Revolutionary Rants

Mr Chicken is now home, well, has been for almost a week. He scored 100% on both sections of his Red Hat exam and is now a RHCE.

At the tail end of last week I went to Bristol to visit my younger brother. We went shopping in Cribbs Causeway (I got my shoes for the wedding, but we had no luck in procuring the bridesmaid head gear…) and enjoyed a few large evil capitalist with a green sign coffees. In the evening Alex, myself and Leah Al’s friend and house mate went off to Cliffton for dinner at Zizzi’s. Despite there being representatives of this chain in both Reading and York (altho’ a complete prat off my course worked in the York branch, which kind of put me off - it was bad enough having to listen to the crap spewed by half of my course mates at University let alone during dinner as well…) we had never been. It was very nice and I had a lovely calzone with rocket and goats cheese. After that we met up with some of Alex’s course mates for a pint before heading home.

The next day we returned to the shops and in the evening Mum and I collected Mr C from Tiverton Parkway. Saturday was spent sleeping and lolling. On Sunday we had a nice family lunch at the Stag’s Head Inn and then Chicken and I headed off for a walk around Arlington Court.

I went there yesterday as well, with Alex, who is home for his Easter break. It is a nice place for a trot. I had training on Tuesday and this weekend we are on a suit buying mission to Exeter. Chicken is back to work and busy. It is cold but the sun out, we are loving having our little car and I am carving my way through Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secretes. On Saturday Dr Who returns but we are both quite put off by the last series, so we are debating whether we’ll watch it…

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Nothing much to report, hence the quietness. Chicken get away with only a slight delay from Tiverton and has started his course. Unfortunately he went for a curry with friends on Sunday night and ate nuts within said curry. He was, of course, ill all night… OK now though.

It is bitter here, really cold, but very sunny with it. I have my volunteering to do in a bit as well. Later in the week I am off to Bristol, staying with Alex and hopefully getting a few more “wedding related items”…

Time for a hot cup of coffee, methinks.

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‘Tis Red Nose Day. Mr Chicken went off happily to work today on a “dress down day”. A mere £2 donation to the charity meant he could discard shirt and smart trousers/shoes and head off in his “Home Schooled” Nintendo t-shirt.

I am off on a publicity drive for Addaction this morning. This afternoon, of course, Chicken is off and we might head off to Fremington Quay, where there is a lovely cafe and an even better view.

I was wrong about Hannah the “country lawyer”, Steven instead won. Good for him, I say, I thought he was really good and felt really sorry for him when the pressure got to him waiting for the final verdict and a tear escaped his eye!

David Cameron has, just like Edward Heath, made a U-turn… In the fringe department. His fringe has, apparently, switched his fringe from the right to the left. Some people claim he is trying to connect with female voters by going for the more “feminine” side, some that he is simply covering a bald patch. But what I want to know is: JUST WHO IS IT WHO NOTICES THESE THINGS?!!?!?

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The television is obsessed with women wanting to be “pampered”. I can’t imagine anything worse; sitting round all day in a dressing gown with someone faffing round with my nails. *Shudder* Am I weird? Probably, I never have been very conventional in any aspect of my life. I am one of those people who’d rather get a book than a box of chocolate… Maybe other people do, it is just the media that pigeon holes everyone in to pampering.

Today is the final of Master Chef to which Chicken and I have been glued of late. I have tipped “country lawyer” Hannah as the winner since her first show, so tonight I will find out if I am correct!

Oh well, I need to find some more t-shirts for Chicken to take to London next week…

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A new [evil capitalist, of course] twenty-pound note came out here in Eng-er-land yesterday and there has been a load of fuss about it. This is because the note has a picture of Adam Smith on it and, apparently nobody knows who he is.

That is kind of scary. Before I started my A Levels i knew who Adam Smith was, if only because of the right-wing think tank, the Adam Smith Institute. Now, I also know that he is the author of the hugely important Wealth of Nations which has influenced the likes of Reagan and Thatcher. He was, of course, an economist and - as much of the fuss has been as it is an English note - Scottish.

It seems strange that people have not even heard of the think tank… The level of general knowledge in the this country is scary sometimes, as Eggheads nightly proves!

Volunteering went well and I am busy with wedding stuff (how can a PA system cost £150 to hire? Well, stuff that!) and reading third Harry Potter book. Mean while we have the trident vote tonight, good luck rebels…

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I am volunteering today. In the sunshine once again, although it is also very cold.

I am slowly getting used to having the car outside and not getting up to look out the window every time a car backs out/in of our street or there is a noise. Slowly, but it is happening now.

My probation application has arrived. Slow news day…

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Ugh. I am tired, I woke up at 3:43am and then was awake for quite some time. I hate that, being exhaustedly awake after a brief trip to the toilet. We have had a wakeful weekend, actually, with Chicken awake until 2:00am yesterday night. At least we had a long lie-in, returning to our student days with a 10:00am snooze-a-thon. Nice.

Yesterday we headed out in our little car after “breakfast” (it was at half ten, so I guess the ghastly word “brunch” would be more appropriate). We went to Woolacombe beach, parking on the dunes and walking right down and around the beach. We crept up on my brother and family who were flying their kite there and then walked back around via the front. We wanted to have a coffee at the Chocolate Emporium but it being Sunday, and Ilfracombe being a seasonal town it was closed.

After my driving lesson we had a chilled out salmon pasta, a bit of gaming and telly watching. I had to give up on Fallen Angel as the acting was soooooooooo bad and the make-up completely rubbish but I watched the finale of Crufts. Sadly, the bloodhound didn’t win, but hey.

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We had an all new and exciting experience yesterday. We drove, without supervision, to the evil capitalist supermarket with blue and red logo! Well, Mr C did and very well, too. Of course the change of cars, as with myself, takes some getting used to, most particularly the fact that the indication is on the opposite side to that of our instructors vehicle. Today we are planning a trip, probably to the beach as the sunshine is holding out as yet.

Yesterday I introduced Mr Chicken to The History Boys which he seemed to enjoy. We also brought Borat (to give it it’s shortened title!) which we might well watch later. Oh well, much to nice a bath is waiting for me to bother continuing.

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Sorry, but I had to comment on this review in the Daily Mail of the new play at the Garrick Theatre, Treats (you all know who is starring in it, so I won’t bother mentioning her/them!). Before I continue, one thing; the reviewer himself titles the article after the famous star therefore perpetuating the very thing they scoff at (also, referring to her as a “girl” is a little odd). They know the title will bring in more readers than say, ‘Modern Twist Lacks Promised Treats’ would…

Lets us briefly, and in a A Level Sociology sort of way, give this article a quick feminist examination:

1. Journalists (and so forth) still refer to feminists as ‘bra-burners’, a deeply derogatory term if ever I heard one (and, of course, intended as such).

2. The main star takes off her shirt and looked ‘jolly pretty’. Is she a child? A painting? Of is he trying to be clever and turn the Daniel Radcliffe “phorrrr!” hysteria on its head? Probably…

3. Another reference to the female stars private life and whats more it is related to ‘puddles of tears’ - another rather derogatory term, intended as one…

4. The reviewer suggest that removing the play from its 1970s “feminist struggle” era is wrong and takes away its power, thereby suggesting the struggle is over and we’re alright now. After all, we can all take our shirts off and look jolly pretty without being pieces of meat now, can’t we?

5. Yet another reference to Ms. Piper’s fame, suggesting in one fell swoop that she can’t act (with which I will not argue) and that she is terrible working class. I will not even get in to the Marxist-feminist perspective on that.

6. “Poor Ann” and “poor Billie”. Little girls, struggling with the question dangerous man or boring one? Does it need to be either? Is it an either or, Quentin? If so, she is not that free, is she?

All of which leaves you thinking that Mr. Letts feels that feminism, rather like Daniel Randcliffe’s chest (had to get my kitsch, objectification in their, too, didn’t I?) was a lot of fuss over nothing… Anyhoo, rant over, it just really annoyed me!

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It is suddenly very cold again. Cold and breezy with lovely sunshine, but cold all the same. After the truly rotten weekend it has been a pretty nice week, so we can’t complain.

Apparently, Bournemouth is the ‘happiest’ place to live in Britain, based on a poll of people who were asked ‘are you happy to live here?’ about their home town. I must admit living nearer to the sea is great. Having lived in Mansfield, where the nearest we got to the sea without a two and a half hour drive was the wondrous Matlock Bath (and it is probably telling that my brother’s favourite place from childhood was there; mine was, equally tellingly, Whitby!). I still smile at the sound of the gulls around the house and I love walking on the beach and smelling the “clean” (ish) air… Ah well, maybe as the dearly departed Beautiful South said “maybe it’s the lure of the sea”!

There was something on the news this morning about women being better friends than men. It claimed that men talked about ‘philosophy and football’ (Mr C says I have both the female things - “hows their family?” - and the male bit, which sounds really scary). Apart from on my course, obviously, I can’t say I’ve ever heard men talk about philosophy, unless you count a long standing argument about which members of our group would dance on Thatchers grave and which would not…

Finally for today, Chicken and I have been watching the repeats of Who Do You Think You Are? on UKTV History, we enjoyed Stephen Fry’s on Wednesday but then we saw Julian Cleary yesterday and he is a bit ghastly! Firstly, his mother declared she didn’t want him to find any ‘foreign’ people as ’she wouldn’t like it’ (turned out her grandmother was German) and then he expressed the same reservations and also seemed horrified after the owner of a old family home kindly let the crew in to see it that he’d ‘have to make small talk’ with them.

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