Cracking Cracovia - A weirdo's tale.

This time last week, I was in Krakow. A few weeks previously, I'd felt the need for an adventure rise up in my soul and so set about searching for a likely place. I have a list of destinations I'd like to try and visit over the next two years, and Krakow was one of them. So, after spending two straight days checking out flight prices, flight times, hotel/hostel prices and local temperature, I settled on crossing Krakow off of my list.

After the brilliant time I had in Prague, I decided to go alone again. Shortly before I left though, I had a conversation with a friend who pointed out that it was possible my behaviour marked me out as being a bit weird. She wasn't being cruel, or horrible, merely stating that perhaps some people considered it odd that I just go off by myself and do things.

This got me thinking; Am I a massive weirdo? Am I? She's right - I don't mind going off and doing things on my own. Though it's definitely not because I prefer my own company to that of others. Most of the time, it's just practical. I want to go and see a film/an exhibition/eat something somewhere, etc. Depending on what it is, I ask people who I think might be interested if they want to go too. Usually, though, it's a 'no', due to time, money, other commitments  Does that mean I should then not go and do something because doing it alone is seen as odd?  

My main group of friends is quite large, which means a lot of negotiation and advance notice has to take place if you want to get as many people as possible together. Everyone lives in different parts of the country, or in other countries. Also, everyone likes to do different things when they're away. I personally, like to spend a good 6-8 hours on my first day in a new place walking around and looking at stuff. Not everyone is up for an eight hour trek around though. And I know this, and I don't want to inflict my preferences on anyone else. Equally though, if I've paid to be in a new place, I kind of want to get to know it. I want to get a bit lost in it. And I like to explore. I like the challenge of being in a new place and having to figure out how it works. And I know I'm talking about Eastern Europe and not the Amazonian rain-forest and so by and large it isn't that challenging... But it's fun for me. I like to go and eat local food and not be 100% sure what it is. I like getting my free map at the airport and learning how all the streets fit together. I like sitting in cafes and bars and restaurants and listening to people talk, even if I can't understand it.

When I'm on my own, I'm forced to get more involved. I have to talk to locals and ask questions. I have to ask for help with things. I think that's good for me. It means I have let go of all the London-inhibitions I have about smiling on the street and communicating with people. It's either put myself out there and ask, or sit in my hotel room with a book until it's time to go home. And getting out there usually pays off as I find things off the beaten track I'd never have discovered as part of a group.

Also, there's no guarantee anyone I know will want to go with me to the places I want to go. But I don't think that should be enough to stop me from going. I don't want to be a person who sits at home, waiting for things to happen. I want to make them happen. I don't think this makes me particularly brave, or intrepid, or go-getting. I still think an experience shared builds the best memories. But at the same time, I'm the one who got landed with the job of living my life. So I think I have to live it the way that makes me happiest. And travelling, alone or in a group, is one of the things that makes me happiest. 

So - Krakow! 

Landed fine, met at the airport by a lovely man with a sign (I wonder if that will ever stop being a novelty) and onwards to the hostel. This was my fifth hostel experience and I've never been failed yet. They've all been lovely and this one had the added bonus of each room having its own shower and sink. And free breakfast, which I took ridiculous advantage of.

On my first day, I did the aforementioned 'walking around until my feet try and make a break for it on their own' thing. I got out my map, and marked it with the locations of the hostel, some bookshops, a cafe and a pub, and set off. Only to realise after about two hours and every shop being closed, that I'd rocked up on a religious holiday. I found this out in Massolit Books, which is an amazing second-hand English bookshop-come-cafe, secreted outside of Planty, the park that runs in place of the town walls around the Old Town. I asked the lady who told me this what I should do instead and she told me to 'Eat and drink. That's what everyone else will do.'

I took this advice to heart, stopping first for hot chocolate before walking down to Kaziemierz. Kaziemierz is the Jewish Quarter in Krakow, and I whiled away a lovely few hours wandering from synagogue to cemetary. Then to Old Town to go to the Pierogi festival. And I went NUTS. I had six - six delicious Polish dumplings and a beer and watched the band play. After that all died down, I headed off to try and find the Middle Earth pub, as I'd heard there was one in town, celebrating all things Tolkien.

Sadly, it had closed the year before, but I stayed for a drink anyway, before going to take some not-very-good night-time shots of Rynek Glowny all lit up. 

Day two dawned and it was the day of the Auschwitz I - Auschwitz Birkenau visit. 

It's every bit as harrowing as you'd imagine it to be. This was compounded by the fact is was an absolutely beautiful day. So I'm walking through this place of absolute horror, in sunshine, and watching groups of people walking the same paths once walked by the imprisoned. 

The contrast between the past and the present was stark and terrible, and yet I'm glad I went. I'm glad I saw the evidence of the evil that happened there. It served as a hard reminder that it's all too easy to dehumanise people, based on their colour, gender, sexuality, religion, ethnicity and lifestyle. It's easy to be scared of what you don't understand, to fear what's different. But, as the George Santayana quote says; 'Those who do not remember history are bound to repeat it.' We have to remember. And we have to make sure, somehow, that this is never allowed to happen again. 

In the afternoon, I just wandered about again, soaking up Poland as it is now, how it's rebuilt itself and, whilst always acknowledging the part it was forced to play during World War II, how it's striving to create a multicultural and tolerant place where all are welcomed. They're doing a bang-up job, too. I had another hot chocolate, bought a few bits (including the ubiquitous Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in the native tongue) and then went back to the hostel for a bit of quiet time. Dinner was me being very brave and wandering the streets around midnight looking for the Kielbasa van. Found it, ate at it, loved it.

Friday was zoo day! Zoo day is one of the traditions I seem to have developed when I go to a new place. I like to go to the local zoo. Or animal park. Or aquarium. Or, failing that, Natural History Museum. But there will be a day when I'll wop out the camera and take some very suspect photos of animals. In another life, I would have been a wildlife photographer. In another life, I'd know how to compose a shot, but that's another story.

Krakow zoo is lovely. It's being redeveloped at the moment, so some of the enclosures are still of the nasty concrete and iron bar variety. But the majority are huge and airy and have enrichment activities to keep the animals occupied and alert. The keepers are friendly and knowledgeable and none of the animals exhibited any signs of depressed behaviour.

On the contrary, a fair number seemed hell bent on getting their end away. I witnessed a very public threesome between some of the baboons. I could have lived my whole life without seeing that. And the tortoises were going at it too, although I've never ever been to a zoo and not seen the tortoises making love. People say 'at it like rabbits', but I think it's the tortoises you've got to watch. Also, I did take that photo of the tiger above. That's one of mine. Every now and then, I can just about manage a decent photo or two.

The best thing at Krakow zoo were the bees! They had an... enclosure, for want of a better word, for honey bees, in their own hives, which are part of the zoo. And the honey the bees make? Oh they just sell that at the zoo in the HONEY VENDING MACHINE. Seriously, a machine that vends the honey made 100m away by the bees that live there. There was a video screen which told you how it was collected and which flowers the bees fed on. And then you could buy the honey right there. Now that's organic.


After the zoo (which I got to and from by navigating public transport, which was quick, easy and efficient and not the trial I made it out to be) I went to Wawel Hill, to have a gander at the castle and go into the Dragon's Den. No, not the tellybox show. The actual Dragon's Den. Legend has it that Krakow was founded by the mythical ruler Krakus, who built it above a cave occupied by a dragon, Smok Wawelski. and, at the top of Wawel Hill, you can descend down a dizzying spiral staircase into a cave under the castle hill, where the dragon is reputed to have lived. I like caves. It made me happy. That night I took myself out for a fancy dinner, wined and dined and ate wild boar and Baileys mousse and imbibed some fancy vodkas, and then pottered on back to the hostel for my last night. 

My last half day consisted of more walking and sampling foods that I hadn't tried yet. I ate Pączki and Smalec and enjoyed one a lot more than the other (Google if you want to try and deduce it). And then home-sadface-bloody England-preferred it when the Olympics were on.

And there ends my adventure in Krakow. I had a brilliant time, met some nice people, ate some ace food, drank some amazing beers and vodkas, learned lots of new things, saw tons of new things, walked on new streets and hopefully broadened my horizons a little more.
As for being a weirdo... I suppose it could be worse. I can live with it. 

Naked and laid bare. AKA Mrs Sparkly's Ten Commandments Award

Amy and I.

Hello! I won an award! I won a sparkly award!

A Mrs Sparkly award to be precise!

And what did I do to earn this honour? Bugger all. Except keep churning out the same old drivel.  However, it would seem that some people don't mind it so much, like my lovely friend Amy, who nominated me for this. So you lucky devils can in part thank her for my continued bloggage.

In all seriousness though, it never fails to amaze me that people read the things that I write. It's very rarely insightful, or profound and I don't think I've ever helped anyone in any way through it. Primarily, this blog exists as a kind of diary for me, something for me to look at when I'm feeling a bit ungracious, ungrateful, or cabin fever has set in.

Once upon a time, I had a boyfriend who was a little older than me and I would get so jealous when he'd regale me with stories of all the things he'd done. I would compare my life experiences and adventures to his and feel as though I was lacking, somehow. After a while, he got a bit peeved at my whining and told me that;

a) I did plenty of fun and interesting things; and
b) I had plenty of time to continue to do fun and interesting things, so I'd be better off focusing on all the things I was going to do, instead of all the things I hadn't done.

As much as it pains me to say it, he was right.

I started out with this notebook, into which I glued all my cinema tickets, train tickets from big adventures, tags from gifts, reciepts from locations, etc. This notebook was a kind of scrapbook of my life. And it was only the beginning. As the book grew fatter, so did my wealth of life experience. So did my desire to branch out more... I don't just want to see a film, I want to be in one! Getting on a plane for an adventure is amazing, imagine how much fun it would be to jump out of one!

So I've been an extra in a film, I've done a skydive. I've grown.

Now I have folders, I keep everything. It all gets glued down onto card and then filed away in my big, sexy lever-arch folders. I annotate things. I take photos compulsively. As self-indulgent as it might seem to others, I keep these logs of my life because one day I won't be able to do this stuff anymore. Or I'll be dead. These things exist as testament to a life lived as fully as I'm able to. They exist to remind me in my darkest times that the world is a strange and beautiful place. They exist to drive me on to explore and dream and dare and try. They are my memoirs.

To cement my winning of this award, I have to answer the following questions and then nominate some other blogs, which I consider deserving.

Job done.

Describe yourself in seven words
outspoken, loyal, whimsical, cavalier, ambitious, obnoxious, sweet

What keeps you up at night?
Fear. Fear I'm going to die alone. Fear I'm going to fail. Fear I'll be poor and homeless. Fear people don't really like me. Fear no-one cares really about me. Fear that I'm repulsive. That I'm worthless.

My closest friends know just how crippled by self-doubt I am. I will analyse everything to the death. It only takes the tiniest thing to make me feel truly shitty about myself and then I will sit and catalogue every single one of my failings and use them to metaphorically beat myself bloody with. There's being sensitive and there's being me.

I'm not just saying this stuff. There have been nights where I've lain paralysed in bed, certain I'm on the road to nowhere and that in ten, twenty years time all the people I love won't even remember I existed. I'll be in some shitty council bedsit, staring out at a concrete jungle, hoping death comes soon and that I'm not lying rotting for too long before the neighbours report the smell.

I genuinely have anxiety issues about people hating me and I'm, in the dead of night, convinced that one day everyone will leave me and I'll be alone with my ugliness.

Whom would you like to be?
Despite the above, most days, I quite like being me. There isn't a whole other person I'd just like to be. But I wouldn't mind taking bits of other people and making a new, Frankenstein's monster-esque composite me. I'd like Michelle Dockery's face and figure. I'd like my friend Kylie's beautiful soul. I'd like Emilie's joie de vivre, Amy's determination, Caitlin Moran's wit, Joanne Harris's ability to weave a tale. As Amy said in her blog, I think most of all I'd like to be the best me that I can be. Maybe I should spend some time 'modelling' myself on the traits I admire in others and perhaps I'd be less likely to have a midnight meltdown. I may try it.  

What am I wearing right now?
I am wearing a mint green tea dress with a purple and blue pattern on, purple tights and no shoes (see left). I bought this dress for Florida last year. I'm always a little sad when I realise a special occasion dress has become an everyday dress, but this one will always be special, as it's a UK size ten, which was the result of some intense cheese and cake denial last spring so I wouldn't make myself sick in a bikini. 

What scares me?
Aside from thinking everyone hates me and that I'll die alone, poor and miserable in a bedsit?

Dinosaurs. Genuinely. I'm not trying to be quirky or cute, dinosaurs, or more specifically, the idea of them coming back, scares the pants off of me. 

Imagine, if you will, a small, eight year old me. I have recurring dinosaur-based dreams. In them, I wake in the night, convinced something is wrong. I go to the bedroom window and look out into the night. There is nothing. I watch until my eyelids start to droop and begin to turn, reassured, back to my bed. It's then that the Tyrannosaurus Rex rears it's head above the house opposite. I freeze in fear and then I see them. Skittering down the road to the side of the house, heading toward me are two, adult human sized dinosaurs, each with a huge, sickle-shaped claw in the midst of each foot.

Imagine then a short while later when a film called Jurassic Park is released.

It was as if Spielberg had mined the design for them from my slumbering little mind.

Still now, I treat Jurassic Park the way other people treat [REC] or The Ring. I read Jurassic Park and The Lost World, and Conan Doyle's The Lost World the same way other people read Stephen King. The fear that one day they might return terrifies me.

And I still have that dream every now and then.

Other than that, I fear ignorance. Racism, sexism, homophobia, bigotry, the mining of the natural world without replenishing its resources, anything that humans do without care or consideration for the people and the world around them. That scares me.

What are the best and worst things about blogging?
The best thing is putting down all these thoughts and ideas I have and compiling them into this space where I can get to read and then re-read them. And hearing other peoples thoughts and feelings on them. I love that. I don't think there is a worst, for me. It's a wholly personal thing, the way I blog. So if I thought it had elements that annoyed or upset me, I'd probably find another medium in which to document this stuff.

If I could change one thing about myself, what would it be?
I'd be more patient. And tolerant. I have such a short fuse for things which annoy me, particularly rudeness. I wish I had the grace to accept that sometimes, people will be unkind and that blowing up about it solves nothing.

Slankets, yes or no?
Oh hell yes. My parents got me one a few years back and at first I was deeply unimpressed. Thanks, guys, for this zebra-print monstrosity. They didn't help by screeching 'AHHHHHH - YOU LOOK LIKE CAT SLATER!' when I tried it on.

Cut to a month later and I'm reading at home. It's cold and I pull out the aforementioned monstrosity. I slip my arms in and OH MY ACTUAL GOD. WHAT IS THIS MAGIC?! IT'S A BLANKET WITH SLEEVES. I AM WARM AND ENSCONCED IN THE MAGICAL FABRIC HUG OF A BLANKET, BUT I HAVE ARMS!

Not to mention the fact if you put it on backwards it's like wizard's robes. Trashy, zebra-print wizard robes. The kind of thing I imagine Rita Skeeter or Madam Rosmerta would swan around in in their boudoirs.

Tell us something about the person who nominated you:
She is one of the kindest and most generous people I have ever met. And she manages to combine this with such strength of character. It's very hard to be both appropriately hard and soft in this world but she is. And with grace.

My next step is to nominate 10 others:
This is going to be tough, as I dip in and out of blogs. But here we go, I can at least do seven and will add more if I remember them:

My friend Liv is on an adventure in Japan. This is her blog of how it's going:   http://herroyalhobbitness.blogspot.co.uk/

James blogs randomly but it's always a joy to read: http://wyatthaplo.blogspot.co.uk/

Leanne does regular and lovely YA book reviews: http://districtya.blogspot.co.uk/

Robin also writes insanely good, funny, witty and honest book reviews: http://redbreastedbird.blogspot.co.uk/

Amy. Does it all. http://turntothemusic.blogspot.co.uk/

Jamie writes about television and films and writing and pretty much anything else interesting. http://jamiekrakover.blogspot.co.uk/

Genny is lovely. I love her. http://cheeseymusings.wordpress.com/2012/07/02/my-big-black-cat/ 

      

Pressed Pennies

Pennies from The British Transport Museum,
Warwick Castle and Birmingham Thinktank

In the unprecedented occurrence of my being bothered to write a third blog this month, I have decided to share with you one of my little quirks. I have a lot of little quirks - but this is a nice one and I felt like putting it out there in the world, and giving it some sun. Because I'm kind like that. 

I'm a bit besotted with Penny Presses. You know the things, they're in museums, theme parks and the like and you pop a penny in one slot and maybe fifty pee or a pound in another and then you slam the drawer and crank the handle and then a flattened, elongated penny stamped with a design comes out? Well, them. I love them. 


Pressed pennies are made when the penny travels through a machine called a Jeweller's Mill, which has mirror-image designs cut into steel rollers. The pennies are squashed between the rollers at immense pressure (approx. 20 tons), which presses the coin into the design and due to the immense pressure simultaneously stretches the coin into an oval shape, resulting in elongated coins and embossed prettiness.
According to the Internets, the pressed penny - or less romantically - the 'elongated coin' (sod that, I'm sticking with pressed penny) was invented in America during the 1892 -1893 World's Columbia Exposition, to celebrate the 400th anniversary of Columbus's 'discovery' of America, (I'm largely unsure how you can discover a country which already has a long-standing native population but there we go). 

Hyde Park Winter Wonderland, Madame Tussauds
and The Churchill War Experience

Discovering this foxed me a little, as I'd assumed from the general quaintness and cogs aspect of them, that they were a Victorian British invention. Not that I don't think America can do quaint, mind you. It's just the general pointlessness of them, combined with the intricacy, smacks of Blighty to me. But then what do I know?

So they've been around for about 120 years or so. And they're pretty global now. On the amazing Penny Collectors website, you can see where the ones nearest to you are and also if there are any where you plan to go. If only I'd known such a thing existed...

While doing some research for this blog, I spent a good ten minutes sobbing into my tea when I realised all of the opportunities I'd missed in places I'd been, not least the two machines on the seafront, 5 minutes bloody walk from my house. That will be amended. And I've cleverly bookmarked the page, so next time I go on a mooch, I can scout out the locations and find them. I will press ALL THE PENNIES. ALL OF THEM. I will become a connoisseur, an expert in the location and art of the pressed penny. I might even start a club about it. Not that there aren't already clubs devoted to it, there are even online shops to boost your collection, Ebay does a fine line in trading them and some people even collect them in themes - like stamps! Pressedpenny.com assures me 'there is no wrong way to collect pressed pennies!'

San Francisco love on American cents
and FOTA on a 1 euro coin

I've liked them since I was a child, there was something so magical - and also a bit naughty - about sticking a penny in a machine and squashing it and putting a picture where the Queen used to be. Sometimes, you can still see her outline on them, like a little ghost. It was exciting. And exciting to turn the crank handle as hard as you could and then stand back so the blistering hot metal didn't fly out at speed and gash your knees.

I've now, as an adult, got a bit of a reputation for having a mild obsession with penny presses. I've had tweets from friends who've been away, saying 'Oh my God, Mel - they have a PENNY PRESS here! You'd love it'. Thing is though, I can't have them as souvenirs unless I've been the one to press them. Unless my lily-white hands have been the ones getting all blistered by turning the crank, it's just not the same. I need the rush of seeing the machine myself, scrabbling in my purse for the correct change, selecting the design and then cranking. I'm a cranker.

So there you have an exciting little insight into one of my passions. Next up, I'll wax lyrical on the 243 different types of cigarette ash and how to identify them       
                                                                                                          

Disneyworld, Florida

Jurassic Park ones. Yes. Made of win.

The Making of Harry Potter

It's been an action-packed few weeks. Lots has been done and lots is to come. Firstly... I SAW FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE!

I'm a bit in lesbians with Flo. By a bit, I mean COMPLETELY, UTTERLY AND IRREVOCABLY.

She has the most amazing voice, style and panache. She's beautiful. 'No light, No light' from her second album, Ceremonials, is the most perfect song in my world at the moment. Since buying the album on October 31st, iTunes informs me I've now listened to it 403 times... Reasonable until I explain that I don't listen to my iPod every day. Usually when I'm travelling. So the 3.8 plays daily average is a lot scarier than it first seems. Still, it keeps me happy.

Pris and I went to see her in Brum, meeting up with Fran, Kirsty and Beth there. We had to drink our wine out of plastic pint glasses but I did get to buy a tea-cup and she played 'No light, No light,' as her second-to-last song and I did some happy tears and it was perfect. 

After Flo and some much needed fun-times with Pris, I headed home for a few hours to repack a suitcase before heading off to Surrey for a night, followed by a road trip to The Wirral to celebrate Ellie's birthday. It was pure bliss to have so many of my favourite people together in one place, last time it happened was Florida last July, so this was a rare treat. Though I'm hoping it doesn't stay a treat and we get to do it more, so much so that I start to take those beautiful people for granted.


Last week saw me, SophieSoph and Kat venturing into the past (and there actually was a TARDIS, no joke) and going to experience life in the Blitz, at the Winston Churchill War Museum by London Bridge. Soph and I are native City of Villains kids, so we're quite WW2 savvy, popping a gasmask on and scooting under a table when the air-raid siren goes off is all in a days work for us. We followed up Victory by seeking out crushing defeat, heading to the casino. I popped my complimentary £10 chip on the roulette wheel... And lost. So we got cake and went to the pub.


A couple of days later, I was awake at 5.30am... Because finally, after almost 5 months of waiting, it was time to go to Leavesden to The Making of Harry Potter at Leavesden Studios.


The point of this isn't to give you a step-by-step guide to it, as I'm hoping you'll eventually go and see for yourself just how amazing it is. But if you're a fan of the world of Hazza P, you'll love it.


Most of all though, I think it's a beautiful standing tribute to the people we never got to see on screen. So often, we focus on the actors and their performances, occasionally bashing directorial decisions or script changes, but we fail to appreciate the other miracles happening on screen. Thousands and thousands of props were created for the series, hours spent designing and painting things which, at best, might only be seen on screen for a split second. 

Actual chocolate

Since visiting Leavesden, I've realised that for every complaint I've made about the films, I should have been making three compliments, making a note of objects in the background, or how realistic a puppet was. I'm really excited to watch them all again now, to better appreciate the costumes and the detail that was added to them. Hours and hours spent covering phone books in leather, embossing letters, adding labels to bottles for when a camera pans past them swiftly. Things which were made, like Lily's letter to Sirius, but never included. The chocolate feast, some items made from real chocolate. The hundreds and hundreds of little touches, that make the Harry Potter series really magical. 

We won't be crashing into the Whomping Willow
and that's why our insurance is lower.

At the same time as discovering things you've never seen before, you can't look anywhere without seeing something you recognise. By the end of the day, my stomach ached from all the pangs I had when I saw something I knew. Big things, like the door to the Chamber of Secrets, the Knight Bus, the basilisk skeleton. Small things, like Umbridge's amazing cat brooch, Scabior's scarf, Luna's Dirigible Plum earrings. It was a trip down memory lane...

Not to be confused with the actual trip down memory lane that is Diagon Alley. It genuinely bought tears to my eyes and not just because I'm an insanely sappy fangirl. 

But because it's so real. Despite numerous reminders that we were on sound stages, it didn't click until we'd left and were on the red carpet watching the actors go back inside. Then I remembered that I hadn't just been to Hogwarts, or Diagon Alley, but to a workplace, where the cream of the British film industry spent ten years making miracles. 

I'm so excited to go back, I've booked to go again on 31st July, for Harry and JK Rowling's birthdays. And, best of all, because we were rushed from the gift shop at the end, WB have very generously comped us free tickets to go back! I would urge all Harry Potter fans to go, it is expensive but it's so worth it. And they have Butterbeer. Actual Butterbeer. It was beautiful.


I know there's stuff I didn't see there, stuff I need to see again, stuff I want to spend hours staring at. At the moment, the exhibit will be there until 2013, when it may be expanded to include more things, or removed to make Leavesden operational again. Go, before that happens. You won't regret it. It's one of two places in the world where you can step inside a book. And that's kind of all nerds want.

A Scandal in Bohemia

Hello!

It's been AGES - AGAIN - since I've done a blog, so please insert the usual apologies about being a slack git in here <sorrysorrybegforgivenesspleaforabsolutionetc> In my defence, I've been very busy though. I've been to Baker Street (twice -more on that later) and to Ireland and I've been working on the jewellery making and expanding my repertoire and client base (that's wanky talk for made some new stuffs and doing a craft fair).

But the most exciting thing I've done has been go to Prague. On my own. For four whole days and five whole nights.

I was at work a couple of weeks ago and I realised I was about to have a fortnight off. With very little planned, other than staying in bed watching Sherlock. And that I was sorely in need of an adventure. So, I had a gander at lastminute.com and found I could fly to Prague for 5 nights for less than £200. I booked it exactly a week before my flight was due to take off.

Got some new dresses, got some Czech crowns, Googled the Metro map and the location of the closest zoo and I was off. Flying with the hilariously named Wizz Air.

On the plane, I realised I might have just made a pretty big mistake. Because I could have gone to visit friends in Ireland, Germany, Norway or Sweden. Instead, I'd booked a stay in a place I'd never been, where I knew no-one and where I didn't speak the language. Alone. Add this to the numerous warnings I got about the local police and pick-pockets and I was beginning to wish I'd packed more books and less clothes. Because if worse came to worst, I could always sit in the hotel drinking wine and reading.

Thank God I didn't pack more books.

I got to the airport and met my driver, who agreed to let me take his photo with the sign saying he was there for me. (My whole life, it's been on my Bucket List to have someone meet me at an airport with a sign with my name on it. I nearly had one in San Francisco, but due to an early landing plane and my desperation to get out of the airport, my friends didn't have time to unfurl the amazing banner they'd made to welcome me. Though I still have it. Anyway...). He was sweet enough to let me take his photo holding it. And then we got in the car and he said 'Let's go home'. And I was in love.

There was a mint on my pillow in the hotel, which is a sign of quality in my book. I'm not joking, I love a pillow mint. I had my wine from Duty Free, my pillow mint and The Bodyguard dubbed in Czech on the telly. It was perfect.

St Vitus' Cathedral

Day one saw me tentatively wandering around Hradcany for a bit, looking at pretty, pretty palaces and the literally awesome St Vitus' Cathedral. I can't read maps to save my life, so I tend to just stride around, trying to look like I know where I'm going. This is a good tactic for anywhere, by the way. Just stride forward purposefully.  It works. And it enabled me to build up a smashing mind-map of the Castle District. I then headed down the Karlov Most (Charles Bridge to you lot) planning to go and have a look around town... And I accidentally wandered into the Museum of Medieval Torture Instruments. 

Which put paid to my lunch ideas.

I also visited the Waxwork Museum (sucked in by Harry Potter in the window), found Baker Street, Praha and had a good old wander. Best of all, they sell hot wine on the streets for around 40czk. So I got to have mulled wine while I gallivanted about. As the sun went down I headed back to Hradcany, before trekking out to the Monastery to have dinner in a cave (Peklo). Not just any cave, but a cave Brangelina rather like. And Timothy Dalton. Get me. It was delicious and I had the Svíčková na smetaně – filet mignon s poctivou smetanovo-zeleninovou omáčkou, karlovarským knedlíkem a divokými brusinkami. Followed by the Domácí doboš s pistáciovou zmrzlinou a karamelem. Yum. And I tried some of Grandma's Herbal Liquor. Which was nice too. 

Day two saw me scrap my plans to head out to Kutna Hora, in favour of further explorations of central Prague and a foray into New Town. I went to have a mooch around the Jewish Quarter and then headed over to Wenceslas Square. I bought Chamber of Secrets in Czech (as tradition now dictates, I must return from a trip to a new place with a native copy of Harry Potter). I found a tucked away vintage paradise and proceeded to spend a happy hour trying on all manner of frocks and jackets. As I went to pay for my bounty, the lady spoke to me in Czech. When I apologised, she tried again in English, asking me if I would still be in Prague on the 1st of March. I thought she meant that must be the latest I could return the jacket I was buying, so I said no and that I wouldn't need to bring it back. She laughed and said "No, no... I want you to catwalk for me. We are doing a show and you would be good in it."

CUE MASSIVE SMUGFACED GRIN LASTING THE REST OF THE DAY.

I need to move to Europe. Seriously. I'm so under-appreciated in this country.

Dinner that night was in a pretty little restaurant around the corner. And afterwards... Feeling very brave... I went for a stroll.

Prague at night is beautiful. Despite the unfamiliar terrain, the winding corners and alleys, I felt completely safe. It's so well lit and peaceful that I was comfortable just exploring quietly. I found a late-night shop, bought a bottle of wine and was about to head back to the hotel when I turned a corner and found myself in front of the Loretta, which is where all the Weeping Angels in Prague hang out. I should point out at this point in time, I'm also wearing a deerstalker.

So there I am, bottle of wine in one hand, camera in the other, deerstalker on my bonce, exploring the grounds of this beautiful church, when I realise there is a car behind me. It was the fuzz! Shit - I thought - they're going to come and ask for my passport and take it from me and charge me a million crowns to get it back. And they might take my wine. And my hat...

They drove on.

Which was kind of the theme for all of my encounters with the law. Unless you were doing a crime, they didn't care. There are a lot of police about, they patrol everywhere but they're not the demons the Internet led me to believe they were. So, sorry to the police of Prague. Thanks for not being corrupt. You're doing a cracking job.

Day three saw me venture out to Kutna Hora to go to Sedluc Ossuary, which is this amazing church that houses the bones of around 40,000 people. On display. As art. This was an exciting day for me as it meant I'd get my first go at using the Prague Metro (which is like the Tube) and also the overground rail system...

EASY.

Seriously, it's so straightforward and well sign-posted that I felt almost cheated. I have moments on the Underground here where I get confused but they just don't let that happen. They signpost. There are helpful staff waiting to answer your questions. There are interactive information boards that tell you all about your trains. So I got on my train, sat in a Potter-esque compartment and read until we arrived in Kutna Hora. 

Inside the Ossuary it was much colder than it was outside. Whether this is because of the way it's built, or the psychosomatic effect of being inside a mass-grave, I don't know. It was eerily beautiful, strange, creepy and also serene. The bones are arranged so artfully, that after the initial feeling of being inside one of Giger's masturbatory fantasies, it was easy to appreciate the craftsmanship that had gone into arranging these remains into something spectacular. There's a funny thing about seeing so many bones arranged so prettily, you forget what it is you're looking at. You stop noticing ribs and start appreciating the way they curve into and over each other. It's a small church, but unforgettable from the moment you enter and see the huge chandelier of bones.

Following this, I headed back to the station, bought some coffee from a lady eating raw meat, and got my train back into Stare Mesto in time for the Ghost Tour!

I love a good ghost tour. They're invariably the least scary thing you can do with your time, but usually you get to hear a lot of fun stories, get some local background and get to explore parts of the city you can't normally. I chose this one because it included a tour of the vaults under the Astronomical Clock at Old Town Hall. And it didn't disappoint. Gruesome councillors, evil old women, hanged noblemen and burnt witches. And a mooch under the ground. All good clean fun. And it even snowed a little, justifying my buying a hot wine and some pastries for the journey home.

Wednesday was my last day and I decided to take a bus out to Prague zoo. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love a good zoo. I like to see the animals, animals I may never see in the wild (like otters - lol), animals that are now extinct in the wild. I like zoos with good conservation programmes. Prague zoo is therefore all the things and has /THE/ most diverse selection of animals I've ever seen at any single zoo.

I was going to go back to hotel after the zoo, to try and find somewhere to eat and get a good nights sleep before travelling back. But then I walked along the Charles Bridge and there was a Swing Party happening and I decided there was time for one last adventure. I found a street I'd not been along yet and lo and behold - A ghost museum.  With half-price entry to the Alchemy Museum if you bought tickets for both. I did.

Ghost museum was a lot of scary and wholly unbelievable stories from the days of yore, mixed in with some pretty hilarious waxworks. The Alchemy museum though... Beautifully done. Atmospheric, lots of real life text and examples and a guided tour of Edward Kelley's tower... Which is where the almost Scandal in Bohemia part of the blog comes in. But there is no scandal to speak of. Enough about that...

Dinner at the crazy medieval restaurant and then back to the hotel for one last night of Czech telly. At the party on Charles Bridge, I got a bit teary at the idea of going home. I wasn't ready. I didn't want to leave this pretty new land with its gorgeous architecture and myths and legends. I like Bohemia.

I'm so glad I went. For so many reasons. Because it was exciting to explore a new place, it was empowering to go out to dinner on my own, it was freeing to not have a schedule and to be able to travel at whim. I can't wait to do it again. I'm going to do it again. I foresee this being a thing I do a few times a year, just heading off at short notice to do something new.

Luckily, the sadness at having to come back did not last, as we had a Baker Street Adventure on Saturday. Myself and the Cumberbitches had breakfast at Speedy's, explored the museum, had a spot of lunch and then headed to St. Barts to re-enact The Fall. It's on video... If you're lucky, I'll share it with you.

And Sunday was my first proper craft fair, with an 100% muggle clientele! And it went well! I'd covered the cost of the table and taxi there in the first hour, trade picked up swiftly and people were lovely about the things I made. I made some new friends, ate a lot of cake, drank a lot of tea and had a spiffing time. More of that, please.

I think that about covers it. I really am the luckiest.

Janus again

I almost didn't write this post. I started it a few times but couldn't see it through. It is, of course, about the change of the year, 2011 regenerating into 2012. It wasn't laziness that stopped me writing it, it was not wanting to be a smug bug.

Because, without being a smug bug, 2011 was incredible. And I didn't want to post a list of all the amazing things I'd done, and believe me - they were AMAZING. It felt too showing-offy for me to be able to cope with, and, coming from a consummate and professional show off, that's saying a lot.

So what changed?

I read a book.

Oh, of course I did. It's me, after all. Almost all of my life decisions happen because I read a book. When I was 20, I read a book which culminated in me doing a skydive. That's right, the girl who was afraid of heights and had never been in a plane before cheerfully chucked herself out at 12,000ft because a book made her feel like she'd missed something.

It was amazing. But that's books for you, they lead you in the right direction.

Today, I was having a lovely day. My fox handbag arrived (no - not a real one, I didn't staple a handle to a fox's back and asked it if I could keep my make-up in its belly), I had the house to myself. I watched some Sherlock, ate some toast, drank some tea. Then I nipped off to Waterstones to pick up my copy of The Fault in Our Stars. I'd planned to read it on the plane tomorrow, I'm a fan of John Green, he's a good writer.

Thought I'd read a preliminary chapter or two, set the cogs in motion...


I'm now, some 4 hours later, covered in snot and tears. I'm ravaged. I'm a broken mess. And more than anything, I can't wait to get on a plane tomorrow and see the people I love. And that's what changed. Because I read something that reminded me I had no right at all to be ashamed of my life. For any reason.

Thing is, I'm never going to be a princess or a hero. I'm never going to find a cure for a horrid disease, or be the first person to walk on a planet. I'm never going to start or end a war, or front a rock band, or win an Oscar. I'll never lead a country, or be a martyr. History will not make a note of my name. I'm just going to live my silly, average one-in-seven-billion life.

And I'm more than fine with it. In fact, that's perfect.

I won't tell you what happens in The Fault in Our Stars, because I think you should read it. I think sometimes it's too easy to get caught up in the minutiae of life, all the 'she said so then I' stuff. And you forget that the clock is ticking and the world is bigger and stranger than you thought. And then you read a book like this and it's like being slapped in the face by an iceberg. Suddenly, the fog lifts and nasty, scary, ugly, beautiful, impossible life rears its head and gives you a short, sharp reminder that this is all fleeting. You're running out of time. And every second that passes is a second lost.  So you have to live, while and where you can. Because I might not be famous, or rich, or special. But by God, I know how to live.

And so, with no sense of shame, or embarrassment, I give you a tiny fraction of my amazing 2011:

• Florida, AGAIN, for Deathly Hallows pt 2 - a cinema full of fans, a themepark and butterbeer, Disney World and 8 days with the very best people I know
• Nykoping and Stockholm with James. GAMLA STAN!
• Ireland, many, many times - hot chocolate and moustaches and Mexican food and cake and tea and singing and Disney and Downton Abbey and dresses.
• Goteborg - Universeum, breaking into a beach, SEEING A MOOSE, eating a moose, Wizard rock and that amazing, amazing restaurant.
• Being in a film. IN A FILM. As a zombie. 
• Macclesfield: Wuthuring Heights, Radiohead, pool and Bo:Rap
• Partying with Neil, Fran and co
• Making so many wonderful new friends, Jules, Zach, Orla and so many others who I would function less ably without
• Christmas with Jules and lighting my first lantern
• Starting my own jewellery making business
• Throwing a party on Platform 9 3/4
• Going to the V&A, then dinner, then The King's Speech with my darling ones
• The Labyrinth Masquerade Ball
• Cuddle O'Clock in Lemur Town
• Pregnancy by sex-rock
• Post from Alan Rickman
• My Christmas present from Jules, via Ali Shaw
• ComicCon and spending the day with an Australian nutjob whom I adore.
• Becoming an Internet nerd-modelling pin-up sensation for 2 whole days
• Digging for dinosaurs and then catching a film... THE film
• Having it large in Stoke with G
• Staying at K-Robs and spending 3 straight days watching period dramas
• Seeing Iron and Wine again
• Oxford, Tolkien and The Eagle and Child
• Bad Taxidermy
• Hummingbird bakery
• Your Highness and milkshakes with Caitlin and Asma
• Winter Wonderland and Harrods
• Winning a knitted Dobby and a poster from WB
• Chinatown and a spontaneous sleepover 
• Cockpit invasions and being pleasantly surprised at how ace Easyjet are
• Marmaduke the Narwhal
• Reading The Night Circus
• 2.8 Hours later and almost surviving the zombie apocalypse

I'm sure I've forgotten stuff. But you get the gist.

Just live, ok? Please. Go and live. Hard as you can.

Here's to 2012. I know I say it every year, but I've not been wrong so far.

I think this is going to be the best yet.

Irelande... Douze Pointe!

Dea-lá! I'm back from Ireland, where I spent a fab and fun four days with Snow and K-Rob. Getting there was pretty tense, thanks Ashcloud. I barely got any sleep the night before, due to my obsessively checking the BBC website to see if I'd be able to fly. It looked good. I got to the airport and it was looking fine. Went through security, no special massage. I had a gate to go to. A plane was there. They let us on the plane, after the inevitable Hunger Games-esque battle that is getting a seat on a Ryanair flight. We put seat belts on... they locked the doors... we did the jump to hyperspace... one hour later... HELLO IRELAND. 
I have no recollection of anything that happened on the first night as I was beyond exhausted. I suspect it involved wine and lots of chats... I think we may have watched some Home and Away too...

Now, before I go any further, I wanted to apologise. I did take photos while we were there but I forgot to bring the software with me to make them get from the camera to the computer. So, to liven up this post, I have used a very sophisticated program to recreate some of the events. You'll like it. Or not. 
Wednesday dawned and we got up and went into Cork City. I love Cork City, there are lovely shops and things and O'Conaill's chocolate shop is there and so I started work on my chocolate baby. And then lovely Orla came over for dinner and Snow made a scrummy pie and we ate it and then it was off to meet Martha and watch Alan Carr at the Cork Opera House.

The show was part of his warm up tour, testing out the material for his UK tour later in the year. It was pretty funny, my favourite line was him saying about living under a pylon and having a seagull for a leader. It was very London centric though, which took some of the lols away for the majority of the audience. What with them being Irish. And us being in Ireland... 
Then we went to Sin E for a supposedly swift drink. We weren't swift. We had a drink, decided it was imperative I moved to Cork and then celebrated by going dancing in Crane Lane to Sexrock. Seriously Sexrock. 
Here we are, dancing. 

Me, Snow, K-Rob and Martha getting down with our bad selves

We were dancing to the sexy tunes of Lord Bishop, a trio of degenerate sex-Gods from America, the leader of which was a seven foot tall wizard man. They were ace. All the songs were about sex or God and the singer kept trying to pour Jack Daniels into the gobs of his dancing minions. Some random American man started twirling me about all over the shop before lifting me right into his arms and spinning me about. He then vanished... I assumed I'd inadvertently broken his back but no! He'd gone to the bar. He came back and apparently went in for a kiss, but I missed this. Martha told me about it later whilst we were eating the World's Best Pizza. Thereby proving that I am a hot piece of ass in Cork. And also oblivious to a lot of things.

After he was done spinning me, a nice man called Adem from Morocco decided he'd have a go, but I was far too interested in spinning K-Rob and Snow around. Then we got a shout-out from the band who said 'This song goes out to these beautiful ladies here....' He then said something about having sex with all of us. We didn't like that bit so much. He was very sexually potent, we were a bit worried we might have got pregnant by osmosis. 

The following day, we went into town for a bit so Snow and K-Rob could do some biznizz. K-Rob's amazing jewellery is now stocked in Ruby and Peacock in Cork City. But if you can't get over there, you can always check out her Etsy shop, which she'll be restocking soon. We're also working on plans for general world domination but you'll have to wait and see for more on that. 

Then we went home and watched Tangled, which instantly became my second favourite Disney film of all time! Flynn Rider is a babe, Maximus is a dude, Rapunzal rocks and Pascal is a sweetie. 

These are my favourite Disney films:

Hercules

Tangled

Robin Hood

Beauty and the Beast

Friday was Zoo Trip Day! We met Mary for breakfast at The Mill and bullied her into joining us and then we (Snow) went and made pie and then we drove to the zoo! 

Us driving to the zoo

We saw lots of animals including giraffes, cheetahs, pelicans, kangaroos (complete with freaky baby kangaroos upside down inside them) gibbons, a tapir and some lemurs.

We saw three lemurs sitting having a cuddle... then a fourth one arrived... then a fifth... then a sixth! It was Cuddle O'clock in Lemur Town. And then the sixth one started grooming his gentleman parts in front of us... We left them to it... 

Then Snow took us on a tour of Ireland and we went to Garryvoe and Ballycotton and Midleton and Douglas and we had a look at where Rachel Allen has the cooking school in Ballymoloe and we ate some chips and went on a beach and had some tea and it was lovely. And later that night we all got drunkened and sang very loudly and tried to write our own song... which mostly consisted of one liners from the previous few days... it's got 'HIT' written all over it...

Then it was Saturday and we went back into Cork for lunch at Eddie Rockets and a final glimpse in all our favourite haunts before we had to fly home. We were very subdued on the flight, though K-Rob tried to keep my spirits up by telling me about all the wonderful things we shall see in Disney World in a few weeks.

On Sunday, K-Rob and I watched Southend Air Show and oooohed and aaaahhhhed at all the fancy planes and then she left too. So I now had no Snow and no K-Rob. Nightmare! It was especially bad as Snow had been taking brilliant care of us all week and now I had to make my own tea and sandwiches. DISLIKE.

And so here I am. I still need to catch up on Doctor Who and Game of Thrones, as well as knit a laptop and camera case.

And from Wednesday I'll be re-reading all of the HP books and watching the films in prep for the finale. I'll also be doing the 30 Day HP Challenge right here on my blog throughout June, so stay tuned. 

Finally, as a little treat here is a pic of K-Rob sliding down a pole in the play park at the zoo... just you wait until I can get the real pictures up...

One life. No fear.

Addendum: I've just read this back and I used the word 'Sex' a lot... that's the power of the Irish for you. They're a sexy bunch. 

From Stoke to Stockholm

Greetings and Salutations! I am KNACKERED. For the past few weeks I've been indulging in one of my very favourite things to do - MOOCH. I like mooching. I'll pretty much mooch anywhere too. I live for invitations and opportunities to pack a bag and bugger off. Urban Dictionary would have you believe that 'mooching' means taking advantage of someone. WRONG URBAN DICTIONARY. It means 'going for a wander.'  That told you.

Who looks stupid now? You do.

Anyway... so yeah... mooching. On the Tuesday night I went on a brilliant date with two of London's foxiest ladies, the lovely Caitlin and Asma. We watched Your Highness and then went out for waffles and milkshakes. The film was ace, not my usual taste at all but funny as you like. And Rasmus Hardiker is in it! Rasmus Hardiker is currently number one on the LL (Lick List for the uninitiated). He was one of the stars of the zombie film I did a few weeks back and I thought he was yummy. And then he rocked up in Your Highness! Not only did he rock up, but he stole every single damned scene he was in. He was brilliant. And I'm not just saying that because I want to lick him. He's funny and beautiful - my favourite kind. Although, it's hard going to watch the man you currently like best get dry-humped by a minotaur...

Ignore the silly haircut. I promise he's lovely. And talented too. Totally stole the show. 

The following day, whilst still recovering from any and all things involving minotaurs, I hot-footed it to Stoke and spent three glorious days hanging out with Emma G. And Neily B came all the way down from Scotland to see us too! Emma and I drank a lot of wine, fangirled the cast of Merlin and watched Harry Potter. On the Friday, we took Neil out, originally planning to go to a gay bar as Neil had never been to one... sadly after luring us in with Katy Perry and Lady Gaga, the music went all weird and dancey so we staged a revolt and covinced Emma to take us to an indie rock place... where the drinks were 'buy one get one free'. Get in. We danced and talked and it was all very cool. A boy bought me a drink and danced with me. Lovely.

Emma and I pre-clubbing. With a ghost. Definitely a ghost and not sunlight. Ghost. Fact.

Then I nipped into work for a few days before heading off to Sweden! Here's how that happened.

[Twitter]

James: I need an adventure

Me: I'm your woman!

James: Ok... where shall we go?

Me: Don't care as long as we go on a plane

James: When shall we go? Are you free 6th-7th May?

Me: *checks diary and realises that is one of the two weekends she has free before September* YES! 

James: Skype?

Me: YES!

So we went on Skype and decided that seeing as flights to Norway were cheapest, we'd go there. And then there was that awkward moment when you discover that your flights to Norway are actually taking you to Sweden... yeah. 

But it was fine! We figured out the nearest town to the airport was Nyköping and they had a hostel so we booked some rooms. Job done. We flew out on the early-bird flight on the Saturday morning and were there by 9am (after a very tense moment at airport security when I realised I'd misspelled my own name... Fail). We went off and had a look around the town... it was a nice town! So clean and quiet! And I think I can add Nyköping to the list of cities I'm attractive in as EVERYONE stared. I'd noticed I was getting more than my fair share of glances but it was confirmed when James pointed it out too. 

List of places where I am considered attractive:

1. Cork City

2. Nyköping

We had a look in the shops; I bought a copy of Deathly Hallows in Swedish. James and I marvelled at how the TARDIS was translating the book for us... only to realise we weren't suddenly fluent in Swedish but had read it so many times we knew it off by heart. We then went and played mini-golf and I won! Not really. Of course I didn't bloody win. I got my arse handed to me on a plate. But in my defence it was my first ever go. 

Then James chased a goose off a jetty and we sat by the water for a while before deciding to go and check in. And on the way back we saw a bloody Arctic Tern and a hare! An actual hare! It was amazing. I love nature. They have jackdaws over there in the same way we have pigeons. I’d never seen a wild jackdaw before. We then sat by the train tracks for a bit, marvelling at double-decker trains before going up town to some pubs. We had a quick drink in English pub Oliver Twist’s (seriously) followed by one in Cocktails and Dreams and another in a place I’ve forgotten the name of. Then we went to the supermarket and got some beers before heading back to the train tracks to drink them there, James in his hoody. English people are dead classy.

Day two! We got the train to Stockholm and spent the entire journey peering out the window for moose. Sweden have a lot of moose, apparently (at least according to the gift shop at the airport) and we were determined to see one in the wild. We did not. We arrived in Stockholm, had a mooch about by the City Hall and the river and then headed into Gamla Stan (that’s Old Town to you lot). Gamla Stan is NERDTASTIC! Within seconds we’d stumbled across a toy shop, a comic book shop and some underground (literally, in vaults) coffee houses. Out came the Krona… 

An elusive Swedish Moose. You would think having a population of between 300,000 - 400,000 would increase the chances of seeing one. Well, you'd be wrong if you thought that. 

Gamla Stan is a beautiful medieval town, full of windy avenues and tall buildings. It’s so incredibly picturesque and cool that nothing I write here will do justice to it. I could quite happily spend a couple of days just wandering around and stopping for coffee. In fact, I’m going to. We also found the Swedish equivalent of Forbidden Planet and spent a good hour marvelling at stuff. I bought a copy of Ali Shaw’s The Girl With Glass Feet (and my very favourite book) in Swedish and marvelled again at the TARDIS’s ability to translate for me… To celebrate I ate meatballs with cream sauce and lingonberries. Like a native (or someone that visits IKEA regularly. Weirdly, my friends and I used to go to IKEA just for daytrips as we liked it so much. We referred to that as ‘Going to Sweden’. And my bed in the hostel was made by IKEA. Hmmmm…)

Then it was time to get back on the train and head back to Nyköping to get the flight back home. All we wanted was a double-decker train and to see a moose. Well… WE GOT THE TRAIN! We got to sit upstairs on a train speeding through some of the most beautiful countryside on the planet. No moose though. We saw some deer but no moose. Next time…


And then we had a few brief moments back by our train tracks with the last of the beer (which James manfully opened without a bottle opener) before it was time to come home. Sadface. I hate the bit where you have to come home. Luckily, I've learnt that the best way to get over the heartbreak of one adventure ending is to already have another one lined up for the future... more on that later.


And that was my week. Yesterday I met my lovely friend SophieSoph for burritos and margaritas and secret dress-making plans... I've 'commissioned' a dress for Deathly Hallows Part Two and SophieSoph is my master seamstress on this endeavour... but I'll say no more... Spoilers, Sweetie...