Bloggers: Keyboard Warriors in Masks

April 27, 2016 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humour Daily, mask, Prompt

In response to the Daily Prompt: Mask

Whenever I think of the word ‘mask’ I think back to a classic movie that was essential viewing for any child growing up in the noughties. A magical tale all about being true to yourself and never being afraid to strike out. I’m talking about the 00’s classic A Cinderella Story, starring the adorable Hilary Duff and Chad Murray (does anyone know what Chad did before/after this film?)

For those of you who haven’t seen the film and can’t pick up the general premise from the title “A CINDERELLA Story”, let me summarise the synopsis. Duff plays the heroine Sam, a teenage girl who, through loss of her father, is forced to live and work for her ‘evil’ stepmother and stepsisters. Unlike the fairy tale, Sam doesn’t just clean the house, oh no, she also works at her father’s diner (now run by her stepmother). The only thing keeping her spirits alive is her ongoing, text/email (this was the 00’s – email was still a thing) relationship with ‘Nomad’, later turning out to be Murray’s character Austin – the school’s quarterback AKA Prince Charming.

(We don’t know how the pair exchanged numbers given in 2004 Tinder didn’t exist, nor do we question why no one is concerned over Sam’s online relationship with a stranger. You have to assume that everything is above board because Hilary Duff is there.)

So, speed things up and the pair agree to meet at a high school dance. Both Sam and Austin attend the same high school and both have had passing glances and ‘hellos’ (i.e. they both have seen each other around). Not wanting her crush to know her true, low status, identity, Sam wears a mask. She maintains her normal voice and changes nothing about her appearance. What follows was, and still is, one of the biggest movie frustrations of all time.

(Skip to about 1:30 in on the video below)

Seriously Austin, you don’t recognise her? She’s literally wearing a bit of tin foil for a mask. It’s the sort of thing I’d knock up if someone told me I had to be at a masquerade ball in five minutes.

And don’t you later bump into her at the diner where she works, have a conversation AND YET STILL NOT RECOGNISE HER!??

I tell you what, if I was this guy I’d be round Austin’s place every day.

Ultimately *spoilers* the pair get together and live happily ever after. However people the world over just couldn’t get their heads around Austin’s inability to see the blinking obvious. A simple mask, and yet he couldn’t see it was Sam who was wearing it. I mean it’s hardly:

That said, I can sympathise with Austin struggling to decipher something which appears to be obvious.

On WordPress, BlogSpot, Blogger etc. you’ll find many different types of writing style and genre. There’s informative blogs, blogs on travel, blogs on baking, current affair articles, opinion pieces and even mermaid related ones. However, despite the style and theme of our writing one thing unites us all; we’re all bloggers.

Right now you’re wondering what the heck bloggers have to do with masks. Well I often think we bloggers are the ones with the tin foil masks on. We write, be it for a living or something on the side and the readers, well, they read what we write. They come away feeling inspired or informed. Perfectly understandable, that’s what we’re here to do. (In my case the readers often come away thinking “what the hell was that all about?” but that’s by the by.) What readers don’t always see though is that what we write may not always be a full representation of the bigger picture or us as individuals. An example came once when I was talking to a friend I hadn’t seen for a long time and they said “you know, you’re different in real life compared to what I was expecting. I’ve read your blog and it’s nothing like you at all!” Being not entirely sure how to react to this I just laughed and carried on. I found it a it a little bizarre that someone had formed an entire opinion and image of me based just on the wacky things I write after a day in the office. I was wearing (as I see it) a very small blog mask, but they were couldn’t see that there might be a different person behind it.

What I’m sort of trying to say is that all bloggers are, to one extent or another, wearing a mask. Some may be wearing a full-blown Spiderman costume, others a mere piece of card with eye holes, but regardless we’re all wearing a mask. At the end of the day blogs are intended to be public affairs. Would I want someone important knowing certain aspects of my life? No. Do I really have the time and sanity to be informing my readership how many times I went to the loo today? ~~Yes~~ No. We write to entertain, not to bore. And what we write is often what we cannot say in real life to your face.

I therefore propose a new definition for the term “Blogger”…

Blogger: creative keyboard warrior.

Quote of the Week (16th April 2016)

April 16, 2016 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humour mom, Mum, parents

Mumma Bennett: “I have read your blog. Not very interesting, watching TV.”

“¡Pardon señor, hablo muy poco Español, muy poco!”

April 13, 2016April 13, 2016 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humour Canary Islands, Holiday, Vacation

The traditional Easter family holiday 2016 to the island of Fuerteventura in the Canaries, region, Jandia (and for the record it’s pronounced ‘HANdia’, not ‘JANdia’ – ruddy English tourists, I’m not telling you guys again!) Anyway, the holiday could probably be best summed up in three quotes. The first being the aforementioned (roughly translated as “I’m sorry sir, I speak very little Spanish, very little!”). The second, ‘Do you think he looks in the mirror and thinks “45 years old and I’m performing with a wife who can’t even sing Shania Twain right”?’ The final, “oh for Christ’s sake India!”

Working backwards, the latter exclamation was caused when my darling sister made what can only be described a very silly mistake. My sister, who is currently studying an MSc degree in Geography at Cardiff University (a Russell Group University I add). I was taking in the view, photoing the delights of Birmingham airport…

…When I heard “oh. Do we have any glue?”

Now, bearing in mind we hadn’t even left British soil at this point, I turned to my right and saw this:

Cue quote number 3.

The holiday had begun.

Trying to block out my ever-so-clever sister trying to establish whether chewing gum could work as a bonding agent, I turned to my yoga music and the Thompson in flight magazine to distract me.

Despite being on holiday though, the magazine only made me think about the state of my glass surfaces back at home.

(“Hmm, you smell lovely darling. Is that a hint of disinfectant I’m smelling?” “Yes, I accidentally sprayed the window cleaner on my neck. Sniff the mirrors though, they smell delightful!”)

Once we landed and got to the hotel after a long journey in buses where health and safety is just a ‘minor detail’…

…we got to the hotel. And a lovely hotel it was/is:

India made herself at home very quickly. Almost too much at home…

(For the record, that isn’t a posed photo. I poked her a few times and she grumbled, so I assumed her to be alive).

A few days in and I was torn as to whether I should be asking the local police to remove the crazy homeless lady from my room:

I on the other hand took to making the most out of being somewhere more exotic than Swindon. Even if that did mean posing in locations in my costume that couldn’t be much further away from water if it tried…

(Eager eyed readers will notice that the sea is not located on the balcony or anywhere near said author.)

Near to the hotel was a beach, where papa Bennett (much to India’s annoyance) actually ended up being the centre of a nice photo.

And we soon discovered that segway-ing was a popular activity along the promenade.

In addition to this, the hotel also had it’s own closed down zoo located a 15 minute walk away.

A bit spooky really, but hey, every resort needs one!

Food/drinks were all inclusive, although that didn’t stop me being an annoying heath freak all week.

My consumption of apricots and sunflower seeds went through the roof.

A day trip around the sights of the island was a definite highlight. I don’t know if it was intended or not, but I think there was a classic case of lost in translation with the tour operator:

I tellin’ you, ain’t nobody ‘fit’ on that bus.

On this trip we covered a range of historic places around the island, including churches, a wind mill, a cave, a goat farm, mountain views and an aloe vera farm. We covered it all in one day. In one of the churches we discovered both how Jesus dealt with annoying disciples and, coincidentally, how he invented the ‘fake phone call’.

Thus answering one of my ‘big’ questions: “How did Jesus deal with the people he really didn’t have time for? All those followers and there wasn’t one he just got fed up of?”

In the same church I learnt the Virgin Mary coined the fashionable ‘Western Catholic in mourning’ look hundreds of years before the religion was even established.

No wonder she’s sad.

I also learnt a valuable Christian lesson that day: I’m going to hell while the Priests, Cardinals and Popes are going straight to Heaven on fast track. Think of it like Amazon Prime, but you can’t buy it, well, you sort of can, but we don’t like to talk about it.

On the trip I discovered given despite unstable economic climate, some villages are able to really prioritise the important things:

At the aloe vera farm we learnt about the many uses of the plant, in a way that totally wasn’t a sales pitch for us to buy their products, not at all. We all got to take a bit and try it out. Most people played about with the chunk of goo and then binned it. Not me though. I stashed it in my bag and used it to drive my little sister insane for the rest of the day.

Totally worth the slime patch in my bag.

We also went into a cave:

…avec steps which pushed some of those health and safety guidelines.

Near to this cave was also this sign:

It was a sign was stoping to photo.

In Fuerteventura the people are big into goats, like seriously big. While there are reasonable grounds to this (goats almost outnumber people, or maybe it’s one goat every three people, I really can’t remember), I felt that the island should be pushing the bird/fish route. I mean, I’m not on the tourist or marketing boards, but the island does look like either one of those animals:

They’re missing such a trick.

Although you can buy a lot of goat tat if you want. Examples include:

…And whatever the heck this is:

Even I found that top too wacky to handle. I mean where does one even start?

Statement number two: The entertainment was pretty good at the venue, even though the photoshop skills of some of the acts left a bit to be desired:

That is some impressive balancing skills I must say.

There were highlights and lowlights. There were some good acts. The trio above did put on a good show and were very watchable. Justin Smith (last name is a guess) and Insignia (again, I really can’t remember the duo’s name) were, well, interesting shall we say. They did create a fun addition to the night when we played “guess that song”, and I’ll admit India and I were the only two people probably on the whole island dancing to Justin’s rendition of the Phil Collins’ hit “You Can’t Hurry Love”.

The hotel’s main source of mild entertainment were the flashy touch screens that were located everywhere:

It was through these touch screens that I learnt what noises the animals make in Spain:

I am now one step close to becoming at one with the animals. I tried my cat impression out on the hotel cat, but with little joy. I really need to improve my Spanish.

Speaking of Spanish, that takes me to my last statement and also the title of this post. I am truly embarrassed to say that despite repeated attempts to get back into Spanish and despite my hard grafted B grade at GCSE, my grasp on the language is terrible. I can understand 1000 times more than I can speak, but that was of little use to me when I needed it most. Time and time again I am deeply embarrassed by how everyone in the world is expected to speak English and/or German. To combat this I tried on serval occasions to ask questions in my broken Spanish. Ecstatic that a young English girl in a nice dress could speak Spanish, what followed was either multiple questions about my education or long flowing sentences that, for better or worse, I could not understand. On one occasion I literally said “vino blanco y Irish Cream por favour” and got the happiest waitress all night because of it. “Hablo muy poco” became my signature phrase. I know I keep saying it but I truly need to improve my Spanish!

As always, it was a good holiday and a nice excuse to put my feet up.

Favourite bit: help yourself prosecco

Not so favourite bit: Having to tear myself away from a) Pajaja’s village donkey:

b) the adorable baby goats (i.e. kids) on the farm.

They’re little devils but they’re so cute!

Hilarious moment: when the hotel cat wanted to come in and hang out in our room but we had nothing to offer it (drawbacks of all-inclusive hotel rooms). What made it so hilarious was India struggling to deal with the cries of a cat when she knew she couldn’t offer him/her anything. The girl was in absolute torture (which, as a result, was hilarious for me).

I tell you what, when you look at photos like this you’d almost think we were a normal family…

Almost.

22 Starfish Road (Where the Mermaid & Her Housemates Live)

March 14, 2016November 5, 2023 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humour House

I’ve been doing this blog a solid amount of time now and yet it has only just come to my mind that you guys know nada about where I live. I was munching away on a tuna baguette I’d just rustled up (you’ll be impressed to know I managed to combine the two components without setting the smoke alarm off – a first for me) when the thought struck my mind. So here we are, a summary of everything you need to know about the house Alice, the mermaid and the other ‘professionals’ live in.

Now, for the sake of not wanting to come home one day and find myself hassled by one fan, I am going to give a fake name for the house. It’s on a housing estate with street names that all link to one theme, a theme that bears no resemblance to the area. So, in landlocked Swindon I’m going to say I live on 22 Starfish Road.

Summary:

Date of construction: Early 2000’s

No. proper bedrooms: 4

No. of actual bedrooms: 5

Floors/Storeys: 3

Bathrooms: 3

Parking: Off road and garage

Oh that’s good, do you actually use the garage for a second car?: No, it houses Mermaid Becki’s wheelchair and DIY trolley, so she can be carted around for her performances. There’s also a desk and loads of rubbish.

Garden: Urm, there’s a weird patch of slabs off the back of someone’s bedroom. But we do have a communal garden, where you can sit and feel uncomfortable because it looks like you’re out there watching children when you just want them to go away so you can read your book. So really, no.

Things you need to know:

We have random pictures/hangings in the house that have probably been there since construction. Images that have nothing to do with each other or the house.

WP_20160314_21_05_13_Pro

2) Tenants of this house have an abject fear of letting go of the Christmas spirit. I kid you not, we had a Christmas cake sat on the microwave that only got thrown out this week. This wreath:

WP_20160314_21_03_34_Pro

…This wreath has been outside my bedroom since late December. A fellow housemate is so used to seeing it she’s forgotten that Christmas wreaths should not normally hang off third floor radiators. But then to put it in the garage takes time and it’s cold and scary down there, so we leave it. Not as bad as last year when the tree stayed in the living room until about April/May:

WP_20150318_17_51_37_Pro

3) There’s always a blown out lightbulb – that or one just vanishes one day.

WP_20160314_21_04_31_Pro

We all marvel as the non-existence of it, we all get a bit grumpy because it increases the risk of falling down the stairs and dying at night, but yet we all get on with it.

4) Things that could easily be resolved tend to get left unless they’re life threatening. Mine and Sophie’s bath for example has the tendency to do this whenever we use the shower:

WP_20160314_21_03_49_Pro

(I think we’re too British to talk about bath water – I really should bring it up in conversation…)

5) speaking of bathrooms and water, 22 Starfish Road has previously flooded – on the third floor. This expertly filmed video shows how bizarre a situation it was. Not what I was expecting when I got home from work. (Also, because I haven’t used Windows Movie Maker since I was 12, I also added a cool stock library soundtrack to make it sound more dramatic and cool. It also helps hide my awkward British film narration).

6) We accumulate random items. As a result of living in a house share where tenants come and go, we pick up the random items that get left behind. Because the housemate leaving doesn’t tend to say “hey, I’m leaving this food behind” or “help yourself to my juicer” we tend to leave it. Like a loyal dog we assume the owner will one day come back for it, or it is owned by a current housemate. Both are false. Therefore in our house you’ll find objects only young professionals would own. Items like soda streams and blenders…

WP_20160314_21_04_54_Pro

…or endless piles of crockery:

WP_20160314_21_09_11_Pro

Fancy a George Foreman? We have two! Although we’ve haven’t read the instructions, you get healthy from stacking them in a corner and letting them gather dust right?

WP_20160314_21_06_31_Pro

As there’s now five girls in the house we know this isn’t ours, but we’re all a bit scared by it:

WP_20160314_21_08_00_Pro

…And we have a VCR video player. Just because.

WP_20160314_21_05_54_Pro

7) This is not a good place to live if you have cleaning OCD. If you read the blog post on my cupboard contents – There’s Some Weird Shizz in My Cupboard – with horror then you really don’t want to start poking around in the communal spaces too much. This cupboard I had to force shut:

WP_20160314_21_04_08_Pro

And as for the utility. Well, I’d advise you look away now:

WP_20160314_21_07_49_Pro

If you look very carefully you’ll see that there should be a sink in the right hand corner of the above image. Not anymore.

(None of the above stuff is mine I’d like to add. Lets make that very clear.)

8) Despite earning a respectable salary, I still remain stuck in my Grimgrad ways. From looking at my fridge self you’d honestly think I was sponsored by Sainsbury’s Basics.

WP_20160314_21_11_03_Pro

(I’ll be honest, you caught me on an off day. There’s usually a tub of Basics hummus in there as well, with Basics pita bread to go with it.)

What can I say – I’m a creature of habit and a creature that is, for her age, unhealthily obsessed with the current housing market and need to save up a deposit for a fictional house.

Can’t say my bedroom is much better. For the sake of my privacy, I’m only taking a photo of my bed, however I think it sums up my life pretty well.

WP_20160314_21_15_42_Pro

Laptop, headphones, plate (which ~~usually~~ always has food on it), book (Far From the Madding Crowd by Hardy is the present choice), oh, and a giant Stitch toy (a character from Disney’s Lilo and Stitch). Long story but my sister and I have a soft spot for this scene:

(More because Stitch has a stupid voice than the sentimental value).

To show me how much she loves me, she gives me the world’s biggest Stitch toy. One which takes up my room and therefore my life. I now know how Miss Bates felt in Emma when Jane Fairfax buys her a stupidly sized piano for the tiny house.

Love you sis!

I was going to write more on this, but I’ll save my room for another post. A sequel to “There’s Some Weird Shizz in my Cupboard” if you like.

So that’s the house. A nice summary of what it’s like to live in the four walls of 22 Starfish Road, Swindon. A pretty decent house as house shares go, certainly one of a kind. As long as I don’t think about the contents of the utility room and the monster that I’m convinced lives in the garage then I’m just fine living here.

Aren’t we lucky professionals?

Ps – After I filmed the state of the house post third-floor water pipe flooding, I felt compelled to dance about in the flooded patch. Not only did I dance about in it, but I also filmed myself doing it. It must have been a long day in the office, or the pipes were leaking more than water. I’ve added more Windows music so it sounds like Alice is having the time of her life, bless her. Enjoy.

An Amazing Story With a Strong Moral Message

March 10, 2016 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humour Story

This is the sort of story my future children have to look forward to.

A Powerfully Deep and Meaningful Story

by Alice E. Bennett

In the dark, dark Universe,

There’s a dark, dark galaxy,

In the dark, dark galaxy,

There’s a dark, dark solar system,

In the dark, dark solar system,

There’s a dark, dark planet,

On the dark, dark planet,

There’s a dark, dark continent,

In the dark, dark continent,

There’s a dark, dark country,

In the dark, dark country,

There’s a dark, dark region,

In the dark, dark region,

There’s a dark, dark county,

In the dark, dark country,

There’s a dark, dark city,

In the dark, dark city,

There’s a dark, dark area,

In the dark, dark area,

There’s a dark, dark street,

In the dark, dark street,

There’s a dark, dark house,

In the dark, dark house,

There’s some dark, dark stairs,

Up the dark, dark stairs,

There’s a dark, dark hallway,

Off the dark, dark hallway,

There’s a dark, dark bedroom,

In the dark, dark, bedroom,

There’s a dark, dark bed,

On the dark, dark bed,

There’s dark, dark sheets,

On the dark, dark sheets,

There’s a dark, dark rock,

And on this dark, dark rock,

Is a dark, dark substance,

And what is this dark, dark matter?

Well, be prepared to be amazed,

For this dark, dark substance,

In the dark, dark Universe,

Is spec of dark, dark…

…mud

Moral of this story: Some things are not worth waiting for

I’m going to be an awesome parent.

Everything and Nothing

February 29, 2016February 29, 2016 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Distopia, Humour Everything, Nothing

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/leap/

She knew everything.

She knew why the grass was green and trees were so tall. She knew where food came from and why water was important. She knew that eyes were for observing and learning and that voices were for cheering or silencing. She knew that dark skies meant progress, and her hunger was caused by enemy greed. She knew of hard work and one cause. The Cause. She knew of a protecting Leader and a hopeful future.

She knew nothing.

Blood Stained Shoes and Ripped Tights: Thursday 18th February

February 24, 2016 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humour Injury, NHS

Thursday 18th February

*Just heading back to the office. Text later. Xx*

“Jesus! You alright love?!”

“Do I look alright?! No, really! Am I hurt?”

“Urm, no, just blood. A lot of blood.”

“Ok, thanks. See ya!”

“Wait! Are you sure you’re ok?! You’ve just fallen over!”

“I’m fine thanks!”

***

“No, I can still use my hands. I didn’t put my hands out to save myself. I don’t know why. I was carrying a bag in one hand, the other didn’t come out in time. No, no recent brain surgery. No, I can read. No, I didn’t black out. No, there’s no history of epileptic fits in my family. No, I can’t see my face for bruising. It hurts everywhere. No, I can’t pin point it down, it all hurts. Yes, I’m pretty sure it’s due to the fall. I fell on my face. No, I told you my hands are fine. I don’t know how serious it is, that’s why I’m calling you. Yes, I can talk still. No, I hadn’t been drinking. No, I don’t have any blood related diseases…”

***

“Here, shall I take photos of you before I bandage you up?”

“Urm, sure. Is it that bad?”

“Lets say you’ll want to see this when you’re all bandaged up. Have you got a camera?”

“Yeah, here you go.”

“I’ll take a few…”

WP_20160218_18_00_20_Pro

“…Wow, this is a very good camera. Injuries in high definition! You’ll love looking back at these later! Something to put up to get followers.”

“Thanks?”

“Ok, you’re going to scar on your foot. They let the skin dry and I doubt we can save it.”

“That’s ok. It’s only small. I care more about my face if I have to be honest.”

“Wait there, I’ve got to discuss how we’re going to do this with someone else. You’re pretty bad and I want to avoid you scaring.”

“Sure, I mean no scaring to the face would be preferable.”

***

“How did you do that? You walk that same route everyday.”

“Why didn’t you use your hands?”

“Your face actually hit the pavement?”

“Where are you now? Did your parents come and pick you up in the end?”

***

Friday – Sunday

*Why can’t I sleep? Why won’t the tablets work? Someone, anyone, please just take this pain away. Give me extra days bed bound and bored, or a passing dizzy spell, but the pain. Please just leave me for a couple of hours so I can sleep.*

***

Sunday

“Are you ok? You seem pretty down today”

“I just have no energy. What energy I do have I can’t use because I can’t walk without pain. I can’t do anything for myself.”

***

“India, help bring the bags in for Alice.”

***

“We’re concerned for her, she’s in pain. It’s her knee, her hands are fine. Yeah, her knee must have gone down then her face. No, her hands are fine. Would you say she should go to minor injuries? Yep, that’s what we thought. Warwick or Stratford? Ok, and her face, they’ve told her to keep these bandages on, but what do you think? She thinks it’s just grazing, but the nurses at Swindon said she had to wear them for a week before taking them off. Yep, we thought that was the case, but then we’re not medics in this house! Ok, thanks Jill.”

***

Monday

“So you fell on Thursday and your knee is still bad?”

“Yes.”

“When you fell did you make any attempt to save yourself?”

“No, I hit the pavement with my face and knee. I don’t know why but I failed to use my hands.”

“Did you black out perhaps? What caused you to fall?”

“I didn’t black out, there was a man there. He was chatting to his friend on the phone. I don’t know what caused the fall, I wasn’t looking at my feet at the time.”

“Well, the x rays show that nothing is broken. Just rest it up and let nature take it’s time. Don’t rush to put weight on it and try to not walk long distances for a couple of days.”

“I walk a lot. I don’t have a car, so there’s little I can do about that.”

“Sorry, we don’t give crutches out unless the bone is broken. It’s for the best if you manage without one.”

***

Monday

“Ah, so you saw the photos then! Yeah, she insisted they took photos of her face so she could show her boss or write some blog post on it. You know what they’re like nowadays. No, she didn’t use her hands. None of us really know why, but then these things happen. Almost happened to me the other day. Case of slow reactions I suppose and how you trip up. No, she hasn’t looked into any no win, no fee agencies. Why? Should she…?”

***

Tuesday

“You sure you’re ok to go back to work?”

“I’m ready to go back. I want to get on with life now. I’m done with being dependant, unable to do anything while life goes on around me.”

***

Wednesday (today)

“Alice! You’re back? How are you feeling?”

“Let me know if I can help in any way. Can I get you anything from town?”

“Aren’t those the shoes you fell over in?”

“Huh, guess they are. Blood stained and tainted with bad memories. I’ll have to buy some more when I can.”

“Come on you, let’s get you back home.”

It’s been a roller coaster week, but for once I’m thankful that the world keeps spinning.

Why “National Singles Day” Needs to Be a Legit Thing

February 15, 2016 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humour Valentines

Happy 15th February!

How you react to that opening line will determine so much about your personality. If you are in a relationship, do not own a calendar or just have yet to find the TV remote from the bottom of the Christmas sweet wrappers (big up my piggy hermits), then this day will mean nothing to you. If, however, you are single (be it happily or unhappily) this statement screams one thing:

HALF PRICE CHOCOLATE DAY!

A day where (in theory) all the loved up couples can move along with their roses and stuffed teddy bears and make way while the singletons of this world feast on the leftovers. Granted, that’s a desperate and somewhat depressing way of looking at it, but that’s really what it’s all about.

For me it’s simply another year, another day eating cereal, another evening wondering if I should actually have a go at ironing that nice shirt I’ve only worn once. My Valentine’s meal for instance was this bad boy:

WP_20160214_13_25_08_Pro

For me personally the day has no great bearing on my life in the same manner that it used to. Last year for example I proposed that single folk be allowed to celebrate Shrove Tuesday, alias Pancake Day, in the same over-the-top manner couples tend to apply to Valentine’s day. Still waiting for the Archdeacon and the Pope to get back to me on that marketing idea.

But although I don’t care about V Day nearly as much as I used to, I know and am sure of plenty of other people out there who probably do care about their single status at this time of year. How do I know this? Because I’ve been there. Let me take you back… (wiggle lines, wiggle lines…)

(This will help set the tone)

Back in the mid 00’s was a meh-time to be a young person in the Cotswolds. I studied at an average sized school with a uniform that basically consisted of a baggy jumper and long skirts, however because we were conservative in every sense us girls were spared the torment of wearing a tie. With my hair forever tied back and the world’s thickest fringe, at the age of 15 I was hardly going to win any beauty awards.

Into this mix of greasy hair and textbooks the school decided to up the social pressure. Every year around Valentine’s they set up a stall to encourage students to buy their loved one or crush a rose. You’d pay £4 (a pricey figure, just think how many Starbursts you could buy for that!?) to reorder and then ever year on, or close to, the 14th, students would come round form rooms reading out names and handing roses over to lucky students (often girls) who in turn would squeal and compare numbers received. Some girls got just the one from her boyfriend, others would t four or even five.

Guess how roses yours truly ever received.

Now don’t go all sympathetic on me now, you’re years too late. Looking back on it, the popular girls were in fact buying roses for their friends, or worse, themselves and by lunch time people were dashing about with wet paper towels in a desperate bid to keep the cheap, dead, things alive. Sat here now it seems like a joke. A highly profitable one.

At the time though I felt rubbish. Why didn’t anyone want to give me a rose? The world around me is screaming that this is the season of love. It’s in shops, online, heck, even CBBC is playing romantic episodes of cartoons, or that Tracy Beaker episode where she gets it off with that geeky guy.

Thank God it was a teenage phase and once at University it had thoroughly passed. But with all the lovey dovey stuff going on at this time of year it got me thinking: why isn’t there a semi-official day for those who are single? For instance, in China it’s actually a big deal, it’s actually bigger than Valentine’s Day itself:

Yet in this country (and the West in general) we don’t seem to do anything. Many years ago on the television show The Apprentice, the teams were tasked with creating a new commercial festival. One team came up with Green Earth day (kinda failed given you were supposed to send cards to each other), the other put forward the idea of celebrating single people (including widowers, single parent families and single people in general). They won the task hands down, the commercial companies only complaining over their choice of date. The 15th February was seen as too close to V Day.

Despite the companies declaring (much to their surprise) that The Apprentice had actually cottoned onto a brilliant idea, nothing ever happened following on from the show. A year later another series rolled onto our screens and the same companies went back to rolling their eyes at cat pyjamas.

Now I’m not saying card shops need to start radically commercialising another aspect of our lives, but does it not seem just a little unfair that we live in a society that openly celebrates those who are together, but not those who are not (even if the choice is not always theirs?) As a single person (oh yeah, by the way, I’m single) it would be nice to have a day which was unattached to V Day, a day where we could get cheaper cinema tickets, get store discounts or even go to somewhere knowing that I could have a good time and if Mr Darcy happens to be two rows in front then yippee there’s a good chance he’s single!

But taking me out of the equation, I think it would help those who find the whole V Day experience rather depressing. Here would be a day that says “you’re not alone, we all love you just as you are” a day where you can buy chocolate for yourself and not have to ignore the big “I Love You – reduced, now 50p” heart-shaped box. With the rise of social media in the past 10 years it’s no wonder that more and more people are feeling depressed. It’s bad enough with people taking endless selfies or boosting about their amazing lives, but Valentine’s just takes it one stage further. One overrated event is blown vastly out of proportion and we have nothing to balance it out.

Again, I’d like to stress that despite my rantiness over the subject, I personally do not have any feelings towards Valentine’s Day. Don’t get me wrong, when I actually do go through the 14th February for the first time with boyfriend in tow I’m sure I’ll be absolutely unbearable. There’ll be chocolate and teddy bears and expensive meals galore (at least one of us will be getting that at least). But right now I don’t see the harm in bringing in a National Singles Day, at least trying it out. The best thing I ever received on Valentine’s was a bag of fingers and this message from my housemate while at University:

163318_10151255878341050_1648656838_n

It was a little message but it meant so much. It also came around the same time that I finally started to realise that I didn’t need to change or be made to change to fit in or be liked. I was thoroughly respected and loved already. We often say or think things but don’t realise how much a difference it can make to someone to see it written down.

If the commercial companies are failing to acknowledge and clock onto the single market, then what’s to stop us creating one for ourselves. A card, a posit note, just once day where we can say to someone “you’re single and that’s actually not a bad thing. You’re pretty awesome and I wouldn’t want you any other way. Now, lets watch Bake Off.”

Oh, and FYI supermarkets, I know what your game is. I w into several of your establishments today and found no trace of reduced chocolate. Try and palm off your roses on me? Hah! Keep them! You can try and convince us as much as you like to try and buy full price Easter chocolate instead but seriously how stupid do you think we are. Never underestimate us singletons. We don’t have to think about others when we shop. Our standards may be low but by golly or savviness and spending potential is high. And don’t you go forgetting that.

I Read Cosmo For the First Time in Seven Years and it Felt Weird

January 27, 2016January 27, 2016 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humour cosmopolitan, magazine

I’ve been to the gym, my feet are sore and I couldn’t think of a witty title for this post. On the upside if you’re reading this you know what you’re getting. Don’t come crawling back to me in 15 minutes time and say “oh Alice, I was expecting a post on Manta Rays. You’ve let me down”. No, you can’t say that because the title clearly states this post will be on Cosmopolitan Magazine (hereafter Cosmo). No refunds given on wasted time.

I decided to buy a copy of Cosmo magazine the other day. The last time I bought this magazine was probably back when I was studying for my GCSEs aged 16. I treated as my little naughty secret. “Oh my God it has the S.E.X word on it! Better not show mum, I’ll hide it in my bag.” “Buy anything in town?” “Nope! Nothing!”

Back when I was 16 I knew little of the world and in such an impressionable state I believed pretty much everything that was written in Cosmo. “When I’m a young professional I will be at the fashionable cocktail bars with my girl friends and all the guys will be male models. We’ll talk about clothes and make up and naughty things and horoscopes and our amazing careers and everything will be amazing.”

About seven years down the line I made the impulse decision to buy a copy of Cosmo.

WP_20160127_19_39_14_Pro

(Do you like my bedding? You’ll be seeing a lot of it).

There were three factors behind my decision to purchase this. a) I am starting to draft up ideas for this book I’m going to write and the target audience is the sort of person who might buy this (Alice is trying to be down with the kids). b) It’s only £1 (back in my day Cosmo was a luxury item, it was about £3.50 to buy) and c) pure curiosity. Purchase made, I couldn’t wait to take a trip down memory lane and see what Cosmo was like nowadays.

My God it was awful.

A glance at the cover should have really warned me what I was about to expect, but blinded by girlish excitement I chose to overlook it.

The make up and fashion advice this month all revolved around the colour pink. It took me about a week to realise that the colour pink was selected most likely because of Valentine’s day on the 14th February. It was a tedious link, I mean why should wearing pink make you any more likely to bag a guy. Take this article for example:

Ok, I see what they’re trying to put across here. I mean I have told myself I’m going to try out with make up this year. I wonder how glamourous I can look if I do this right?

WP_20160127_19_42_15_Pro

Hmm I’ll pass.

Cosmo does a lot on upcoming trends and how to rock the look. However I did feel at times they were wasting their time and printing ink on questions that could be answered in only a couple of words. Example:

WP_20160127_19_43_33_Pro

Answer: Don’t wear them in the first place

And it wouldn’t be Cosmo with a piece of WTF advise:

WP_20160127_19_48_23_Pro

WP_20160127_19_48_29_Pro

At this time all I could think is “is this seriously happening right now? It’s got to be a joke, surely?” But oooh no, it’s 100% serious. Look, they even tell you how to style your hair with bakery names!

WP_20160127_19_48_49_Pro

I only hope someone has warned Gregs about the impending wave of young people coming to get their hair styled…

The magazine was hilarious at points, but other times it was actually a little bit contradictory. Take this article which went heavy on the need for girls to love their bodies as they are.

WP_20160127_19_41_23_Pro

I have nothing against this article in particular, nor do I have any qualms about Jemeela’s writing (it’s not Oscar winning writing, but hey, neither is mine). Where I do take issue is that this photo appeared on the page before:

WP_20160127_19_41_07_Pro

It doesn’t take a feminist rocket scientist to see where the two items differ. I mean heck even I looked at the image above and thought “I’d tap that!”

And on the subject of models, I had completely forgot about the weirdness of the Cosmo fashion models:

WP_20160127_19_47_49_Pro

The choice models this month have been selected in association with the Talk to Frank drugs advice service. She gets weirder. This photo genuinely spooked me, and looks like it belongs from a scary movie poster:

WP_20160127_19_46_11_Pro

Thanks to the Nokia Lumia the picture quality isn’t great, but that’s her looking blankly through a window. I wonder who she’s not speaking to on the phone? Ah, it’ll probably be her equally spooky partner:

WP_20160127_19_46_35_Pro

You’d call the police if they lived next door to you wouldn’t you? Or the RSPCA. Then again the dog is probably the healthiest out of the three.

I mean, can you imagine how intense it would be if you went round for a coffee?

WP_20160127_19_46_51_Pro

The photo set ups just get more and more bizarre. Long ago I’d forgotten that these photos were meant to sell clothes.

I’d love to have pinned down the photographer and said to him/her “just what exactly are you hoping to achieve from a shot like this?”

WP_20160127_19_47_38_Pro

In the end I realise why I feel uneasy about these models. Even though Cosmo is trying to tell me they’re beautiful in an artistic sense, my brain is screaming at me that these people are actually incredibly ugly.

WP_20160127_19_47_07_Pro

Cosmo isn’t all about make up and models though. It also covers the big news stories that really matter.

WP_20160127_19_45_12_Pro

WP_20160127_19_49_06_Pro

I cannot remember what the articles were all about when I was a young teenager, I’m pretty sure they were of the same high quality and research. However it didn’t make it any easier for me to read them with older, fresher eyes seven years later.

This article I came close to laughing at:

WP_20160127_19_49_27_Pro

Now this, this is the sort of article I’d have read when I was 16 with my mouth hitting the floor in a mixture of shock, disgust and awe. Apparently this is what all young professional women do in the city of London:

WP_20160127_19_50_37_Pro

WP_20160127_19_50_27_Pro

SEX PARTIES?! What the actual heck?! What started of as mild amusement turned into annoyance at how unrealistic this article is (apparently girls we’ll all on the champagne and drugs with plans to retire in three years to open up a yoga studio. I kid you not).

Changing tack, there was also this amazing program to get quick abs. “This might actually be useful” I thought.

WP_20160127_19_45_58_Pro

As an impartial reviewer of this program I can confirm I feebly attempted this routine once and decided I’d spend the rest of my life kidding myself that I don’t need to ever do it again.

And lets not forget the token “celeb” that Cosmo always runs a huge, massively pluggy, feature on. This month it’s some former (I stress former) star from Made In Chelsea, who proceeds to talk all about her amazing rapper husband Professor Green and though the medium of photo shoots sets feminism back a couple of months:

WP_20160127_19_42_53_Pro

Although she does give a fair representation of how I look in the office Monday to Friday. Spitting image indeed.

WP_20160127_19_42_43_Pro

And don’t get me started on this:

WP_20160127_19_53_25_Pro

And why wasn’t I invited?

There weren’t even any horoscopes! I used to love those when I was younger. Kidding myself that because Venus was at her highest in line with Saturn and parallel to Mars it meant I’d find wealth and happiness in the shampoo isle of Tesco. But no, there was none of that, just seedy classified ads.

WP_20160127_19_54_46_Pro

You can probably tell how this magazine, far from creating a relaxing and nostalgic evening in, turned into a experience that at best can be described as weird. I mean the only figure I could relate to in this whole magazine was a dog:

WP_20160127_19_51_26_Pro

And the only article I enjoyed reading was one which compared the prices of interior decorations:

WP_20160127_19_53_03_Pro

I know it’s a sign of getting that little bit more mature, but it actually made me wish I could write some notes on the magazine and post it back to the younger me. Yep, we both would probably have found the image of a model not knowing how to use a hair dryer entertaining…

WP_20160127_19_40_00_Pro

…but I’d also tell younger me that there are so many things Cosmo magazine seems to gloss over or not refer to. Never is it explained that all the photos are heavily photo shopped and no where are there articles which inspire girls to think for themselves. This is fashionable, this looks good, this is how successful people live their lives. This is probably why popularity drops off (at uni a friend of mine once told me she’d read the magazine until she was 18 then got bored and stopped). It’s just the same old, same old, with the occasional “sex” or “perfect abs” thrown in to grab attention. I do have vague memories of looking through these magazines and wishing I could look as pretty in make up have the amazing bodies the celebrities have. Dim memories of self loathing for no justified reason. As I flicked through this I couldn’t help but think my time and money would probably have been better invested back if I’d just bought a good book and gone outside.

Glad is a strong word, but I think it was good to buy this magazine. It served as an eye opener to how my perceptions and expectations on life, work and family have changed in a relatively short period of time. I can only wonder what the next seven years will do…

To end on a low note, here’s one person’s confession lifted from the magazine:

WP_20160127_19_52_07_Pro

Now don’t you feel glad you spent the time to read that?

The Very British Struggles of a 20-Something Commuter – #4

January 17, 2016January 17, 2016 My Housemate's a Mermaid (Alice E. Bennett) Humour

Struggle #4 – The Invisible Barrier

Friday 15th January 2016: You know what sort of person you have sat next to you on a train when he…

a) Sits down

b) Takes a good look at you and then

c) Puts the middle armrest down.

Because that works as an effective barrier… ‬