Merry Christmas to all...

Whether you celebrate Christmas for religious reasons (as I do) or for the presents or if you do not celebrate at all, I sincerely hope you have all had a very happy holiday.

I have truly had an amazing time, which was filled with laughs, food, wine, presents and more food.

Christmas breakfast consisted of a traditional Jamaican meal. Ackee & Saltfish, fried breadfruit and plantain and bread and butter. Amazing. Dinner made my tastebuds dance even more as I was literally overwhelmed by the choice. I filled my plate with turkey, lamb, pork and fried chicken before piling on rice and peas, salad which included avocado and homemade coleslaw, roastie, and veg. I was so impressed that I became one of those annoying people who uploaded a picture via instagram to facebook and twitter. It just had to be done. I then fell asleep before waking up to watch the soaps and eating cake and a prawn salad. My food baby looked 7 months gone.

Boxing day, leftovers for breakfast then I ventured into town to look in the sales, Walsall was the less busy alternative and I managed to purchase a couple tops and a skirt. Shopping done. I got ready for a black comedy show that literally had me crying with laughter. I've never been to a race specific show before but the jokes were so funny because it was mocking the stereotypes we have of each other. Hilare.

I did the usual visit family thing that we all feel obliged to do even more so at Christmas and played Snakes & Ladders ten times with my nephew who had never played it before. I then headed back to Manchester a day early for me time. Definition being lying down watching iCarly, Victorious and all the things I recorded over the hols.

I write this from my new iPhone (why I've been on the BB hype for so long I do not know) enjoying the rest of me time as I am back in work tomorrow.

So the last thing to do is wish you all a very happy new year...

X

Lizzie Siddal

She arrived, silent, still and beautiful. Alice Florence Rossetti. They took her away as Lizzie broke down in a pool of her own fluids. Laudanum relieved the pain and brought her back. She was very much real to her. 

For months she watched her, nursed her, and rocked her cradle back and forth. Dante watched in fear, for her sanity and his own. He missed the child he never got to know and the wife he once loved unconditionally, but everything changes, and she certainly had. She became nasty, vicious, something unexpected from a beautiful creature. Every so often she would come back, and although the grief was still there, a sparkle in her eyes would appear as she remembered playing catch just off the curb with her siblings. The stew and dumplings her mother used to make and curling up in front of the fire. Dante tried his best, but it was not good enough. 
He attempted to move the cradle, give it to his sister who was due anytime soon. It had been five months after all. She launched at him like a cheetah on its prey, arms flaring. Her nails tearing the flesh from his face as his attempt to defend himself failed. He threw her down and walked out. She clung to the legs of the cradle, weeping like a scene from a Greek play.
He returned days later. She had barely noticed he had gone as she had gotten high for three days straight. They made love. 
He thought the make up sex and her carrying another baby would at least papier-mâché over the cracks. She was barely showing that day she took her life. The day started off as everyday did. Breakfast. Dante left to see an artist friend of his. 
She wrote a note. Black ink, calligraphic handwriting:

‘Oh grieve not with thy bitter tears
The life that passes fast;
The gates of heaven will open wide
And take me in at last.

Then sit down meekly at my side
And watch my young life flee;
Then solemn peace of holy death
Come quickly unto thee.’[1]

She drank the final bottles of her laudanum. Only it understanding her grief as she slumped in a haze.  
As he walked towards their bedroom the atmosphere felt different . She lay still on the bed, note in her hand.
He knew, he just knew. 
He read the note; tears leaving his face hitting the page as the ink ran. He burnt it. She would get a church burial that was deserved of a grieving mother and to save bringing shame upon the Rossetti name, but they all knew.                
Her long copper locks filled her coffin, and in them he put the only copies of his poems. His words with her forever. 


During my Varieties of Fiction module we were given some facts about Elizabeth Siddal an artists' model. 
I had never heard of her but found her story not only sad but very interesting.
This is an extract from the piece I did.

Pen. Paper. Prose. Poetry.

Those who know me know my love for writing. I may not do it as often anymore but pen to paper has always been my release. When me and my sister used to argue, I used to pen poems about how I hated being the youngest (by a minute). And if you read my work for Creative Writing in my first year of Uni, you can gather which pieces were written after my Nan died. Therefore I have decided that I will share some of my work, old and new on with you lucky lot. As stated in my previous post here this blog is a mix, so you never know what you are going to get next.

It has been a while...

I haven't written anything for a while, not on here anyway, I mean it's a new season (not that we saw much of a Summer) but the rain is well and truly pouring, flood warnings for some, and it is dark before the soaps start. The reasons for my lack of writing as petty as this may be to read are I have the slowest laptop in the world, that needs to be plugged in at all times and also blogspot was going on with shreggry (messed up). It was not allowing me to post, I tried, believe me, but no such luck. So here I go again, trying. Fingers crossed. (I have now figured it will not post with pictures so until blogspot sort this, it will have to be old skool I'm afraid)

So what's new?

Well I have yet to blog about the Olympics, Jamaican Independence, Manchester Carnival or my general musings so will give a quick run down.

Olympics- I felt proud to be British and of Jamaican heritage... didn't we do well ay? I also can't get the song that was on the Paralympic adverts out of my head.

Independence- The weekend of independence I went to a Morgan Heritage, Etana and Gyptian concert in Birmingham. It's what us youngsters call a 'big people dance' where although there are people my age there, it is mainly attended by? You guessed it, big people of our parents age. I wore my hair out, rocked that Jamaican pride and partied until the early hours.

Manchester Carnival- I had my Bubz (nephew), best friend and her two girls up for nearly a week. We missed the parade, of course I am only used to getting myself ready so it was a bit of a challenge. We all had fun, ate far too much and the kids got to go on a few rides. I also noticed my Bubz had his first wobbly tooth (it has since come out and the others are on their way.)

So that is really the jist of my Summer. I WILL be writing more often in furture.

x

Birthday comedown...

So once I get on a hype about something there is no stopping me, and like I have said before I LOVE LOVE LOVE birthdays. On Sunday I turned a quarter of a century and I had an amazing weekend of celebrations.

It all started with work on Friday. I am 7 weeks ish into a new job and although at times I get panicky about messing up, the people who I work with are lovely. And the bottle of Smirnoff and chocolate cake they got me didn't sway that statement at all. I had packed from the night before so all that needed prepping was the hair. I was going for the bendy rollers look again, and did this at work before flying out of the building, turning up the bashment tunes and putting my foot down to head to Birmingham. We had booked a Travelodge and had planned to drink before heading to a bar then club. We only made it to the club. I had all intentions of 'pacing' myself but that went out the window with the shitmix that consisted of vodka, wine, cherry sourz, apple juice, and lemonade. And also the fact that people figuratively throw drinks at you when it is your birthday. My twin and my bestie K (who is two days older) were celebrating too. 

I had tried to spend weeks deciding what to wear, then time ran away from me. The River Island skirt looked vile. I then had a back up outfit that I picked up in the Topshop sale. I liked but didn't love. It's an outfit that just isn't birtday special but I would have worn it if my second choice didn't arrive from Ebay. My new fave site. It was an asos playsuit that I won for £15 but is still on sale on their website for £38. Love a Bargain. I didn't have tit tape so had to use a paper clip to cover my modesty. This may be my new fave purchase. 

 Back up Topshop outfit...

 

My chosen asos outfit with Primark bag and River Island belt...

 

With these New Look shoes...

As you can see by the pic I had to put my hair back as the excitement got to me and I forgot to use hairspray, it dropped after one dance.

Saturday. One word to sum this day up. VILE. But let me elaborate. I'm sure I have an allergy to alcohol, yes that old story. This was the worse hangover of my life. That is 25 years we're talking about, well about 8 drinking years actually. Checked out at 12. My friends went to Frankie and Benny's for lunch whilst I lay in the back seat of my car and slept for 2 hours, before plucking up the courage to drive to my sister's house to devour a Maccies, catch up on Big Brother and wallow in self pity. I then ordered a chinese and saw in my birthday with a couple of friends and a glass of wine I forced down.

Sunday. Birthday. Big 25. A relaxing day at the spa with my sis, my friend, K and K's Mom, Auntie and Nan. It was amazing. I put my hair oil on my hair before getting into the steam room. I had a back massage and facial and the weather was so nice it would have been rude not to get into the outdoor pool, even let my hair get wet. I popped in on my Godfather before collecting my Bubz from his Grandma's. It was always tradition to spend some of our birthday with my Nan and Grandad, so it was a race to get to the cemetery to say hello and for Bubz to tell them about him winning a race at sports day before going for food with him and my sis. It was a perfect end to a great day, my Bubz sang us Happy Birthday before I showed him the watch he had bought me. He liked. 

New asos watch.

 

The day after your birthday is always disappointing. I spend about two months getting excited about the build up and the day, that after it is over I am on a massive comedown. It is now two days after my special day I am back in work, I am tired and now have 363 days to wait until my 26th. Booo.

Me and my sis 25 years on...

Rejuvenated after the spa....

Anyway, that's me done for today, but I would like to thank everyone who made my birthday special. For the presents, their cards, words and time. As K's card to me said 'God Bless you, and by his grace we will spend many more together.'

x