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.

Make, Do and Mend.

Crafts. That's a thing I do now. And like all the loveliest things, it happened totally by accident. 
Toward the end of last October, I decided it would be fun and nice to hand-make my friends' Christmas presents. I decided on jewellery as it's pretty and shiny and unique and easily tailored to someone's style, taste and personality. Also, my general approach to arts and crafts is more Blue Peter than Women's Institute and at least with jewellery there's less opportunities to sling a load of glitter on something and call it art. I'm not saying you can't, but it's harder to when making jewellery. It has a kind of glamour to it that repels PVA and toilet roll tubes. 

Anyhow... So, I ordered some bits, the plan being to make earrings, necklaces and charm bracelets. I posted a pithy Facebook status about it and cracked on with making it. A few days later, I uploaded some photos, feeling very proud of myself.

My friend Laura commented, saying 'You should have a stall at the Wizarding Winter Fair. You could sell things there.'

'Ok!' said I, ordering more things to make Harry Potter themed items to sell at the fair. I made some of these up and posted photos.

Then another friend asked if they were available to buy.

'Sure!' said I, promptly going to Etsy, setting up a shop and adding my sole ten items to it. 

Do you see how it snowballed? 

I've always been kind of artsy, happy with the making and doing, sitting around making charm bracelets, rosewater perfume in jam jars etc.. When I was at junior school, I was a budding animal rights activist. I spent lunchtimes memorising the Latin names of British wildlife. One of my life-goals was to get arrested for breaking into the Proctor and Gamble animal testing labs and liberating all the animals. I had visions of me in camo, armed with bolt-cutters, brandishing them in the air as I bellowed 'Animals are people too' before being led away, triumphantly in handcuffs.

I digress.

Anyway, I used to make cakes and sell them at break time and then put the money in my Halifax account so my mum could get me a cheque to send to the WWF. Not the World Wrestling Federation, as it was then, but the World Wildlife Fund. I rapidly realised though, that all those ten pences (twenty for fancy ones with icing AND jelly diamonds on) were not going to save the whales any time soon. I needed to do more.

I'd recently learnt to knit, so I decided to employ these new-found skills in my one-girl mission of saving the planet. I spent a weekend knitting squares, to which I then stitched faces and ears and made into keyrings of various animals. These were taken around the local old people's home, where I somehow managed to convince a bunch of blind, slightly senile, octogenarians to part with their pensions for them (fifty pence a pop. I was raking it in. Cha-ching!).

The game was on. Arts and crafts as a way to make money was go. It was heavily aided and abetted by my Nana, who is solely responsible for my love of making stuff. When I was little and used to stay over with her, we'd to spend hours cutting up bits of net curtain and sewing ribbon to it before stuffing it with lavender from her garden. She taught me how to make dolls house furniture from conkers and dolls from clothes-pegs. She taught me how to make clay out of flour and water and salt. She bought me ribbons and glue and paints and pencils and encouraged me to sit and make things. And she loved everything I made.


She broke her arm once and I knitted her this (with hindsight, utterly repulsive) cover for her cast. It was a slime-green frog, with a massive pink tongue and boggly-eyes made from my old gym knickers. Best of all, I lovingly made a fly to sit on its tongue. And she actually liked it. She really, really did. She wore it over the cast and when that came off, it spent the rest of its life sitting on the back of her chair. When she died, I insisted she was buried with it. 

I used to make cards, more than anything else. She always encouraged me to sell them, telling me to take them to shops and see if they'd sell them on. I never thought they were good enough though, so I used to say I preferred to do it for the people I loved. I was right, they weren't very good, not compared to what I do now. But I think she'd be pretty proud of me for finally doing something with all the arty stuff.

Where was I? Right, Etsy shop. So I set one up, added stock, people bought it.

What is this fuckery?

I made more things, got a bit creative. Then people started adding my items to their 'favourites', including them in Treasury Lists. I made a Facebook page to keep people updated on what I was doing. I found a local craft fair to go to. And after that, people started emailing me to ask me if I'd be interested in selling at their fairs.

As of right now, I have four craft fairs coming up in the next four months. My Etsy shop, after having stock in it for almost 5 months, has had 92 sales. It doesn't sound like a lot, and I'm certainly not about to start looking for property in Highgate, but it's a big deal to me. That I make these things and people like them, people want them, is so incredibly brilliant.

I used to sit and read my Ebay feedback if I was feeling a bit low, you know, the stuff like 'A-Star, Excellent Ebayer!' Or 'Perfect, 10 out of 10, come back again soon!'

Now I look at all the things I've made that other people have seen value in too, and I make more of them. It's a lot healthier, I think.

This post came about because last night, I decided to join Tumblr. Not because I desperately want to spend 4 hours a day sharing GIFS with the world, but because it's dawned on me that marketing is kind of essential to keeping this flow of awesome steady. And a lot of the stuff I make, though not all, is inspired by books and films and television. And if there is anything Tumblr knows about, it's what the fandoms are up to. So it seemed like a natural progression. I'll add photos and links to my Etsy shop, tag it appropriately and hopefully drive traffic, from people who might be interested in my stuff, to the shop. It's part marketing tool and part showcase of my hobbies.

And I won't lie, I will reblog pictures of foxes, teacups and narwhals if I see them.

At the moment, I'm in a very complicated relationship with my sewing machine. There are lots of things I want to start making, lace collars and cuffs, detachable Peter Pan collars, bow-ties and garters, that all necessitate, for sanity's sake, being able to use the machine. Except it scares the shit out of me. I may have to employ my usual tactic of getting drunk and having a go on it to break the ice.

It's exciting though, making things. I get so much pleasure from having bits and bobs and putting them together and making new things. I don't know how big it will get, or how big I want it to get. I'm worried all the joy might be sucked out of it if I end up spending all my time trying to keep up with orders, or relying on it as my main income. But for now, it's one of the loveliest parts of my life.

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.

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.

"When I get a little money, I buy books; and if any is left, I buy food and clothes"- Desiderius Erasmus 1466-1536

Books are brilliant, aren't they? Where else, how else, can you travel through time and space and walk alongside the great and the good? Where else can you stand next to a hero as they battle to save the world? Where else can you learn arcane secrets and long forgotten recipes?

Right now, I'm in mourning. I've just finished The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern and it's one of those books where I've regretted finishing it, because I'll never again have the pleasure of reading it for the first time. I'm looking at the cover and I know all the secrets now and I wish I didn't. I wish they were still ahead of me.

I didn't read this book, so much as have an affair with it. I started it and quickly realised that it was something very special. And my behaviour altered accordingly. Instead of sitting reading it nicely, with a cup of tea, I became secretive and sly. I've always been the kind of person who's happier doing stuff once the sun has gone down, but this book turned me nocturnal.

For three nights, I didn't even try and pick it up before 2am. Then, when the house was quiet, when the world was quiet, everyone else in bed with lovers, husbands, teddies or dreams, I'd pick it up. I'd sit in bed with chocolate cherry liqueurs and read it. Devour it. Over three nights, I sat in the dark, in The Night Circus. I watched Celia and Marco's battle, knowing how it had to end, willing it not to. I became a rêveur, following the Circus around the world, my metaphorical red scarf floating behind me on a caramel-apple scented breeze. I marvelled at the Wishing Tree, The Ice Garden, The Contortionist.

And now it's over. And I miss it.

The point of this blog isn't to introduce you to my sordid night-time habits, though I assure you I have many. The point is... Well, books.

When I was little, I genuinely thought I was Matilda. Not least helped by the fact my granddad called me Matilda (whether he thought that was my name or was just being funny is, as yet, undetermined). But I was her! I lived in a bookless house for years! My parents saw no value in reading! They found it amusing when I got lost in a book. 'Ah, she's reading,' they'd say, in the same way someone might say 'She doesn't speak English,' or 'She's in a coma,' when I didn't respond to a request. I had a lovely teacher at school and she encouraged me to read AND join the library. I had an evil headmistress whose sole joy in life seemed to involve reducing children to tears.

Uncanny, isn't it?

All the pieces fit. And never, never did a child spend so much time as I did trying to levitate a piece of chalk. No child ever invested so much mental energy into trying to develop telekinetic powers. I'm not going to lie, I still try it now. Sometimes, I'll look at a pen and will it to come to me. And I still reckon, one day, it will happen.

Books are everything. K-Rob once gave me a pen with 'She found her family in a book,' on it (and I bloody well did). SophieSoph gave me a brooch which reads 'She has read too many books and they have addled her brain,' on it (and it's bloody well true). Books bind people in a way that no other form of media can do. Because no other form of media gives you the freedom to create a world that a book does. A book gives you a little detail and then demands that you imagine the rest. It nudges you towards a place where you can let your mind loose with possibilities. To have a book is to have infinite, glorious potential, the potential to step entirely into another place without ever leaving your home. They are waking dreams.

I'm not, by any stretch, some kind of literary voice of authority either. While I'm a prolific reader, I'm not especially discerning. I like fiction. Pure, whimsical, intangible fiction. When I read, I don't want to learn anything other than what it's like to be somewhere else and see through someone else's eyes. It's a form of escape, a break from my own life when it's not appropriate or convenient to take a nap.

My whole life, I've prized books above almost everything else. I had to stop going into charity shops for a while, because seeing the copies of Harry Potter on the shelves made me sad and I'd be compelled to buy them. I couldn't understand who didn't love them enough to keep them.

I worry about people who don't read. That's not to say I judge them, any more than I expect to be judged because of my point-blank refusal to indulge in sports (I don't do sweat). But I worry they're missing out on a part of the world that they could so easily have, if they would open themselves up to it. I think readers dream bigger than most people, because we're exposed to the idea that the impossible is, in fact, eminently possible if you have enough nerve. Because if you can take some words, a few letters, and arrange them in the right way, you can make magic happen. And in that sense, every book is a spell.

The next book I expect to captivate me is Ali Shaw's 'The Man Who Rained'. I'm actually scared of this book, because I loved his first book, 'The Girl With Glass Feet', so much. Probably too much, if I'm honest. I bought a copy for K-Rob for her birthday last year but didn't feel as though I could part with it. She got her own one, in the end.

There is so much pleasure in books. The smell of new pages, the feel of them in your hands. I fold the corners down on mine, sacrilege to some, but to me it feels right. I don't get sad if I spill tea on them, or open them to find my lap suddenly covered in biscuit crumbs. I use my books and it shows and I love them more for it. I like to see them wrinkled, it feels as though we've grown together. I'm leaving my mark on them, in the same way they've left their marks on me.

We're battle-scarred, me and my books and I wouldn't have it any other way.

For the love of all that's good and great in the world, please don't ever stop reading. Because, to bastardise a popular quote, 'to tire of reading, is to tire of life'. 

In which I attempt to learn a language using Heath Ledger and Television!

Hej! Guess who just got back from Sweden? Well, obviously it’s me or this would be a blog about someone else, in which case I wouldn’t be here. And you shouldn’t be either.

I love Sweden. So much. I’ve spent a lot of time this year screaming ‘GAMLA STAN!’ in a manner usually reserved for bellowing ‘FOR GONDOR!’, if that’s any indicator of how much I like it there. Everyone is just so NICE. They really are. People smile at you in the streets and it’s not a precursor to a stabbing. And the food… so much cheese! And cake! So imagine my joy when I got to go back, only this time to Gothenburg (or ‘Gotham City’, as I like to call it).

Flew out last week with Easyjet, my first experience with them, and I was apprehensive. BUT NO NEED! It turned into my joint-first favourite flight ever. The flight attendants were ace, lovely, cheeky, charming and very whimsical. Not everyone likes a bit of whimsy when they’re 33,000ft up but I’m quite the fan, So thanks to Kevin for the best sales pitch of a bacon roll I’ve ever seen and thanks to Duncan for just being a sweetie. I giggled in an unseemly fashion for most of the flight thanks to them.

We landed and I promptly got us lost in the wrong bit of Sweden. So I texted our Swedish Liason for advice:

Me: Hi! Do we need to get off at Mölndal Centrum?

Elvira: NO! NO! It’s near Elisedal!

Me: TOO LATE! We’ve gone past that! We’ve committed to Mölndal!

Elvira: BUT THAT’S TOO FAR!

Me: It’s ok! It’s an adventure

Mikey: ._.

Eventually we found it, checked in and had some tea before heading into Korsvägen to meet Elvira for dinner. She took us to Skojarbacken, which is a restaurant near the Lorensberg part of Gothenberg. I loved it. I have a thing about quirky and off-the-wall places, I’m not one for chrome and clean lines and this had none of that. It did have a massive stuffed moose, lots of lace, wall-mounted tuxedos and fairy lights. And a disco ball. Perfect. After a delicious dinner, we went on a moonlit tour of Gothenburg before heading back to the hostel for a cup of tea and the Deathly Hallows audiobook.

The following day, we went to the Universeum and got to wander through an aquarium, see an octopus and some sharks, walk over a ray lake, meander through a rainforest, do some horse riding, race a cockroach and try and escape a laser maze. I can’t explain how much fun this was so I suggest you go. Leave your dignity and adult perspective at the door. This is one for your inner-child.
The afternoon brought a quick mooch around Gothenburg (including visits to 7 bookshops) and then Mikey and I went out for an amazing dinner at a local restaurant and got pally with the local mafia. Sorted. Then I took it upon myself to learn Swedish from the telly. Namely, the subtitles on Casanova. Here are my learnings:

Vad? = What?

Adjö = Goodbye

Nej = No

Latrin = Cesspit

Bok = Book

Drag = Pull

Tryck = Push

Bra = Good

More words later…

On Friday… I SAW A MOOSE! We went to a park with seals and penguins and deer and MOOSE!

And we worked out that one British penny = one Knut, and so the amounts of Knuts to Sickles and Sickles to Galleons is not the arbitrary use of random numbers, but something deeper. We should have known. Then we went shopping and on a boat. 

And back to Skojarbackan for dinner, where I ate moose:

Saturday: Mikey, Binbags and I broke into a beach so we could see the sea. This involved walking through a forest, climbing some rocks, scrambling under two fences, climbing more rocks and then finally getting caught by a man whose major concern was that we’d snuck there to kill ourselves. After hasty reassurance, he pointed a window to the sea out to us and left us to our non-suicidal business.

In the evening we went out to Frölunda to watch the Wizard Wrock, where we were treated to acetastic performances by The Pumpkin Pasties, Romilda Vane and the Chocolate Cauldrons, Solitary Snape, Lockharts Beundrarpost, The Deathly Hallows and Siriusly Hazza P, all of whom had the crowd jumping around like nutters. Except for those of us who’d broken into the beach, who were knackered from the law breaking. Instead, we sat down nicely like the X-Factor judges and viewed it. Still danced in my chair though. I also fell hopelessly in love with Solitary Snape. They had me at the immortal line 'Stop biting kids'. I want them to play my wedding.

The next day was Sunday. Home time. I don’t want to talk about that. Except the bit where I was allowed to have a look in the cockpit of the plane. Easyjet rule. It was a den of debauchery in there though, all the controls are called things like 'thrust' and 'flaps'. This made for ten minutes of hilarity and 'that's what she said' jokes as they explained to me how the plane worked. 

Here are some Swedish swearwords I learnt:

Fan  = Fuck

Slampa = Slut/Whore

Sat Mara = Bitch

Fjant = Twat

Din Javel  = You bastard!

Tjenare snygging = Hey good-looking (not a swearword but needed just in case)

And there you have it. Sweden. I love it.

In other news:

I saw Iron and Wine in Shepherd’s Bush and they were amazing;

I booked tickets to go to Leavesden Studios on opening day

I’m going to a Labyrinth Masquerade Ball and film showing next month

I have started making jewellery… whether this turns into a money-making thing is still up in the air but it’s fun.

And that’s all for now.

Are you jealous?

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. 

All parties should end with Riverdance

Well, since my last post I've been mired in a pit of debauchery. Or what passes for debauchery if you're a dork. So you can clear your mind of Byronic orgies and Satanic rituals. A lot of the debauchery involved tea. If you wanted something slightly more R-rated this is not the blog for you.

Last Monday I went over to London to spend some time with my new boss before heading over to my friend Rach's for tea. I would still swear now that my sole intention for the night was to have tea. I really meant it. I got there and Lizzy arrived and we had some tea and it was going nicely to plan. Then Rach mentioned she could make apple Martinis and had the ingredients... after 2 Lizzy and I decided that we should probably stay over... after 4 we decided the best thing to do would be stay up all night and watch films... then the rum came out. Why is it always the rum? We watched Sense and Sensibility, Pirates of the Caribbean, Hot Fuzz and something else and I had a very terrible case of Wizard Food Poisoning the next day. This necessitated sending people to make cups of tea which I couldn't drink and lying about on the sofa til 7pm when I managed to make my way back home.

And then it was Wednesday and I had to pack for Ireland and dye my hair... which finally happened at 1am in the morning because I was mooching on tinterweb and being a tit. When will I learn?

Ireland was ace. I love Cork. It's a brilliant city and it makes me smiley. Amy is also a brilliant host and I have never felt so cared for or welcome in my life; Tea, on the half hour, every half hour, delicious food and a comfy bed. It was bliss. Kylie arrived on the Friday and we got to go to Eddie Rockets for dinner (I have a big thing about diners - I love them) and then we went to Sin e. How I love Sin e. Last year we took up residence in there and spent a good deal of time and Euro there. So it was ace to be back and see how little has changed.

I even got to test my Sin e magic powers out and I've still got it! Last year, it was as though I was the most alluring and foxy creature to have ever existed. If I am attractive nowhere else in the world, I am a Goddess there. My latest conquests were named Padraig and Mumble. No sign of Liam though. Sadface.

Then it was Saturday and party day! We went over to Dunnes stores, which is a bit like what would happen if Marks and Spencers and Primark had a dirty fling and made a baby. It's got all the class (and produce) of a Marks's but with the nice prices of Primark. And a lot less child labour.

Kylie and I were responsible for cocktails and we had a list which was all planned out nicely... until we discovered you cannot buy Cream Soda in Ireland. You can get around 18 different types of lemonade but no Cream Soda. Which was essential for the Butterbeer. We also couldn't get pumpkin for the Pumpkin Juice. So in the end we decided just to use whatever we could find in the liquor cabinet and wing it.

We carried all of the liqour into the kitchen and then had a fun half an hour making cocktails and trying them. We made one called a Black Cat and a very odd kind of Firewhiskey but my favourite was the Chocolate Cauldron, which we made in honour of Amy.

To make your own Chocolate Cauldron you will need:

A jar of Nutella
Some Ice
Kahlua
Baileys

Pour a lot of Baileys and Kahlua into a blender. Add ice. Add three-four heaped tablespoons of Nutella and blend. Pour. Drink.

Trust me, it's nice. And Amy's dad said I could easily forge a career in cocktail making. So there you have it.

The party was brilliant, we were all dressed up as HP characters, I was Moaning Myrtle, Kylie was Lily, Amy was Hermione, Lucy was Luna, Mary was Tonks, Martha was Ginny... I think Aileen was Bellatrix and Amy's sister came as Amy's sister. But she is cool without a costume. We had crudites and fajitas and cake and icecream and meringues that Amy made herself (her meringues were frakking amazing) and then we danced!

Highlights include watching Luna give birth to the creepy Harry Potter doll Kylie had brought (not as creepy as good old Slasher, but creepy enough); everyone bar Martha doing Wuthering Heights and ending the party with Riverdance.

I'm not kidding.

Amy and Martha made us all line up and then do the Riverdance. And I'm not going to lie, we were good. Award winningly good.

Sunday we relaxed for a bit and then headed into town, where I bought PoA in the fancy new covers and sparked a whole plan* for the year. We had the best ever hot chocolate at O'Conaill's (seriously - milk and dark praline ALL THE WAY). We had a curry and then sat up doing jigsaws and chatting til around half 4. New plans were formed and it was all kinds of good.

Then home. Unhappy faces.

I've tried to spend this week being slightly less debauched and slightly more grown up, in preparation for work next week. I can get back to the debauchery after that - the day of Culture! has been planned and it's going to be fun.

So it's been a busy week. Lots of friends and fun and late nights and sleepy mornings and stuff that wasn't in the plan. But that's the best kind of stuff. I reckon, anyway. 

By the way - I also had my very first ever special 'massage' at airport security. The lady who caressed me had very soft hands and she was firm, but gentle. I thought afterwards we might go for dinner or see a movie but I guess it was not to be. I will tell you one thing though - they are bloody thorough.

And also thanks and kudos to Amy's dad who was the sweetest and most generous dad ever - especially when faced with a household of ladies. Ladies who like to sing a lot. He was a true hero.

Lucy as Luna, me as Moaning Myrtle, Kylie as Lily and Martha as Ginny.

*the plan is to buy a copy with a new cover on every adventure I go on - that way I'll collect them all and they'll all have fab memories of crazy times attached.

Halfway out of the darkness... Christmas present

Right now I'm surrounded by all the mementos I've collected this year from my various travels and jaunts. There are loyalty cards for milkshake shacks, luggage tags from San Fransisco, train tickets to Wales, a flyer about Haircuts by Kids from Cork,a leaflet for ghost hunting in Edinburgh, my Snow Ball Golden Ticket, a Night of A Thousand Wizards wristband, a sign proclaiming in very bad French that I'm a loser. Numerous postcards and other train tickets, luggage tags, flyers, stickers, posters and other bits and bobs. The idea was to put them all in a notebook I bought back in Florida in summer but it turns out I've too many memories to fit inside this book. I need a notepad version of a pensieve.

Earlier we covered the resolutions I set myself last year and discovered that I'd not accomplished as many of them as I'd have liked. But this has still been the most amazing year of my life! Tenny has been good to me. Very good. Tenny has taken my life and shaken it all about and left me surrounded by awesome. I am in a snowglobe of awesome.

Here, bullet-pointed for your convenience, are the highlights:

• Climbing and almost falling off a cliff in Wales, all to see a seal
• Beguiling half of the male population of Cork just by existing (Seriously, one guy looked at me as though I was the answer to every question he'd ever had - Lizzy witnessed it too. I was dead popular)
• Watching Emerson Spartz swim rapidly away from a bunch of HH/HG shippers during the poolside screening of HBP in Florida
• Discovering that I could summon A-Carp if shit ever got real
• Discovering that bacon and maple syrup is nice
• Running through a corn maze pretending velociraptors were after me
• Standing on Mt Tam in San Fransisco and watching Turkey Buzzards fly below me
• A snow ball fight in Grey Friars graveyard and using one of my best friends as a human shield
• Helping the HPA win the Chase Community Giving grant, attending the cheque presentation and then in December making a speech at The Snow Ball about the HPA
• Hearing John Green read from Paper Towns in London and getting my copy of Will Grayson, Will Grayson signed
• Going to see Edgar Wright and Joe Cornish have a chat at the BFI in London
• The National History Museum
• Seeing Iron and Wine at Union Chapel
• Scott Pilgrim, Chinese food and air hockey with Steve
• Being kidnapped by Kylie and Matt and the film-that-must-not-be-named
• Watching Ministry of Magic and Harry and the Potters play live
• Everything that has anything to do with The Wizarding World of Harry Potter
• Handing out Valentines Day cards with the UK chapter of the HPA
• My first Thanksgiving dinner
• Leaving Coventry and moving to the seaside
• Sitting on the actual dock of the actual bay and watching the sea lions on Pier 39
• Having a burger, fries and shakes in a genuine diner
• Playing gin rummy and getting drunk with Pris in Old Hat
• Getting a hug from Andrew Slack
• All the art and jewellery Kylie made me
• The magic shop in Oakland
• Going to a 1930s party on a boat on the Thames
• Surprising my mum on Christmas day
• Being Harry, Ron and Hermione, AVPM style, with Emma and Emilie
• Meeting Bevin, James, Kristen, Gini, Eliza, Jonny, Rachael, Ismene and all the new friends I've made this year
• Camping overnight in Leicester Square for the DH premiere... even though I had to wait a month to see the film due to an Unbreakable Vow
• Buying my first wand at Ollivanders and having dinner at The Three Broomsticks
• Wearing a bikini in public and not spontaneously combusting
• Watching (or trying to watch) all three extended versions of LotR in one sitting
• Being the merch girl for HatP, Siriusly Hazza P and Romilda Vane and the Chocolate Cauldrons
• Every minute of The Snow Ball
• The train party on the Hogwarts Express
• Getting a lap dance during Swish and Flick (and later in the year having an 'erotic' dance off courtesy of the same band). 
• A 12 hour train journey back from Scotland all because I had to play the hero

And here are some photos of some of the awesome moments this year has had.

The market in Cork with Lizzy, Kylie and Amy

                                        

 A dance off with Emilie during The Snow Ball 2010

At the Premiere for Deathly Hallows pt 1

 Outside Hogwarts with Lizzy, Emma, Emilie, Bevin and Kylie

 Getting a lap dance during Swish and Flick in Florida

 With Kylie by the sea in Wales

 With Emilie, Asma, Kylie, Lizzy and VoldeMargo and the Deathsticks in London

 With Emilie and Emma in Florida

 Edinburgh <3

All in all it has been the most spectacular year. The only terrible thing to happen was losing my Nana in September. She was my best friend and I miss her so much more as each day passes. But it's kind of for her that I need to try and make next year as awesome as possible. And so I'm going to... and tomorrow we will detail all the things which will make Christmas Future so exciting.