 'Chinkies' because...well, because they can. Because they knew that if someone apprehended them, heaven forbid a person of a different ethnicity to them, they could stake claims for racism. England and America have tried so hard to compensate for the treatment of black people in the past. It's something that will be etched in our history forever, no matter whether you think it's good or bad. That's just the way things are. But. call a black person out on their use of racist language toward a white person and, normally I'll get, 'But you did it to us so it's only fair!'. Fair? FAIR?! Since when has the world been fair?! Yes, our treatment of them was, in some cases, shocking. But if it hadn't happened, neither nation would be as powerful as it is today, so think on. It's excactly like saying, if you think about it, punching a Frenchman in the face and saying, 'That's for the Battle of Hastings! William the Conqueror can kiss my asphalt!'. Or, like the Japanese kidnapping an American, holding him hostage and then saying, 'We'll let him go if you drop two atomic bombs on your greatest cities'. Things happened. All across the world, things are happening everyday. If we wanted compensation, and gained it, for all of these things then don't you think the world would be a bleak place? Doesn't the Bible, indeed the Lord's Prayer itsself, say, 'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us'? Now, I'm not overtly religious, but even I know that, since the days of the Bible, times have changed but not as much as to overlook some of the teachings. Except this one, of course...'flipping' political correctness always gets in the way.

To detract from the title somewhat, I was school-uniform shopping in M&S today, don't you know? ;D Buying school shirts, I was. And I couldn't help noticing, as I noticed in Next the other day, that it seems the higher the age on the shirt, the more you have to pay? Well, that's a bit daft really. Shouldn't they all be the same prices? Woe betide you if you've dared to grow in the past year, that's an extra £5 for your trouble, please, squire. And as I said, it's much the same in Next; an average Size Eight dress is, say, £30 (being optimistic, clearly!) whereas, a Size 22 would be £45! I don't know if it's because of extra material costs, or just to discourage people from eating really :L but I disagree with this. Whilst I wouldn't call it discrimination, I do call it annoying. Petty though my observations may be, I can guarentee at least one of you reading this will be tossing and turning in bed tonight, agonising over this; is it really fair? Is it right? What are the reasons behind it? If you're on Google at 3 a.m trying to soothe your fevered brain over a teenager's catty blog post, then I shall eat my hat.