*giggles like a 5 year old*

(Sun 27th Nov 2005, 15:16, More)

» The Best / Worst thing I've ever eaten

About a year ago, I went through a period of hardcore student poverty
My boyfriend was unemployed and we were both living off my student loan, which didn't even cover the rent. There was a period of about two weeks where we survived on the contents of our penny jar, so it was Sainsburys basics and plain pasta/rice all the way (top tip - basics frozen sausages, while only about 5% pork, are actually entirely edible when covered with enough ketchup). Times were hard and, since we both do like good food, we were very very miserable.

So with our last 50p, in order to make our 5th consecutive meal of plain rice a little more edible, we went off to the supermarket to get some frozen peas. Cheap, colourful and something that would actually give our food a bit of flavour. When we got home Chris (the boyfriend) was very excited, so I sent him upstairs to get comfy and promised him the meal of a lifetime. Rice AND peas. Luxury. On goes the kettle, rice and salt in the saucepan, boiling water over it, cook for ten minutes. Add the peas, we were all set. And as he raised the fork to his mouth, I saw a little flicker of a smile, and excitement in his eyes. This was going to taste GOOD.

Except I put salt in twice. It was the nastiest, most dehydrating meal I've ever had. And it made my boyfriend cry real tears of misery and disappointment. I've never felt like such a failure as a woman before. This was by far our lowest ebb, everything was ruined and it was all my fault.

The next day he got a call offering him a job, and with his first paycheck we did a proper roast with pork. That was the best meal I ever had (and the masses of soup we got from the leftovers). Times get better kids.
(Thu 26th May 2011, 15:59, More)

» Mix Tapes

I spent most of my formative years making mixtapes
but I rarely made them for other people, they were just for my own pleasure. Mostly because I have the BEST WALKMAN EVER

www.priyascape.com/new_images/IMP/my_first_sony.jpg

I still use it sometimes, but the sound has gone very wobbly now.

The tapes were mostly comprised of britpop, but there was a lot of stuff off the radio too. I spent many an evening pretending to do my homework, poised over the record button, waiting for Mr Peel or Mr Lamacq to announce the latest joy. Happy days, when you felt genuinely involved, and the thrill of discovering a new band meant rushing down to Our Price the next Saturday to spend your hard-earned pocket money.

And then there was the art of the actual mixtape, with CDs and records strewn across your bedroom floor, carefully judging what track follows on best, and how to make the transition from britpop to triphop, and wether you've put too much Blur on or not enough.

And what do we have now? The internet, which makes discovering new music so easy it doesn't seem fun any more. And instant downloads, which take all the tactile joys out of owning tunes, cataloguing them into dull, soulless icons. iTunes, which just creates a playlist for you removing the need for ever listening and involving yourself with the delicate intracacies of ordering and compiling. And the new, glossy, teen-mag NME, which is SO SHITE I COULD SCREAM.

I weep, b3ta. I weep.
(Tue 12th Feb 2008, 14:52, More)

» Stupid Dares

This is hugely embarassing
When I escaped the nuns and first started going drinking in zomgpubs with my girly mates, we used to frequent a pub that had one of those machines selling "furry lovecuffs" and "pocket pleasure vibrators" and the like in the toilets. Being straight out of convent school we naturally found this absolutely hilarious.

(I would like to inform you all here that I KNOW and I have fully grown up now, I promise)

One night after a few too many bubblegum reefs (oh yes) my friends dared me to go investigate and buy one of these pocket pleasure thingies "because I just want to see what it's like, yeah..." and being the drunken over-confident teenager that I was, I said I would. So we all clubbed together and raised the necessary £3 and off I went to make the purchase. Of course, it didn't work, and our £3 was swallowed and gone forever. So they all decide I need to get a refund.

I was very against it at first, but then they all said they would gladly give up the money and let me keep it if I could manage to get a refund. £3 was 20 superkings, or a rather good night in the wetherspoons, and so I was sold. I got to the bar and the conversation went:

Me: "uh...hi, I...ummm....put some money in one of the...umm....machines in...umm..."
Barman: "You put some money in the vibrator machine and it hasn't worked, yeah?"
Me: "Oh, I...umm, yeah, its swallowed my cash"
Barman (obviously amused): "Yes yes, tee hee, how much?"

(This is where I feel like a right bastard, it's still my main drinking place, but teenage bravado kicked in).

Me: "Yeah, umm...well I tried twice, so it was £6"

And it worked! £6 richer and peer group approval, they all thought I was well cool.

Length, girth, I know I pretended otherwise but I didn't really know any better at that age
(Thu 1st Nov 2007, 17:27, More)

» Best Graffiti Ever

Oh god, fantastic.
The subway at the bottom of my road is currently being targeted by an absolutely wonderful being who is plastering it frequently in joy-provoking scentences. Highlights so far have included:

"I am a degraded mosaic"
"Grow! Seriously, do!"
"It is nice to see the sun at this time of year"
"I love my parents"
"Show your children good films"

Every time I'm trudging to work, filled with the horrors of saturday morning, I just have to read the subway wall and it cheers me up no end. Its almost motivational.

More to come as I remember them.
(Thu 3rd May 2007, 17:39, More)

» Family codes and rituals

Also
we used to have family radio evenings. My parents are big on music and made sure my brother and I shared this passion from day one. Every evening, when there was no homework to be done and the weather wasn't nice enough for tennis in the garden, or Saturday afternoons just after lunch, we would sit down in the living room and listen to Steve Lamacq and John Peel. Mostly it just resulted in arguing the merits of certain bands (we were a family divided by indie, especially when my Bro and Mum discovered pirate radio and rave) but occasionally something came on that got us all and we'd sit in silence and just listen. I'll never forget lying on my back, the setting summer sun making patterns on the mottled ceiling, when I first heard Blur (my utter teenage loves, and yes Damon, I'd still marry you).

This tradition died out when I was 16 or so, I had much more important things to do, like go to the pub, but about 6 years later I was having a quiet pint after finishing a shift at the pub when my mum called me up and told me John Peel had passed away. I actually cried, not a lot, but a small tear was shed, and after a strained conversation with the prole sat next to me ("You alright?" "Umm...John Peel's died..." "Who the fuck's John Peel?" ".....") I went home. That evening my Mum, Dad and I sat down and had a family tunes evening, for the first time in years, as a little tribute to the man who made my childhood.

Reading this back I sound monstrously pretentious. Fuck it, I probably am. But those evenings were more of an education to me than anything I ever learned in school, and gave me more respect for my Dads inherent knowledge of all that beats than any teacher. b3ta, play your children good records, it'll mean more than you could ever possibly know.
(Fri 21st Nov 2008, 12:42, More)