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.

2.8 Hours Later

So, it's been an amazing week. I made a lot of jewellery, bought a sewing machine and spent 2.8 hours last night running through south London from zombies.

2.8 Hours Later is a city-wide game that takes place over the course of 2.8 hours. You, as one of the last surviving members of the human race, are released in a city with a map, complete with grid reference. The object of the game is to find fellow survivors, get their stories and the next grid location, where another survivor and grid location wait for you. You make your way across the map, avoiding the zombies, who are ready, willing and able to attack you until you finally make it to Resistance HQ. If you are tagged by a zombie, you are Infected and you're destined to become one of them.

We arrived at the launch base where we were given our maps and arm-bands. Covering south-east London, from Waterloo East Railway station to Shortwave Films in Bermondsey Sqaure, we had 2.8 hours to travel the 1.5 mile square contamination area. Sounds easy? Wrong.

We were given our first location and began to make our way there. Within two minutes of release, we saw our first zombie, lurking on a corner we had to walk past. We watched some brave souls try and run past, seeing one zombie and then another pelt after them. We turned and ran the opposite way, circumventing the corner and travelling in relative safety. This was to be the pattern for the rest of the night.

We skirted along side streets, running through the alley ways between blocks of flats, sidling down past cars. Every shadow was an enemy, every footfall potential death. What started out as a fun game very quickly became an immersive fight for survival.

We made it to the car-park, our first location, easily locating it from the sounds of shrieks and snarls slashing through the air. The few people passing by looked nervous enough. And they didn't have to go in it.

We had to make our way to Level 14, the very top. The first nine levels via the stairs, the remaining five through the car-park and up the ramps. Every few moments, we'd hear shrieks above us, the fluorescent lighting showing the abject fear on everyone's faces in stark relief. Footsteps and screams echoed around us. We made it, so slowly, up the stairs and out onto level nine. We saw another survivor, hiding behind a pillar. He gestured upwards, indicating one of the Infected was close. We ran over, realising quickly that in such a narrow space, even outnumbering the creature, one of us would be Infected if we tried to take on the zombie. So we climbed the car park, hauling ourselves up over railings and concrete barriers, squeezing through gaps a foot and half wide. In utter silence, save for the snarling. Using this method, we got to the top, quickly locating the sweets we needed to use to bribe the next survivor into telling us where to go.

We began to make our way down the stairwell when from above us came a scream. One of the Infected was inside. We ran, our group separating in a bid for survival. Lee and I climbed our way back down through the car park, not trusting the paths. Finally, after what felt like forever, we were out. We'd made it. Minutes later, Brian hurtled out. He'd made it too.

On the way to the next grid location, we passed a number of pubs, all of which had other armband-clad survivors in them, chugging back drinks, looking shaken and relieved. It was truly harrowing, reality completely suspended. We all genuinely went to a place in which we believed our survival depended on not getting tagged. It was awesome.

We got to the next location easily, a church with a priest chained to the fence outside. We were all veteran enough to know a chained man was not going to be a friend so we kept well back, working hard to coax him into the next location...

The Priest. Even the Infected love Mountain Dew. 

The butcher.

Using our stealth tactics, we came at this one backwards, so were treated to the sight of the zombies waiting stealthily for the unsuspecting survivors to leave the relative safety of the location. We were also warned by those that had made it through that these two were fast and unrelenting. Girding ourselves, we went around and entered the butcher's lair, where a blood spattered man, surrounded by limbs and blood fed us the next location... Before herding us right out onto the street where the two ruthless zombies were waiting. Thankfully, by chance we were in a huge group... and when mob mentality took over it proved useful. The doors had been opened for a few seconds when suddenly everyone was screaming and running blindly, me included. I had no idea where my friends were, where the Infected were. It was just running and screaming. We poured out onto the next street, finally slowing and laughing. We'd made it. Again. But how much longer could our luck hold?

The pub. Sounds nice. Swift pint at the Winchester and wait for it all to blow over? Wrong. We were herded inside a dingy, abandoned pub inhabited by a mad woman with a genre-appropriate pool cue. And when 'Don't Stop Me Now,' started playing, apparently of it's own accord, we knew we were screwed. One of the Infected lurched out from behind the bar. More running. 

Our next stop was to find a wise man on the streets, which we did... (and we bunged him £1.50 for his awesome one-stringed violin skills) and he gave us the next location. To find the Mad Scientist... who had the location of Resistance HQ. If we could make it there, we were safe. We'd come so far, two hours, on foot, in the dark... To get to the Mad Scientist we first had to navigate our way through the Zombie Hen Party, a group of slow moving, staggering, undead chavettes. Who spat at you. We didn't see the one behind the car, pelting madly past her. At the end of the streets we scoured our clothing. 'Did they get you?' we called, inspecting ourselves. 'What about me, my back? Can you see anything?'. Grateful to have once again survived we moved to our next location. The final hurdle before safety. 

Sluts of the Dead. Bringing a whole new meaning to 'Lady of the Night'.

The Mad Scientist stood on a corner, surrounded by the Infected. He beckoned us over, telling us as long as we stayed within 3 metres of him, we'd be safe. I called bullshit but the boys ran over and weren't attacked so I went for it. I did not stay within three metres. I was so close to the man that I may need to do a pregnancy test. Even if he didn't knock me up, he definitely owes me dinner and a movie for services rendered. All the while I was glued to him, a zombie circled, smelling us as the Scientist told us about a serum he'd invented, which made the Infected disinterested. This was how he could stand amongst them and be unhurt. He gave us the location of the Resistance safe-house, where the serum was housed. And then we had to run the gauntlet of the Killing Fields. Between 8 and 12 Infected stood on the narrow street, behind us, 3 more had blocked the way back. We had to run. I was tagged almost immediately, Lee a few moments later as two converged on him. Brian managed to evade them a bit longer but they got him too. We stood and watched a group of 15 tried to run the field too. Only one made it.

We were let into a building, where very scary and bio-suited men screamed at us, herding us into a lift to see if we were Infected. Then we were sent to make-up and then disco!

Your intrepid losers. Luckily, there is still booze in the afterlife. That's a Win in my book.

Honestly, it was hands down one of the best nights of my life. Even on the way back to the car, north of the river we were still unconsciously pausing to peer around side streets and scanning for scrub-clad demons. So much effort and time and planning must have gone into making it. And it was so authentic. The last time I got that involved with a game was playing Jurassic Park in the fields near where I grew up. As a small child. There were genuinely times when I felt my life was at stake, when I forgot I was playing a game. Whether you love zombies, or whether you just fancy a challenge, do it. I can't advocate it highly enough. Today I am shattered, achey and an emotional wreck. But I'd do it again tomorrow if I could.

It was the very best way to celebrate Halloween...
... Much aided by the fact we got home and Jules had made a Pumpkin Pie and there was a bottle of red for me. No brains though.