A little slice of Italy in Herne Hill | Day 10/100

All pizza is not created equal. You will only understand this if you have visited a proper pizzeria and managed to distance yourself from both a) the mundane, tasteless supermarket options and b) over greasy, throw-any-shit-topping-on take away variety*. 

No. A proper pizza means you enjoy the dough, the simple yet wonderfully blended flavours and that extra drizzle of quality olive oil which you choose to put on only after your pizza has been served to you. Opposed to the dousing it gets before arriving at your door on the back of a scooter. 

A proper pizza is what you'll get if you visit Herne Hill's newest eatery: Pizzeria Pellone. Boasting a traditional Neapolitan wood oven, clearly whatever was cooking was working on the locals, because every time the husband and I walked past not a table was left empty. So it was time to try it for ourselves. 

Are we really still in South London?

Stepping inside it was easy to see and feel why Pizzeria Pellone has become such a hit. It felt like a little bit of Italy had arrived in Herne Hill. From the white and pebble stone walls, to the large pizza oven at the back and the friendly Italian chatter between the chefs and their happy - but very busy - wait staff, it was easy to imagine yourself not in South London, but in a bustling back street of Naples (the only area of Italy I have ever actually visited).

Look at him go!

The menu consisted of 10 pizza options and side salads. A specials board offered starters that ranged from a bowl of olives to mozzarella hidden under a layer of cured meat. Tempting, but not quite hungry enough for a first course and pizza, we instead went straight to the main event opting for an Ortolana (For di latte cheese, peppers, aubergine and basil) and Capricciosa (For di latte cheese, artichokes, mushroom, ham, olives, basil and tomato) pizza with a Pecorino side salad. All topped off with a bottle of red wine. Naturally. 

Our table was positioned parallel to the open plan kitchen, so we got a great view of the chef (who we assumed to be Pellone) creating the pizzas. We sat mesmerised as he worked each piece of dough into a uniformed pizza. Casually tossing it back and forth, decorating it with the required toppings and sliding into the wood oven. Each pizza took a matter of minutes or create, but then I suppose if you've been doing it for over 40 years you'd have picked up a trick or two along the way on how to save time.

It was fascinating to watch. As well as catering to all of the orders of the seated customers, there were also people popping in for a take away. I asked our waitress how many pizza's must Pellone make in an evening. She could only hazard a guess at "hundreds". Certainly not an exaggeration, as in the time we sat waiting he got through a whole rack of dough which we roughly calculated must have made around 70 pizzas. Just in the time we were waiting. Which was only, like, 20 minutes. If that!

A big pizza pie!

When the food arrived I was glad I held off on a starter. Forgetting my tape measure, I can only hazard a guess that it was at least 15 inches. Thin base, nice fluffy crust and so much topping: Pellone's pizza did not disappoint!

As we ate, we "Ooh-d" at the sight of the calzone being brought out for another soon-to-be satisfied customer. Definitely on my radar to try next time.

In true Italian dining style we talked lots and ate slowly. Good job too, as the pizza was so big we needed time to digest and try to find space for that little bit more. Too tasty to leave, we managed to finish both pizzas and the salad.

To top it all off, the price at Pizzeria Pellone is extremely reasonable. Our total bill came to just £35, including the wine.

Feeling fully satisfied we managed to roll ourselves home in a mild pizza food coma.

Just. ate. so. much. pizza. Will sleep well tonight! @PizzeriaPellone thank you for a fabulous meal.

— Rose Crompton (@RoseC_Leic) November 18, 2015

If you want a mid-week, good feed outdoors, then definitely pay a visit to Pizzeria Pellone in either Herne Hill and now Croydon.

*Its been recommended (by my husband) that I clarify my overall dislike for crap, cheap take away pizza. He calls it "a vendetta", whereas I simply call it a willing refusal to put shit in my mouth. 

Also, sorry for not getting a photo of the actual pizza. I was too busy eating and enjoying it to remember to take a snap!

Speed Scrabble | 9/100

I bloody love Scrabble. I'm pretty average at it, but I love it. Sad thing is, it's so rare that I get to play. Mostly the husband gets frustrated with me putting low score words on Triple Word squares, or blocking them off entirely. I swear to geez, it's only because I don't have anywhere else to go. But because of that, he's reluctant to play that often. Also, games do end up lasting for hours, because we're so competitive and neither of us wants to lose to the other.

Granted, when you're playing for hours on end it can get a bit tedious. So I set myself a challenge. To play a game of Speed Scrabble during my lunch break.

I played on Facebook using the Scrabble app thing on there and fortunately got paired with someone (a randomer) who seemed keen to play fast too. 'Dots' followed 'Drag' followed by 'It'; we were steaming through the words, maybe not always with the highest point score, but the pace of the game kept it interesting.

'Squaw', 'Rex' and 'Brows' all made an appearance as we chewed through the digital tiles, me keeping one eye on the clock chasing a 222 point score. A passed turn and exchange of tiles meant I got to edge a bit closer.

Then BOOM! We were down to the last tiles and the score was 232 to my 227. It got to that stage of needing to get rid of all the higher point tiles, but we were both so limited to where we could put them. I managed 'Vogue', before she pipped me to the post by getting rid of her last few tiles in one hit.

Final score: 270 to my 263. Defeat, but fun. An interesting way to spend a lunch hour for sure.

The Infinite Jukebox | Day 8/100

You know that thing you get when you're listening to your favourite song and you think, 'Damn, I love this song so much, I wish it never had to end,' well the Infinite Jukebox is the answer to your I-need-more-than-repeat-button prayers.

When I said to a couple of friends that work in IT that I would love to discover some more fun and interesting websites - because there must be more to the Internet than Twitter and Facebook, right? - this was the first site they both suggested.

In a nutshell, the Infinite Jukebox lets you stream a song of your choice and it will find a way to continually loop it. It works by breaking songs down into beats, then matches up rhythm patterns in the song, so as it's playing it will jump and take different pathways to (hopefully) seamlessly move to different point in the song.

Once you've picked a track, the beats and paths are put into a visual diagram, so you can watch to see how it's all linked. Very clever and even more is explained about how it works on the site's FAQ's. There are controls too, so you can play a part in dictating the movement of the song, but I'm not sure I've played with it enough to appreciate what the benefit of these controls are.

As a music lover Infinite Jukebox totally appealed, so I sat picking songs and watching the tracks on my lunch break. It's pretty addictive.  

I tried a few of my fave tracks out on it. First up, Nirvana's Lithium. Love this song so much I even walked down the aisle to it. Works well, but you do kind of get caught in a 'Yeah, yeah, yeeeeaaaah, yeaaaah' Kurt loop.

Gnarls Barkley Crazy worked really well and I ended up listening that to a full nine minutes before it started to drive me a bit nuts. But it's a good example of how the app works.

For a challenge, I thought I'd stick in Korn's Twist. Yeah, it doesn't cut it. If you're able to listen to it for more than a minute and a half without wanting to punch the screen then you've done well. Infinite Jukebox manages to turn it into a little bit of torture as John Davis gets stuck on one bit. It's the same with Scatman John. Just don't do it to yourself.

Heaps of fun though and very mesmerising to watch. Play with the Infinite Jukebox here.

Crime drama done the Italian way | Day 7/100

Today's original plans got thrown out of the window early on. This was due to an ill husband that needed a day indoors and, to be honest, I wasn't adverse to the idea of having a lazy stay-inside Sunday either.


Between the snoozing, chocolate eating and sticking the washing on, we watched Montalbano, an Italian crime series about a detective called Montalbano. It's a bit like Midsommer Murders, but sexier because it's Italian.

Montalbano. Not to be mistaken for a Mitchell brother.

The hubby came across the series after spotting it on iPlayer months ago, so he's been slowly working his way through it. I tune in now and then, but it's not totally my cup of tea. I can't look at Inspector Montalbano without thinking that he looks like the third Mitchell brother that never was. There's a lot of sex in it and gratuitous scenes of hot Italian women undressing for one reason or another. I'm 90 percent sure that's not why my husband watches it and he does, in fact, enjoy the entertaining storylines.

Still, if you're looking for something a bit different to watch, don't mind subtitles and crime dramas are your thing, then check it out. Mostly I enjoy trying to pick up new dramatic Italian phrases.   

James Bond 'Spectre', was it any good? | Day 6/100

I don't feel that there are enough James Bond Spectre reviews out there, so I'm adding my own. Sticking it on here is also a quick way to answer all of my friends at once that have asked, "Is it actually any good?".

The only way to watch a James Bond film, IMHO, is at the cinema. It's one of the few film franchises that can actually convince me to pay money to go to and see it. I'm a sucker for seeing an action film on a big screen and full sound. So, in that sense Spectre ticked all of the boxes and it's totally worth going to see.

The action sequences were immense. No doubt about it. One thing Spectre did especially well was explosions. I mean, Sam Mendes blew some serious shit up on epic proportions. While some of them were obviously CGI'd (well, you can't actually destroy MI6 for the sake of a film!), one of the key scenes used 33kg of powder explosives and 8,418 litres of fuel and was awarded the Guinness World Record for being the largest explosion in film history. It lasted over seven seconds! (See, interesting.) Definitely worth going to see it just for that, because you will sit there and be like, 'Holy crap. That was massive and so very cool.' I bet whoever got to push the button will forever remember that as their best day at work. Ever.

In terms of plot line, yeah I'll roll with pretty much what ever other film reviewer has said. It's not as good as Skyfall. In places, Spectre's story was a bit weak. The main twist, which is revealed kind of early on and then repeated several times just to make sure you understood it, seemed rather far-fetched and unnecessary. I liked that Skyfall revealed a bit about Bond's largely unknown family past, but they should have left it there rather than trying to dig further, the result feeling like it's clutching at straws to reveal this big family secret. Honestly, it felt desperate and is a plot line more suited to a  TV soap. It didn't need it.

Apart from that, it was good. Plenty more cliche, cheesy Bond stuff in Spectre, compared to the last three, that will keep you smiling. Lea Seydoux, who I'd only recently seen for the first time in The Lobster (highly recommend), was brilliant. As was Ralph Finnes, as the new M. Didn't know how I'd feel about that, because Judi Dench was a legend, so replacing her would be tough. However, I loved Finnes in the role. Great fit.

Only other gripe with Spectre was the theme tune. The radio stations I listen to don't have it on their playlist, so seeing it at the cinema was my first time of hearing it. Sorry Sam Smith, I thought you did a bad job with this one. If someone was to ask me to sing it to them, I wouldn't be able to. It's not stuck at all.

So there you go. Definitely worth a watch at the cinema, but enjoy it for the action rather than any big Bond plot and you'll leave the cinema feeling satisfied that you've seen a good film.

Kinky crafting | Day 5/100

During this challenge, I'll try and keep sex stuff to a minimum. Main reason: because it's practically work for me and the idea of #100DaysOfInteresting if to find cool stuff to do outside of work. However, I was lucky enough to head to the Sexpo UK exhibition and came across a fab company called Kink Craft. It is exactly as it sounds. Crafting to create kinky items.

With crafting being totally trendy right now, why shouldn't there be a kinky version of it? The Kink Craft leaders invited me to take a seat and make my own mini flogger (that's a type of bondage whip for anyone that's not in the know). I thought, 'why the hell not?! I've never made my own flogger before, so lets find out how!'

With a sprinkling of BDSM magic, by the time I unblindfold you these bits of rope will transform into a flogger!

I was given a bundle of rope and told that using simply this, some tape and a craft knife, it will become a flogger. Andrew from Kink Craft got me started and then I was away.

Like with any crafting, it was wonderfully therapeutic. I sat around a table, with several other crafters and we chatted and helped each other as we snipped the tendrils and wove our flogger handles. So very civilised.

Weaving the handle was the most therapeutic part.

I was super impressed with the end result! The colour will match my other bondage kit nicely (ahem). Also, there's still get that proud feeling like when you craft anything. But the funny thing is, it's not the kind of crafting item you'd whip out at your next family do and say, "Oh yes, I've taken up the hobby of creating bondage accessories in my spare time." Then again, that's what made me love it more. It totally appealed to my naughty side.

Ta-da! Remove the blindfold and the rope has been transformed!

If you fancy doing some crafting with a kinkier edge, then you can actually buy the kits, with full instruction video, here and make mini and large floggers, or your own pair of cuff restraints!

Follow me on Twitter and use the hashtag #100DaysOfInteresting to keep up with my challenge and activities.    

How it feels to look at your own wedding photos for the first time | Day 4/100

I love looking at photos. I'm a great fan of actually getting photos printed, organising them into an album or frame and then revisiting them a month or two down the line. I like the feeling of happiness you get when you remember a particular occasion. And while the instant that's caught in the photo is one thing, it's all of the other little memories about that moment, day or complete period of time that it prompts which is more fun or interesting to remember.

So when my husband and I got to see the photos from our wedding we were fascinated and enthused to relive the day. It was interesting to see the result of what our wedding day looked like to someone that wasn't a friend or part of the family, but from the perspective of our photographer and we're glad to say that the vision he caught was exactly as we remembered and experienced it.

Our reactions to some of the photos were interesting to say the least. Especially any shots taken before the service as we'd not seen each other, so the photos really did speak a thousand words, prompting each of us to relive what was going through our respective minds at that point.

I could have easily poured over every photo for long periods of time, but with over 300 of them to look at and the sheer excitement of seeing what was there, what was next and what had been immortalised from the day in image, was so exciting that it was tough to linger on each one for more than a minute or so. Looking through your own wedding photos is easily as thrilling as experiencing the day unfold first hand.

Apologies that this was a bit of a sentimental #100DaysOfInteresting challenge, but you only get that feeling of seeing your wedding photos for the first time, once. So I wanted to put it down in words as best I could.

A swift batch of bats | Day 3/100

Behold the amazing result of what happens when I spend half an hour in the kitchen! That's right. I baked those bat-shaped biscuits which is, I appreciate, hard to believe since they look so damn professional.

Ok, I'll stop kidding myself now. Really though, I'm pretty proud of them. Despite getting an A* in my GCSE food tech, I rarely ever cook or bake, so this is an achievement for me. It's also only the second time I have ever attempted to make bat-shaped biscuits. My lovely Aunt, who likes to send me funky things in the post, found these bat biscuit cutters. For those that don't know, bats are totally my most favourite animal in the world, so this gift was much "Ooh-d" at when it arrived through my door.

My first attempt at cooking a batch of bat biscuits was a bit of a failure. I used self-raising flour (as per Paul Hollywood's Mum's recipe), but they all came out of the oven looking fat and over-weight. This time I took my husband's advice (as he's the better cook) and used plain flour. Think the definition is much improved and they look more like what they're supposed to.

In case you're wondering, they're ginger biscuits and they taste fabulous....as you would expect from an A* food tech student.

The chosen few: the bats that turned out the best. 

 

Gazing at Gargoyles | Day 2/100

I cycle past this ugly brute every day on my way to and from work. When stopped at the lights, he is by far the most interesting thing to look at. I like the way he sits on top of his tower, glowering at the thousands of impatient, ashen-faced London city workers. Almost like he feeds off their bad moods. Mostly, his hellish, sinister look very much appeals to the goth in me.

Curious to know who he is and why he's there, I thought I'd make getting a snap and doing a bit of research my challenge for Day 2 of #100DaysOfInteresting.

The Cornhill Gargoyles

Turns out that the chap sitting ominously on the roof isn't alone. He's got two mates and collectively they're known as The Cornhill Gargoyles, or The Cornhill Devils, aptly called because they are found in Cornhill in London. Whether it's because I have bad eyes, or only have time enough to glance at the obvious, I can honestly say I never noticed the other two before.

How they got there and why seems somewhat murky. Starting with the actual, solid facts, I can tell you that they're made of terracotta and they are dated to the late 19th century. The story of why they are there is much harder to pin down, but if the most popular theory is to be believed then it's a story of religion, anger and revenge...

From whence the Devils came

Look closely when on Cornhill and you'll spot a spire. It's matched in size by surrounding buildings and dwarfed by London's many tower blocks, but it's there and it's the spire of St Peter's Church. Before modern London took over, St Peter's stood proud on top of Cornhill, one of only two natural crests within the city. The other is Ludgate, where you'll find St Paul's.

As the need for more offices in The City increased during the 19th Centuary, any tiny area of land was pounced upon and redeveloped. The result was that St Peter's became engulfed by commercial buildings and the church, much to the Rector's dismay, was vanishing from sight. 

He was, however, eventually rewarded with a small win over the developers. As they tried to build closer and closer to the church, the rector eventually spotted that one architect had gone a step too far as his design infringed upon church property. Kicking up a stink, the rector was found to be right and it was demanded that the architect redesign the whole building. 

Devil images, taken from lookingforghosts.wordpress.com

It's said that redrawing his plans cost the architect dearly in both time and money. Furious at this, he added to his new plans the inclusion of three devils as a mark of revenge. They were placed on top and at the edges of the building so they'd be a constant reminder to the rector of his meddling as he walked to enter the church. It's even thought that one of the devils was modelled to look like the rector. Public mockery in its most scathing form. 

So there you have it. The urban myth and as much actual fact as I could dig up on an evening. They are well worth a look though as they are (just about) the most terrifying gargoyles I've ever seen. 

Follow my challenges on Twitter using #100DaysOfInteresting and tag @RoseC_Leic. If you're keen to try it yourself, or simply want to share something interesting you've done, get in touch. 

Interesting paper that flies | Day 1/100

Until this evening I had never made a paper aeroplane. Sounds like such a simple thing I know, but for Day 1 of my #100DaysOfInteresting I wanted to do something that I never achieved as a kid.

At school I remember we did an afternoon of origami with a supply teacher. I was terrible at it. My ability to patiently fold paper with accurate edges and keep up with the teacher's instructions, was poor to say the least. We were trying to do something slightly more complex than an aeroplane, but not quite at the level of a swan. Maybe it was a frog? Either way, I was useless at it and resorted to concertinaing my paper into a small fan, because that was about all I could manage.

Skip a few years and now aged 29 I thought it was about time I faced my origami demons and at least give it another go. Start simple, so a paper aeroplane was the challenge.

Find a style

Ok, so I had no idea that there were so many different styles of paper aeroplane. I assumed there was just the one standard model and they all kinda flew the same. Well, the things you learn! So I started with this one...

And my attempt turned out like this...

Looks wise, not a total disaster for a first attempt. But on flying, it seemed to want to keep veering right. Maybe only any good to fly on roundabouts. 

My husband then piped up with, "Ah, I'll show you how to make one," (had a feeling this interesting thing would pique the interest of my male housemates!) so followed his instructions and it turned out like this...

We'll call it the 'Tucker Tornado' and flying wise it was impressive, managing to go the full length of the corridor. 

There was time to try one more, so I picked The Dart. Apparently it's the 'fastest paper airplane'. Well, how could a gal resist making such a high-tech piece of aerodynamic paper on a Monday night?! Here's how to make it...

And here's how mine turned out. Not a bad resemblance, huh? Flying wise, it went well. It was fast, but didn't go quite as far as I hoped it would.

I could have quite easily have kept going as there were some cool looking designs, but I think I would have been rushing my origami skills with some of them. 

Interesting Paper Aeroplane Facts

To round off the first challenge of my #100DaysOfInteresting, here are 3 interesting facts about paper aircraft...

• The longest flight time a paper aeroplane has achieved is 29.2 seconds. For those readers that reckon they can beat it, you can actually upload videos of your attempt here. 
• According to this site, the smallest paper aircraft measured just 2.5mm x 1mm. That's tiny. How could you even launch it?! With tweezers?
• According to one news source, the oldest paper aeroplanes are over 100 years old and were discovered in the eaves of St Anne's Chapel, Barnstaple. 

100 Days of Interesting: the idea

I've been in a right slump lately. There are a few reasons for this, the main one being a continued bad case of post-wedding/post-holiday blues. Naff weather, long commutes, a heavy workload and the general week-to-week routine that consists of get up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, wash dishes, go to bed have also contributed.

I know, I know. That's just life and sometimes you can't avoid routine, but I think there is certainly more I could be doing to make the weekly grind a little less....structured. 

I suppose until recently I've been totally preoccupied with wedding planning. Or in the summer months it's easy to find fun things to do. Simply sitting in the park with a book for half an hour qualifies as having successfully done something that's a little bit interesting, a little bit different. And while me and the husband enjoy lots of interesting things at the weekends (dinners out, cinema, theatre, gigs, catching friends, visiting family), we sort of just settle that not much happens during the rest of the week. 

Thinking about all this the other night I concluded that I all too easily waste hours of my own time sitting in a funk doing very little, and decided I needed to do something about it. Something fun. Something achievable... 

So I am setting myself a challenge: 100 Days of Interesting.

The premise is simple. Each day I will do something a little bit different. Something out of routine. It could be as small as discovering a new website, snapping a photo of something that interests me or taking a different route to work. Or it could be something bigger like attending a free lecture, trying a new cooking recipe or visiting a different city. 

While I'm dedicated in getting all the mandatory daily routine stuff done, I should also be proving to myself that I can be just as proactive with my downtime. And who knows what new stuff I might discover along the way?

I'll be starting the challenge on Monday 9th November and finish it (funnily enough) a hundred days later on Tuesday 16th February 2016. I'll be blogging and tweeting (@RoseC_Leic) all the stuff I do, using the hashtag #100DaysOfInteresting. 

I can't promise everyone will find every little thing I do massively fascinating, but at least I'll be doing something.

Until Monday. 

RoseC   

Reading is such a novel-ty

What I wished my bedside table looked like, because I have soooo much time to read.

How do you find time to read? Because honestly, I just can't manage to do it and this frustrates me. I'm not talking about flicking through a magazine or newspaper to catch up on features, or the news. Every morning as the free press is thrust into my hand I'm able to read. Or when my phone flashes because the news app I use has decided it's got something important to tell me, I'll scan it over.

I can manage that, daily. Here I'm talking about actual reading. The kind where you sit for hours curled up quietly at one end of the sofa while the rest of the world goes about its business. That kind of reading.

During my uni days I'd be able to chew through books like they were going out of fashion. These days it's possible for me to count on one hand the number of books I can get through in the last 12 months.

Recently, I had a taste of what it felt like again to be able to sit and read uninterrupted with no other distractions. It felt good and I raced through a book in under a week that ordinarily would have taken me over a month to get through. To achieve this, I was sat for several hours a day on a warm beach, in a foreign country and without consistent access to wifi.

As well as enjoying a good book, it was also an actual pleasure to sit next to my partner, each of us enjoying our respective novels, pausing only briefly to update each other on dramatic plot points. I love being able to read in the company of my fella. It's one of a few activities where you can enjoy each others company in silence and separate, but still feel like you're doing something together.

Apart from on holiday, the only other time we get to indulge in this pastime is before bed, but 90 percent of the time I end up ruining the moment.

For a lot of people, delving into their book before bedtime is an ideal opportunity for getting through a few more pages. it's a good way to relax, unwind, everything else stops. The perfect time to read. Unfortunately for me reading at night is as good as taking a whacking great dose of Nytol. I can be out for the count within a page. Most nights I try to read, but the outcome is so predictable that it's become a running joke between me and my partner that I'm unable to manage more than a few pages before my eyes start to get heavy and the words my eyes are skirting over become a blur.

So bedtime reading is out. How about that hour long each way commute you make every. Damn. Day. Or all those train journeys you do?

Motion sickness. Five or 10 minutes in and I begin to feel like changing the colour scheme of whatever vehicle I'm riding in. It's the eyes down position and not being able to see where I'm going, so instead I glare at other commuters that are able to stick their noses in their good books to alleviate some of the anguish of the morning commute as they disappear into their fictional worlds. Lucky sods.

I'm fast resigning myself to the fact that I'm to become a weekend-only reader. A part time book fan that's destined to be excluded from all book clubs, because she can't finish a novel in the allotted time. Honestly, these are the things that worry me these days.

RoseC

This year's theme: England V Australia

Before I get into the meaty bit of this post, I need to give you some background into mine and my partner's ethnicity and interests. He's Australian and I'm British with a more specific tinge of English. We're both quite into our sports, mainly cricket and rugby. I'm sure, from just that small amount of information, you can hazard a guess as to what's coming next...

As a kid the main sports I was brought up on were cricket and rugby, with a little bit of tennis thrown in there for good measure. I remember watching The Ashes on Channel 4 and listening in on Test Match Special with my Dad; cheering on the tennis stars with my Mom; tuning in to all of the 6 Nations, Autumn Internationals and Rugby World Cups with my family to support British contenders and England teams. We can surmise that I was brought up with a healthy competitive streak and in at least two of those sports, two of the greatest rivalries happen between England and Australia.

Unless you're totally and utterly not into sports and never glance at the back pages, you'll be aware that there's a lot of England vs Australia going on now and in the next few months. Currently, in the cricket, England have just beaten Australia in The Ashes (an unexpected result!). In September, England and Australia are in the same group stage of the Rugby World Cup, along with Wales, making it easily the hardest group and is going to leave one of these three great rugby nations very upset indeed. Also in September Great Britain will play Australia in the semi finals of the Davis Cup tennis tournament. A stage that the GB team haven't reached in 34 years, so it's all to play for.

And in the midst of it all, a very competitive British girl is going to marry a very equally competitive Australian man. This sounds like a recipe for disaster, right?

In the five and a half years we've been together we've both seen each other scream, cheer, laugh and sit in grumpy silence as we've watched the highs and lows of our cricket and rugby teams, tennis and snooker players. Sport is probably the only thing that can bring us to the brink of an argument. Funny then that the fixture calender has brought around so many clashes between England and Australia right before we get hitched. Fate is a twisted bitch sometimes.

While we try to maintain a good level of banter and communicate in a civilised manner during a game - five day test matches being our limit - there is always still a more serious, unspoken desire of, 'I really hope we fuck them up and win.'

Who knows where all this anger comes from? I think it's inherently bred into Australian's to want to 'screw the Pommey bastards' and vice versa. We're not at all jealous of the fact Australian's get at least 11 months of good weather and sunshine so they can actually get outdoors and play sports to become good at them, even though cricket is a gosh darn ENGLISH GAME, but there's a certain arrogance around Australian's when it comes to sport and beating the English in particular. Like they think we're an easy target. Guess it just makes it even more satisfying when we take them down *coughASHEScough*.

Geez, what a rant. I'm going to get myself into trouble if I'm not careful. To balance the odds though, here's an actual conversation that regularly happens between me and my other half whenever England are playing anything:

HIM: God I hope England lose.
ME: Why?
HIM: Because it's England. You should lose.
ME: But we're playing [INSERT ANY OTHER NATIONALITY EVER], you're not [INSERT THAT NATIONALITY] - and we both agree that they play dirty and you never cheer for them any other time ever - but you're about to marry an English girl, so why not give us a bit of a nod?
HIM: I can't. I just can't. It feels wrong.
ME: That's not a reason.
HIM: It is.
ME: It's not...
HIM: It is.

And so the sporting argument goes on. It's totally irrational, yet at the same time this unique rivalry would not exist without one firing up the other. To be honest, if it wasn't there, I don't think either side would get as much enjoyment out of it and I don't think we'd get the most out of each other if the passion wasn't there.  

It struck me as too ironic that in the year - hell, even more specifically in the months - surrounding our wedding there are so many clashes between England and Australia. So yes, maybe with passions so high, getting married in the middle of it all could lead to someone getting kicked out of the marital bed early. But at the same time, one without the other just wouldn't work. no matter how heated, stressed or tense it became, getting stuck in wouldn't be as fun and this years "theme" is proof of how strong a bond can be, however strained at times. So maybe it'll all be alright in the end and we need to remember it is only a game...  

Gwen & Gav?! Ah, that's sad news!

Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale have announced they've filed for divorce. And, as I'm only a month and a bit away from my own wedding, this news makes me feel kind of shitty.

Broadly speaking, I don't give much of a stuff when it comes to celebrity make ups and break ups. I put my lack of interest down to the fact that famous people change their partners far too often, so trying to keep up feels like a waste of time when the relationship is just a fad. While the internet was losing it's shit the other month over the break up of Ben Affleck and...[Google searches name]...Jennifer Garner with (sickening hyperbole) headlines such as 'True love is dead', I was still unsure as to when he got married? What films has Jennifer Garner been in that I've seen? And when the hell did BA split up with J-Lo?!

Ok, I jest on that last point, I'm not so out the loop, but I simply didn't care and don't care about most celeb couples ditching their other halves. Chris and Gwen, Louis and Nicloe and One Direction and Zayne, they all blinked past in a day's headline. This one though, struck a chord.

But why, Rose? WHY?! Well, I think it's a combination of things. I've been fans of both of them (musically over fashion) for years. I've had a crush on both of them for as long as I can remember and it's just kinda cool - in a totally fan girl sort of way - that these two cool famous people have got together and have managed to make it work for so long. It's not just a fad. Thirteen years they were together and they managed to avoid doing the shitty celebrity thing of forcing their relationship down everyones throats in a Kim & Kanye kind of way.

They are (or were) one of those stalwart celeb couples that even though you don't know them, you kind of think, 'Ah, Gwen and Gavin they're all together, super cool, and even though LTR's are effing hard work whether married or not, here's some extra proof that in this day and age of crazy fame and celebrity, there are still some still doing it'.

And then they're not doing it any more and it's a bit like, 'Oh'.

I'm not going all OTT dramatic. It's not like just because A couple that I don't even know have filed for divorce I've suddenly lost my faith in marriage, that would be crazy, but it's just a bit sad.

The silver lining, of course, is that these two beautiful people are now single and I literally have a wedding dress and a venue ready to go. Just sayin'. 

It's true, wedding planning turns you into an obsessive nobhead

Last week I learnt that trying to find miniature A-frame chalkboards within the UK is really difficult. In fact, I'd go as far to say it's almost impossible. I know this because I spent a total of around 15 hours (and then some) over the course of the week scouring every possible website and looks-like-they-might-sell-mini-chalkboards stores in London and I found only ONE retailer that had exactly what I was looking for.

The chalkboards are really important. They're for writing the table names on for my wedding. It's a vital part of the day, so that everyone can clearly see the name of the table. And no. I couldn't have settled for any old style, or an alternative design of chalkboard. It HAD to be this specific design, because it looks like a pub A-frame board and that's a really significant symbol for me and my husband-to-be.

Am I off my rocker? Possibly. Did I squeal with delight when I found them? Definitely. Did I almost cry when it became apparent that this single UK retailer didn't have the number of miniature A-frame chalkboards I wanted in stock in a single place and therefore had to ring round every shop in the UK, call their head office, dash across London and contact the German manufacturer to help me find the missing 2 I needed? Yes, but I did it with gritted teeth and determination, because gosh-fucking-darn-it I was not going to let those 15 hours go to waste and allow THESE PERFECT FUCKING CHALKBOARDS SLIP THROUGH MY FINGERS!

Breathe.

Once the "drama" was over, I also learnt something about myself: that I am not immune to being the typical Bride-to-Be where everything has to be just-so and I am willing to go crazy over finding exactly the right thing. I thought I was cool and calm about wedding planning, but it's funny how searching for miniature chalkboards can change that in an instant.

For you, when you're planning your wedding it might not be chalkboards, but could be flowers, wedding favours, a certain style of paper that you need for the invites because it folds correctly or holds the ink better when using that specific pen you bought for writing said invites. Whatever it is, deal with it and know that when wedding planning it's totally normal to become an obsessive nobhead over the littlest things that a week ago you didn't even know existed.

RoseC

P.S. In case A-frame chalkboards are your obsessive thing and you're wondering what these perfect mini ones look like because you need some too, then see the picture below. And here is where to buy them...although you can't actually get any at the moment, because I already bought ALL of the ones they had available. I'm not even sorry.  

 

 

Tomboys are sluts, suggests (dubious) new research

Ok, so researchers at King's College London may not have used the 's' word, but...

Tomboys, regardless of sexuality, are more promiscuous

Apparently. The study has shown that women who had tomboy tendencies when they were younger, generally have more lovers when older.

It leads me to wonder that if...

I am tomboy, therefore I slut [it up]

Warning: I am not about to offer a balanced or serious view of this 'scientific' finding and you'll quickly see why.

The 'Science'

Researchers questioned almost 500 pairs of twins (always with the twins in these studies) and asked whether they were attracted to men or women, how many lovers they'd had and about their "levels of childhood gender non-conformity".

Because, ya know, that's what we all think about when we're kids: I'm not going to fit my gender stereotype so that I *might* be more likely to fuck more people when I'm older. Pfft. 

From the study, the Kings College boffins concluded that those women with the 'tomboy gene' (I know, right, seriously, who knew we had a gene all of our own?!) had more sexual partners than those that didn't.

Results from the study suggest that the gene that causes women (gay and straight) to act in a masculine way, is the same one that causes them to be more promiscuous. Analysis showed that around 30% of a woman's sexuality is defined by her genes, while the other 70% is apparently down to lifestyle factors: peer pressure, social ideologies, conditions in the womb.

(Kinda interesting if it's true, but all sounds a bit vague.)

As long as there are hetero tomboys, there will also be lesbians

Riiiight.

I should point out at this stage that I read about this tomboys = sluts thing on the Daily Mail, so lets take this bit with a whole sack of salt. Also, I've been unable to track down the original King's College paper on the topic to see if this is true. Either way, this bit made me laugh in a WTF kinda way...

'The finding helps explain why homosexuality doesn’t die out, even though lesbian couples are not able to naturally have children carrying the genes of each partner.

This is because straight tomboys have more lovers than others – and so the ‘tomboy DNA’ stays in circulation, according to the study carried out by a team from King’s College London.'

Just let that sink in for a minute and try not to hit the palm of your hand on your forehead too hard. 

Is this serious?!

Really, I think this all sounds like a crock of shit. Unsurprisingly, there have been very few other news outlets to cover the story and it's questionable as to how seriously the scientific community will take the researchers findings. 

Compliments. They're a two-way street

I want to begin this post by telling you, my reader, that I think you are wonderful. I believe this because you have taken the time to read my blog and for that, I believe you are brilliant.

How did you react to the (very much heartfelt) compliment?

I ask this because I recently read on Buzzfeed about a 'social experiment' where the understanding of giving and accepting a compliment seems to have gone a bit awry. This made me sad and annoyed. I believe that there are few things in life (not including chocolate and sex) that will make someone feel as good as when you pay them an honest compliment, no matter how simple it is. 

"That sweater looks great on you."

"You did an excellent job."

"I just want to tell you I think you're beautiful."

"You are gorgeous."

*Wolf whistle*

Paying a compliment to someone can be such a wonderfully simple thing to do, yet leave them feeling on top of the world for the rest of the day and I hate the idea of "the art of complimenting" being abused and misused by both compliment giver (CG) and compliment receiver (CR), so I'd like to address a few things.

The compliment experiment 

Basically, in a nut-shell, a woman that received compliments from chaps online when using Twitter, Tumblr and other social media decided to stop ignoring the messages from these men, because when she did she would get called "rude" or a "bitch". 

Her reason for not responding to said messages, was because the majority of the time she didn't know the people that were paying her the compliments. Kind of fair enough.

Fed up of this abuse, she decided to respond by agreeing with the CG and acknowledging that she "does have nice eyes", or "yep" she knows she's amazing. The hope was that by doing this, she'd no longer get abuse because she's accepting the compliment and agreeing with them.

The result: the CG's began to call her "vain" and "full of herself". You can read the messages and responses here.

Knowing how to take a compliment 

Learning how to accept a compliment doesn't come easily to everyone. I totally appreciate that. Some people graciously accept what's been said. Others blush a little and try to find something equally as nice to say in response. Then there are those that totally ignore it, because they're completely thrown and believe this person must be talking out of their backside to say such a nice thing. 

In my experience, compliments work best when they're a two-way street. A compliment is given by one person and then acknowledged by the other and usually a simple "thank you" completes the transaction and everyone goes away feeling happy and satisfied.

What I think was missing from the majority of the responses in the 'social experiment' was that simple "thank you". It's one thing to acknowledge and agree with what's been said, but then it's general manners and politeness to say, "ta very much" afterwards.

And I don't want to get into the whole sexist debate here of, "Well, why should a woman be obligated to show gratitude for a compliment she didn't even ask for?", because:

a) it doesn't matter what gender you are, being polite should be common human nature and 

b) when are compliments ever asked for? That's sort of the whole point of compliments. You don't/shouldn't expect them. You can't predict them, so when you're given one it's just as much a measure of your character as CR and how you react, as it is of the CG when they give it.

I'd be interested to see how different the responses would be if more of those women that took part and accepted the compliments said "thank you" in their reply. Granted, there are a few where they did use TY's and they still got abuse, but then clearly the CG is disingenuous in their compliment and that's doing just as much of a disservice to "the art of complimenting" so their anomaly results in this experiment in my opinion.

All I'm saying, is that whenever I've been given a compliment and responded with "thank you, that's nice of you to say," or "thank you, so I've been told," I've never then been called a vain bitch straight after. (At least not to my face.)

But what about the sleazy weirdos?

Yeah, alright, I get it. Not every compliment from every person is a welcome one. Not all of them will give you that spring in your step for the rest of the day, because their compliment suggests something more, well...basically they're being pervy. 

We've all been there, we all know it happens and wish it didn't, because then you have to go through that awkward thing of accepting it, or not accepting it, or should you tweet Everyday Sexism because you're outraged that someone noticed you have nice tits and decided to tell you about it.

No, no you shouldn't tweet them is the answer because, you know what, you do have nice tits. Especially in that nice new bra you bought and it's not a crime against humanity that another person noticed it. 

Seriously though, I know what you mean, it's not ideal when this happens and the phrasing of a compliment is probably the most important element in this whole transaction, because it will dictate to some extent how the CR responds. 

However, in my opinion, even when the CG's language is crass and pretty forward, you still shouldn't be a dick about it. If they're already obviously a dick, then don't make it you're mission to be the bigger dick. A small smile, or I generally find a little tip-of-the-hat salute type thing to acknowledge it, suffices. This way it's over and done within seconds and then you can all get on with your day and no one has lost too much face.

So there we go. Only give compliments when you really mean them. Be polite when you receive them and "the art of the compliment" will continue to make us all happier, kinder people. 

RoseC x