This might sound like a bit of a harsh question, but does anyone actually care about the upcoming Royal Wedding between Prince William and Kate Middleton? Don't get me wrong, if they're happy and in love then I wish them both a wonderful day and a lifetime of happiness together, but no more than any other young couple getting hitched. I do genuinely wonder if I am actually supposed to care a bit more though?
When there have previously been big royal events like weddings, funerals, coronations, etc, people have been waiting outside churches for days before the ceremony and lining the streets the cars will drive through en route. Those who don't live close enough to actually go and physically be a part of the main event have instead been glued to the television to watch all the action (or lack thereof) unfold. And it's not just in the UK. I happened to be on holiday in Spain in May 2004 when Prince Felipe married Princess Letizia and everyone, be they the Spanish staff or tourists who barely knew how to say "hola", seemed to be transfixed by the televisions in the bar throughout the whole day. Royal fever had everybody gripped. I just remember glancing at the screen, thinking "flip, he looks a bit nervous" and then nipping back out to the pool.
Am I abnormal in my nonchalance? I just don't really get the attraction of watching two people I don't know get married, even if they are famous and important. I have no interest in how much the rings cost, how big the cake is or who designed the wedding dress. That said, such things clearly do become part of pop culture, since I wasn't even born when Prince Charles and Princess Diana tied the knot in 1981 and I have no interest in fashion designers whatsoever and yet even I know that the Emanuels (whoever they may be) designed her dress.
Perhaps I should just submit to societal pressure and spend the day watching the whole rigmarole on TV like everyone else will be, if only so I can join in the inevitable conversations about it and actually understand the jokes and comments comedic pundits will undoubtedly make about the big day. Or maybe I'll just glean the basics from the BBC website and spend the day doing something actually fun. I would like to buck the trend and go with the latter but when people ask me, maybe ten years from now, "Awww do you remember the royal wedding? Wasn't it a lovely day?", it would be a bit rubbish to say, "Actually I have no idea - I slept in and then went to look at shoes and drink coffee in Starbucks that day instead." Also I'm getting a day off work because of it, so am I therefore morally obligated to spend the day as per its actual purpose?
I suppose for now I'll keep my options open and see if wedding fever strikes me on the run-up to the big day. Knowing me I'll swing from utter ambivalence to sipping sparkling wine on the sofa all day, getting steadily drunk, whilst wearing my own wedding dress and cheering them on up the aisle. Now actually, that sounds like a plan...
Friday, 25 March 2011
Thursday, 24 March 2011
Roll out the red carpet… it's back!
Around this time last year I recall having great craic with the Yorkshireman and our closest friends at the Belfast Film Festival. We went to watch a hugely cheesy horror film on the Lagan boat, we smirked at people being spanked and singing about Dick (and Tom and Harry too of course) in 1953's Kiss Me Kate at the Strand Cinema in the East of the city and we double facepalm failed at the film quiz at the Queen's Film Theatre. It was all great fun. Well, except for the last part. Feeling really stupid kinda sucks. But anyway! It’s back! Yes, the Belfast Film Festival has returned with a whole new programme of events for 2011.
I'll be honest, I'm not really "into" films. I much prefer a slow-burner of a story where you get to know the characters really well, so books and TV series are really more my thing. That said if the plot is interesting enough it's a decent way to spend a couple of hours. I'm also a creature of darkness and hiss at bright lights, so any excuse to sit in a blackened room is greatly appreciated. However the plot thing is crucial. I cannot abide all the arty films about things I don't care about or people I don't know. I know, I know, I'm a philistine. Meh. I also cannot abide violence, even if it's supposedly integral to the plot. I've been told I should give certain movies along these themes a chance but I only get one life and I'm not spending hours of it watching people wonder about the reason for their existence or shoot each other. I already begrudge the time I wasted watching Reservoir Dogs (seriously though, why?!) and Apocalypse Now (not even Martin Sheen could save that one for me).
Bearing this in mind, and also bearing in mind that a film festival is inevitably going to be aimed at the arty crowd who appreciate subtlety and nuances and *yawn* all that jazz, my choices were already fairly narrowed down for me. It was simply a matter of going through and seeing what looked like fun and I am now the proud owner of tickets to three events. There were a couple more I would have gone to but the times sadly didn't suit. As it turns out, the Yorkshireman and I have somewhat different opinions on what "looked like fun" not to mention different schedules, so we'll each be abandoning the other in pursuit of culture on a couple of occasions. It all kicks off next week and I'm really looking forward to enjoying a little razzle dazzle. Now just to source some costumes… well, if you're going to do something, you damn well do it right!
I'll be honest, I'm not really "into" films. I much prefer a slow-burner of a story where you get to know the characters really well, so books and TV series are really more my thing. That said if the plot is interesting enough it's a decent way to spend a couple of hours. I'm also a creature of darkness and hiss at bright lights, so any excuse to sit in a blackened room is greatly appreciated. However the plot thing is crucial. I cannot abide all the arty films about things I don't care about or people I don't know. I know, I know, I'm a philistine. Meh. I also cannot abide violence, even if it's supposedly integral to the plot. I've been told I should give certain movies along these themes a chance but I only get one life and I'm not spending hours of it watching people wonder about the reason for their existence or shoot each other. I already begrudge the time I wasted watching Reservoir Dogs (seriously though, why?!) and Apocalypse Now (not even Martin Sheen could save that one for me).
Bearing this in mind, and also bearing in mind that a film festival is inevitably going to be aimed at the arty crowd who appreciate subtlety and nuances and *yawn* all that jazz, my choices were already fairly narrowed down for me. It was simply a matter of going through and seeing what looked like fun and I am now the proud owner of tickets to three events. There were a couple more I would have gone to but the times sadly didn't suit. As it turns out, the Yorkshireman and I have somewhat different opinions on what "looked like fun" not to mention different schedules, so we'll each be abandoning the other in pursuit of culture on a couple of occasions. It all kicks off next week and I'm really looking forward to enjoying a little razzle dazzle. Now just to source some costumes… well, if you're going to do something, you damn well do it right!
Tuesday, 22 March 2011
The wheels on the bus
I have always been an advocate of public transport, especially for those who live and work on a main arterial route into a city. Everyone knows the reasons why they should get the bus to work: less cars on the road means less fumes to slowly choke the world; less traffic on the roads means fewer jams and delays; being more active walking to and from the bus stop; it's cheaper than driving; no need to find a parking space in an overcrowded city centre… the list goes on. And yet most people stick to their car.
The government are constantly pushing for more people to stop using their cars and start using sustainable public transport. The Department for Regional Development has just begun a public consultation on their revised Regional Transportation Strategy and public transport is a running theme throughout, with the phrase itself appearing 71 times in the 61 page document. However I think they've nailed the crux of the matter on the head when they say, "we cannot expect transport users to change to a perceived inferior choice simply because it is best for the region or environment" (page 19 of the consultation document).
I must admit that I never really understood people's reluctance to travel by public transport more often, especially when they live on a main route with a bus stop practically outside their front door - I just put it down to sheer laziness and stubborness - but over the last year or so I have been gradually turning into a grumpy old woman (at the age of 27) and quite frankly I'm starting to get it. Not quite the direction DRD were hoping public opinion would swing in I imagine.
My biggest pet peeve is when people play music from their mobile phones out loud on the bus. NOBODY wants to hear your music, let alone if they've been at work all day and have a mild headache coming on - use headphones you selfish sonofabitch! However it's becoming more frequent now to the point where I'm actually relieved when I get on a bus and am greeted with nothing but the sound of the mummies on the bus going chatter, chatter, chatter (all day long). And it unfortunately has a knock-on effect because, in order to combat this blatant invasion of our ears, more people have started wearing their headphones on the bus and listening to their own music to drown out the unwanted noise pollution. That's fine, except when they then turn their volume up really loud, and then all you can hear is, "tssshhhh tssshhhh tssshhhh tssshhhh" at different volumes and tempos coming from all around you. I'm not great at coping with more than one noise at once so this actually pains me. Increasingly the thought now comes to me that if I had a car I would only have to listen to what I wanted to listen to.
On Friday I was on my way home on the bus and as I sailed by the stop before mine, I pressed the button to ring the bell. It didn't work but I figured, hey, no biggie, that happens all the time, and walked to the front of the bus with plenty of time to spare and waited for it to stop. It didn't. The bus driver had clearly not noticed me standing there but when I said "sorry this stop please" he had the audacity to actually (and obviously) ignore me. So I said it a little (ok, a lot) louder. Essentially what followed was an argument whereby the jackass driver refused to stop the bus until the stop after mine because it was (clearly) my fault that the bell was broken and that he hadn't been paying sufficient attention to notice someone standing about two feet away from him and I said I was going to report him for being a complete bastard. I sent an email to Translink reporting his ridiculous behaviour and rude attitude and apparently it has been "passed to the relevant department". I hope he gets a bollocking. Increasingly the thought now comes to me that if I had a car I would be able to alight from my vehicle where I wanted to and without an earful of abuse from someone who clearly hates their job.
A few months ago I got on the bus and sat on a seat at the front of the top deck. After a few seconds I noticed there was a strange smell. After a few more seconds I realised my jeans were damp. To this day I have no idea what was on that seat - just that it was wet and smelled bad. I was heading to my mum's for the evening and facing a night of sitting around in smelly, wet jeans, I got off the bus at Asda Living to buy emergency pyjamas to wear instead. There are often strange smells on the buses, similar to body odour, which are not pleasant. Thankfully unexplained wet patches are a little rarer but evidently not as absent as I would like. Increasingly the thought now comes to me that if I had a car I would at least know what any random damp patches or smells were, if not avoid them altogether, and I wouldn't have to spend my hard-earned money on emergency clothing.
At the weekend I had just finished a long workout at the gym and had made my way to the bus stop to go home. It was a Sunday afternoon in the city centre, when all the shops were open, and I was aiming to get a bus going down one of the busiest roads in/out of the city centre. I had to wait 15 minutes… and I was glad it was such a "short" waiting time because on Sunday evenings after the gym the Yorkshireman and I have often been faced with waits of 25 minutes or more… for a 10 minute bus journey! Yesterday morning I arrived at the bus stop just after three buses had gone sailing past. It was 7:56am. There was one due at 7:58am, but this was one that I had just seen go by. The next was due at 8.05am and the one after at 8.12am. At 8.13am I got on a bus. That's 17 minutes of standing at a bus stop and not earning flexi time at work. It also meant I missed my connecting bus in town, which meant I arrived in work 25 minutes later than usual. I lost 25 minutes of working time because one bus was slightly early (fair enough I suppose) and another was almost 10 minutes late (not fair enough). Increasingly the thought now comes to me that if I had a car I would be able to leave whenever I was ready, not when a bus decides to rock up.
So even though I know all the reasons why I should use public transport, I increasingly find myself tempted by advertisements for driving lessons. I don't think I will learn to drive right now, but increasingly that choice has less to do with my scruples about the environment and more to do with the cost of lessons, tests, a car, road tax, insurance, petrol, etc. So, Minister Murphy, you're right, public transport is a "perceived inferior choice", even for those of us committed to using it - I'll be intrigued to see what changes actually come out of this consultation to change my mind back again.
The government are constantly pushing for more people to stop using their cars and start using sustainable public transport. The Department for Regional Development has just begun a public consultation on their revised Regional Transportation Strategy and public transport is a running theme throughout, with the phrase itself appearing 71 times in the 61 page document. However I think they've nailed the crux of the matter on the head when they say, "we cannot expect transport users to change to a perceived inferior choice simply because it is best for the region or environment" (page 19 of the consultation document).
I must admit that I never really understood people's reluctance to travel by public transport more often, especially when they live on a main route with a bus stop practically outside their front door - I just put it down to sheer laziness and stubborness - but over the last year or so I have been gradually turning into a grumpy old woman (at the age of 27) and quite frankly I'm starting to get it. Not quite the direction DRD were hoping public opinion would swing in I imagine.
My biggest pet peeve is when people play music from their mobile phones out loud on the bus. NOBODY wants to hear your music, let alone if they've been at work all day and have a mild headache coming on - use headphones you selfish sonofabitch! However it's becoming more frequent now to the point where I'm actually relieved when I get on a bus and am greeted with nothing but the sound of the mummies on the bus going chatter, chatter, chatter (all day long). And it unfortunately has a knock-on effect because, in order to combat this blatant invasion of our ears, more people have started wearing their headphones on the bus and listening to their own music to drown out the unwanted noise pollution. That's fine, except when they then turn their volume up really loud, and then all you can hear is, "tssshhhh tssshhhh tssshhhh tssshhhh" at different volumes and tempos coming from all around you. I'm not great at coping with more than one noise at once so this actually pains me. Increasingly the thought now comes to me that if I had a car I would only have to listen to what I wanted to listen to.
On Friday I was on my way home on the bus and as I sailed by the stop before mine, I pressed the button to ring the bell. It didn't work but I figured, hey, no biggie, that happens all the time, and walked to the front of the bus with plenty of time to spare and waited for it to stop. It didn't. The bus driver had clearly not noticed me standing there but when I said "sorry this stop please" he had the audacity to actually (and obviously) ignore me. So I said it a little (ok, a lot) louder. Essentially what followed was an argument whereby the jackass driver refused to stop the bus until the stop after mine because it was (clearly) my fault that the bell was broken and that he hadn't been paying sufficient attention to notice someone standing about two feet away from him and I said I was going to report him for being a complete bastard. I sent an email to Translink reporting his ridiculous behaviour and rude attitude and apparently it has been "passed to the relevant department". I hope he gets a bollocking. Increasingly the thought now comes to me that if I had a car I would be able to alight from my vehicle where I wanted to and without an earful of abuse from someone who clearly hates their job.
A few months ago I got on the bus and sat on a seat at the front of the top deck. After a few seconds I noticed there was a strange smell. After a few more seconds I realised my jeans were damp. To this day I have no idea what was on that seat - just that it was wet and smelled bad. I was heading to my mum's for the evening and facing a night of sitting around in smelly, wet jeans, I got off the bus at Asda Living to buy emergency pyjamas to wear instead. There are often strange smells on the buses, similar to body odour, which are not pleasant. Thankfully unexplained wet patches are a little rarer but evidently not as absent as I would like. Increasingly the thought now comes to me that if I had a car I would at least know what any random damp patches or smells were, if not avoid them altogether, and I wouldn't have to spend my hard-earned money on emergency clothing.
At the weekend I had just finished a long workout at the gym and had made my way to the bus stop to go home. It was a Sunday afternoon in the city centre, when all the shops were open, and I was aiming to get a bus going down one of the busiest roads in/out of the city centre. I had to wait 15 minutes… and I was glad it was such a "short" waiting time because on Sunday evenings after the gym the Yorkshireman and I have often been faced with waits of 25 minutes or more… for a 10 minute bus journey! Yesterday morning I arrived at the bus stop just after three buses had gone sailing past. It was 7:56am. There was one due at 7:58am, but this was one that I had just seen go by. The next was due at 8.05am and the one after at 8.12am. At 8.13am I got on a bus. That's 17 minutes of standing at a bus stop and not earning flexi time at work. It also meant I missed my connecting bus in town, which meant I arrived in work 25 minutes later than usual. I lost 25 minutes of working time because one bus was slightly early (fair enough I suppose) and another was almost 10 minutes late (not fair enough). Increasingly the thought now comes to me that if I had a car I would be able to leave whenever I was ready, not when a bus decides to rock up.
So even though I know all the reasons why I should use public transport, I increasingly find myself tempted by advertisements for driving lessons. I don't think I will learn to drive right now, but increasingly that choice has less to do with my scruples about the environment and more to do with the cost of lessons, tests, a car, road tax, insurance, petrol, etc. So, Minister Murphy, you're right, public transport is a "perceived inferior choice", even for those of us committed to using it - I'll be intrigued to see what changes actually come out of this consultation to change my mind back again.
Saturday, 26 February 2011
Coffee: the finest organic suspension ever devised
Title quote attributed to Captain Kathryn Janeway, Star Trek Voyager
My darling husband and I have a lot in common. We like the same foods, we love a good bottle of vodka, we both enjoy travelling to places we've never been before... heck, we both even have an unabashed adoration of Star Trek. But if there is one difference between us, it is the love of a good cup of coffee. The Yorkshireman cannot stand the stuff whereas I cannot get through a day without it. Mentally scarred by the horror stories about the negative effects of caffeine that circulate every so often when there's a slow health news day, I've recently switched to decaff for the majority of my never-ending trips back and forth to the kettle, but when I'm out at a coffee shop it's generally fully-caffeinated espresso-based beverages all the way!
And boy do I love those coffee shops! Personally I blame the TV show Friends - you see a group of great mates having a laugh with their lattés in a laid back spot like Central Perk and it looks like so much fun. Yes, maybe I too can be a trendy, twenty-something city-dweller, sipping my way through a cup of joe on a slightly worn, comfortable sofa whilst sharing in the highs and lows of my similarly trendy, twenty-something, city-dwelling friends' lives and watching other trendy city-dwellers stop in for a takeaway cappucino and a muffin on their way to somewhere no doubt fabulously exciting.
In reality at 5.30pm in the Starbucks at Corn Market it tends to be grammar school children with more pocket money than sense, screeching at each other about who said what on Facebook over their strawberry frappacinos with whipped cream, or exhausted-looking 9-5 office workers seeking a few minutes' respite and a quick pick-me-up on their way home from work. But yet coffee shops are still one of my favourite places to spend time.
I love the smell for one thing (funny since that's the Yorkshireman's main objection to said establishments); the richness of the roast beans brewing away, the comforting smell of paninis being toasted and the sweetness of the array of tempting baked goods invariably available all combine in a delicious, heady concoction that just epitomises a coffee shop.
The décor and furnishings can be hit or miss though and really, apart from how the coffee tastes, this is a major consideration when you're deciding which coffee shop suits your mood at that particular time. Can you cope with a crowd or do you want some peace and quiet? Do you need the comfort of a big sofa or armchair, or will a hard wooden chair suffice? Are you planning on hanging out for a while with a group of friends or are you just dropping in for a quick caffeine burst solo?
Starbucks has just about the right combination of minimalism, art and comfort for my liking most of the time, not to mention sufficient space to allow me to sip my way through my coffee and read my book without being too disturbed by the aforementionned screeching teens or the loudly complaining yummy mummies ignoring their bawling infants. Indeed the Victoria Square branch seems to have the same ambience but yet a different demographic entirely, usually being full of students telling more and more elaborate tales in an attempt to garner their companions' approval, or young professionals gossiping about colleagues or meeting their other half for a civilised coffee before heading out on a date night.
I also quite like Red Berry on Royal Avenue for its minimalist décor and people-watching bar upstairs; space isn't exactly its strong point but it makes the most of the little it does have. Even the Yorkshireman quite liked this one when I forced him to join me there for a much-needed caffeine hit early one morning, although I suspect that was more to do with the yummy BLT he ordered.
Grand Central (formerly Roast back in my early coffee-shop-frequenting days, fondly remembered by me as one of Belfast's first "real" coffee houses) is probably the closest to Central Perk from Friends. None of the furniture matches, but yet it all goes together. The décor seems to be based on the home of a world traveller with a penchant for the 1960s and the ambience is so chilled out you could happily sink into one of the comfy sofas and put the world to rights for a few hours. Their food is pretty good too - lots of homemade yumminess to tempt you. I really must try that lemon cake sometime... *drool*
The most elaborate café I've been to recently is probably the Harlem Café on Bedford Street - so many details in the décor but yet it just manages to escape being too busy. It's a shame the same can't be said for the café itself at lunchtime - it would be a lovely place to just chill out for a while but in reality you're lucky to get a tall chair at the shared table near the door if it's only coffee you're after.
The strangest little place I've sipped an americano lately is Café Avoca on Bedford Street, not to be confused with the café in the Avoca shop on Arthur Street, which I hear is to die for but I haven't gotten around to visiting yet. This non-Avoca Café Avoca just seemed very cold, hard and unwelcoming, even though the coffees I had there one snowy day and the staff who served me were all lovely.
In a complete juxtaposition the Little Cupcake Café next door has managed to transform a similar space into a warm and colourful wonderland with its delicious-looking cupcake displays in the window and Ikea chic décor inside.
Oscar's Champagne Café is another little oddity. It looks quite upmarket from the outside, and the name certainly implies sophistication, but on the inside it's relatively stark and feels like a strange mix between a greasy spoon café and a bar. Hard to describe but the outdoor area certainly seems popular with the forty-and-fifty-something crowd when I go by anyway. Perhaps it's just not my kind of place.
Café Revive on the top floor of M&S on Donegall place, on the other hand, I really like. The décor is simple and clean and whilst it feels pretty much like any other department store café at first, it has the added bonus of a long table along the window where you can while away your time drinking your filter coffee staring down at the people passing by on the street outside (often confused-looking tourists looking for the Belfast Visitor's Centre across the road - "It's up the escalator peeps! Behind you!").
I could go on and on about coffee shops in Belfast - it seems like there's a new one opening every month and there were plenty to start off with. Not that I'm complaining - I like the variety of choices available to me when I feel the coffee calling to me with its rich, smooth siren song. There are all the usual chains (Starbucks, Clements, Costa, Nero, Streat, etc) as well as the smaller more individual shops and personally I like to have the mix. Where I go depends on what I'm in the market for and what mood I'm in. For instance I can't stand Clements' coffee but their food is divine so I will occasionally pay them a visit. Bizarely I think the nicest cup of coffee is actually from the Caffè Ritazza in Asda Living at City Side Mall and that isn't exactly the first coffee shop that would spring to mind if someone asked for a recommendation.
However all this talk of coffee has made me thirsty so I shall be taking a little trip to the kettle now. Unfortunately it's only instant decaff but I may very well find myself in Starbucks after work on Monday. One tall filter coffee with room for milk to sit in please, friendly barrista - my addiction needs to be fed...
My darling husband and I have a lot in common. We like the same foods, we love a good bottle of vodka, we both enjoy travelling to places we've never been before... heck, we both even have an unabashed adoration of Star Trek. But if there is one difference between us, it is the love of a good cup of coffee. The Yorkshireman cannot stand the stuff whereas I cannot get through a day without it. Mentally scarred by the horror stories about the negative effects of caffeine that circulate every so often when there's a slow health news day, I've recently switched to decaff for the majority of my never-ending trips back and forth to the kettle, but when I'm out at a coffee shop it's generally fully-caffeinated espresso-based beverages all the way!
And boy do I love those coffee shops! Personally I blame the TV show Friends - you see a group of great mates having a laugh with their lattés in a laid back spot like Central Perk and it looks like so much fun. Yes, maybe I too can be a trendy, twenty-something city-dweller, sipping my way through a cup of joe on a slightly worn, comfortable sofa whilst sharing in the highs and lows of my similarly trendy, twenty-something, city-dwelling friends' lives and watching other trendy city-dwellers stop in for a takeaway cappucino and a muffin on their way to somewhere no doubt fabulously exciting.
In reality at 5.30pm in the Starbucks at Corn Market it tends to be grammar school children with more pocket money than sense, screeching at each other about who said what on Facebook over their strawberry frappacinos with whipped cream, or exhausted-looking 9-5 office workers seeking a few minutes' respite and a quick pick-me-up on their way home from work. But yet coffee shops are still one of my favourite places to spend time.
I love the smell for one thing (funny since that's the Yorkshireman's main objection to said establishments); the richness of the roast beans brewing away, the comforting smell of paninis being toasted and the sweetness of the array of tempting baked goods invariably available all combine in a delicious, heady concoction that just epitomises a coffee shop.
The décor and furnishings can be hit or miss though and really, apart from how the coffee tastes, this is a major consideration when you're deciding which coffee shop suits your mood at that particular time. Can you cope with a crowd or do you want some peace and quiet? Do you need the comfort of a big sofa or armchair, or will a hard wooden chair suffice? Are you planning on hanging out for a while with a group of friends or are you just dropping in for a quick caffeine burst solo?
Starbucks has just about the right combination of minimalism, art and comfort for my liking most of the time, not to mention sufficient space to allow me to sip my way through my coffee and read my book without being too disturbed by the aforementionned screeching teens or the loudly complaining yummy mummies ignoring their bawling infants. Indeed the Victoria Square branch seems to have the same ambience but yet a different demographic entirely, usually being full of students telling more and more elaborate tales in an attempt to garner their companions' approval, or young professionals gossiping about colleagues or meeting their other half for a civilised coffee before heading out on a date night.
I also quite like Red Berry on Royal Avenue for its minimalist décor and people-watching bar upstairs; space isn't exactly its strong point but it makes the most of the little it does have. Even the Yorkshireman quite liked this one when I forced him to join me there for a much-needed caffeine hit early one morning, although I suspect that was more to do with the yummy BLT he ordered.
Grand Central (formerly Roast back in my early coffee-shop-frequenting days, fondly remembered by me as one of Belfast's first "real" coffee houses) is probably the closest to Central Perk from Friends. None of the furniture matches, but yet it all goes together. The décor seems to be based on the home of a world traveller with a penchant for the 1960s and the ambience is so chilled out you could happily sink into one of the comfy sofas and put the world to rights for a few hours. Their food is pretty good too - lots of homemade yumminess to tempt you. I really must try that lemon cake sometime... *drool*
The most elaborate café I've been to recently is probably the Harlem Café on Bedford Street - so many details in the décor but yet it just manages to escape being too busy. It's a shame the same can't be said for the café itself at lunchtime - it would be a lovely place to just chill out for a while but in reality you're lucky to get a tall chair at the shared table near the door if it's only coffee you're after.
The strangest little place I've sipped an americano lately is Café Avoca on Bedford Street, not to be confused with the café in the Avoca shop on Arthur Street, which I hear is to die for but I haven't gotten around to visiting yet. This non-Avoca Café Avoca just seemed very cold, hard and unwelcoming, even though the coffees I had there one snowy day and the staff who served me were all lovely.
In a complete juxtaposition the Little Cupcake Café next door has managed to transform a similar space into a warm and colourful wonderland with its delicious-looking cupcake displays in the window and Ikea chic décor inside.
Oscar's Champagne Café is another little oddity. It looks quite upmarket from the outside, and the name certainly implies sophistication, but on the inside it's relatively stark and feels like a strange mix between a greasy spoon café and a bar. Hard to describe but the outdoor area certainly seems popular with the forty-and-fifty-something crowd when I go by anyway. Perhaps it's just not my kind of place.
Café Revive on the top floor of M&S on Donegall place, on the other hand, I really like. The décor is simple and clean and whilst it feels pretty much like any other department store café at first, it has the added bonus of a long table along the window where you can while away your time drinking your filter coffee staring down at the people passing by on the street outside (often confused-looking tourists looking for the Belfast Visitor's Centre across the road - "It's up the escalator peeps! Behind you!").
I could go on and on about coffee shops in Belfast - it seems like there's a new one opening every month and there were plenty to start off with. Not that I'm complaining - I like the variety of choices available to me when I feel the coffee calling to me with its rich, smooth siren song. There are all the usual chains (Starbucks, Clements, Costa, Nero, Streat, etc) as well as the smaller more individual shops and personally I like to have the mix. Where I go depends on what I'm in the market for and what mood I'm in. For instance I can't stand Clements' coffee but their food is divine so I will occasionally pay them a visit. Bizarely I think the nicest cup of coffee is actually from the Caffè Ritazza in Asda Living at City Side Mall and that isn't exactly the first coffee shop that would spring to mind if someone asked for a recommendation.
However all this talk of coffee has made me thirsty so I shall be taking a little trip to the kettle now. Unfortunately it's only instant decaff but I may very well find myself in Starbucks after work on Monday. One tall filter coffee with room for milk to sit in please, friendly barrista - my addiction needs to be fed...
Sunday, 13 February 2011
Team AntiCupid
I'll just put it right out there: I hate Valentine's Day. Hate it. "Oh but it's such a sweet, romantic day and the perfect excuse to show someone you love them!" Bollocks. It's an excuse for the likes of Hallmark and Cadbury to make some money between Christmas and Easter. It's an excuse for people not to express love and affection for their other half except when a predetermined special occasion tells them to. For me, it's an excuse to stay inside and lock the door.
Why so bitter? It can't just be an objection to commercialism, otherwise why go all in for Halloween, which is about scaring people (sadism?), or St Patrick's Day, which is basically about getting drunk (woohoo!)? Well, it's not entirely, although I do genuinely feel saddened by the knowledge that there are people out there who only tell their partner that they love them when society says that it's acceptable to do so rather than every single day. For me, Valentine's Day is an entirely more sinister affair...
You see, without going into great detail, every time the Yorkshireman and I have attempted to celebrate Valentine's Day in the past, someone has inevitably been maimed or injured. Examples include an emergency operation (exchanging cards through a haze of anesthesia - how romantic!) and a very bad diagnosis for a family member (leaving a romantic movie halfway through to take that call made the day all the more special!). Quite frankly I'm surprised neither of us has been run over by a bus yet. And so as time has gone by, the Yorkshireman and I, both fairly romantic souls at the best of times, have shunned Valentine's Day and the horror that comes with it.
It was therefore with interest that I read this Wikipedia article on AntiCupid. I have long suspected Cupid was evil but this perhaps makes more sense, especially if AntiCupid has taken to maiming the body as well as eating the soul.
And so, for me, February 14th is just that - another day in the middle of February, all the worse this year for having the audacity to also be a Monday. Should you receive a dozen red roses, a romantic dinner or a cute cuddly toy from your beloved tomorrow, I wish you well and hope that you feel cherished and loved. As for me, the phrase "Happy Valentine's Day!" will not pass my lips and I'll be double-checking for Acme anvils and pianos hanging precariously out of upper windows on my way to work.
Why so bitter? It can't just be an objection to commercialism, otherwise why go all in for Halloween, which is about scaring people (sadism?), or St Patrick's Day, which is basically about getting drunk (woohoo!)? Well, it's not entirely, although I do genuinely feel saddened by the knowledge that there are people out there who only tell their partner that they love them when society says that it's acceptable to do so rather than every single day. For me, Valentine's Day is an entirely more sinister affair...
You see, without going into great detail, every time the Yorkshireman and I have attempted to celebrate Valentine's Day in the past, someone has inevitably been maimed or injured. Examples include an emergency operation (exchanging cards through a haze of anesthesia - how romantic!) and a very bad diagnosis for a family member (leaving a romantic movie halfway through to take that call made the day all the more special!). Quite frankly I'm surprised neither of us has been run over by a bus yet. And so as time has gone by, the Yorkshireman and I, both fairly romantic souls at the best of times, have shunned Valentine's Day and the horror that comes with it.
It was therefore with interest that I read this Wikipedia article on AntiCupid. I have long suspected Cupid was evil but this perhaps makes more sense, especially if AntiCupid has taken to maiming the body as well as eating the soul.
And so, for me, February 14th is just that - another day in the middle of February, all the worse this year for having the audacity to also be a Monday. Should you receive a dozen red roses, a romantic dinner or a cute cuddly toy from your beloved tomorrow, I wish you well and hope that you feel cherished and loved. As for me, the phrase "Happy Valentine's Day!" will not pass my lips and I'll be double-checking for Acme anvils and pianos hanging precariously out of upper windows on my way to work.
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
Entirely Gleeful
According to the Thesaurus on Microsoft Word, we're talking about delight, hilarity, merriment, laughter, excitement, amusement, joy and happiness. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we're talking Glee!
If you've read my previous posts about my favourite, "guilty pleasure", TV shows, you may know that I do not require much class or sophistication in my TV viewing. Okay so I do not like to dwell in the very depths of trash with those who watch Kerry Katona or Jordan's latest "reality" shows and Tool Academy (yikes!), but I have been known to watch the likes of 16 and Pregnant on MTV when I'm home alone (with no-one around to judge me!). And then, of course, there is Glee.
I've been in choirs since I was about 8 years old, mainly at school but then later in mass choirs taking part in things like the opening ceremony of the Odyssey Arena, Les Misérables and One Enchanted Evening. I don't have a great voice but I can hold a tune and that's thankfully really all that matters when you're in a choir. Unfortunately when I moved to Yorkshire I cut my ties to the Belfast choir world and I haven't sang in one since. I must admit it makes me a little sad because there's nothing quite like the feeling of being one voice among many, all sounding so different but yet working together to create beautiful harmonies. I know that all sounds a bit hippy-like, but I just love it. To understand it you just need to listen to something like Handel's Messiah, close your eyes and picture your voice soaring amongst all the sopranos, altos, tenors and basses, creating such a powerful sound, rising and falling, louder and quieter, higher and lower... *sigh*
In the absence of any decent choir action in the last seven years or so, I get my kicks singing along to the mp3s on my mobile phone at bus stops (only when there's no-one else around!) or occasionally playing SingStar. However, when I heard there was a new American TV show coming to the UK about a glee club, it sounded right up my alley. Singing and rubbish TV - joy! (or indeed, glee!)
I know there is a difference between a choir and a glee club. In a choir you kinda just stand there and sing, whereas in a glee club you need to be an all-round entertainer, with amazing vocals and funky dance moves. It's a lot more energetic but I would love to have a go! Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't pass the audition stage in the majority of schools, especially if the documentary Gleeful: The Real Show Choirs of America is anything to go by. Wow, those kids are talented. But I would love to do it just for fun. Someone should start up a Belfast Glee Club. We might be rubbish but we'd have great fun!
As for the show itself, I completely love Glee. I actually think it's one of the best shows to grace our screens in the last couple of years. It just has everything: great singers, great dancing, weird and wonderous plots, themed episodes, characters you simultaneously want to hug and bitch-slap, humour and a big old dose of tongue firmly in cheek, which I think is what makes it. That and the character of Sue Sylvester, who I completely adore. Oh and also Britney, who comes off with some of the funniest one-liners ever.
A lot of people disparage Glee because it's so cheesy but that's entirely the point. People draw comparisons between Glee and High School Musical but there is one big difference. They are both big balls of cheese but where High School Musical took itself completely seriously, Glee not only knows that it's cheesy - it's shouting it from the rooftops. You're not supposed to take it seriously - just sit back and let the teenage melodrama and candyfloss swirl around your brain. It's pure escapeism.
As for the music, I have to say there are a few of their covers that I think are brilliant. I loved Don't Stop Believin', even though Journey's version was already up there amongst my favourite songs ever, and that never happens for me - I tend to cringe when people cover my favourite tunes. Like A Virgin and Vogue from the Madonna episode were also great fun, especially with the different plots that were going on in that episode, and the slowed down version of Poker Face from the Lady Gaga episode was a triumph. No matter how many times I hear them, I can't seem to get enough of Alone and Maybe This Time from the first Kristin Chenoweth episode and Defying Gravity still makes me tingle about a hundred plays on. The duets-themed episode screened yesterday on E4 was also excellent.
If you're not really into pop music, musical theatre or the ins and outs of imaginary teenagers' love lives, it may not be the show for you, but I would say give it a try. Where can be the harm in submerging yourself in an hour of pure and unabashed superficiality and letting your inner Gleek out to play (or indeed sing!)? All together now: "Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world…"
If you've read my previous posts about my favourite, "guilty pleasure", TV shows, you may know that I do not require much class or sophistication in my TV viewing. Okay so I do not like to dwell in the very depths of trash with those who watch Kerry Katona or Jordan's latest "reality" shows and Tool Academy (yikes!), but I have been known to watch the likes of 16 and Pregnant on MTV when I'm home alone (with no-one around to judge me!). And then, of course, there is Glee.
I've been in choirs since I was about 8 years old, mainly at school but then later in mass choirs taking part in things like the opening ceremony of the Odyssey Arena, Les Misérables and One Enchanted Evening. I don't have a great voice but I can hold a tune and that's thankfully really all that matters when you're in a choir. Unfortunately when I moved to Yorkshire I cut my ties to the Belfast choir world and I haven't sang in one since. I must admit it makes me a little sad because there's nothing quite like the feeling of being one voice among many, all sounding so different but yet working together to create beautiful harmonies. I know that all sounds a bit hippy-like, but I just love it. To understand it you just need to listen to something like Handel's Messiah, close your eyes and picture your voice soaring amongst all the sopranos, altos, tenors and basses, creating such a powerful sound, rising and falling, louder and quieter, higher and lower... *sigh*
In the absence of any decent choir action in the last seven years or so, I get my kicks singing along to the mp3s on my mobile phone at bus stops (only when there's no-one else around!) or occasionally playing SingStar. However, when I heard there was a new American TV show coming to the UK about a glee club, it sounded right up my alley. Singing and rubbish TV - joy! (or indeed, glee!)
I know there is a difference between a choir and a glee club. In a choir you kinda just stand there and sing, whereas in a glee club you need to be an all-round entertainer, with amazing vocals and funky dance moves. It's a lot more energetic but I would love to have a go! Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't pass the audition stage in the majority of schools, especially if the documentary Gleeful: The Real Show Choirs of America is anything to go by. Wow, those kids are talented. But I would love to do it just for fun. Someone should start up a Belfast Glee Club. We might be rubbish but we'd have great fun!
As for the show itself, I completely love Glee. I actually think it's one of the best shows to grace our screens in the last couple of years. It just has everything: great singers, great dancing, weird and wonderous plots, themed episodes, characters you simultaneously want to hug and bitch-slap, humour and a big old dose of tongue firmly in cheek, which I think is what makes it. That and the character of Sue Sylvester, who I completely adore. Oh and also Britney, who comes off with some of the funniest one-liners ever.
A lot of people disparage Glee because it's so cheesy but that's entirely the point. People draw comparisons between Glee and High School Musical but there is one big difference. They are both big balls of cheese but where High School Musical took itself completely seriously, Glee not only knows that it's cheesy - it's shouting it from the rooftops. You're not supposed to take it seriously - just sit back and let the teenage melodrama and candyfloss swirl around your brain. It's pure escapeism.
As for the music, I have to say there are a few of their covers that I think are brilliant. I loved Don't Stop Believin', even though Journey's version was already up there amongst my favourite songs ever, and that never happens for me - I tend to cringe when people cover my favourite tunes. Like A Virgin and Vogue from the Madonna episode were also great fun, especially with the different plots that were going on in that episode, and the slowed down version of Poker Face from the Lady Gaga episode was a triumph. No matter how many times I hear them, I can't seem to get enough of Alone and Maybe This Time from the first Kristin Chenoweth episode and Defying Gravity still makes me tingle about a hundred plays on. The duets-themed episode screened yesterday on E4 was also excellent.
If you're not really into pop music, musical theatre or the ins and outs of imaginary teenagers' love lives, it may not be the show for you, but I would say give it a try. Where can be the harm in submerging yourself in an hour of pure and unabashed superficiality and letting your inner Gleek out to play (or indeed sing!)? All together now: "Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world…"
Saturday, 29 January 2011
"But it's a wonderful game"
~ Quote attributed to Queen Elizabeth II
I write to you from my toasty warm living room and yet I am shivering and cold to the touch. Am I ill? For once, nope (yay!). I am, instead, still chilled to the bone from standing outside in the cold for two hours this afternoon. And why would I do such a crazy thing when my toasty warm living room, pyjamas and laptop were sitting unused at home? Why else, but for the love of the beautiful game.
Ever since I was a wee tote I've lived fairly close to Seaview, the ground for the Irish League football team Crusaders FC, and I was probably a season ticket holder there before I could even spell "Crusaders". Indeed I have spent most of life supporting the good old red and black "hatchetmen" and even when I spent a couple of years living in Yorkshire I regularly checked to see how they were doing in my absence (not great as it turned out, since they were relegated the season after I moved away and promoted again the year I returned - I could read something into that y'know!).
There aren't a great deal of female football fans out there - in my experience those girls who do appreciate the sport either grew up with lots of brothers or, like me, were dragged along to matches from an early age - but I think that men hold a certain respect for a woman who not only understand the offside rule but can go head-to-head with you on a debate about a decision. I'm not saying I know all the rules in intricate detail but when I hear half the things the men in front of me on the terraces are shouting I sometimes think I have a better grasp on things than some. My only fault (if you can call it that) is that I tend to be a bit too unbiased. If there's a bit of a tussle during a free kick and the referee blows his whistle and rules in favour of the opposition, those around me will inevitably be up in arms about it, while I'm thinking, "meh, they were as bad as each other...", which I've learned is fine as long as you don't say in aloud, in which case you are instantly relegated to a "typical bloody woman not understanding the rules of game!"
I must admit that I'm not quite as enthralled by the action on the pitch as my male counterparts. If there are just a lot of long balls going on or it goes out for a throw-in every two seconds, my mind does wander. I probably drive the Yorkshireman mad with random comments about the sky looking weird today or asking him random questions that have formed themselves in the strange depths of my mind, like whether he thinks that the assistant referees and fourth official can relieve the referee of his command if they think he had become emotionally compromised and is therefore no longer fit for duty, à la Star Trek. To give you an idea of how much pity you should feel for my poor husband, these are just a few examples from today's match. Whether my interest is not an intense because I'm female or just because I'm a bit of a daydreamer, I'm not sure, but I really do like the game. There's nothing quite like the thrill of seeing the ball fly over the goal line of the opposition's net. I often jump for joy... literally. And woooo. I woooo a lot.
But never mind a lack of female fans - the problem with Irish football is a lack of fans in general. It seems so strange to me that if you ask any football fan from Northern Ireland which team they support, they'll more than likely name an English club. Even when you prompt them which team they support in the Irish Premier League, most of the time they dismissively say something like, "oh I don't really support any Irish teams." I think it's such a pity. I mean if you live in Belfast and support, say, Chelsea, how often do you actually go to Stamford Bridge and watch them play up close and personal? Granted there are those nutters you always see at the airport on Saturday morning adorned in their team's colours who spend a freaking fortune buying season tickets and then flying back and forward for all the home games on another land mass, but the more usual scenario is that the person you ask has maybe only been once or twice, if at all. And sorry but watching on TV is just not the same - you only see what the TV cameras decide you should see for one thing (which isn't great for me - how am I supposed to tell the Yorkshireman how weird the sky looks if I can't see it?) and also you just don't get the atmosphere and the feeling of camaraderie you get in person in the stands or on the terraces.
It's a shame for the Irish football clubs too. Most of them are in debt and on the verge of financial ruin because they're just not getting enough people through the turnstiles. Okay so the condition of the grounds and the facilities aren't exactly the greatest, but it's a vicious circle: people don't come to the games, so the club has no money, so they can't afford to repair or upgrade anything, so the ground falls further into disrepair, so people don't come to the games... etc. And it's not like the IFA is forthcoming with much money to help the clubs improve things either. Well, except for Linfield. Oops, did I say that out loud?
That said, the clubs are trying their best to muddle through with the few resources they do have. Unfortunately the biggest resource needed is money and the biggest source of money is the fans. Crusaders are lucky in that, whilst we don't have a lot of fans, the fans we do have really get behind the club and are willing to support it in any way they can. There are constant fundraising efforts from the supporters' clubs and the club's Special Efforts Committee to make sure the club stays in business and is able to compete with the bigger clubs like Linfield and Glentoran. They really deserve a lot of thanks because most people, like me, are kind of lazy and quell their conscience by giving money rather than making an actual effort. So thanks guys and gals, if you ever read this.
So, if you get your kicks (pun fully intended) from penalties and corners and your favourite team happens to play a few hundred miles away, why not give a local game a try sometime soon? Although given that I returned home over two hours ago and my feet still feel like blocks of ice, I would maybe recommend waiting until the temperature rises a few degrees... brrrr!
I write to you from my toasty warm living room and yet I am shivering and cold to the touch. Am I ill? For once, nope (yay!). I am, instead, still chilled to the bone from standing outside in the cold for two hours this afternoon. And why would I do such a crazy thing when my toasty warm living room, pyjamas and laptop were sitting unused at home? Why else, but for the love of the beautiful game.
Ever since I was a wee tote I've lived fairly close to Seaview, the ground for the Irish League football team Crusaders FC, and I was probably a season ticket holder there before I could even spell "Crusaders". Indeed I have spent most of life supporting the good old red and black "hatchetmen" and even when I spent a couple of years living in Yorkshire I regularly checked to see how they were doing in my absence (not great as it turned out, since they were relegated the season after I moved away and promoted again the year I returned - I could read something into that y'know!).
There aren't a great deal of female football fans out there - in my experience those girls who do appreciate the sport either grew up with lots of brothers or, like me, were dragged along to matches from an early age - but I think that men hold a certain respect for a woman who not only understand the offside rule but can go head-to-head with you on a debate about a decision. I'm not saying I know all the rules in intricate detail but when I hear half the things the men in front of me on the terraces are shouting I sometimes think I have a better grasp on things than some. My only fault (if you can call it that) is that I tend to be a bit too unbiased. If there's a bit of a tussle during a free kick and the referee blows his whistle and rules in favour of the opposition, those around me will inevitably be up in arms about it, while I'm thinking, "meh, they were as bad as each other...", which I've learned is fine as long as you don't say in aloud, in which case you are instantly relegated to a "typical bloody woman not understanding the rules of game!"
I must admit that I'm not quite as enthralled by the action on the pitch as my male counterparts. If there are just a lot of long balls going on or it goes out for a throw-in every two seconds, my mind does wander. I probably drive the Yorkshireman mad with random comments about the sky looking weird today or asking him random questions that have formed themselves in the strange depths of my mind, like whether he thinks that the assistant referees and fourth official can relieve the referee of his command if they think he had become emotionally compromised and is therefore no longer fit for duty, à la Star Trek. To give you an idea of how much pity you should feel for my poor husband, these are just a few examples from today's match. Whether my interest is not an intense because I'm female or just because I'm a bit of a daydreamer, I'm not sure, but I really do like the game. There's nothing quite like the thrill of seeing the ball fly over the goal line of the opposition's net. I often jump for joy... literally. And woooo. I woooo a lot.
But never mind a lack of female fans - the problem with Irish football is a lack of fans in general. It seems so strange to me that if you ask any football fan from Northern Ireland which team they support, they'll more than likely name an English club. Even when you prompt them which team they support in the Irish Premier League, most of the time they dismissively say something like, "oh I don't really support any Irish teams." I think it's such a pity. I mean if you live in Belfast and support, say, Chelsea, how often do you actually go to Stamford Bridge and watch them play up close and personal? Granted there are those nutters you always see at the airport on Saturday morning adorned in their team's colours who spend a freaking fortune buying season tickets and then flying back and forward for all the home games on another land mass, but the more usual scenario is that the person you ask has maybe only been once or twice, if at all. And sorry but watching on TV is just not the same - you only see what the TV cameras decide you should see for one thing (which isn't great for me - how am I supposed to tell the Yorkshireman how weird the sky looks if I can't see it?) and also you just don't get the atmosphere and the feeling of camaraderie you get in person in the stands or on the terraces.
It's a shame for the Irish football clubs too. Most of them are in debt and on the verge of financial ruin because they're just not getting enough people through the turnstiles. Okay so the condition of the grounds and the facilities aren't exactly the greatest, but it's a vicious circle: people don't come to the games, so the club has no money, so they can't afford to repair or upgrade anything, so the ground falls further into disrepair, so people don't come to the games... etc. And it's not like the IFA is forthcoming with much money to help the clubs improve things either. Well, except for Linfield. Oops, did I say that out loud?
That said, the clubs are trying their best to muddle through with the few resources they do have. Unfortunately the biggest resource needed is money and the biggest source of money is the fans. Crusaders are lucky in that, whilst we don't have a lot of fans, the fans we do have really get behind the club and are willing to support it in any way they can. There are constant fundraising efforts from the supporters' clubs and the club's Special Efforts Committee to make sure the club stays in business and is able to compete with the bigger clubs like Linfield and Glentoran. They really deserve a lot of thanks because most people, like me, are kind of lazy and quell their conscience by giving money rather than making an actual effort. So thanks guys and gals, if you ever read this.
So, if you get your kicks (pun fully intended) from penalties and corners and your favourite team happens to play a few hundred miles away, why not give a local game a try sometime soon? Although given that I returned home over two hours ago and my feet still feel like blocks of ice, I would maybe recommend waiting until the temperature rises a few degrees... brrrr!
Sunday, 23 January 2011
Is The Biggest Loser the winning contestant or the obsessive viewer?
Apologies for the lack of posting recently. As the Yorkshireman has explained on his blog, we've both been having a few health problems. Thankfully he seems to be on the mend anyway, with only a little residual mucus still causing a problem (mainly for me, since he keeps coughing or blowing his nose when I'm midway through a sentence, which drives me nuts). As for me, well, as Facebook would say, "it's complicated" but not particularly worth whining and moaning about, especially since it's not even serious enough to get me out of work, dagnammit! Funny how some things in life can simultaneously be a blessing and a curse!
So, how are you all enjoying January? I'm not a big January fan, since I always end up broke, cold, tired and verging on Seasonal Affective Disorder, and at the moment I'm also running the risk of breaking myself every time I step out the door on to the slippery frost/ice combo out there. It's apparently -3°C outside at the moment so it doesn't look like it'll be any less white out there tomorrow. Thankfully it's the weekend, so I can spend the majority of my day indoors in my classy Primark pyjamas. Actually I think my current nightwear is a George D'Asda creation - clearly I felt like dressing up a bit this evening.
One good thing about January is that a lot of good TV shows are back on our screens. Well, I suppose it depends on your definition of "lots" and "good" really. Most people would, I imagine, not join in my delight that there is not just one but two series of The Biggest Loser on at the moment (British and USA versions), but surely you have to love a bit of Glee? No? Really? Ah, you clearly have no taste but we'll agree to disagree.
I do love a good weight-loss show though and The Biggest Loser is one of my favourites, so I was highly excited when I learned that series 9 of the US version had started on LivingIt (so excited, in fact, I mentioned it in the blog post I was writing at the time). Then, when I was checking the TV Guide website for the next showing of said show, I accidentally stumbled upon the new series of the British version starting the next week! How thrilling!
It's hard to describe why I love The Biggest Loser so much, especially when most of the things I mutter about when it's on are fairly critical. She's annoying, why did he bother signing up, they're cheating, that's sneaky, oh they're not going to be happy about that, etc. But like all reality TV shows that's part of the fun. I like to hear people's stories and figure out what makes them tick, but if there's a juicy argument or some duplicitous underhandedness to observe along the way, all the better! It's entertaining. But then why would I merrily watch The Biggest Loser and yet remain so scornful of I'm a (D-list) Celebrity Get Me Out of Here or Big Brother?
I guess it's because the people who sign up to The Biggest Loser are (for the most part) doing it to improve their lives and those of the people who love them. What they're doing will help them to live longer, learn more about themselves and gain confidence and skills they probably only dreamed about possessing, and you get to watch the transformation, week by week. It's inspiring. The eejits on those other reality shows, on the other hand, are only after money or fame and quite frankly I don't really care who they're flirting with or why. Heat magazine would definitely go into my Room 101 because it's that kind of "celebrity" gossip obsession that only encourages more and more reality shows about uninteresting, superficial people with no discernible talent and are about as entertaining as watching algae form (with the IQ to match). I prefer my reality TV with, well, a point really.
So, whilst I realise that watching bossy personal trainers yell at fat people to run so hard they end up vomiting is not everyone's idea of a good night in, I really do enjoy it. There are two episodes in each series that I particularly enjoy. The first is when the doctor guy does a full health assessment on them all and then tells them just how bad shape they are actually in. I'm actually gutted because I accidentally missed that episode in this series of the US show and now cannot find any form of catch-up online for it that NBC hasn't had removed for infringement - bah humbug! In one of the previous series I remember the doctor asking one guy how healthy he thought he was and the guy said something like, "well I know I'm a big guy but I'm fairly healthy - I mean it's not like I have type 2 diabetes or anything", to which the doctor replied, "actually you do." There's a conversation-stopper!
Yes there probably is an element of schadenfreude in liking those bits, but really I just find it fascinating, both from a medical perspective (the effects that weight really does have on your body's ability to function) and also from a psychological perspective (watching years of denial that "it's not that bad" instantly drop away and a vulnerable, scared and highly motivated person emerge).
The second episode I like so much is the makeover episode, where they take people who have lost loads of weight very rapidly and whose heads probably haven't really caught up with their new and improved bodies, they give them amazing haircuts and put them in flattering clothes they would never have even considered before, and then show them the finished product in a dramatic mirror reveal. They always look completely amazing, even when they're still relatively big, and then just when they're overwhelmed by how great they look, they bring in someone really close to them who is gob-smacked by all the changes too and they inevitably cry. Even the men. In fact the men are often worse, especially the Aussies. It's so touching and it just makes you feel like you can achieve anything if you have the right attitude and resources.
I must admit that I don't like the British version of the show quite as much as the US version. The trainers aren't as personable (stereotypical English coldness I suppose) and some of the accents and things the contestants say make me facepalm in shame for our nation. That said I have a bit of a girl-crush on Davina McCall, who has taken over presenting it this series, so that's a plus point. I can still get my Bob and Jillian kick from the US version after all.
It's quite early in both series so I haven't yet developed any favourites, although I have taken agin' a few people already. In the British version I'm glad the orange team got booted out because they were just taking the piss really. "Oh I'm too sore to work out today" - boohoo, that's what you signed up for! In the US version the red team seem to be throwing the weigh-ins at the moment and I really hate cheaters; so does Bob if his rant to them during last week's weigh-in is anything to go by. The green team really annoyed me last week too. "We didn't come here for you to change who we are". Actually you kinda did. The white team are sort of bugging me too. Alright so the guy is over 500lb and yes it's hard to get around never mind work out when you weigh that much, but he needs to stop messing around and annoying the other contestants when they're trying to work hard and get his head in the game. My opinions tend to change as the series progresses though, so I look forward to seeing how everyone gets on.
So tomorrow evening my entertainment will be the British Biggest Loser (ITV at 9pm) and then Glee (E4+1 at 10pm) - it's a little sad but whatever gets you through a cold, miserable January Monday, right?
So, how are you all enjoying January? I'm not a big January fan, since I always end up broke, cold, tired and verging on Seasonal Affective Disorder, and at the moment I'm also running the risk of breaking myself every time I step out the door on to the slippery frost/ice combo out there. It's apparently -3°C outside at the moment so it doesn't look like it'll be any less white out there tomorrow. Thankfully it's the weekend, so I can spend the majority of my day indoors in my classy Primark pyjamas. Actually I think my current nightwear is a George D'Asda creation - clearly I felt like dressing up a bit this evening.
One good thing about January is that a lot of good TV shows are back on our screens. Well, I suppose it depends on your definition of "lots" and "good" really. Most people would, I imagine, not join in my delight that there is not just one but two series of The Biggest Loser on at the moment (British and USA versions), but surely you have to love a bit of Glee? No? Really? Ah, you clearly have no taste but we'll agree to disagree.
I do love a good weight-loss show though and The Biggest Loser is one of my favourites, so I was highly excited when I learned that series 9 of the US version had started on LivingIt (so excited, in fact, I mentioned it in the blog post I was writing at the time). Then, when I was checking the TV Guide website for the next showing of said show, I accidentally stumbled upon the new series of the British version starting the next week! How thrilling!
It's hard to describe why I love The Biggest Loser so much, especially when most of the things I mutter about when it's on are fairly critical. She's annoying, why did he bother signing up, they're cheating, that's sneaky, oh they're not going to be happy about that, etc. But like all reality TV shows that's part of the fun. I like to hear people's stories and figure out what makes them tick, but if there's a juicy argument or some duplicitous underhandedness to observe along the way, all the better! It's entertaining. But then why would I merrily watch The Biggest Loser and yet remain so scornful of I'm a (D-list) Celebrity Get Me Out of Here or Big Brother?
I guess it's because the people who sign up to The Biggest Loser are (for the most part) doing it to improve their lives and those of the people who love them. What they're doing will help them to live longer, learn more about themselves and gain confidence and skills they probably only dreamed about possessing, and you get to watch the transformation, week by week. It's inspiring. The eejits on those other reality shows, on the other hand, are only after money or fame and quite frankly I don't really care who they're flirting with or why. Heat magazine would definitely go into my Room 101 because it's that kind of "celebrity" gossip obsession that only encourages more and more reality shows about uninteresting, superficial people with no discernible talent and are about as entertaining as watching algae form (with the IQ to match). I prefer my reality TV with, well, a point really.
So, whilst I realise that watching bossy personal trainers yell at fat people to run so hard they end up vomiting is not everyone's idea of a good night in, I really do enjoy it. There are two episodes in each series that I particularly enjoy. The first is when the doctor guy does a full health assessment on them all and then tells them just how bad shape they are actually in. I'm actually gutted because I accidentally missed that episode in this series of the US show and now cannot find any form of catch-up online for it that NBC hasn't had removed for infringement - bah humbug! In one of the previous series I remember the doctor asking one guy how healthy he thought he was and the guy said something like, "well I know I'm a big guy but I'm fairly healthy - I mean it's not like I have type 2 diabetes or anything", to which the doctor replied, "actually you do." There's a conversation-stopper!
Yes there probably is an element of schadenfreude in liking those bits, but really I just find it fascinating, both from a medical perspective (the effects that weight really does have on your body's ability to function) and also from a psychological perspective (watching years of denial that "it's not that bad" instantly drop away and a vulnerable, scared and highly motivated person emerge).
The second episode I like so much is the makeover episode, where they take people who have lost loads of weight very rapidly and whose heads probably haven't really caught up with their new and improved bodies, they give them amazing haircuts and put them in flattering clothes they would never have even considered before, and then show them the finished product in a dramatic mirror reveal. They always look completely amazing, even when they're still relatively big, and then just when they're overwhelmed by how great they look, they bring in someone really close to them who is gob-smacked by all the changes too and they inevitably cry. Even the men. In fact the men are often worse, especially the Aussies. It's so touching and it just makes you feel like you can achieve anything if you have the right attitude and resources.
I must admit that I don't like the British version of the show quite as much as the US version. The trainers aren't as personable (stereotypical English coldness I suppose) and some of the accents and things the contestants say make me facepalm in shame for our nation. That said I have a bit of a girl-crush on Davina McCall, who has taken over presenting it this series, so that's a plus point. I can still get my Bob and Jillian kick from the US version after all.
It's quite early in both series so I haven't yet developed any favourites, although I have taken agin' a few people already. In the British version I'm glad the orange team got booted out because they were just taking the piss really. "Oh I'm too sore to work out today" - boohoo, that's what you signed up for! In the US version the red team seem to be throwing the weigh-ins at the moment and I really hate cheaters; so does Bob if his rant to them during last week's weigh-in is anything to go by. The green team really annoyed me last week too. "We didn't come here for you to change who we are". Actually you kinda did. The white team are sort of bugging me too. Alright so the guy is over 500lb and yes it's hard to get around never mind work out when you weigh that much, but he needs to stop messing around and annoying the other contestants when they're trying to work hard and get his head in the game. My opinions tend to change as the series progresses though, so I look forward to seeing how everyone gets on.
So tomorrow evening my entertainment will be the British Biggest Loser (ITV at 9pm) and then Glee (E4+1 at 10pm) - it's a little sad but whatever gets you through a cold, miserable January Monday, right?
Friday, 7 January 2011
Warming up while it's cooling down
Flip me, it was a bit nippy out there this morning, wasn't it? I felt literally chilled to the bone as I stood waiting for my buses to work and indeed sitting on said buses. So cold, in fact, that my first task of the day when I switched on my office computer was to check on the temperature. Apparently, according to Wunderground, it was -7°C in Belfast Harbour (the City Airport to me and thee). I knew it! Very chilly indeed! The same source reliably informs me that it's now a toasty 1°C in comparison - typical, now that I can sit indoors in fleecy pyjamas with the heating on instead of turning slowly into a human icicle waiting for the delightful sight of a big pink bus appearing on the horizon!
Further freezing temperatures are supposedly expected over the weekend, so I'm glad there's no match on at Seaview this weekend to shiver through. Instead I shall be staying in my fleecy jammies and watching Arsenal v Leeds (come on the Leeds!) in the FA Cup tomorrow afternoon and then baking a Victoria Sponge Cake - so pretty much my usual tomboy/girly-girl mixed up kind of weekend then!
The Yorkshireman and I may also return to our new gym sometime over the weekend. We've just joined Pure Gym, a 24/7 gym which has just opened its first Northern Irish branch in Belfast. We used to go to our local Council gym but the opening hours weren't really ideal for us, so it's quite exciting to think that we could now just pop down the road for a bit of a workout at 3am should we choose, although I must admit to preferring my bed at that time, whilst my naturally nocturnal husband would probably prefer watching a good NHL game and meandering through the Internet. Besides, we're reliant on public transport and unfortunately late night/early morning buses in the City are an area Translink could do with improving upon greatly! If you want to go anywhere between 11pm and 6am, you're kinda screwed.
We made our first visit to our new gym this evening to check out what we'd actually signed up for. I must admit I was quite cynical about the website's promise of over 170 pieces of equipment ("yeah, are you counting each dumbbell individually there by any chance?") but I was actually quite impressed. It really is a pretty big facility and they have loads of equipment, all new and shiny-looking. The first thing I saw when I entered was a veritable sea of treadmills (I wonder what a large group of treadmills should be called? A flock? A herd? A murder, like crows, seems most appropriate!) and then as we ventured further in it was like a magical land of fitness! There were rowing machines and strength machines and loose weights and even more treadmills and cross-trainers and every type of exercise bike you can imagine, including some with arm rests that I will be intrigued to try next time.
Please don't get me wrong here: the Yorkshireman and I are not gym bunnies in any way, shape or form. We do not have sculptured abs or flat stomachs (far from it indeed!) and our fitness levels are probably akin to someone in their 60s. With asthma. And sciatica. I also find exercise quite tedious and fail to understand why anyone would actually enjoy hurting themselves or getting out of breath. However I would quite like to be a bit healthier than my usual sickly self and, y'know, live for quite a long time to come and stuff. Popular medical opinion seems to suggest that exercise is required to achieve such goals and therefore is unfortunately a necessary evil. Realising this a couple of years ago, I decided to give our local Council gym a try and the Yorkshireman followed suit soon after when I came home declaring it "not that bad actually" in a surprised tone.
It was the first time either of us had ventured into such a place but we soon realised there was something about the gym that appealed to us both. Namely, our competitive natures. We didn't often compete against each other (because I would always lose and I am not a good loser... except for the leg press - I can out-leg-press any one of youse - bring it on!) but we're both sad individuals who like to compete against ourselves. Every visit we would try to burn more calories than last time, or run faster, or run for longer, or increase the weight, or crank up the level. It was a good challenge and sometimes was the only thing that kept me interested during the mundaneness of a 15-minute treadmill session.
The other thing that keeps me going is, of course, a good soundtrack. I mean, imagine jogging on a treadmill. Actually picture it in your mind - all the sensations you would experience, jogging along on the spot, your limbs gangling around, maybe struggling to keep up. Imagine the whirring noise of the belt beneath your feet and the sound of your own ragged breath. Imagine looking at a wall or at other gym equipment while you're running, the dreary scenery unchanging. Imagine looking down at the screen thinking "surely it must have been at least 10 minutes by now?" and realising it's been 2 minutes and 35 seconds and you have another 17 minutes and 25 seconds left. Yawn. It's all so bloody boring! But! Now imagine jogging along with the theme from Chariots of Fire playing loud in your ears:
You can feel the inspiration. You can almost imagine you're running, wild, young and free on a beach instead of on a machine in a room full of machines, going nowhere. The imagination is a powerful tool after all.
Personally any upbeat song will get me going, be it rocky or cheesy pop... even classical can get my blood pumping. I was practically doing jazz hands walking along through the City centre this evening listening to 'Maybe This Time' as sung by Kristin Chenoweth and Lea Michele in Glee. So some good music is an essential part of my workout routine. The only problem now is that I can't find my ye olde first generation iPod Shuffle from the last time I was at the gym about 700 years ago and so I fear that I may be musicless on my next trip to the gym! Woe and alas!
Still, it gives me a chance to work on an updated workout playlist. We No Speak Americano has to go on there, as do most of the Glee songs (shush, I am a Gleek and proud of it!) and the Avenue Q soundtrack. I'm only sorry that the festive season has now passed, as I quite fancy cross-training along to Marshmallow World or Dominick the Donkey, but there's always next year!
Further freezing temperatures are supposedly expected over the weekend, so I'm glad there's no match on at Seaview this weekend to shiver through. Instead I shall be staying in my fleecy jammies and watching Arsenal v Leeds (come on the Leeds!) in the FA Cup tomorrow afternoon and then baking a Victoria Sponge Cake - so pretty much my usual tomboy/girly-girl mixed up kind of weekend then!
The Yorkshireman and I may also return to our new gym sometime over the weekend. We've just joined Pure Gym, a 24/7 gym which has just opened its first Northern Irish branch in Belfast. We used to go to our local Council gym but the opening hours weren't really ideal for us, so it's quite exciting to think that we could now just pop down the road for a bit of a workout at 3am should we choose, although I must admit to preferring my bed at that time, whilst my naturally nocturnal husband would probably prefer watching a good NHL game and meandering through the Internet. Besides, we're reliant on public transport and unfortunately late night/early morning buses in the City are an area Translink could do with improving upon greatly! If you want to go anywhere between 11pm and 6am, you're kinda screwed.
We made our first visit to our new gym this evening to check out what we'd actually signed up for. I must admit I was quite cynical about the website's promise of over 170 pieces of equipment ("yeah, are you counting each dumbbell individually there by any chance?") but I was actually quite impressed. It really is a pretty big facility and they have loads of equipment, all new and shiny-looking. The first thing I saw when I entered was a veritable sea of treadmills (I wonder what a large group of treadmills should be called? A flock? A herd? A murder, like crows, seems most appropriate!) and then as we ventured further in it was like a magical land of fitness! There were rowing machines and strength machines and loose weights and even more treadmills and cross-trainers and every type of exercise bike you can imagine, including some with arm rests that I will be intrigued to try next time.
Please don't get me wrong here: the Yorkshireman and I are not gym bunnies in any way, shape or form. We do not have sculptured abs or flat stomachs (far from it indeed!) and our fitness levels are probably akin to someone in their 60s. With asthma. And sciatica. I also find exercise quite tedious and fail to understand why anyone would actually enjoy hurting themselves or getting out of breath. However I would quite like to be a bit healthier than my usual sickly self and, y'know, live for quite a long time to come and stuff. Popular medical opinion seems to suggest that exercise is required to achieve such goals and therefore is unfortunately a necessary evil. Realising this a couple of years ago, I decided to give our local Council gym a try and the Yorkshireman followed suit soon after when I came home declaring it "not that bad actually" in a surprised tone.
It was the first time either of us had ventured into such a place but we soon realised there was something about the gym that appealed to us both. Namely, our competitive natures. We didn't often compete against each other (because I would always lose and I am not a good loser... except for the leg press - I can out-leg-press any one of youse - bring it on!) but we're both sad individuals who like to compete against ourselves. Every visit we would try to burn more calories than last time, or run faster, or run for longer, or increase the weight, or crank up the level. It was a good challenge and sometimes was the only thing that kept me interested during the mundaneness of a 15-minute treadmill session.
The other thing that keeps me going is, of course, a good soundtrack. I mean, imagine jogging on a treadmill. Actually picture it in your mind - all the sensations you would experience, jogging along on the spot, your limbs gangling around, maybe struggling to keep up. Imagine the whirring noise of the belt beneath your feet and the sound of your own ragged breath. Imagine looking at a wall or at other gym equipment while you're running, the dreary scenery unchanging. Imagine looking down at the screen thinking "surely it must have been at least 10 minutes by now?" and realising it's been 2 minutes and 35 seconds and you have another 17 minutes and 25 seconds left. Yawn. It's all so bloody boring! But! Now imagine jogging along with the theme from Chariots of Fire playing loud in your ears:
You can feel the inspiration. You can almost imagine you're running, wild, young and free on a beach instead of on a machine in a room full of machines, going nowhere. The imagination is a powerful tool after all.
Personally any upbeat song will get me going, be it rocky or cheesy pop... even classical can get my blood pumping. I was practically doing jazz hands walking along through the City centre this evening listening to 'Maybe This Time' as sung by Kristin Chenoweth and Lea Michele in Glee. So some good music is an essential part of my workout routine. The only problem now is that I can't find my ye olde first generation iPod Shuffle from the last time I was at the gym about 700 years ago and so I fear that I may be musicless on my next trip to the gym! Woe and alas!
Still, it gives me a chance to work on an updated workout playlist. We No Speak Americano has to go on there, as do most of the Glee songs (shush, I am a Gleek and proud of it!) and the Avenue Q soundtrack. I'm only sorry that the festive season has now passed, as I quite fancy cross-training along to Marshmallow World or Dominick the Donkey, but there's always next year!
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
Take time to deliberate, but when the time for action has arrived, stop thinking and go in - Napoleon Bonaparte
Well here we are in 2011. Hope everyone had a lovely time in the festive season and has been enjoying our new year thus far. Preferably with water and without burst pipes.
2011 has been grand for me so far. Yesterday the Yorkshireman and I spent our bank holiday sleeping late and then firmly in denial that we would unfortunately yet inevitably have to return to work the next day. I finished my current book (Welcome to my World by Miranda Dickinson - not bad though a little predictable) and browsed the Interwebz for a nice off-peak summer holiday later in the year. The current favourite is Alcúdia, since the Yorkshireman has never been to the Balearic Islands, but it's open to change.
Then today it was back to porridge, trawling through unread emails and watching the clock for home-time. I hadn't held out much hope for lasting the whole day (only this morning my colleagues and I were musing about the merits of some kind of phased return system for coming back to work after a break and came out in unanimous favour) but somehow I even managed to make up a good 50 minutes of flexi time - a good start to the year. What has made it even better is the start of Season 9 of The Biggest Loser USA starting on LivingIt this evening - another of my not-so-secret shame reality TV shows! I had no idea it was starting until my very kind (and equally sad) mother just texted me. Excellent surprise!
My darling Yorkshireman has already ruminated upon the new year being a good opportunity to reflect, both on lessons learned during the last 12 months and also on any goals or ambitions you would like to fulfil in the coming year. I had already planned to do the same but don't worry, I'll keep it short and I'll refrain from any mention of reality TV shows!
2010...
What an interesting year, where I think my main focus has been on learning a lot:
Hopefully this will be another interesting year, for all the right reasons. I don't believe in new year resolutions on the principle that if you're truly ready, willing and able to do something, you should just go ahead and do it regardless of the date. That said, there are some things I would like to do this year. I'll keep most of them to myself, but the main principles are (in no particular order):
So here's to 2011... let's hope it's a good 'un!
2011 has been grand for me so far. Yesterday the Yorkshireman and I spent our bank holiday sleeping late and then firmly in denial that we would unfortunately yet inevitably have to return to work the next day. I finished my current book (Welcome to my World by Miranda Dickinson - not bad though a little predictable) and browsed the Interwebz for a nice off-peak summer holiday later in the year. The current favourite is Alcúdia, since the Yorkshireman has never been to the Balearic Islands, but it's open to change.
Then today it was back to porridge, trawling through unread emails and watching the clock for home-time. I hadn't held out much hope for lasting the whole day (only this morning my colleagues and I were musing about the merits of some kind of phased return system for coming back to work after a break and came out in unanimous favour) but somehow I even managed to make up a good 50 minutes of flexi time - a good start to the year. What has made it even better is the start of Season 9 of The Biggest Loser USA starting on LivingIt this evening - another of my not-so-secret shame reality TV shows! I had no idea it was starting until my very kind (and equally sad) mother just texted me. Excellent surprise!
My darling Yorkshireman has already ruminated upon the new year being a good opportunity to reflect, both on lessons learned during the last 12 months and also on any goals or ambitions you would like to fulfil in the coming year. I had already planned to do the same but don't worry, I'll keep it short and I'll refrain from any mention of reality TV shows!
2010...
What an interesting year, where I think my main focus has been on learning a lot:
- January... in which I learned that pneumonia fecking well hurts
- February... in which I learned that no matter how nice you are, some people are just pricks through and through
- March... in which I learned that I can be as stubborn as a mule if I feel strongly enough about something
- April... in which I learned that I can do things I never would have thought possible
- May... in which I learned that my fellow UK citizens are depressingly easily led by empty promises and plastic-looking men
- June... in which I learned that "perseverance is the hard work you do after you get tired of doing the hard work you already did" (Newt Gingrich)
- July... in which I learned that Command Strips are an amazing invention
- August... in which I learned that extra firm control underwear from Debenhams really is worth the money
- September... in which I learned that even the farthest-seeming finish line does eventually arrive
- October... in which I learned that even a rainy day in an English seaside resort can be fun with the right company
- November... in which I learned that there are many reasons why people really do ♥ New York
- December... in which I learned that happiness is wherever you're willing to look for it
Hopefully this will be another interesting year, for all the right reasons. I don't believe in new year resolutions on the principle that if you're truly ready, willing and able to do something, you should just go ahead and do it regardless of the date. That said, there are some things I would like to do this year. I'll keep most of them to myself, but the main principles are (in no particular order):
- To try and stop stressing out so much about things I can't actually do anything about (tricky for a worrier like myself)
- To seize every opportunity to do the things I really want to do (be it to relax with a book in a coffee shop or to visit somewhere new and exciting)
- To spend quality time with those I love and care about
So here's to 2011... let's hope it's a good 'un!
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