COLUMN!!!

So, my one follower who is also my dad, guess what?!
I have OFFICIALLY got a column in the Clifton Times! Called "life through a teenage lens", so if you happen to be sitting in a dentist near Clifton, check through the free magazine rack to MY comlumn, and you will see it is also written by me.
Ok, so it's not exactly the ideal job, being unpaid and everything, but it is a very very good start.

 Just spent the weekend in complete luxury at my aunties house in devon... they have a cook and an assisant cook and the food is complete heaven. I atre and ate as if i was some poor urchin who only ate bread and water, and I feel as though the christmas binge has truly begun...

A Riot, some Macaroons, and the First Snow of the Year

1. the protest was EVERYTHING I'd hoped it would be, and we alll got really caught up in the atmosphere. My "bankers are wankers" banner got into the news

But when the protestors started throwing fireworks at police horses, we decided it was time to leave quietly, and I ate marmite on toast in front of my shabby-chic friend's open fire. A great day.

2. The macaroons. What can I say? They were supposed to look like exquisite, french boutique gems, but maybe that was a bit ambitious. Our English teacher is completely crazy, obsessed with the motif of the macaroons in Ibsen's "A Doll's House", and harboures a hatred agasinst me and shabby-chic friend. Naturally, being the lovely girls we are, we decided to light up her little face by baking some macaroons. A recipe for disaster.
In the lunchhour we toddled off to Sainsburys, pictures of fluffy pastel coloured cakes in our heads. But luck was against us, and we got distracted. After 40minutes spent eating hummus, pitta and falafels in the famous Falafel King we trudged up the hill to school. An hour later, and I had been set free from french grammar, and it was back to Sainsburys. Blue, green, red and yellow food colouring, some dubiously pungent essence of strawberry, crystalised orange and lemon bits, cooking butterscotch and a flake after that, and we were on our way to mine. So we got a bit overexcited with the colouring, but we were still hopeful.

 Unfortunately the finished result was not so pretty. The butterscotch ones ran into a sticky, flourescent yellow mess, the strawberry ones never made it of the tray they were firmly rooted to, the blue and green st. clements flavoured ones were, as you might expect, just plain weird, and there weren't enough chocolate ones to go round the class. What's more, we ran out of time to sandwich them together with icing. The result? A strange assortment of very flat, very chewy, very bright biscuits.

3. The first snow of the winter!! I can't remember the last time it snowed in november... here's to a white Christmas!

Not a Real Post

"Dobby doesn't aim to kill. obby aims to wound, or even mildl injure"

How could I not have a post on IT?

So. The new Harry Potter film. Or HP7 as the experts would say, although personally I would prefer something that sounded less like the new generation of ink cartridge and more like the worldwide phenomenon Hary Potter is.

So I went to the showcase delux in Bristol, and paid all of £7.60 to do so. We arrived late enough for the only seats to be on the very front row. And I mean the front. So close I could have touched the screen with my little toe. So we chose a seat to the far left in the hope of  diminishing any neck cramps. Mistake number one.

The perspective was offputting throughout, and in several moment a dwarflike Emma Watson spoke to a  brooding, looming hulk of a Daniel Radcliffe. Something inside, probably my sixth sense, was telling me something was distinctly not right about this situation. It took untill I was running for a taxi later that night for it to dawn on me that maybe it wasn't the billion pound team of world experts who had been working on the film that had fucked up. Maybe I'd just chosen the wrong seat.

Despite the inapproppriately chortling 14 year old gang behind us (I say innapropriate not because 14 year olds shouldnt laugh, but because of the moments they chose to practise their cackles) the film was, well, good.

It was fine. Nothing incredible, but a good night and the chance to part of the "making of history", as warner bros. put it. Was it worth the £7.60? Definately. And the neck cramps that plagued me throughout the following day? I couldn't say.