Letter to my 15 year old self

I have been musing with the idea of writing a blog post about what I would say to my younger self for a while. It’s a scenario regularly visited by soaps and sitcoms when they run out of ideas but it poses an important notion; if you could change anything in your past what would it be? I was going to include a photo of me at 15 but hell no one needs to be put through that torture.

“In 20 years, you will be more disappointed by what you didn’t do than by what you did”   - Mark Twain

There are a few things I would tell my young self but one that has always plagued me was what would I do if I could change one decision I made in my past. One yes turned into a no, one left turned into a right. Mine would probably be to carry on acting; it is one thing I miss in my life now and I always wonder how far it could have gone. It would have more than likely turned into nothing but regret is a beast that eats away at undiscovered choices.

I would probably also tell my younger self to say no to eating that Chicken in Jaipur – that did not end well.

So my question to you is what choice would you go back and change? What would you tell your 15 year old self?

My 2012 – 12 months, 12 songs

It’s here!

My yearly ritual of posting twelve songs that have either defined or been the soundtrack to moments that have made my year has come around again. I have put some up with links to blog posts that are the reason they are up there so have a click on those underlined.

Thank you all for being such smashing readers, heres to another year of this!

Without further a do, here goes….

 

1. Amy Wadge – Paris

Had this in my head the whole time I was in Paris. Now it reminds me of my brief but brilliant trip to that wonderful city.

2. James Blake – Case of You

A Joni Mitchell cover that out of all of these songs I urge you to listen to as its quite simply beautiful. Reminds me of reading my book on Hampstead Heath in the bitter cold.

3. Florence and the Machine – No light, No light

It still hurts to think about that run!

4. Yungchen Lhamo – Ranzen

Listening to Tibetan music makes sure I never forget where my heart truly lies, back in India.

5. Missy Higgins – Whole of her new album

This was very much the soundtrack to choosing and preparing photographs for my first exhibition.

6. Elbow – First Steps

The official song for the BBC coverage of our Olympics.

7. Karima Francis - Wherever I go

A stunningly warm and emotive voice, saw her live at a music festival this summer. Well worth a listen!

8. Matt Corby – Brother

9. Ruth Notman – Roaming

Reminds me of the stupid amounts of train journeys I have taken this year!

10. Frank Sinatra – The Coffee Song

Possibly the most cheerful song in the world! Never has failed to caffeinate my spirits.

11. Ellie Goulding – Figure 8

A song that has kept me warm on many a long photography walk.

12. Landon Pigg – Falling in love at a Coffee Shop

A song that has been on a constant loop on many occasions. I love it not only because it has coffee in the title but how it reminds me how lucky I am.

 

 

 

My Desk – The 50,000th hit

I made a vow that when I got to 50,000 hits on this old thing I would post a photo of my desk as a way to say thank you to all you brilliant readers and so you could see where the magic happens. So here it is in all it’s, ummm, glory.

It is a literal manifestation of my brain; quite a bit bonkers, cluttered and full of useless thing. For the keener eyes in the house might notice some of the many weird and wonderful things that adorn my workspace.

Now I’ve shown you mine, you show me yours…

People Watching in the Rain

It’s my guilty pleasure and one that goes great with a huge cup of coffee.

When it rains I love nothing more than being in a warm coffee shop with a blistering hot cup in hand and a look of absolute smugness as I watch people dash from A to B with newspaper hats and unfurling umbrellas.

You imagine their lives and the thoughts flooding their head as the rain floods their shoes. As I am sat in a London coffee shop I can guess that most of their thoughts include, “Get out my way I am far more important than you”. Nonetheless, I thought I would share with you all a bit of prose to describe the truest of guilty pleasures; people watching.

I watch as the rain creates a distorted view outside, life altered while the heavens are open. Roads turn to rivers, people turn to snails leaving trails of water as the trudge through my -now filling- coffee shop and smiling people collecting money groan under the weight of their buckets filling with water instead of funds.

My bitter coffee slides effortlessly down my throat as a sprinting commuter slides on a greased paving slap, pulling off a perfect dismount from his self-respect. I smile wryly while the heat of my cup starts to penetrate my gloves, the warmth clearly preparing me for the heat of hell for this oh so guilty pleasure.

The legions of black suits and grey faces, bustle past one another regarding the weather with nonchalant distain. Eyes down they wade through their colleagues, a power-walking competition played out at every tube station. Black cab doors fly open as people flee the deluge and mark the cost down as a necessary expense.

But there are some, the unsuited civilians, who caffeinate my imagination better then the coffee flowing through my bloodstream could ever do. 

A couple pass hands clasp tightly, white knuckled, perhaps she is holding on for fear of letting go or, more likely, for the simple enjoyment of hurting the one she loves.

Two strangers share a lighter as they cower from the storm under a shop’s awning. A short sentence and a nod and they become strangers again, stood together.

A soaked man bimbles past. He walks with a swagger and a smile, all the while his clothes are becoming more water than material. Is he happy or crazy? It’s a fine line…

The rain has eased and my coffee drained. I gather my things and become a character in someone else’s window gazing. I wonder what they might think of me as my umbrella turns inside out.

Olympic Conclusions

I, like everyone else in Britain, am suffering from a break-up. We had a long, beautiful summer together the Olympics and us; we laughed, we cried and more than once we begged her not to leave. We felt like a better people with the Olympics by our side.

But now she has left us for a more exotic country. Apparently she moves on a lot.

Before she arrived it was safe to say we all had our doubts, safety being the main one. The day after we were bestowed the vast victory of securing the games, London was changed. Timetabled and quiet London was left scarred and scared following those acts of evil that cracked London’s veins. A question swarmed around our silent lands after 7/7: “who are we now?”. The Olympics has helped many people get over that day, especially Martine Wright.

Wright was running late on the morning of 7 July because she had stayed out the previous night with marketing colleagues celebrating the Olympic win. Her journey that day caused her to lose not only both legs and 80% of her blood but, her life as she knew it when Shehzad Tanweer’s suicide bomb detonated 3ft from her on a Circle line tube train at Aldgate. She competed in the Paralympic GB team from volleyball and, despite not winning any medals, she did something so much greater; she showed that we as a nation can not be terrorised.

I was lucky enough to get tickets to two events (one in the Paralympics and the other the Olympics) as well as a ticket to wander around the Olympic park. I can’t put into writing all that I felt and all that I still feel for those fleeting weeks. I’ve tried for so long and failed every time in every sentence.

One thing I will say is that it has re-instilled British pride.

We have a swagger about us now, so many doubters now left dumbstruck. We were told we could not match the money explosion that was Beijing. We didn’t match it, we conquered it. We showed ourselves as a proud nation, a funny nation, a successful nation and a nation with great heart.

Our Prime Minister once called our country ‘Broken Britain’ and the Olympics went a great way to glue it back again. It was perhaps a remedy rather than a cure though, for our nation divided. Our flag, the Union Flag, flew for exactly that; union. While the united elation was strong then, in the eye of the storm, even now it starts to weaken. The question that fills me with trepidation is: how do we keep this feeling rolling? You can only ride a wave for so long before it comes crashing against the shore of everyday life.

We were separate people from countries worlds apart. Yet we hugged and cheered together, strangers embracing strangers for another stranger whose name we will soon forget.

So she has moved on and we are left with photos of us together; they adorn our mantlepieces as a reminder of our summer love. Though she may be gone we will always have London.

My Olympics – Knitted Bolt

Knitted Usain on his visit to the Olympic stadium.

My Olympics – The Torch

So the curtain has finally closed on London 2012 but fear not!

All this week I will be showing all you lovely people photographs from my Olympics (I didn’t compete but you know what I mean!). I will end the week with a blog post that has been many months in the making about what the whole Olympics has meant to me.

The first photograph is of the Olympic torch. It was the instrument that sparked (hardy ha ha) the British publics unequal-able enthusiasm for the Olympics. We came out in the wind, rain, hail and on the rare occasions sunshine to wave at celebrities and strangers alike. We cheered not because they had a fire ball on a stick in their hands but because they were symbolising us, the brilliant British.

But I’ll save the rest of my words for the end of the week and without further a do……. Let the games begin!

Why spell check is my favourite invention of all time

I love to write but I’m partially illiterate on the side.

Teachers, tutors and lectures alike sang from the same hymn sheet when it came to my grammar. That it was down to laziness, stupidity or –the best comment on an essay- “are you doing this to test my sanity?”

The wonders of dyslexia.

I can read over my work a myriad of times and while the errors may seem glaring to others, they seemed hidden to me. The obvious fades into oblivion when grammar is introduced. Even with someone leaning over my shoulder tutting away they would pass by me undetected like Where’s Wally at a knitted jumper convention.

Sometimes it helps cut the frustration of dyslexia if you can just find a way to laugh at your situation. Although who ever decided to call it dyslexia had a horrible sense of humour. I used to spell it Disexica but it sounds more like an erotic planet than a learning disability looking back at it now.

But whilst twenty something years have passed with my own personal enigma of English thwarting a well dressed sentence help is finally at hand. I call my grammatical saviour, my Punctuation Pirate.

I shouldn’t tease, as my pirate’s work has been crucial in the past whether it be essays, job applications or –yes- even blog posts.

After I’ve posted a blog post a few hours pass, then the phone call.

It begins with a sigh, a hushed swear word then the corrections commence. Thick and fast they come; the ‘I’ve told you about this a thousand times’ or the ‘I really don’t understand what this sentence means’ and the unsurprisingly echoes of my school years, ‘are you doing this to test my sanity?’

Dyslexia should not be something to be embarrassed about I struggle with grammar and spelling, always have and maybe always will. So to anyone else out there reading this; be proud of your dyslexia it can be hard and incredibly frustrating but you are never alone. We can’t all have our own pirates fighting our battles but smile at your silly mistakes and remember they are what make us human.

Running to Music

Still so very sore.

Yes I did it, I managed to get across the finish line! Proof at the bottom of the post. Thank you so much to everyone who donated. Here is my playlist that kept me running through the rain, contributed by those lovely people that donated and a few of my own handpicked songs.

See if you can guess which ones were mine…

 

1. Beatles – Here comes the sun

2. Kayne West et al – All of the lights

3. Bruce Springsteen – Dancing in the dark

4. The Atomic Fireballs – Man With The Hex (thank you to Noeline Smith, go visit her stunning photography blog)

5. Shaggy – Mr. Bombastic

6. Bruce Springsteen – Born to run

7. Florence and the Machine – No light, no light

8. Tinie Tempah – Written in the stars

9. Alex Clare – Too close

10. Bon Jovi – Living on a prayer

11. Marvin Gay – Ain’t no mountain high enough

12. Leconfield Acoustics (my band!) – Play the last key

13. Bruce Springsteen – Born in the US

14. Florence and the Machine – Shake it out

15. James Morrison – One life

16. Carly Rae Jepsen – Call me maybe (surprisingly helpful)

 

 

 

I hate to ask but…

Right my lovely fellow bloggers and readers alike I have a favour to ask.

In a moment of madness, that this year seems to be populated by, I have decided to become a very VERY late entry to the British London 10K run that is in… A WEEK!

The cause is one that has dominated most of my adult life, Tibetans living in exile. The charity I am running for is The Tibetan Relief Fund and they do incredible work for Tibetans living in Tibet but also India and Nepal. They do this by funding initiatives in education, healthcare, self sustainable community building and youth development. To read more on this fantastic charity click here.

So my favour is simple, support this charity and me. I’m not asking for millions only what you feel you can spare during this tough time. If you donate over £6 then you can choose any (I mean any) song that I have to listen to on the 10km track (route here). I will post a photograph of me with my medal and if you donate I will give you a plug in that post. If that doesn’t convince you watch the video voiced by His Holiness.

To donate just click here

It would mean a lot. Thank you.