Canvey Island

I have come to realise that this blog is predominantly written during my college hours. Well, i have come to realise that I am easily distracted.

Well, I've always known that, and also known I have big enough bollocks to put those easily distracted thoughts to use and go on here to take my mind away... metaphorically of course. :D

I have also realized that i need a real camera. A decent one. Not my current camera which is no better than my camera on my Nokia 6070 (whoever has owned one of these bricks would know just how frustrating these excuses for mobile phones really are. The only positive thing I can say is that it's so simple Jade Goody could operate it with her tongue, and it holds its battery like a camel holds it's water)

*hiss*

Does anyone have a good idea on how much a good camera costs and what models to go for? Any replies would be much appreciated!

Also, my Daniel is on his way right now to take his first theory test on driving. I'm quite nervous for him, as this will mean he'll have his license by mid-February... Heaven. I really cannot wait till he does!

The first place to go on the list when he gets it is good old Canvey Island. Ahhh, Canvey Island.

I can still smell the soggy smell of wet seaweed on the "beach" or, more specifically, the stones, and see the oil liners transporting their cargo up the Thames estuary through the mist that constantly hangs in the centre of the water, even in heatwaves.

The sound of children screaming with surprise as they run into the murky frozen waves, middle aged couples walking their dogs with hands stuffed in their fleeces and the big cafe that used to sell assorted seaside related nicknacks such as crablines, buckets and spades, candyfloss and the like.

Then you would walk up the stairs, through an iron gate in the sea defense wall, down the grassy slope and into the centre of the action, where the crazy golf area resides, the arcades flash their fairground lights as all children under 4.5 feet tall drag their exhausted parents inside to further empty their pockets on trying to grab a cheap soft toy on the crane machines, and the centre of this seaside wonderland?

The Monico Pub. Oh Monico, with your white rounded edges and stark, classic typography on the walls in scarlet red and rickety wooden benches that stang your bum when you sat down, shivering in your swimsuit wrapped in a sandy beach towel, sipping your coke and crunching your ready salted Walkers while the adults glugged down their assorted beers and the odd gin 'n tonic... at least, thats how I remember it.

Canvey, Canvey, you are home to so many childhood memories, from eating fish and chips in the chip shop next to the arcades, holding on for dear life on the ancient crumbling parachute ride waiting for it to fall down (but it never did, at least when we went on it. Apparently thats why the fairground isnt there anymore) to winning my two old goldfish in the summer and kept them alive for 3 years. RIP Jimi and Hendrix :(

Oh Daniel, please pass your test. I can't wait to smell that smell and hear those sounds and taste those chips and candyfloss.

Happy Songs

"Look at me so free
Nothings holding me down
Look at me so free
Can’t keep my feet on the ground
1-2-3 Like a bird I sing
Cause you've given me the most beautiful set of wings"


Simple, yet effective, non?

Sitting here, in a humble little college on the edge of Clacton town, on the top floor, listening to the girls around me bitch and whine in their screeching voices and the tutor talking in the plain politocally correct monotone voice that all taught teachers and tutors talk in, it's easy to feel a bit... well, pissed off!

Which is why, when i come in through that door in the early hours of the morn, I plug my ears into one of the only music channels the college will allow us to listen to, most likely because they dont know about it, and my day is set to beat. A drum beat, that is :)

And whilst listening to this heaven sent music channel, a cheerful baritone enters my ears in the guise of a modern country singer by the name of Tim Mcgraw. Unfazed, i carried on with my musings and work, and when the song finished it's merry tune, something made me turn the song back and listen again, this time closer.

It was called The Last Dollar, and was a song about freedom, happiness, retribution, and the simple satisfactions in life. It sang about laughing in the face of the bad things that may have happened in your past, and even if you have nothing, theres still a smile. Because, at the end of the day, theres the future, and you can make that happen.

And to think, the only way I found this remarkable song was by being a bored college student surfing songs on Yahoo Music for some form of sanity.

Now I can't stop listening to it :D

Heres a link, follow them to the video


http://music.yahoo.com/ar-256961---Tim-McGraw Enjoy!

Back at home, and Calvin and Hobbes

Well people, i came back home!

After a hell of a night last Monday, I have returned to my home. And I couldnt be happier, tell the truth. Peace is reining again and all is good in my world :)

So, on a lighter note, lately i have returned to an old favorite and fandom of mine (I use the word "fandom" in the LOOSEST possible term, regarding my experiences with fandoms) CALVIN AND HOBBES.

Seriously, what a wonderful, beautiful comic! When i read them, a sense of my own childhood washes over me as i read them, memories flooding back as I watch Calvin live them out with his stuffed tiger. I also feel a big connection with Calvin, as when i was younger I often felt alone.

I was an only child, so I was brought up predominantly around adults at least three times my age. I often sat day-dreaming and doodling, thinking up stories and adventures. I was a little girlier and less active than Calvin and Hobbes, but I had my moments. I especially relate to the bathtime and bedtime comics, and the just plain "being a bastard" comics, like this one below. I even had a stuffed toy that I took everywhere with me, and believed he was real. Ahhh, memories.

Still haven't got a job. I applied for a job in T Mobile (Def. not my sort of job, but hey, its work and it was very good money) and they at least had the dignity to let me know they had rejected me. I have applied for a full time gardner in Colchester Zoo (now thats more like it) and a cleaner in an old folks home, but no reply from either.

Crossing fingers that I'm succesful in at least one, seeing that i currently have 70p to my name. (Not overreacting either, my bank statements don't lie)

Till Next time, it's a magical world out there, so lets go exploring! ;)

Emma xxx

*all images belong to Bill Watterson

New Year, New blog!

Hello Readers!



Well, if you've followed my link from http://www.walk-of-life.deviantart.com/ , welcome! If you've stumbled on here by accident, i welcome you with open arms and hope you'll enjoy this blog. I'll try to keep it interesting, but hopefully you'll enjoy the ramblings, rants, tears and joys of a fairly ordinary 18 year old girl living in britain.



Well, life has been quite cool since the beginning of the year. I had a rather interesting new years, reulting in a days long hangover. Well, I'm practically teetotal during the year, i rarely drink. Even when i go out, which is almost every week, i can manage on coke, with the occasional malibu and pineapple when i can afford it or when my other half, Daniel, offers. So imagine the shock it sent to my body when i downed two pints of lambrini and half a very very sickly bottle made out of raspberries in the space of three hours. Needless to say i collapsed.



Since after the inevitable overhang, i managed to scratch out a few new years resolutions, most along the lines of money and money managing.





Even though the year is technically still in its nappies and crying for its mother, i have a confession. I hate Jim Carrey.



Yes! I hate the sod! He's so IRRITATING!



This came from watching the film The Grinch. It's the mask in a Grinch suit! I swear I felt the ground beneath me shake and rumble as I felt Chuck Jones and Dr Seuss turn and flip in their graves as Carrey butchered their masterpeices. With a blunt, rusted AXE. The Grinch (the original one) would NEVER do all the goofy things Jim made his Grinch do. And the Whos! Are we supposed to side with these horrible creatures? And the original Cindy Lou had a much smaller, but equally prominant role in her own subtle, innocent way. Instead, those suits made her a preachy, squeaky-voiced, perky and determined 8 year old. And thats another thing.

In the words of Doctor Suess...

And the Grinch grabbed the tree, and he started to shove
When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast, and he saw a small Who!
Little Cindy-Lou Who, who was not more than two.

CINDY LOU IS TWO! NOT EIGHT! TWO! A BABY!

Phew.

So people, if you want to honour the Dr and his memory, instead of sticking them in front of the live action for for 1 and a half hours, sit them down in front of Chuck Jone's version. Or better yet, read them the original, straight from Suess's pen.

Thank you!