Cambridge in 60 Seconds: A city’s identity in jeopardy?

What a lovely, lovely blog….. and with the photos of Cambridge here, I’m even more excited to get there!

RachelK's avatarGlobe Drifting

‘Cambridge has seen many strange sights. It has seen Wordsworth drunk, it has seen Porson sober. I am a greater scholar than Wordsworth and I am a greater poet than Porson. So I fall betwixt and between.’ A. E. Housman

Strapping tour guides in straw hats glide their punts along the turbid waters of the river Cam into the shadows of turreted university buildings guarded by stony replicas of the scholars of old, emerald green grass reaches out resplendently beneath ornate window panes like nature’s royal carpet, willow trees dangle their leafy elbows across the water’s edge and intricately carved limestone bridges stretch from bank to bank like the river’s ancient sleeping servants. Flurries of cyclists with cupcakes in their baskets and book bags on their shoulders blaze past round churches, old museums and fire lit Tudor pubs whose homely seats once welcomed the bottoms of bright-eyed academics such…

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The latest beauty b*llsh*t

So I’ve made an appointment to have my knee-caps shaved because they’re a bit too prominent and they’re ruining the aesthetic of my legs.  Honestly, what’s a girl to with these impractical, protruding bones?

And thinking of impractical protruding bones, I think my ankles are not quite in the right place so in the summer, I’m going to have them relocated a little up and left.  (I have to admit, these are the only two sets of bones that do protrude on my body!)

When I’ve recovered from that, I think it’ll be time to remove all the sweat glands from my person, because getting hot and wet is just inconvenient and more important than that, it’s just so bloody UGLY.

STOP.  STOP IT.  STOP IT NOW!!

I wouldn’t be surprised if some or all of the above already exist OR if they don’t, someone, somewhere is pondering those procedures and deciding how to best market them to an already paranoid and insecure female market.  Especially, it seems, to impressionable, young girls who are fame obsessed followers of many completely unrealistic ideals of beauty, perpetrated by their fave celebs-oh yeah, I’m down with the kids (who have not much to do all day except be personally trained, pummeled, buffed, injected and sliced.)   Forgetting that they have both the time and money for this AND that it goes with the territory.  It’s in the job description.

This week it was reported that a new product, deodorant specifically for under your breasts, is upon us.  Who, who, WHO in the head office of any of the prominent cosmetic companies, in their right mind suggested this, and who said, “bloody hell, brilliant!  Why didn’t we think of that sooner”?

Last month it was thigh gap, two years ago, size zero…… This one in particular, as explained by prominent scientists, means you DON’T ACTUALLY EXIST. And that can’t be good for anyone who thinks that they DO exist.

I’m not saying I’m immune, obviously I’m not, I’m a woman who wants to try and look her best, (look at the list of things I had booked in preparation for Paris!!!) I go to the gym ‘now’, I have things done and buy magic products, of course. (Not boob deodorant, that’s just daft because my boobs smell like roses).  There is a little bit of the feel-good factor involved too, but really, really STOP IT NOW.  Worrying about sweaty tits is just a step too far. No more ridiculous body trends and products to push at young women who should not even be thinking about these things yet and should be enjoying their youth and beauty without feeling inadequate because their thighs touch at the top and they sweat when they play sport.

I’m bored of seeing IT, I’m bored of hearing IT, I’m bored, bored, bored of it.  Really.

Where’s the moob and c*ck spray for men??  Just a question……..

The Independent says

Human beings can smell sickness in others‘.

I could have told them this.  It’s true, proved by the time my sister arrived at my place once, when I was ill and said, “your flat smells of death” and then gave me bananas and Lucozade.

She wasn’t far off the mark, I had pneumonia.

Stats, Stats, wherefore art thou stats

I’m addicted.  I can’t stop.  I keep hitting the refresh button.  I need to see at least ONE more view every second.  I love to see the little flags from all the countries that are reading me (that’s my favourite thing actually), quite interesting viewing these last few days……. and educational to!  I can identify at least 20 now! I need to hit the next target!  I NEEEEeeeeeeedddd to reach 1500.  I want more comments.  I want more likes.  I want you to share me.

I’m Anne and I’m an addict.

Life is all about balance

I'm going HERE!

I’m going HERE!

and so to temper the sombre mood of the first post of today (and after the ‘dog chases chicken’ comedy aside), a little good news to brighten my day.  I’ve just secured my place to go to Cambridge in September to do an intensive course!  (OK, it’s only a week long, but it’s CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY!)

And……… if anybody says, “Yeah, but it’s not Oxford is it.” I will bite them!  And……… if anybody says, “Yeah, but it’s only a week.” I will bite them!

and then….

you wouldn’t believe it, but this crazed dog, chasing a chicken (a CHICKEN, weird I know, where the hell did a chicken come from in the middle of Barcelona), crashed through the middle of the dance, knocking over several people in the middle of a passionate tango and one woman fell backwards into some drapes which came crashing down, which knocked a candle over which set a table on fire……..

But no-one was hurt and in the end everyone laughed.  Hahaha!!!  Crazy times.

(phew, that feels better)

OK, all joking aside

First serious post.  Feels weird.

It’s never a nice thing to see someone you care about so sad and so repentant and unable to fix the pain in their heart.  I know I know, it was great getting gifts and joking about when the boredom would set in, yada yada yada.  And this was all, solely based on his over-dramatic, tantrumy behaviour in the summer.  I really, genuinely believed this new leaf was all for show and he’d be tagging some other poor, unsuspecting  woman along in no time, because he can’t be alone.  Probably also wearing tango-tinted spectacles.

But when he told me yesterday that he’d planned a romantic trip to a cava vineyard for the first of February, the day I finish Dry January, I had to be straight with him…….. There is no us, there is no getting back together,  we’ve been apart as long as we were together, and he gave me the time to well and truly move on.  It wasn’t really the end of the world then, I was p*ssed off sure, (more a bruised ego and dented pride), so it wasn’t so difficult to get past it.  I care about him, of course I do, nothing drastic happened, there was no cheating or beating or anything so terrible.  But the feelings he wants me to have don’t exist now and that IS sad.  For him.  And because he feels so sad, it makes me sad.  I can’t stand to see the people I care about feeling bad, but unfortunately, in this case, there is nothing I can do to help or change it ………..