Friends In Unlikely Places

…as he walked towards the town centre, he was overwhelmed with the feeling of relief and freedom that came with not having a tight leash around his neck, yet people still looked at him suspiciously. In fact, after a brief glance in his direction they seemed to move out of the way; making his confidence grow and his tail begin to rise and wag. There was no doubt that he was enjoying his power to split the crowd instead of having crowds of bratty children fighting to stroke, poke, jab and ruffle his fur.

I cowered in the shadow of an alleyway nearby, as I watched them scurry away, unaware of the delight I felt at their carelessness. I silently hoped for a hot chocolate and maybe a sandwich crust or two. Disapproving tuts fluttered around me as I dashed to, what I saw as, the gold mine. Yes! There was a lukewarm polystyrene ‘Starbuck’s’ cup right at the top! Eagerly, I picked it up and rattled it to hear the pleasant swash of leftover dregs – I love the fact that disposable cups come with lids nowadays so the last few inches of liquid remain in the container! With a surge of excitement, I yanked off the lid and sure enough there were at least two mouthfuls of warm, chocolate-y goodness lying at the bottom. My freezing cold bones couldn’t wait any longer and I downed the drink remains as quickly as I could. Spluttering at the shock of the harsh taste of caffeine, I grinned to myself, ‘mocha, eh? I got more than I paid for!’ With a final glance around, I took a last rummage in the bin, desperately hoping for a stroke of luck. But there was nothing else, just soggy tissues, empty wrappers and other unrecognisable goods.

The dog continued to trundle along, enjoying his new-found effect on passers-by. He was a stray, a danger, ‘stay out of his way!’ but as the crowd separated around him, they didn’t re-assemble a couple of meters after passing – they left a gap for another figure to walk through, towards the mongrel.

As I walked back to where my possessions were, the general murmur of the public around me was interrupted by the impatient rumble of my stomach. Ignoring this, I gifted people with a smile, perhaps a nod and sometimes a ‘hello’ but got nothing back, so I gave up and transfixed my eyes on the floor, promising myself that they just hadn’t seen me.

With great confidence, the dog tried to stay at the heel of his target, swerving in and out of the constant stream of other people to not lose sight of the man.

The soft sound of panting plodding behind me matched the rhythm to my footsteps. I was being followed! Every now and then I slowed down until the quiet pitter-patter of the perky dog amplified, meaning he had caught up. I turned around to get a proper look, but something caught my eye instead. A mother, walking along with a small child; she couldn’t have been older than about 3. Munching away at a sandwich, she suddenly tripped over and dropped it. Her mother sighed and tossed it into a nearby bin. My stomach outweighed the gentle plea of my dignity; one minute I was stood across the pavement, the next minute I was licking my lips in anticipation of the ‘gourmet’ sandwich in my unsteady hands.

I felt eyes on me. A stranger, an attacker – you could never be too careful! I must NOT hold his gaze; that would be the deadliest of moves. But he continued to sniff around my feet and as soon as my foot left the floor to give the sneaky beggar a warning kick, I caught sight of the mutt’s face. I never could resist a pretty face … Within a flash he had eaten the crusty edge without a morsel of crumbs left behind and I once again fell victim to the deadly temptation of his ravenous eyes.

The man carried on walking, smugly watching confused onlookers. “Why him?” they arrogantly wondered, “what refuge can that tramp give?” as they saw him waiting for the dog to catch up, chanting ‘here doggy! Come here!’ to the space behind him. 

Bystanders continued to watch the pair as they trampled along the cobbles and then met, with great dread, a group of ignorant teens jeering at him, adopting stances that made the man cower back in fear. “Don’t get involved, that dog looks dangerous,” strangers thought, trying to justify their passiveness as they hurried away from the dog, barking in protection; he was the danger, not  the youths, making death threats and humiliating remarks. The deep bellow of the protective dog quickly made the group dissemble without a final threatening word – a first for a man who had battle wounds from too many other encounters.

My dreams were tinted dark. A figure; a hand; a gentle pull on his scruffy tail; these nightmares blurred into one – the vision of waking up lonely.

Ignorant passers-by did not realise how much the man needed to be depended upon, as well as have something to depend on. As they hurriedly walked past him, literally and figuratively looking down on him; they wondered at his story. Cold, dirty and soggy from the splash of absentminded shoppers who traipsed through puddles all-too-enthusiastically, how did it happen? 

As the rainy night blurred into a crisp winter’s day, I wallowed closer into his soft fur. I heard the loud footsteps of a couple trample past, fresh pretzels in hand, making both me and my dog stir in response to the pleasing smell. I moved my arm to give him a gentle pat in reassurance to the promise of food and, at my release, he sprang into action.

With great confidence, the dog tried to stay at the heel of his targets, swerving in and out of the constant stream of other people to not lose sight of the couple.

His focus was clear – food, and nothing more.

"I'M A D-LISTER, GET ME OUT OF HERE!'

It happens every year around Christmas; much like the allocating of a secret Santa and realising that the person you have chosen is the only person you do not know, or the inevitable struggle to balance the star on top of the tree.  It’s also similar to these events in the sense that we try desperately hard to avoid them every single year, relentlessly vowing ‘I’m never doing that again!’, but somehow we always end up getting sucked into the whirlwind of the optimistic Christmas spirit and naively hope ‘this year it will be different’. Of course, I’m talking about ‘I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here!’ (to those lucky ones who managed to break away from the wrath of Ant and Dec’s tedious jokes, you heard right; yes, it’s still on). Every year, we promise ourselves that evenings will be spent playing endless games of scrabble, singing round a piano and getting on top of the vast work load. But every year, the same idiot in our friendship group mentions the gossip of the jungle, and with a deep sigh, our promise of a bush tucker trial-free Christmas is quickly recomposed to the tune of ‘one episode won’t hurt’. Next thing you know, the festivities are amongst us; mince pies are on sale in Morrison’s, Santa is making his rounds to the school fetes and church fundraisers, yet the only concern in your life is the fact that the campers only have two out of eight stars so they only get half of a kangaroo’s foot to share for dinner.

Annually, whilst pretending to be doing something worthwhile online, we stumble across the ‘LEAKED I’M A CELEBRITY LINE UP’ article on ‘Yahoo! News’ . Pfft… ‘news’! With great disappointment, we realise that the producers are, once again, scraping the celebrity barrel. Clearly actual stars have more sense than these ‘wannabies’.

So what do you need for the generic ‘I’m A Celebrity’ group? Firstly it goes without saying that you need a heart-throb. A male heart-throb. One of those people of whom the parents will roll their eyes, the teenage girls will swoon over, and the boys will write sarcastic Facebook statuses about, whilst the rest of us sit back and wonder ‘but who is he?’  

Next you need an airhead. She and The Heartthrob are likely to hook up after he sees her washing in the nearby stream. Needless to say the same image of her will be plastered over certain newspapers (*cough* ‘The Sun’) the following morning. Of course, this ‘admiration’ is definitely due to her outstanding personality, not the ill-fitting bikini she sports which bares more of a resemblance to a plastic ‘Tesco’ carrier bag which has split under the weight of two melons being carried in it. Whilst fathers in the living room pretend to be reading the newspaper but, rather blatantly, gawp at The Airhead in her swimwear, the female viewers among us all collectively wonder how she, and the rest of the I’m A Celebrity ‘stars’ have such blemish-free skin and  smooth legs and underarms when luxuries such as make up and shavers are banned. Funny, eh?

You then need a handful of soap stars and old has-been sports personalities to fuel the fights, tantrums and arguments that will, rather dramatically, split the camp. Of these, one of them will be old and won’t want to get involved much (don’t worry, they will be voted out rather quickly) and one will be an American actor who nobody recognises. I hate to ruin the surprise, but if there is an old member of a boyband, it is 80% probable that they are going to win. From the very first episode, we will be able to tell this and they will be the general ‘nice’ guy that everyone gets along with. The main rule is that if they have swooshy hair, a nice face and haven’t exchanged harsh words with anyone in the first four days, you have your winner.

To be honest, watching the promo for the upcoming episode of ‘I’m A Celeb’ will give you as much detail about the happenings in the jungle as watching the whole show would. Don’t fall into the trap of being hooked by ‘tonight’s drama’ as the gushing tears and cat fights are as much as you will see on the advert, the only difference is that the TV programme runs for at least 57 more minutes, during which time, at least three of the celebrities will be trending on twitter after a nasty scrap. 

The bush tucker trials are, without a doubt, the most exciting part of the show. We all gag at the eating trials, and admire the poor soul that is so desperate for an ounce of fame that they will sit and eat various anuses and testicles in front of millions of viewers who are all urging them to throw up . There is also the one celebrity who, every year, provides us with genuine belly laughs at their reaction to a couple of creepy crawlies. What could possibly go wrong? The show would be so much more interesting with a proper element of danger; perhaps the possibility of one of the campmates being killed by a savage kangaroo (or at least a little bit poisoned by a scuttling spider). How do the celebrities get so worked up by these trials? ITV would, much to our disappointment, never allow anything remotely risky on their channel anyway.

Admit it; it’s true. The Jungle antics are the same every year, the producers have ‘copy and pasted’ every aspect of the show for the past ten years, merely changing names and the tone of the classic swear-word ‘BLEEP’ because they think we won’t notice. We do notice, however, so why do we watch it? Why did we give in and watch it last year? And more importantly, why will we give in and watch it next year? I’m An Addict, how do I get out of here?

Write an 'entertaining article' about which words you think might disappear within the next 100 years

There is never any ballyhoo when words in our language disappear.

Spot the odd one out. As great as it would be if ‘ballyhoo’ was used in our language today, it has disappeared so much to the extent that it took several ‘Googles’ to completely define its full meaning. There’s another one - ‘Google’. If we slipped it into a conversation 50 years ago, no matter who we were talking to, the guaranteed response would be a blank face. This word is so common now that the majority of people around the world understand it, yet it has only existed for a short time. But how do these words shift so much without us realizing? There wasn’t a set date when people decided to remove ‘ballyhoo’ from circulation, yet there must have been a reason that it was changed for more contemporary vocabulary such ‘commotion’ and, more recently, ‘hype’.

It’s strange to think that, in perhaps as soon as 50 years’ time, we will have a new range of words to get to grips with, and some of our words that we use every day might be forgotten or replaced, but which ones have sticking power?

Clearly with the invention of the mobile phone and internet (of which most of us confidently declare “I caaaaan’t live without it!”) there is a whole new dictionary of words that have become second-nature to the English language. When phones first developed the texting function, the dual-function keyboard meant that it took a while to type out a standard message, hence the invention of shortened words using acronyms, initialism and contractions such as ‘LOL’, ‘G2G’ and ‘coz’ (which are, like, totes uncool now). With the further improvements in this technology (such as the touch-screen), typing on mobile phones is merely a matter of *tap tap tap* before a long essay is synchronically sent to the recipient who awaits an almost immediate reply. In theory, this means that these words will disappear as there is no potential for them. Moreover, now that they are so widely used, they have an effect much like when your mum starts to listen to ‘Daft Punk’ or ‘Eminem’; they lose a lot of credit and the average age of their user-ship spikes.

Which words will disappear? From trends we have seen in the past, our swearword vocabulary is surely to, not so much disappear, but change in terms of what will become acceptable to use. The context of our future suggests that perhaps the casual use of racist terms such as ‘n*gger’, or sexist terms such as ‘c*nt’ – which are often referred to as ‘the worst’ swear words – are likely to become diluted with their over-use and the modernising society, much like religious terms such as ‘damn’ have become more acceptable to use since the decrease in the church’s influence. Having said this, it is likely to take a long time for older generations to accept this semantic shift – using the intensifier ‘bloody’ at the dinner table on Sunday afternoon is likely to go unnoticed by everyone except granny, sitting in the corner and choking on a roast potato as she declares, ‘if I said that in my day, I would have got a slap on the wrist’.

It’s hard to tell what words we will still be using in the future, but they are likely to be ones that are used by all ages, because they are less prone to becoming unfashionable with a currently wide and varied usage. Words such as ‘cool’ and ‘bloke’ are an example of this because, unlikely the travesties which are the words ‘twerk’ and ‘yolo’, they are already used by older generations, and people have thus accepted them as mainstream. Whereas the younger generation are likely to feel incredibly uncomfortably if their mum starts to shout ‘yolo’ or tries to twerk, because the words were implemented by young and credible figures, therefore they were never meant for the oldies.

Sci-Fi movie review for work experience

GRAVITY – WOULD THAT ACTUALLY HAPPEN?

From launch, the outstanding cinematography in ‘Gravity’ was breathtaking, evoking that overwhelming feeling of realizing how insignificantly small we are.  The constant build-up of tension; silent space contrasted with panicked breathing, had a startling effect; translating the emotion of the two characters to the whole audience.

What put a ‘downer’ on the movie was that it was too ‘Hollywood’, therefore predictable. Although the threat of ‘running low on oxygen’ is a massive spacewalk danger, it rushed the tensest moments; the main character couldn’t suffocate in the first half hour! It's ratings plummeted after Ryan met the ISS (International Space Station for you uneducated lot). The unnecessary involvement of three space stations, which all met similar endings, was laughable; why does Hollywood insist on over-using these tediously similar scenes?! Stone must have pretty bad karma to be within the demolition of three space landmarks in one day!

So … is space actually like that? Real images from the ISS capture it much closer to Earth than ‘Gravity’ suggests. This is only a little quibble, but what really fired up those space-geeks was that, according to Newton’s Law of Motion, ‘every action has an equal and opposite reaction’. Basically, with a little push and shove, the two protagonists could’ve both reached the ISS effortlessly.

In fairness, hats off to those techies who did a remarkable job of representing zero-gravity whilst on Earth. It was thoroughly convincing and a massive reminder of our technological advancement, and the extreme talent of individuals in this industry; their skill certainly paid off.

The hype about ‘Gravity’ is understandable, but the film is too clichéd. Will we remember it in 5 years? Probably not – it definitely didn’t meet ‘2001 Space Odyssey’ standard. The final scene of Bullock strutting about on land was disappointing – prior to this she uttered a fantastic line, ‘there are only two possible outcomes; either I make it down there in one piece and have one hell of a story to tell, or I burn up in the next 10 minutes’ – at this point, the movie should’ve met an overwhelming finish, plunging fans and critics into intense debate – would she have survived? 

On the 11th year of skiing...

There is nothing worse than standing at the top of an icy ski slope, wondering how on earth you are going to get down on the two strips of wood that the uncomfortable boots on your aching feet are clinging onto. Actually, the only thing worse would be the addition of an impatient instructor and a crocodile line of other peers watching from the 12 meters below. This was me – ‘the one at the back’ and I used to dread these holidays every year. The constant worry of how I was going to stand up if I fell over (It’s been 11 years and I still can’t regain my stance without taking my skis off). The faraway voice of the vaguely attractive instructor yelling in a thick Italian accent ‘LOUISEEEEEE, PARALLEL SKIIIIIS!’ as I, quivering from the top of black slope number 3 correct him for the 6^th time, ‘it’s Louisa’. Not to forget the undignified trek through the village every afternoon as I struggle to carry all of my equipment without dropping it; beads of sweat dribbling down my face like snowballs rolling down the mountain.

I always told myself that the reason for being ‘the one at the back’ was because of the accident I had 11 years ago where dad took us down blue number 14 instead of blue number 11, and I ended up rolling (head first) towards the cliff edge with a suddenly rather flexible knee lumbering behind me. That was year 1; torn ligaments, crutches, and not being able to go on the slide at ‘Avon Valley Country Park’ for 5 weeks because I was in a plaster cast.

Years 2 through to 6 were not much better. There were no more trips to the hospital but I was still adamant that, no matter how many snow-plough turns I did, I was not going to get down the mountain in one piece. 6 days a year of skiing had brought me anything but a talent for skiing. Every January I would realise that, in less than 3 months, I would be stood at the top of another unpassable slope, with yet another impatient instructor urging me down, and more bratty children snaking past me as my tears steam up my sunglasses. It would literally be the biggest dread of the year.

I will never forget the day my mum told me that we ‘weren’t going to bother with ski school this year’ rather casually as we sat in the car at some red traffic lights. I felt like a massive weight had been lifted, and my mum was actually really surprised at how relieved I felt. I always enjoyed the afternoons in La Thuile, skiing with my family and some friends, and it occurred to me that I now have nothing to worry about. My mum and dad would always wait for me, a couple of meters behind, to pick me up when I fall over.

11 years since I first squeezed a pair of uncomfortable, clumpy size 5 ski boots onto my feet, I have returned from yet another week of skiing in the sun – this time in Cervinia. As corny as it may sound, I absolutely love skiing now (and might I add, I’m now fairly good at it!). On day 2 of our holiday this year, I saw a tiny girl, she must have been about 6, fall over at the back of the group in her ski lesson. She couldn’t get up and if anything was going to metaphorically represent the changing of my enjoyment and confidence on the slopes, it was going to be a (cheesy) scene where I side-slip down and help her stand up and put her skis back on. I’m not self-congratulating or anything; it just made me realise that I have overcome this massive confidence issue that I once had about snow sports. I know that ski school is useful to build up skills and confidence, but often all somebody needs to pick themselves up, and brush themselves off is a little TLC.

Thoughts on 'Divergent'

Divergent is the love child of ‘The Hunger Games’ and ‘Mean Girls’ – you’ve got your strict governmental body who somewhat restrains the residents of the country in an effort to create a peaceful empire post-war, and then you’ve got the bitchiness of the clique-y factions, all of whom have 5 very different personalities. This doesn’t, however, mean that ‘Divergent’ didn’t bring something new to the movie world.

The intricate storyline was not only thought-provoking and exciting, but it was easily understandable and immediately provoked the audience to develop their individual theories and hopes for the plot’s continuance. The characters were well-developed and were far from the cliché protagonists that I would imagine. I loved the idea of having their fears tapped into, and it was very interestingly portrayed, making me think of what I would find in my hallucination (jellyfish, eyeballs and someone in the window as I pull back the curtain, I think!)

The downside of the movie, for me, was that some aspects of the story weren’t explained as much as I would have hoped. Now, perhaps this is because I haven’t read the books, but I would have liked to know more about Tris’s brother, Caleb, and why he decided to join the Erudite faction. It was a twist near the beginning of the movie which was never really quite explained. Also, I loved the catch that Tris’s mum was originally in Dauntless, but this could also have been elaborated more, but perhaps they’re saving it for a prequel!

Parts of the movie were pretty predictable, and the ending was disappointing because it was extremely cheesy! But despite this, I think I will give the books a go – I can see where sequels could lead to, and am pretty sure this will be a popular one of 2014!

Will you be following up the inevitable sequels to the Divergent movie? Tell me your thoughts in the comments!

Thoughts about 'Shrooms'

Tonight, I went round to my friend’s and was the first to arrive at his house. I naively asked him what movie we were going to watch, expecting (or rather, hoping) for a response such as ‘mamma mia’ or ‘you can choose, Louisa – as long as it’s a cheesy musical’. But no. With a smug grin, he thrusted a dreary looking trashy-horror film at me, and with disgust I read the blurb. I know you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and all that, but it was called ‘Shrooms’ and was basically about a group of teenagers who experience a horrible trip after eating some mushrooms they find in the forest. Yeah, it’s as good as it sounds - find out for yourself here.

As soon as the others arrived, the host showed them the film and, typically, us girls all rolled our eyes and asked for the wifi code whilst the boys couldn’t wait to put it on.

As the film started, we immediately realised that the movie would bring more laughs than screams. At one point, it actually got a little bit good, when we were told about a ‘true story’ from the past which basically addressed the generic ‘something-bad-happened-now-people-die-here-and-are-found-mutated’ catch. It was actually quite scary, though (although I think this was provoked a little bit more by the fact that there was a really scary tree outside which kept swaying in the wind and making us jump).

As the climax built up, we gradually lost understanding of the storyline, although it wasn’t any good to begin with. Being a horror movie however, it had all of the right effects yet I don’t think these were executed to the best quality – the gore was very cliché and looked fake, and the ‘dark figure’ started off scary, but we saw too much of its face so it lost the mysterious and creepy element and the suspense therefore dropped. I think this was one of the main mistakes of the movie – showing the audience too much. Rookie error.

All in all, as far as trashy horror movies go, this was no different to the rest of them. One might describe the plot as ‘unique’ but to be honest, it was just stupid. Other elements of the storyline were actually quite gripping – such as the ‘horror story’ of the psychiatric men in the forest – yet the actual reflection of these in the film let down its potential. The film made us laugh a lot, particularly one of the characters who (we assumed) was supposed to scare the living daylight out of us. He was meant to be a psycho but my friend immediately saw a resemblance of Lennie from ‘Of Mice and Men’ in him, and from then on, none of us could take him seriously. Ironically, somebody spotted a dead rabbit hanging from the doorway of this character. I guess Lennie never got to tend to the rabbits in the end. The best part was the extremely unexpected catch right at the end. I won’t give it away but it did give ‘Shrooms’ the edge off other similar movies because it wasn’t as predictable as we had thought.

In summary, if you want a lazy night in with a couple of friends to have a laugh, rent this movie (don’t buy it – you probably won’t watch it again), but if you actually want a big scare and something to talk about for weeks after, I’d veer towards better quality horror films.   

What did you think about the film? Leave your comments below!

Pressure.

I stared at the keypad, trying to remember the correct code that had been drummed into me over and over again. “Twist the dial, type ‘2-0’, flick the sw— no wait,” what was it?

I felt the pressure. The pressure from my peers and everybody around me, dependent on my next move. But more importantly, the pressure from myself. I had to do it. I had a lot of energy at my care, but how was I going to control it? What was that code? I knew that one wrong step would deplete my chances, and a careless action would make the whole contents in that small box, which held no prisoners, explode and burn to a crisp. What a waste that would be.

C’mon! Think! I could drive a tank, operate a gun, navigate across the harsh Afghanistan desert, yet when my comrades needed me most; my mind had hit a wall. “Twist the dial, type ‘2-0’, flick the sw—“

‘YOU JUST TRIED THAT!’ one of my companions yelled, the stress and panic leaking out of his voice like water from a tap. ‘We haven’t got much time left’. In immense dread, I touched one of the buttons and, unbeknown to me, it bleeped and the whole box sprang into action, leaping and whirring as it eventually lit up. My last sense to realise what had happened was my touch. But I soon felt the immense heat radiating through my bones, like a wave of water drenching a sandy beach, seeping into every nook and cranny available and making me aware of it, as if it was just tapping me on the shoulder. Everybody around my flinched in anticipation as a harsh countdown started and I knew this was it.

10, 9, 8—“EVERYBODY GET READY”, 7, 6, 5, 4, —“IT’S GONNA EXPLODE!”, 3, 2, 1

*ping*

The popcorn was ready