2013: The Year That Was...

Don't pretend like you don't love reading these posts on how people's lives have panned out over the past year. I can't help but read them myself, so instead of ingesting everyone else's highs and lows over the last twelve months, I thought I'd write out a few of my own.

2013; The Year That Was...

Snowy (high)
Well-documented on here and much-mentioned everywhere else, I packed in my job and did a ski season last November. I spent 6 months in the luxe ski resort of Val d'Isere. It was the best decision of my life.

Bloody (low)
One week before my flight back to the UK, my friends and I took a trip to the leisure centre to have some much-needed pamper time. After a dip in the jacuzzi, we sat in the Hammam for some steamy therapy. After a while, I got up to leave and as I pushed the handle to open the door I fainted.
My robust head flopped forward and smashed the thick glass. Still clutching the handle tightly, I came round and found myself in a pool of blood. My friends, helpless, half-reaching across the shimmer of glass shards to comfort me. My horrified shrieks echoing off the water, the ceiling. Proper horror movie stuff!
So much glass was embedded in my bum where I'd landed hard and then shuffled about in the stuff, grinding it into the skin's surface, then deeper, and deeper. The doctors spent 3.5 hours tweezing, pulling and stitching me back together. They were so pleased with themselves as I happily guzzled a barrel of gas and air.
Now, I have a leopard print-esque scar on one butt cheek and slashes across various parts of my body. Never mind.

Lovey-dovey (high)
Romance took me by surprise in the mountains. Cliche and cringey as you like, I fell for a boy who took the time to help me get over my fears and made me open my eyes - both metaphorically and literally. Never ideal going down a slope with your eyes shut...
After skiing we drove around Europe in a converted van and spent 3 months on the road. It was idillic. I saw so many beautiful things and am so grateful to have had the opportunity to take the time to explore and to have shared it with someone special.

What next?
My aims for 2014 are threefold.

Use my body
After my glassy accident it was incredibly painful to move. Gouged skin takes a long time to heal. Consequently, I lost my fitness and motivation to do much else but massage bio oil into myself. Anyway, I hope to take up running properly again next year as netball tides me over for now. I've found it impossible to psych myself up to go out in the cold/dark/wet/damp/gusty/iffy outdoors.

Write
I'm launching myself as a freelance writer. When I put my mind to it, I'm actually pretty good at putting words together. I have already written for the London New Journal (to be released mid-January) and I'll be contributing to The News Hub (launching early 2014), focusing primarily on women's sport.

Plan
I'm 25. Maybe I should think about being a grown-up next year. OR maybe I shall plan another cheeky adventure to escape the 9-5 and live my life as I have done in 2013, because it's made me ever so happy...

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My first audition

If you'd asked me a year ago whether I fancied applying for 'Total Wipeout', I probably would've said yes, downloaded the form and left it sitting in my 'downloaded items' for 7 months, gathering jargon dust, swamped in amongst thousands of temporary internet files. Ok, so that did happen. However, earlier this month we received an email at work from Endemol with a desperate call for more women to apply for their new series of 'Winter Wipeout'. Representing the Women's Sport and Fitness Foundation I took it as a sign, got my act together and spent the evening completing the application pack. A week later, I got asked to come along to the auditions.

Here's what I wore:

'Wintry.'

After getting a little lost in South Kensington and so sulking in Pret, I decided to ditch my map, use my instinct, and follow the several people wearing fluorescent legwarmers. Entering the sports centre, I was suddenly surrounded by spandex and other indistinguishable clingy materials. All I can be sure of is that the majority of outfits were sweat-inducing. There were about 500 of us.

Round One

'When you hear the siren, you'll sprint to the other end of the sports hall and you'll have one minute to sell yourself to the producers - one per table but you'll go in groups of five. Three, two, one.. HONK.'

• I did sprint. It was so far to the other end of the hall and my slippers were so slippery I did a skid.
• I was very out of breath but managed to do my one-minute rap. 
• I was given a blue ticket by the producers. 
• I went through 'the door on the right please'
• Blue tickets = you're through to the next round! YAY!

Still slightly out of breath and terribly excited, it was time for a Polaroid and paperwork. Of those that made it, we were then separated up into groups of 30.

Round Two

'Welcome to our Winter Wipeout assault course! As you can see, it is very realistic - just like the course in Argentina. First of all, we need you to come and have a chat with 'Amanda', then you'll do your shout-out at the top of the course direct to camera, then continue on to complete the course. We'll be filming you all the time. Ok, so where's Kat..?'

• I had my chat with 'Amanda', who didn't believe that I could be girlie and tough. So I started on her.
• I did my improvised shout-out which, most impressively, rhymed Beadle with weed(le)...
• I completed the course, including ten proper press-ups at the end - absolute powerhouse.

It was such a great atmosphere with everyone cheering for one another. After a little wait (and a well-earned rest) I was called through as I'd made it to the next round. YAY!

Round Three

'Hi Kat! Congratulations on getting this far you've done fantastically. Now, I'm going to ask you some questions, the camera's going to be rolling... We want your personality shine through so just be yourself!'

• The room was so small and the light was so bright my hood was so warm.
• I don't even remember what I said because it was so fast and intense and so bright and so warm.

And that was the final stage! A pretty exhausting day to be honest but a fantastic experience. I met a lot of crazy interesting people and I'm very very glad I did it. Now I wait for a phone call...

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Field Day Fun

If you weren't aware, there are only a few things needed to constitute a good time:

1. A field
2. Some music
3. Some people
4. Corn-on-the-cob related contests
5. Copious competitive knee scuffing
6. Small bottles of Swedish cider

Field Day festival is held every year in the lush leafy Victoria Park and having attended this year's funbonanza I can confirm it definitely delivers all of the above.

You want the dulcet tones of Willy Mason at noon? Done.

Mid-afternoon mini rave in a slightly sweaty strobey tent? Take your pick.

Ostrich burger for dinner? Join the queue (weirdo). I'll meet you by the chippy!

Want to go sliiiightly mental in the crowd for Born Ruffians? Good, because everyone else does too.

Walking, wandering, dancing and skipping around from 10am to 11pm was a little testing on the thighs, and even more so if you happened to enter a tug of war competition and take it quite seriously...

With the line-up being as good as it was, trying to squish in everybody of interest was easier said than done - even with a trusty (progressively soggy) timetable. Warpaint, Anna Calvi and The Coral will have to be pencilled in for another time. I don't mind how unlikely that may be as the bands I did manage to see were superb! With Wild Beasts closing their set on the main stage with 'End Come Too Soon' it certainly did feel that it had.

Fun is pretty easily achievable when you're in good company and fortunately I had that too. Field Day = FUN. Roll on next year!

Contents of bag: another broken bracelet, 10p I probably owe someone, kirby grips, bite cream, a holey and scrumpled timetable, train tickets.

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Go for a walk on a sunny afternoon...

...preferably in matching trainers.

I got my black&white film hand-developed today and unfortunately there were scratches along many of the negatives. Not ideal. The nice man put them onto a CD for me (for FREE - hence 'nice man') so I could tweak the close-up portraits I'd done. Grainy is good but stripey just won't do.

A couple you'll find on Flickr but the others will stay put in their little envelope until I find some decent frames to shove them in.

It's always nice to have secret photos that nobody's gawped at on Facebook already. I'm greedy like that.

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You know when you rummage through your drawers...

...and underneath all the bank statements and junk mail you find the hand-drawn Pokemon Information Booklet you made over 10 years ago?

Yeah. It's a good feeling.

We overestimated the pages we'd need.

[Item not for sale]

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A Casual Tuesday Tea-Time Photoshoot

My OM10 seems to be getting all the attention these days so it was nice to get out my trusty Nikon and open up Photoshop for the first time in yonks! As usual, click on the above for a larger, juicier version. There's a couple more on my Flickr too.

Teehee ♥

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Blip

A few weeks ago I was metaphorically kicked in the balls, I received an elbow jab to the kidney and a simultaneous slap in the face. It was painful to try and comprehend things that were said to me and consume the resulting emotions I experienced. Fast-forward though, and somehow things have reverted to how they were before. I (think I) like to refer to it as 'the blip'.

Weirdly, that short period of panic and uncertainty has had a massive positive effect on me. Perhaps I would feel differently if the conclusion that played out wasn't so tidy; if those words hadn't been such a 'big mistake' and 'the blip' had in fact turned out to be 'the end'.

Nevertheless, it's helped me realise a lot of things: mostly that friends are blooooomin' marvelous and even when there's trouble and tears they'll feed you good quality chocolate and tell you to get on with it - in the most loving and supportive way, of course.

In the grand scheme of things, rubbish things happen all the time, and what seems like a big deal to one person is silly nothingness to another. Luckily, I have perspective on the situation and in retrospect I guess I'm glad it happened. I've welcomed the harsh realisation and I believe I've changed for the better.

YAY.

So, thank you to everyone who's given me the confidence to get through the dramas of late - I would've been a bit useless without you x

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Congradulations

It's been a year since I graduated. Wowzer.

The overpriced framed portrait is stuck on a shelf in the dining room and only gets dusted when we happen to have guests*.

It is a rubbish photo anyway; wonky hat, creased cape, forced smile and big embarrassed rosy red cheeks.

I've no idea where my degree certificate is but it's bound to be somewhere 'safe' with all those other 'important' things that end up in the same drawer.

I love my little mortarboard charm though - a present from my mum and sister a few months after the graduation ceremony. It's tiny and shiny and lives in its box all secretive and shy.

(I won't let it get dusty.)

*Christmas.

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Will 4 Kate

Crowds gather for a royal wedding,

They lay their heads upon anorak bedding.
Big up Blighty! Be proud to be British!
How soon will the nation's contentment diminish?

Devil's food cake with buttercream filling. (KB ©)

French Chantilly and English lace,

Silk tulle misted across her face.

Synched in waist with a flowing train,

Eyebrows and eyeliner remained the same.

The future king with his steady stride,

Looked just as gorge as his approaching bride.

#awkwardmoment thanks to Wartski's gold band.

Sausage fingers or a sweaty hand?

Rake in those shares of Lily of the Valley,

Whilst everyone's eyes are on Pippa and Harry.

Glorious trees with no expenses spared -

Get hitched next week and their foliage is shared. (Win!)

A long weekend to remove the decor;

A 'royal' mess from the week before. (PUN.)

With bunting binned and banners torn,

It's fair to say I'm quite forlorn...

*small sob*

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Working in an office when the weather is like it is

You may have noticed that the weather has been quite nice lately. I'd definitely say the wind chill has died down to a comfortable level, and the clear skies tend to create actual warmth rather than fake warmth you could probably reproduce with an eco-lightbulb.

However, like many, I'm not outside enjoying the sun. I am at work from 9-5. This post outlines the reasonable number of benefits from working in an IT office for the NHS when the sun is shining it's shiny face in through the windows in (what some would call) a taunting manner.

• When staff arrive in the mornings the expected flow of conversation is as follows:
  Greeting > Comment on weather > Complaint about being at work during said weather.
  No scary ad-libbing needed and no cringey reaction after you mention your recently neutered cat, having struggled to find a suitable topic of conversation after the 'Hi!'
  
• Considerably less tea breaks. It's too hot and stuffy in the office for tea so that means fewer breaks and considerably more time for productive thirsty working.
  
• Cans and bottles of fizzy shizzle appear on desks. They create gas which is usually regurgitated loudly within the male dominated office. This promotes animated conversation and lively debate which can be seen as an important team building exercise as the burpee is isolated from the rest of the group...but the non-burpees form a close bond. Go team!
  
• Offers flood in to grab packages and deliveries from Reception post-room to encounter 47 seconds in the sun (that's a maximum - even if super-slow-walking and getting unwillingly distracted by a number of different blossoms). This means that the post is checked regularly and everyone's invoices can be dealt with even more fastererer after a mere 1 minute 34 seconds. Phew.
  
• Wasps and bees like to visit the office through the window. Those with phobias are kept on their toes and encouraged to concentrate more on work than on the insect. Thank goodness I have work to do as well as that pesky phobia.
  
• More accidents happen during warm weather. Fact*. But this means that ambulances go past more frequently; sirens weowing loud. This will remind staff that their job is extremely important.
  i.e. By giving NHS staff account logins, trouble-shooting their Outlook problems, rejigging their network infrastructure and helping them find the 'ON' button, the long and short of it is that THE IT CROWD SAVE PEOPLES' LIVES.
  
• Hooray.

*may not be an actual fact

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Spring is coming...

Time for the lawnmower to come out of the shed. Oh wait, it's still half-broken from September. And the grass is really too damp to mow. And now it looks like the lawn has had a bad bad shave with a blunt scabby razor... still, smells good!


Time for birds to get frisky. All day long. This morning two pigeons actually bumped into my window as a result of flapping and flitting so much. The female was having none of it, you see. Pigeotto chased her from tree to tree and eventually settled on a TV aerial. Stable.

Time for clothing confusion. The brave wear shorts and t-shirts, the lame hold onto their scarves and 4000 denier tights. Some shops keep the heating pumped up, others whack on the air-con. Spring is usually a sweaty and/or shivery combo. Be prepared!

Time for sweeping. Any kind of sweeping. Difficult though because the dirt is sticky and cold from the winter, hidden in the shadows and in the cracks. So many dead thorns and spikeys too. Must. Brush. Away. Winter.


Time for uber-leg-moisturisation. Ugh. The powdery white skin on my calves quakes in fear of being exposed after the long winter. This is why I heart leggings.


Time for the washing line. A two to three person job to put up - depending on rustiness - so in our case, it takes fourteen. Then realising the sun's not strong enough to dry 1cm square of washing so having to plop a load in the tumble drier after 6 hours outside. *Global warming warning*


Time for daffodils. And time for them to die. Tip: Never pick daffs from a Brownie hut garden. Brown Owl will shout at you and make you feel so so awful (even at 22 years old.). Think of the children.


Time for sunshine and showers. 'Changeable', innit.


I look forward to the sun on my skin and a breeze that doesn't pierce my skin like an icicle! Hmph.

Jordie is happy in any weather (but is useless at helping putting up the washing line).

(Kathryn Beadle © 2011)

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Morning

Radio murmur slows the rush

of morning chaos.

Bran or wheat or other husk

in the bowl of promise

but the milk is warm.

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Brownies

After two days, our batch of twelve is down to four and a half.

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January. A New Year.

‘New’.

It seems that the definition of the word is lost during the month of January. New Year’s resolutions are far from revolutionary.

January allows brands and businesses to convince us that we have overindulged so much that we really should feel awful. If we’re not feeling awful about those mince pies, we should probably re-think the meaning of indulgence. Tut. Condescending voiceovers remind us of brands’ ethereal presence, and January is the perfect time for their products and services to re-emerge, just in-time to save humankind from fat, flab and feeling awful. New Year; new resolutions; new solutions... recycled from last year. If you weren’t thinking about losing weight, you should. Everyone else is! You must try this diet which allows you to snack, and this food which makes you never want to snack. Oh, and this diet which makes you look like Cheryl Baker! Hooray!

Sitting on the sofa becomes a sin as bouncy youthful enthusiastic enthusiasts show off their toned bods for a fitness DVD that was filmed 6 months ago. Oh, and not only is TV-watching frowned upon, but that sofa you’re lounging on certainly isn’t suitable for 2011. If you weren’t shopping on Boxing Day and taking advantage of the pre-VAT increase, you must be bonkers. I don’t own a sofa, but I’m still saturated with adverts from furniture stores whose pre-requisite for success is to use acronyms and acronyms alone. Who knows what they could stand for...

On this theme, January is also a time for shops to clear out stock. Those winter coats that were new-in two weeks ago are pushed aside to make way for swimwear and flip-flops. We know that the fashion stores operate on their own seasonal axis, though this doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t buy up the ‘SLASHED’ price goods which are still very much appropriate in this cold weather. However, sale items loiter in the corner well into February looking crumpled, dusty, and so last year as we stock up on florals and linen. Spring/Summer ‘11, innit!

Resolutions shouldn’t be restricted to be made in January alone. There’s far too much else going on anyway... playing with Christmas presents, for example. And before you ask, no I don’t have any resolutions as such. I’ll change what I want in my own time, when I have time!

Roll on February.

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A marriage proposal.. In Cafe Rouge.

My boyfriend and I went to Cafe Rouge, simply because we had converted Tesco clubcard points to make prizes; in this case, restaurant vouchers. Our meal was fine, I had rice and vegetables in sauce and boy had meat and potatoes in sauce.

Whilst eating, I notice the lady beside me (she really is beside me. Waitresses made sure to cram in as many couples as close together as possible) is crying. Cringe and awkwardness. Then, I see a glimmer in the corner of my eye with my crow-like peripheral vision and realise that golly gosh, he's gone and proposed to her with a sparkly sparkly ring...

In Cafe Rouge. Right beside me. Right beside me and boy and our elbows and outdoor coats.

Trying to digest this, as well as the rice, vegetables and sauce I couldn't help but gawk a little bit. At this point I reflect that that's what the proposer would've wanted anyway, even if the proposee didn't. Although she had agreed to marry him, so I presume that she would share his opinion on the matter and so I continued to gawk and do not feel bad for doing so.

After they nabbed a couple of glasses of free champagne, proposee spends approximately 25 minutes calling and texting and status updating and social networkinging and tweet and pinpinging everyone in her phonebook. She doesn't know how to send multiple messages and so this is a lengthy process. Meanwhile, proposer just sits there... maybe he's looking smug, but I'm not looking at him, I'm (secretly) watching female fiancee; appauled by the (kinda lack of) drama unfolding.

Now, really. For one, am I that old-fashioned and romantic to think that a proposal on a busy Saturday evening at Cafe Rouge is not ideal? Nor is it very personal. I don't know. I don't judge the pair as a couple, but it certainly was interesting to see how this extraordinary tale unravelled. Secondly, the importance of being socially aware and 'being connected' to one another has a horrible affect on people's personal lives it seems. Those (precious?) moments after the proposal, she ain't gonna get them back is she! Ever!

Her thumbs hold onto distant memory of the proposer's words as they were translated into noughts and ones quicker than any nimble soul could ever get down on one knee.

Cafe Rouge proposal + super social networking. It's a thumbs down from me, I'm afraid.

Ugh.

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Autumn.

Whilst walking along a busy main road you can combine the inhalation of fumes, the splash of murky polluted puddles, beepbeeps from the early morning perves etc with a beautiful backdrop of magenta and vermilion. The deepest purple and the freshest green amongst sunshine yellow and burnt orange frame the edges of the street so colourfully. If you happened to have a 24 pack of Crayolas handy, I'm pretty sure you could identify every snazzy name they ever gave those little pencils - 'burnt sienna', 'tan'...

In the afternoons at 5.30pm before the clocks went back, a clear blue sky was the prettiest colour of 'sky blue' that'd ever been called pretty. I actually once smiled up at it because it was just the most perfect shade.

Now the clocks have gone forward the daylight fades too quickly and I squeeze my desk up against the window to absorb as much as I can while it's still around. Now I walk home and it's dark and car lights are on and it scares me when they roar past in the blackness and I can't see the tree leaves that are so beautiful in the light. Now they're only shadows, and all I smell is carbon, and all I feel is 'grey'.

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My trip to the Job Centre

The other day, I succumbed to the allure of Job Seekers Allowance and made my way down to the job centre.

As I tried to sort out my brolly and shelter under the soffit I got four young lads' smoke puffed at me as they discussed some stuff:

"...nah I can't be f*ed with her."

"Ahah nah not if you've got that 27 year-old on the go eeeeeeeeey?"

"Nah mate nah that was just a one night thing..."

"Yeah, yeah. It was meant to be a one night 'ting.." And all of them joined in, "nothing more than a little one night fling, now when I'm in needs you're the one I ring.. I NEED YOU TONIGHT. HHAHAHA."

"......................Oh f* it we'd better go meet D-Chizzle*"

*It was something like D-Chizzle, but could've equally been Hizzle, Nizzle or Bizzle. I was inside by this point.

If you're not familiar with Professor Green, that excerpt is from his recent hit, 'I need you tonight' and I was thoroughly annoyed to have this track in my head for the rest of the day.

So I filled out some forms and answered 'No' to needing a translator.

I made my way to a waiting area in the middle of the room and accidentally dropped my sopping wet umbrella onto the legs of an old man; I felt bad but then I didn't because I realised that it was stupid that he was wearing shorts in such torrential weather.

I had a meeting with Carol to check some things. We were interrupted as a man came round to reset her panic button underneath her desk that she'd had to use that morning because someone got mad.

I was sent back to the waiting area where there were now only two men sitting. After a few minutes some police officers came towards me and I was scared. Then it was OK because they weren't looking for me at all, and arrested the man sitting opposite who had been looking out of the window for a really really long time.

I decided not to look out of the window, and instead looked down at my forms I had in my hands. Underneath them all was my degree certificate. It was crumpled because I had tried not to let it get wet.

I thought about the three years of hard work and reminisced about university life. That was stupid because I got a bit upset. It didn't help that the man to the left of me really stank of booze so I couldn't even disguise my sniffles as when I snorted my nose would get an influx of stale ale and general poo smell.

Then I saw another lady, Sandra, and she was nice. She asked if I was OK so I said 'Yep' and realised I was a mug so decided to get a grip. We spent some minutes doing a search for jobs which sounded un-fun but she reminded me the most important thing is to get a job and think about career later. Oh. Right.

I came out of the job centre to more rain and gave up trying to keep myself dry. I stopped off for a coffee. Soggy and alone, I focused on the fact I actually had enough money to buy the coffee, even if it was mostly silver coins (and a disguised Euro - win). I noted that I had a nice warm home to go to, and I was alive and well enough to walk myself back.

I will quit whining and carry on applying. As everyone keeps saying, something will come along in the end.

PS. I will be signing on every Wednesday. Hooray!

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Sigh.

Every day I get older.

I'm finding that being 21 is particularly difficult. Not only do I have an inexplicable obsession with reminiscing these days, but also an unavoidable and unmanageable tendency to dwell on every decision knowing that each step I take is leading to another, another, another. Leaps of faith are a regular occurrence that I just don't feel comfortable making. Sleep is lacking on all accounts and afternoon naps of first year are a thing of the past (see, reminiscing again...)

Of course, one could argue that every minute detail you decide upon in your life has its respectful consequence, one biscuit or two pour example (i'm talking packets here, these are tough times), but I do know that my mind is not ready to decide upon an answer for that ominous question that seems to be on everyone's bloody lips at the moment - What are you going to do with your life?

Ok, so HOLD UP... let's break it down:

What-are-you : a third year student, currently juggling a million and one deadlines whilst trying to rid myself of the straitjacket that's conveniently wrapped itself around me and the lamppost in the centre of the high street down in Antisocialville; population 1 + sketchbook, camera, laptop and ever-prevalent backache, headed for graduation 2010.

going-to : I'm going nowhere, unless it's the library.

with : ...Myself.

your-life: In this context I guess it means your life of the future.. which I think is ridiculous on many levels. Mystic Meg, anyone remember her? She was involved with all that future, predicting malark and look how far that got her. Let's deal with the life of now - sitting, breathing, being.

? : This is a wiggly line and a dot which concludes this silly,wiggly question quite appropriately.

Recently, my answer to this question has been- I ain't got a clueeeeeeee! And this is a lie... big pants on fire liar, right? WRONG. I don't have a clue... does anyone have a clue? What about letter it might begin with? Sigh. I'm dealing with technicalities here, nobody would have a clue would they... this isn't eye spy. I hate that game, who invented that game!? It is not a game, there are no winners = no point of it existing.

A-ha! Winning. Now that's a topic I can relate to and it may even be relevant to this little blog right here.. mabes.. Ok, so I like winning; in my life, I want to win. There we go, that's what i'll reply to the next person who asks me WAYGTDWYL.

Mmm, perhaps not. This isn't a game of Monopoly where I insist on being banker and slip myself an extra 400 each time I pass GO...and Go To Jail.

Perhaps the only option is to run away. Run run far away and in the opposite direction to the way the globe spins, reducing time to a meaningless nothingness that can not affect me as I reverse the inevitabilities of growing old and avoid all the decisions I would've had to once face.

But where to run to!?

UGH, maybe it is too late for my mind to be wandering. But I know as soon as I save this up there'll be no shutting it up 'til early morn as I try to digest the day's events. I'm meant to be having a few days off but I knew that wasn't going to happen. I'll continue in the morning where i'll be bright as a button, shiny (oily) and about4 dress sizes larger than I was today after a hefty binge of vegetable pasties, Thorntons chocolate, organic flapjack, custard from the tin, Co-op walnut cake, pasta bake, Weight Watchers yoghurt (it was on offer), 2 p-p-p-p-penguins and a homemade caramel shortbread...

I guess my mind won't be the only one having trouble digesting.

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