Pretty white stuff?

I can see the beautiful snow falling from where I sit. Deep and crisp and even, it carpets the outside world in a beautifully pure fur cape. But much as I despise snow cynics, there is a more sinister side to the snow. Yes, it's beautiful; yes, it makes us go back to basics and walk to places we'd normally drive; yes, it unites the nation in an icy embrace, but it's also a huge impediment to most activities. This morning, my exhausted father dragged himself out of bed at 5.55 to catch the 6.28 local stopping service into work on account of the snow burying his car under several inches of snow, only to be stuck on the train, frustratingly close to his final destination. He made it to his important meeting, late, at 9am, doubtless exhausted, bedraggled and without breakfast.

Yes, my village looks like the front of a rather charming but tacky Christmas card, but it's not much fun being trapped on a greetings card for several months of the year. As the snow continues to fall, I keep reminding myself of the positives: the birds that cluster around the window as they stock up on the nuts that we've left out for them, the chance of tranquility at home, endless opportunities for sledging. Still, I find myself wishing I was twenty miles closer to a city. What are we going to do when the freezer runs out of food...?

Happy Snow Days!

The L Word

Liverpool, Leeds, London...the list of great 'L' cities in England isn't something I've paused to think about very often before, but I think it deserves some thought. I've now visit all three, and I've started to realise just how ignorant I've been about our small, but culturally diverse, country. Of course we all know London, but how many of our cities have you visited? How much history and heritage from any of them do you actually know? I hark from Sheffield, a city made famous (or perhaps that should be infamous) by 'The Full Monty', but the perceptions about it being a dingy industrial dump are quite simply false. Anyone who has seen the city's new Winter Gardens (apt for a city which is so interminably cold) or listened to the tragically short-lived Arctic Monkeys would have to agree. Leeds, except for it's charming (but dangerous to frequent with a Credit Card) Victoria Quarter, is arguably unremarkable, but Liverpool is another case in point. Floating along in my own little bubble I knew that it was the city of the Beatles and Colleen Rooney, but was hopelessly unaware that the stunning waterfront hid beautiful architecture, wonderful shops, two remarkable cathedrals, and a Tate gallery. Picasso's Weeping Woman was there, for goodness sake, as were some of Tracey Emin's 'neon' works. The city's Walker Gallery, too, is not only worth a visit, but vastly superior to Manchester's city Art Gallery, and bursting with little gems (Hockney, anyone) that I never expected to see. And best of all, it's free entry, and about one minute's walk from Liverpool Lime Street train station. Add to that the meagre cost of my £4.60 YP ticket from Sheffield, I was left incredibly impressed. Liverpool, you have been warned, I will be back...

Kate and Wills....the biggie!

So, yesterday the worst-kept secret in the history of modern times was let out: Kate Middleton will marry Prince William. Girls weep as they finally realise that a 28-year-old royal they've never met is not going to marry them. Harsh. The criticism for the Middleton family rolls in. Now, I don't know the family, they may be ghastly, they may be wonderful, but this girl has sacrificed her liberty for the man she loves, and that's not a small deal.

So, what are the objections?
1) People think she's a lazy airhead - she's not. St. Andrew's don't let in lazy airheads, and they don't get a 2:1 at the end of their degree either. And...she does work. Lots of people work for their family business, and it's pretty hard to juggle the commuting pressure with the paparazzi following your every move and the tabloids criticising your every outfit.
2) She's 'common'. Er...really? OK, she doesn't have a title, but we live in the 21st Century. And I'm pretty sure the royal family have learnt that it's a bad idea to forbid future kings from marrying the women they love (ahem, ahem: Charles and Camilla).

I'm sure there are more. I know there are counter-arguments. But please, give the girl a break. She has to wear the engagement ring of a woman 'killed by the press'. That can't be nice, can it?

The Social Network - how a socially inept student transformed our interaction

Yesterday, I profited from our culture's relentless marketing by going to the cinema with 'Orange Wednesdays'. Even better, I got a good deal for going before 5pm, something I loathe, but as I'm learning to 'indulge', it seems a good enough way to do it. So, 'The Social Network' was the film of choice.

JT impressed me, I have to say. Mariah and countless others have tried the ol' 'I sing therefore I act', but Mr Timberlake actually seems to be able to put on a very convincing act. His colleague Jesse Eisenberg is equally, and likely more, talented in his representation of facebook's founder, Mark Zuckerberg.

I sat down to two hours of elaborated history and re-emerged into the November dusk with a strong urge to check my  own facebook profile. It was painfully ironic, but nonetheless, I resisted for a short while before giving in. It was when I was packing up in Waitrose that I gave in, iPhone in hand, to the sad truth: I'm just as addicted as anyone else.

Retail vs. Detail

Those who attend prestigious learning institutions often have a certain degree of social snobbery, believing themselves to be superior to those working in the 'mere' retail industry. After an application to work, just as a Christmas Temp, at 'The Body Shop', I have gained new respect for those working in the retail world. For starters, the online application form was fairly lengthy, but then there was the daunting prospect of a floor trial. Five Ps (boiling down to Positivity and Passion) were examined, and after assessment, five of the 200 initial applicants will be invited back for interview, followed by two being given the job. I think I'm correct in thinking this is more competitive than Oxbridge entry...

The view from freedom

I've always been a lucky one. I know that's perhaps not something you're meant to say; we live in a world where people tend to favour those with sob stories - think of each year's 'X Factor' winners and you'll get what I mean. I live in a very comfortable house, with very loving parents, a dog, and a gorgeous older sister. I was educated at wonderful schools, and in October, I found myself unpacking my books at the University of Cambridge. I'd fallen into it. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I was there without really feeling that I'd earnt it, and without really wanting to study what I was studying. Topped with the guilt of my privilege, I started to become depressed. In fact, I'd started many moons ago, but three weeks into my studies there, I cracked. I had no choice but to degrade, to take a year to think.

And so, two weeks later, I find myself on an unplanned gap year, remembering exactly what I do want: I want to write. I want to be one of those blessed few who lights up the day of another by reflecting on one of life's idiosyncrasies, whose creativity flows through their veins, into their fingertips and out onto the page. I want to be a journalist.

One can write a lot in a year, and I plan to. This, my friends, is to be an account of the path not taken, from the view of the one who took it.