Attempts at Sophistication: This Will Go One of Two Ways…

So, I’ve now been in Swindon cracking on six months. Alice reminiscing moment: this time last year I spent a week doing solid dissertation research, including eight hours in Warwick archives on only a snack bar (I painfully discovered that they only had coffee sachets and an out of date cuppa soup. In my defence you look at this site and tell me you wouldn’t assume they’d at least have a bar of chocolate for sale: http://heritage.warwickshire.gov.uk/warwickshire-county-record-office/visit/) It was also the week I interviewed these lovely people:

IMG_5652 Interview Pic 1 Interview Pic 2 Interview Pic 3

Ok, so, left to right: Anne Fox, Coughton Court volunteer, Lisa Parry, Coughton Court property manager (also one of my internship managers), Jeffrey Haworth, National Trust curator, and Lord Hertford, Marquess of Hertford and owner of Ragley Hall. Anne fed me with so much cake I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk out the door, and I’ve never really shut up about my interview with Lord Hertford.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, half a year in Swindon (one extreme to the other). So, in December I realised I’d been here for a few months. The job was/is going swimmingly and my colleagues were/are hilarious (the toy and game buyer lifted her top to show me her dress underneath this week, such is her desperation to feature in my blog. Don’t say I never mention you Lorna).

But despite this I felt my evenings were lacking. I’d gone from being this clued up, academic who would yell scholarly quotations at those who supported the death penalty, to an individual who by 6pm was in an oversized hoodie and watching Teen Mom 2 (you know, something I could really relate to). I was doing nothing but upholding the Grimgrad title I’d given myself. Something had to change.

So what has changed Alice? Well, I hear Teen Mom 3 is starting soon on Viva… But in all seriousness I have done a few things. I started writing this blog (which I think everyone will agree is the best thing since sliced bread). I’ve also started a pottery course. This Monday will be week four of a ten week course. I have no pottery experience but in week two I made this:WP_20150119_20_25_49_Pro

It certainly isn’t about the start a new arts and crafts movement, but I was quite proud of it (next week I’ll start glazing it). Mumma Bennett gets the award for best reaction: “You know, we always knew when you were running around the garden with mud pies you’d accomplish something.” “really?” “No, but seeing this has reassured us”. I expect to be writing more on my pottery in the upcoming weeks. You ain’t seen the last of Alice and her mishappen pots yet!

A couple of months ago I also restarted my favourite pastime of going to coffee shops in culturally interesting places (e.g. Cardiff, Oxford, Bath) and reading a book. Right now I’m reading Wild Swans, which is all about three generations of Chinese women living under Communism.

This is how I think I look doing this:

This, though, is probably what you’re picturing/what I actually look like:

On top of this I’m also going to try to make a start on my Spanish language CDs which I’ve had knocking around for a while. I did it at GCSE but since then my Spanish has boiled down to ‘piso’ (piss-o) AKA a flat, gato (cat, not to be confused with the French, gato, meaning cake). That and shouting “tortoise!” whenever Captain Jack goes to the Island or Tortuga. Hopefully by April I’ll be able to construct a few sentences. Perfect timing for when I go to the Turkish/ Greek Island of Cyprus.

As my title sums up, I hope doing all this will enlighten, educate and sophisticate. One thing is for sure, I’ll either come out of this as a graceful lady like the ones in Jane Austen novels, or I’ll come out like Jane Eyre. Jane is an annoying, whining, poor, girl who throws the attempts of the rich Mr Rochester to lady-fy her in his face when she runs away across the Yorkshire Dales, taking no provisions with her and leaving her money on the coach. WHO DOES ANY OF THAT?! She ends up moaning about being hungry for the next two chapters. Oh dear Lord, no matter how bad it gets, I hope I’m never Jane Eyre. If anyone sees hints of Jane Eyre in me please stage an intervention before it’s too late.

Right, I better go. We have a slight issue developing here. Nothing big, just water coming through the ceiling. Standard Thursday night really. Until the next time.

My Housemate’s a Mermaid: The Post you Came to this Blog for

Before you read this blog there are three things you should know about me. 1. I like tea and coffee. 2. I love my hats and dresses. 3. My housemate is a mermaid.

Yes, you heard right.

I live in a shared house located in the fine town of Swindon (Wiltshire, England). A town renowned for its stunning beauty, charming residents, and it’s thriving young professional social scene. Hah, who am I kidding? It’s none of those things. I’ve now been here almost six months and I’ve learnt just two things. We have this guy who writes his unique take on poetry on the pavement in the town centre (aka the resident ASBO burner), and we have trains. You can leave Swindon in any number of directions on a train and get to somewhere a bit more favourable in no time at all. Cardiff, Bath, Bristol, Oxford, London, all of which take no longer than an hour 15 minutes to get to by train. A town that makes it easy for you to leave. I like to think that if Swindon was a person he/she’d be a Psychologist’s dream patient, but alas it is not. It’s a rapidly expanding town with little of architectual significance other than this piece of road engineering known as ‘the magic roundabout’

Yes, that is indeed five mini roundabouts positioned around one central roundabout.

So, that’s a pit-stop guide to Swindon. Trust me, it’s all you’ll ever need or want to know about this place, well, unless you actually live here. In my opinion Swindon’s slogan should be ‘Visit Swindon: Because lets be honest, it could be worse’. Expecting a call from the tourist board to call any day now…

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, my living arrangements. I live in a three storey shared house in Swindon. I live with four other people (making there five of us altogether), all living under the banner or pretence that we’re all ‘young professionals’. When it’s been a long day at the office it has become our thing to remind each other of this simple fact. It semi works. Four housemates to talk about and no time like the present, so lets get to it.

Becki – AKA the Shire Mermaid / Mermaid Aura

Becki

Who better to start with than the very person my blog’s title revolves around. The person who I have to thank for grabbing your attention, and adding some spice into my otherwise mundane life.

Becki works in CCTV for her day job, doing tough 12 hour shifts which are either 5am-5pm or 5pm-5am.

Job summary: monitoring CCTV cameras, providing security for buildings.

It’s a job which denies her any social life and tends to lend itself more towards a slow rather than fast pace, but it pays the bills and funds her real passion; the world of fantasy and mermaids.

When I moved into the house in August, Becki had two tails, few bikinis and a Mermaid Aura Facebook page. That was it. This winter she is currently working on building her mermaid profile, starting off by renaming herself to the Shire Mermaid. This is to reflect her well travelled background, but also to weave her way into the Lord of the Rings fandoms. I don’t know much about Lord of the Rings (yes, I know I deserve to be shunned) but the closest image I could find on google with the words ‘LOTR’ and ‘Mermaid’ was this:

That could easily be a movie poster/still for a LOTR film. I mean you tell me what’s out of place there?

I’ll pop links to her social media sites at the bottom of this post, but here’s a video of her doing a gig for a Cancer Research UK event:

So that’s Becki. She’s recently started investing more into mermaid accessories and an even better, personalised, silicone tail (her current tails are made of material). This tail from America is going to cost her something in the region of $3500. As I would say, that’s a lotta 11p noodles.

Stay tuned in the upcoming months for more information about my mermaid housemate, but for now, onto the next ‘young professional’…

Cherise – AKA the London Loather

Like me Cherise graduated from University in 2014 and like me she also moved to Swindon recently for the sake of a job. Cherice works at Nationwide head office.

Job summary: credit risk analyst for a high street bank, deciding whether or not to approve mortgage requests.

It kinda flies in the face of my university career-based rant in an earlier post, but Cherice’s job at Nationwide is a job on a graduate scheme. Her job will be secure for a year and after that who knows, she may stay at Nationwide, she may move on. Who knows.

What I do know is that she won’t be skipping back to her home city of London, she loathes the place. The traffic, the price of rent, the fact the 2010 London Riots took place just meters from her family house, there’s nothing about the city that grabs her, despite the fact it was the place she was born and raised. Given London is just over an hour away by train, you’d think she would stretch herself a little out of comfort zone and go here frequently. Nope. Ah, but I bet she studied at a London university I hear you say. No again, she went to Coventry University where she studied, wait for it, Maths (bet you weren’t expecting that).

As a fellow London hater with friends who dote on the city, I couldn’t believe my ears when Cherice told me this piece of information about herself. An instant bond was made and I saw that maybe there was hope in the world yet.

I think now is a good time to leave it here. Once again I have food in the oven, and I’ve underestimated how much there is to talk about. I have learnt something from writing this post mind and that is even Swindon can’t be summed up in one sentence. Maybe the Visit Swindon board really should get me involved with the 2015 tourist guide.

Anywho, keep your eyes open for the next post in which I’ll tell you all about my other two housemates and maybe a line or two (or three…) on yours truly. Until the next time, may your days be as light and fluffy as the jacket potato I’m about to eat.

Ps…

If you want to see more pictures/find out more about Becki, her Facebook page can be found here:

Mermaid Aura

And her Twitter:

The Shire Mermaid

The Hole in My Shoe: The Next Steps (Pun Intended)

I was deciding whether to eat rice or pasta this evening (age old dilemma) when I realised that I hadn’t posted anything for a while. So here I am, PJs on, Big Bang Theory on in the background, typing away. Not adventurous, but it was going to be Black Mirror. You’ll be grateful when this post takes a happy tangent as opposed to a dystopian approach where the future is bleak and young people turn into mindless zombies on Instragram. Oh wait…

(FYI, I don’t want this blog to turn into ‘what the office-worker did today at her desk’ or ‘how many cups of tea can Alice drink in a day without overdosing on caffeine’. There are places on the internet that will answer both.)

So, as I recall I left my last post with me getting a job. I’m now 4.5 months through a nine month contract (if not already made obvious, I was hired as maternity cover) and on the whole life is pretty good. There have been ups and downs but name a job that doesn’t have them. All downs and you’re in the wrong job, all ups and something isn’t right (you only need to watch Wolf of Wall Street to know that). Downs include dealing with a new computer system, but ups include my birthday last week. I made cupcakes for the team, and my line manager declared it was ‘wear a hat to work day’ to celebrate my extensive hat collection. Cue team selfie with those in the office…

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(Given it was 8:15 in the morning I think we look rather merry. My birthday has that effect on people).

Slight downs, massive ups. Swings and roundabouts. Tea and, urm, cold tea. But without the downs you never fully enjoy the highs. If we wore hats to work and celebrated my birthday everyday life would be rather dull. I’d also be spending a all my time and money baking constantly (don’t give my colleagues ideas).

Don’t assume from that photo that life is all wine and mince pies. Ok, it is bit of that thanks to the food and drink buyer who sits opposite me, but still, life can be tough. While our book buyer has been seconded I’m flicking between handling publishers, new ranges and product reviews alongside tasks set out in my job title dealing with administration, invoices and orders. Depending on how things pan out the two jobs can either create a wonderful Mary Berry-esk trifle, nicely layered, varied, and something you want to want to dive into, or like the one time I attempted to make a fruit loaf. Solid, overcooked and, as a result, can badly bruise one’s foot when dropped (my family dubbed my creation ‘the brick’). Whichever way, both take work and devotion. Some days I get trifle, other days I get brick loaf. So far I’m eating more jelly than carbon so I must be doing something right.

Here seems a good point to stop for now. And as if by magic, I switch over and Master Chef is on my TV (don’t worry, I promise you it won’t stay that way for long). I hope this post has given a little bit more of an insight into what I’m doing in my tangent filled, round about way. My next post will either be about my housemates or linked to the Jack Wills Christmas catalogue (flicking through it is quite an interesting insight into the world of the middle-class hipster.) Now, time to turn off Master Chef and get to work on a true example of a culinary masterpiece, aka…

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Nice

(Ps, the holey shoes are now dead, but they still live under my bed. Since the Freeview advert with the singing toys I like to think they belt out classic ballads when I’m at work. Who am I to stop them doing their dayjob? #BonnieBoot

Pps, it’s also because they’re moved to the darkest reaches of the ‘under the bed’ space and I’m too lazy to fish them out, but pretend you didn’t read that…)

The Curious Incident of the Wheelie Bin in the Night-Time

My second post was intended to act as a fill-in from Graduation to the present day, however that’s going to wait. A scary development has occurred on our housing estate, something that should be treated with the utmost severity.

Our wheelie bin has disappeared.

(I’ll give you a minute to regain your breath).

Better? Ok, let me explain. I left the house to go to work, wheelie bin was there. I came back to the house after finishing work, said bin was still there. Go to bed, and the next morning, woah! The black, cuboidular (it’s not a word, but it should be), Swindon Borough Council wheelie bin was gone!

I don’t know who did it or why they did it, but I can only assume they are a criminal mastermind. I’ve walked up and down the street several times in the pitch black (in a mildly creepy way) and I’ve found no clues as to the whereabouts of no. 12’s wheelie bin. The whole situation has me baffled. I mean, why does anyone on a housing estate need a second wheelie bin when we have a designated area for rubbish bag overflow? Where can one subtly hide and store such an awkward, large object? Most importantly though, why our bin?!

It can only be described as the Swindon crime of November 2014. I don’t wish to scare monger, but I fear this problem will get worse before it gets better. Don’t fret though my fellow Swindonites, I’m on this. I’m composing a letter to send to Sherlock and I’ve been practising my fist shaking all day in preparation for the next attack.

To the bin-stealing culprit, return the bin and we shall speak no more of this. However, be warned, my housemate is a crime journalist. If you continue this charade I will nag him senseless until he reports on this. The deepest depths of hell do not compare to a page 15 paragraph in the Swindon Advertiser.

Now, many of you might say I’m taking this a little bit too seriously, that I need to calm down a bit. At the end of the day, I’m a middle class professional. I’m cool as a cucumber on most things. Loud music at 2am, not offering me tea when I visit, I’ll put up with that. Mess with my waste disposal though and you mess with me. You, me and my black belt in fist shaking.

So bring it in on my friend. Bring it on.

The Birth of the Grimgrad

On July 16th something monumental happened. The Ukrainian Government were continuing their struggle against pro-Russian rebels, and Ben Affleck had crashed a Superman-themed party. Neither though can compare to what was going on at the University of Southampton’s Highfield Campus in, oddly enough, Southampton.

At 10:45am I officially graduated from the university with a 2:1 BA (Hons) degree in History.

Graduation

I walked out of the ceremony all smiles and compulsory posed photos…

With Rachel

However, while this development in my life story was happy and exciting, after 30 minutes the realisation of my new status started to sink in. Photos like this started to appear in the photo real:

cropped-l.jpg

(Mumma Bennett was not happy)

I was an actual adult now. An adult with debt to pay off, a job to find, a career to build, a life to make. All that debt and nothing to show for it but some fancy hired robes and making people call me Alice Bennett, BA.

Some say life begins at birth, others pin it on moving away from home, buying a car, or going to a club. They are all wrong. No, the start of one’s ‘life’ cannot be pinned on something we build ourselves up to. It is the sudden removal of a structure or support base that forces one to make their own choices without the help of friends or Google. That’s when our independence is finally marked and when ‘life’, as we know it, begins.

With the removal of my education the inner child was officially dead, but the adult was born. And with the birth of the new adult came the decision to create a blog three months later. Watch this space for more blog posts about my job, outside-of-work stuff, and everything else under the sun.

Hello there Mr. New World, are you ready for me?