Transition: What I Did Last Summer

So, I’m back after a long stint away from the keyboard. I’m in my final year of university now and keeping myself incredibly busy. My modules are going pretty well, I believe that my novel should be finished by Christmas. After finishing the first draft and not looking at it for three years, I feel like I’ve now acquired the necessary skills to see what I was doing wrong and put it right. That was my purpose in coming to uni. It wasn’t like I came to Cornwall for the nightlife, or to get away from my family; or to throw money I don’t have in to an elitist institution for the fun of it. No, my aim was to have The Ascendant finished by the end of my stay here. However, my Novel Writing module seems to be just the catalyst I need to get the motions moving. It’s pretty damn exciting.

The summer, much like university, has been a time for transition too. I was working two very different jobs, I lost and found some core people in my life, not necessarily the same ones. It was a roller coaster from start to finish and yet, it didn’t really feel like anything happened. When I was asked what I did over the summer, all I was able to say was ‘work’, and yet, even just from work, I felt myself changing. It had been a couple of years since I’d been in a job and since that experience, I’ve not wanted to go back into retail, or employment. I didn’t like how vulnerable you were when working for someone. I didn’t like feeling like a punching bag for customers and the employer. I haven’t been back inside the shop since. I haven’t even been into the other ones I didn’t work at because all I thought of when I saw them was the bad stuff. How I’d cry, or fall asleep, or both, when I’d get home, if I was lucky. If I wasn’t, then I’d cry at work, making sure I’d shut myself away somewhere first. It can be hard to think of the good when there’s a lot of bad stuff about.

This summer, I was afraid it would happen all over again. I picked up some work as an Avon Rep, delivering to friends, family and the neighbours. I liked that job because I love make up, I liked not working for someone else and I liked meeting new people. That was the first step to gaining my confidence. The second was when my sister offered me a job at the pub where she works. I was hesitant and so anxious that I’d end up with a horrible boss and I’d have to plan a murder or something. Getting into the swing of things and getting to know my work mates took a bit of time but I did get confident and I was pretty good at what I did. The experience of earning money again was a thrill I had forgotten existed. However, I still didn’t have a large amount of money as seeing my friends and family was still top priority, despite having two jobs, because once you go to uni, you don’t really see much of people. You can’t afford to.

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My best friend Jess cheering me up on a night out after having a hideous time with a friendship break up. 

The best part was hanging out with my sisters. It’s somehow easy to forget how much you miss them when you’re busy working a lot and you realise just how much you’re not around to see. That’s the hardest part. I was able to have a lot of interesting bonding experiences with my family. The situation with my friends changed a lot too. It’s like the saying goes really: You win some and you lose some. I expected that if something like that ever happened, I would have been a lot sadder than I was. Don’t get my wrong, I was pretty hurt, but I felt a little prepared for it. Like all of the previous arguments we had had begun building up a wall for me. If it had come out of no where, it would have hurt a lot more. And at first I thought: ‘I don’t have any friends now’. Then I had to take a step back from what I’d been thinking, slap myself in the face, and tell myself to ‘Stop being stupid, you’ve got loads of mates’. And I started to talk to and hang out with them more, alongside my family and I realised that when people love you, they don’t expect you to have to put in a load of effort all the time and they appreciate it when you do. When you love them, you want to but it’s not always viable. I’ve tried to show the same patience people show to me, back to them. I feel more secure.

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My sisters et moi lunching in my final week back home

The last phase of this transition was moving house. Same landlord, different house and a lot more problems. Will I ever rent from a private landlord again? No. If being at uni has taught me anything, it’s that landlords are more than happy to rip you off a bit of dolla and they think they are in the position to do so. *

Reflecting over the summer, I see that I have changed. Maybe not physically, maybe not deep down in my soul (I’m still forgetful, forever tired, and at times have difficulty concentrating) but I am wiser. My plans are becoming clearer and I’m coming back out of the shell that I’d put up over the last year. Now I’m back at Falmouth, I’m feeling much better for it. How was your summer? Have you felt a change of self? xo

 

 

 

Feature Picture by Cummings Photography

*I’ll probably write up on this further in the year

Boys, Take Note

Hello population, I’ve finally found something interesting to talk about in terms of the dating scene. It’s been a long while since I’ve written one of these articles and it seems like my advice may be required once again. Please excuse any possibly offensive/ obscene language. As soon as I find more PG terms, I shall change them.

Here’s the situation. Nice guy exists (often in the form of one of my friends), meets a girl he’s attracted to. Guy dates girl. Girl is not interested. Girl breaks up with him. Guy feels like it was his fault, maybe he’s just too nice or something and got himself friend zoned. Nah bro, the friend zone is not a definitive zone. You aren’t bound there forever. You can walk in and out whenever you like. You are in control of your dating situation. You just have to take control: Be confident, be dominant, be clear. However, there is a difference between showing dominance and being a pompous, over masculine ass. The issue here is generalisation. Not all straight women (ect.) want a guy that’s up front about who they are and what they want. Some like a shy guy, a guy that a woman can wrap around their finger or a guy that will step a side and let the woman wear the pants. Other women may want a guy to take that step. I will try and give you a few tips here on how to excel in the playing field, from a girl that has dated an array of different kinds of guys, none of which were ever able to provide the perfect dating tactics. There were always things that I, as a woman, would have wanted him (whoever he was) to do.

  1. The Friend Zone 

If there’s a girl you like, and have been friends with (and possibly even loved) forever then there’s a good chance she’s friend zoned you. She’s probably seen you as a brother figure, there to look after her and have fun with but not necessarily dating material. Which is weird, because that’s what most women want in a partner. The crucial part you have to play, is changing her perception. You’ll have to be careful and decide whether what you want is worth your friendship. How you change this perception is by being honest. Ask her on a date, and not just as friends.

Make it clear that you want to be her fella, not just her friend, her brother, because you aren’t her brother (hopefully not, in which case, this article may not be for you), you’re perfectly legible to date this girl and if she likes spending time with you then why not see if she wants to take the next step? Normally, I’d suggest a small romantic gesture, but you are not like other men. You are the Friend Zoned man. You already possess all of the habits and information necessary for a highly successful relationship with this woman. What you need to do is make her want you. Show her why you’re sexy. Show her why she shouldn’t want other girls. Show her things your other friends don’t get to see (I’m not sure what I mean by this, but maybe you do, after all, if you’re in this predicament, you may have someone already in your mind). It’s time to stop acting like the brother, and start acting like a possible lover. Enchant her, captivate her. Give her something to be jealous about, protective over.

If she really can’t see you in the way you want to be seen after that then it’s definitely time to move on, but at least you know. A bad truth is better than a good lie. You deserve happiness and it’s time to stop hoping that she’ll be the one to give you that.

2. The Nice Guy

You may be the guy, in a similar predicament to you fellow brother in the Friend Zone, however, this may be on a regular occurrence because you’re ‘just that nice a guy’. this is not a problem with you. Please don’t think you have to stop being nice to girls just because the ones you like keep friend-zoning you after a few dates. The world needs more guys like you. Back in school, as a woman, I too fell in to this category. One even dated my cousin instead, that was gut wrenching. However, hope is not lost you. Keep faith.

What you will need to do is go out and meet lots of new women. Maybe start on line, but joining local and national clubs and societies may also help. In fact, that’s more helpful. You get to meet someone that’s interested in the things that you are. It’s also a lot easier to ask someone after a club event, for a drink afterwards or a walk. Like the friend zoned guy, you need to prove to these women that you can be more than just the brother, more than just the friend. You need to show these women how much you can give and if she’s interested, she will also show you how much she wants to give you too. However, if she doesn’t, know when to walk away. Of course, be her friend, but if she’s not willing to put some effort in, then you don’t need to bother. You can’t make someone like you, or even love you.

So, do read the Friend Zone section if you skipped it, if will help inform this one. You bother need to sell yourselves and show why you are a desirable companion and if they like you, they will do the same. The issue with both kinds of relationship is a lack of dominance and confidence. You need to make your actions clear and feelings known.

3. The Fuck-Girl

I can’t think of an alternative name for this section so feel free to rename it in the comments. You should all know who I’m talking about though, when I use this term. The girl that messes you around, doesn’t know what she wants but is willing to hurt you a load of times until she realises. She realises it’s not you. Rarely does a girl ever decide after all of this dilemma, that what she really needs is you. If you’re in love with a girl like this. Stop, take a breath and run in the opposite direction. Not even worth it. She may seem like it, but she’s not. She’s simply using you to pass time until something ‘better’ comes along. 9/10 times, the next guy is not to your standard and you’ll sit there for days wondering which pavement she scraped this guy up from, but it’s fine. She’s not your concern any more, you’re free. Go out and find a girl that values you. Not all women are going to want to be your girl Monday to Thursday but prefer someone else Friday to Sunday, or perhaps, would rather be independent over this part of the week.

No reason she gives will make up for the way she is treating you. It’s selfish; she’s being selfish. You do not need to stick around or feel obligated to be there for her when, in two days later, she’s likely to be ‘too busy’ for you and you need to ‘take a break’. These women have not matured enough yet so it’s best to let them figure out who they are and what they want from life, by themselves. You may feel bad, or you may not, depending on how many times you’ve argued about it, but it’s best to give second chances and then walk away. Let her run after you and show that you are able to put your foot down. You’re a human being and you don’t deserve to be treated like that. She’d complain if it was the other way around. You have so much more to offer and you could be more appreciated elsewhere.

 

 

I’ll give you three types for now, I think. See if this is able to help anyone out. If you’ve got a situation, feel free to catch me on social media or whatever and I’ll reply via article. Thanks for reading! x

 

 

The Struggles of the Larger ‘Regular-Sized’ Woman

I don’t really know what I want to talk about today, but I know that I do. Maybe it’s a way for me to subconsciously put off my essay research, but I hope not.
I was just browsing Facebook when I came across a post from The Curvy Fashionista about the launch of a new store, Lovesick, and I really love the look of it. What I find most satisfying is when I see a store with models similar to my own shape and size, working their clothes. This is more common with ‘plus size’ stores, like Lovesick, than with shops that stock the ‘regular sizes’. Which I find odd, considering they usually begin in the UK at around 18, maybe even 16, but America is a bit different. Lovesick begins at ‘US10’, which is a UK 14. I myself am 12-14. And yet, many of the ‘plus size’ models, mainly in America, don’t look ‘plus size’, just like larger ‘regular sized’ women and I say larger, in comparison to the smaller women that the shops here use to advertise their clothes on.

It’s quite confusing really, seeing these great clothes on women that look like myself, but are not actually stocked in my own size because I’m ‘too small’; which makes me laugh due to all I’ve ever heard in my life, except for 1 time in a million, is how large I am. And while clothes for ‘regular sized’ women look great on the small models and the hanger, I can never tell what it will look like on me. Half the time shopping is a nuisance. My thighs are larger, in proportion to my hips and bum, and my boobs are much bigger than my waist. Shops don’t account for any of these factors and the models for ‘regular sized’ clothing don’t seem to struggle at all. The clothes seem to fit like a glove or a second skin. The same can be said really, for when some of my friends go shopping. It can be so frustrating seeing how successful try-ons are for them, when the dress I really like in my size won’t even go over my chest.

Or likewise with the tall ranges, which to me are a rare occurance, other than New Look, I can’t even think of one without looking at hideously over priced shops. I remember the excitement of finally finding a playsuit that didn’t produce both front and back wedgies. It was plain black and pretty basic, but I was so happy. I have had struggle after struggle in terms of length, where my torso seems longer, in proportion, to my legs. I remember a day I went in to Primark with one of my friends, of the ideal ‘regular-size’, and we tried on some stuff and I fell in love with a ridiculous looking playsuit covered in gigantic sunflowers, as is my style, and it only managed to reach half way up my chest, without causing unnecessary discomfort and camel-toe.

I dream of the day when women of many different sizes can be seen modelling clothes and this confusion of being a larger ‘regular sized’ woman is no more.

If you are a US10 + I’d definitely recommend looking at these clothes from Lovesick, they are so gorgeous and I’m quite jealous actually.

Day 2 of feeling shit

Today I’m going over things that were talked about last night; about weight, size and attractiveness. I don’t feel very beautiful today. I feel like I need a change of face and body. I feel like I don’t want to be me any more. I’m tired.

I’m perfect as I am, he says. Please don’t put on any more weight, he says. I wonder if he’d love me better looking like someone else. I feel like I could scream at myself but really, I just want to scream at someone. Someone that could change my mind. I feel awful. I don’t understand where all this awfulness is coming from. I wish I could understand better.

I wonder if my mum is free today. I’m sure she’d come and get me if she was. Oh wait, no. She’s not. I’m so lonely. Maybe this is what this is. I think I really will post all of this today. I feel desperate. I don’t really know what else to say. I need something in my life but I don’t know what it is. A life maybe, to begin with. I don’t even know who I am. I’m a mess. I want to be able to enjoy things other people enjoy. It’s like life and everything in it has worn me down so much that I’m just this weak and fragile thing. I don’t even know what I like to do. I don’t have anything in my life that I enjoy. Who the fuck am I!???? I hate it. I hate… I can’t even go in to it.

Day 1: Cracking Up

I feel stressed. Really fucking stressed. Or rather, distressed. Very distressed. The thought of finding time is always distressing. I can’t function against time. Days aren’t long enough and I’m always tired. I’m tired now as I hurriedly type out this blimin’ paragraph of who knows what. I’m trying to get uni work done, despite having little motivation to do so. The thought of writing something is not even a shadow in my mind. The thought of reading is more objectifiable, but only of Armadale. All my other reading looks relatively dull. Then there’s the pressure that I feel from everyone to get a job, so I decided to go off of my own innovative and become an Avon representative. I’m excited and confident. However, I’m still getting put down for it. As usual, I hear the words: Nothing I ever do is good enough. There are still people trying to push me towards other jobs for the summer. There are still people trying to push me for an answer about what I want to do with my life. I’m lost. I’m always fucking lost. That’s nothing new to me. Then there’s the fact that I’ve been home for nearly three weeks. I have done vary little worth remembering.

I was repeatedly disappointed with the amount of time I got to spend doing things with George. I’m disappointed with how little I saw of my family. I’m disappointed with how little work I have done. However, it’s still a considerable amount more than last Easter, I believe. Although, anything was more than last Easter but I believe I did next to nothing. My nerves are shot and some days I just lie awake hoping for some kind of death to take me. And last night I looked like an absolute idiot, bursting out into tears when George and I were supposed to be going to sleep because of how awful I felt during the day. Feeling like I have no skill, no purpose in this life is awful. I feel absolutely fucking worthless. I don’t want to be a waster. I don’t want my life to be a baron one with nothing worth mentioning in it. George was lovely and comforted me, but even he has prospects. He knows where he wants to go and he’s useful. He’ll earn lots of money and he’ll do what makes him happy, even if I don’t and can’t understand it. He says I’m still learning my trade but no one believes I can do it, no one but him. Or at least I hope he does. I mean, I can’t ever be certain of anything. I’m not a mind reader. I often think that I’m empathetic but I can’t even be sure of my own beliefs. I’m so used to being shot down that I have no confidence in myself and what I can do. ‘Heads in the clouds’, ‘chasing the butterflies and faeries’, I get told. So the moment I come up with ‘real’ suggestions, I get shut down for not having higher hopes. I can’t fucking win in this piece of shit we call life.

I’ve been doing so well. I’ve been happy. I got out with my friends, despite the hideous specimen they still choose to associate themselves with. I still hate her. I hated her two years ago. And I’ll hate her for twenty more. The last thing I need in my life, with all this stress, is a spiteful bitch thinking she claims the time to ‘best friend of the year’. She’s no one’s friend, she’s an asshole. And then she complains and wonders why she has no friends, which in itself is a lie because for some reason, people still invite her out, even though she doesn’t deserve the kindness. George is so supportive of me, bless him. I would have gladly not have gone out and told her to go choke on a dick.

I want to make a difference. I don’t want my suffering to be for nothing. I don’t know how to help though and I don’t even know whom I want to help. I only know that I want to write. I don’t know what to write though. Not when the people that mean the most to mean can’t even be bothered to read my shit. I just don’t understand where I’m meant to get this sudden confidence from. Everyone seems to expect me to, well, I don’t even know what people expect. They expect me not to fail and have pride in myself, but they don’t expect me to do anything notable. They don’t think I can reach the stars. When people are constantly picking faults, how do you look beyond them? I grew up being told from the get go, that I couldn’t sing and would never get to perform like in my dreams. I was told dreaming was bad and that I wouldn’t get further than emptying bins in school by a teacher. An English teacher, funny enough. If I ever become a teacher, I’d encourage it. Maybe when they become an adult, they wouldn’t feel as depressed as I do. Maybe they would feel as though they were actually meant to be on this planet. I was told that I was fat. I was told that I was clumsy. I was told that hurt people. I was told I was too soft. Too emotional. I was told that I was too tall. I was told that I had no friends. I was told that I was ugly. Many times, actually. I was told that I have no common sense. That I can’t think properly. I’ve been told that a person rarely grows beyond their family circumstances. I refused to believe that. I try to refuse to believe a lot of these things and sometimes I win. Today, I am losing.

My head is swimming. I don’t want to go back to Falmouth, although I know I need to. I’ve spent the last three weeks wishing I could go back. I find coming home too stressful. I find being at university too stressful. I find being alive too stressful.

As a kid I was told that I had nothing to stress about. That I was just being silly. I was told this as a teenager too. And now, as an adult, I am still being silly. I’ll probably die of old age and silliness.  You hear of this kind of silliness causing heart attacks but they don’t call it silliness then. They call is stress. But they only call it stress, usually, when you get older. As a child, or a young person, it’s just silliness. However, no matter what age I get to, or was, I could always produce a long list of all the things that I am, or was, stressed about. I never expected someone so unlike myself to understand the stressors. How could they? They aren’t me and they don’t live my life. More often than not, they barely even listen to what it is that is trying to strangle me and most often than not, I can’t produces the sounds to describe it.

I feel a bit better now that I have spouted out all of this nonsense. I should probably see a counsellor again when I get back. It doesn’t so me any favours to have it all locked up in my head, preparing my brain for an explosion. I’m undecided about whether I will post this. It feels far too personal to post to my blog but at the same time people don’t know about your troubles if you don’t talk about them and people won’t talk to you if they don’t know your troubles and you won’t feel better until you have talked so it looks as though that’s my only option. I do think logically, or at least I try to. If you read this, for whatever reason… I don’t even know how to end this. I don’t even know whom I am writing to anymore. Myself, or the hopeless fool that lands their eyes on this page.

The 7 Wonders of Yeovil

Guess who’s back? Back again? Yes. I am back home. I’ve been back for a few days but my laptop screens got screws loose… or missing… and so I’ve been a bit cautious about whipping it out. Now I’m at George’d dads and there’s a desk, I can finally write! Yay! So, this is my introduction. I was at uni, it was my last week before coming home for Easter and my friend told me that she’d read ‘How’d you write about Yeovil?‘ and loved it. She asked me how I found so much to write about our ‘little’ home town and the cogs in my dusty brain started turning for another piece. Yeovil and it’s 7 wonders and yes, there are seven, I counted.

So, I’ll firstly give you the list, and then I’ll explain:

  1. Taunton
  2. Neo
  3. Takeaway Alley
  4. Yeo Lesuire Complex
  5. Yeovil Country Park, AKA Ninesprings
  6. Wyndham Street

Here we have it and if you disagree, lets agree to disagree. If you can count to more than seven, then I’m real proud of you.

  1. Taunton is ‘the heart of Somerset’. Yeovil ‘has the mind of a city, the heart of a town’. But I think that 98% of people living in this pretend city, would rather live in the heart of Somerset, eh? It’s retail centre is much bigger and more popular than ours, this in itself has various advantages. It’s night life is pretty good, from what I last experienced a few years ago. And, as far as I’m aware, You never want to kill anyone from Taunton. All the people you could possibly hate live in Yeovil, so Taunton is agro free for most yeovilians. Taunton is Yeovil’s wonder and is only a 40-minute-drive-ish away, so it’s not all that bad.

 

 2. Neo is a wonder in itself. Now, I was going to write a separate review of Falmouth’s night life but I think it’s important that I have something to compare Yeovil’s night life to. I know you’re all groaning. Neo, and Yeovil, is crap, blah blah blah. But it’s our crap, and that’s what’s most important. You go out on your Friday or Saturday night, or both if you’re one of those warriors I mentioned in my previous article, no matter where you start, nine and a half times out of ten, you will end up in Neo. No matter how much you complain and cry in the toilets at Wetherspoons, you can not fight the magnetic pull. At night, Neo is the centre of the universe. Everyone knows it’s crap and yet no one can never say no. What choice do you have? Well, I’ll tell you.

I went out for the first time to ‘Club I’ (That stands for Club International’ in Fali. I was told to brace myself before going in and I was right to. I didn’t realise that there were two flights of stairs I had to walk up before getting into the club. At the end of the night, I watched a man fall down those stairs. Be thankful that Neo isn’t a health risk. On getting into the club, I realised that I was paying £2 for a mouthful of Archers and lemonade. There was no seated area, there were no podiums, poles, or massive ‘stage’ type deal, all of the peasants were thrown in together. It was barbaric. There were no bouncers around that I could see. And the animals took their drinks on the dance floor! You don’t get any of that Neo. After that night, I couldn’t wait to get back to Yeovil. You don’t need to use your hips and elbows as weapons just to create some kind of space to dance in. So, Neo is a whole different planet and it’s the only one Yeovil’s got. It brings so many different types of people together. The old, drunken men covered in glow sticks; girls in dresses barely suitable to be underwear, caked in make up to hide the youth in their faces, the men that go to impress these women, I could go on with the list of descriptions.

3. Takeaway Alley. How many towns do you know with it’s very own food quarter? 99% of Just Eat orders probably come from this one road. And it’s had a song written about it. One bands experience of Yeovil and Takeaway Alley was so bad that they actually wrote a song about it. It’s pretty folky, so it might not be to everyone’s taste, but just take a look at ‘Yeovil Town‘ by Show of Hands and listen carefully to the lyrics. In 10-20 years, I don’t think it’s actually changed. I went to New York a few years back and I know it’s hard to make a comparison, but one could say that Takeaway Alley is our own Little Italy, or Chinatown.

4. The Yeo Leisure Complex. I can barely even spell it, but it’s that area where the Nuffield gym is right in front of Pizza Hut. An accident? I think not. I associate Nuffield members with fearlessness and stomachs of steel, but I think the common conception of Nuffield is beefcakes and gym selfies on Snap Chat. You’ve also got the bowling alley which changes name so often that I’m not even sure what it’s called right now. All I’m aware of is that the alleys keep breaking and even the owners given up pumping money into it. I always have liked a good game of bowling though and the name has only changed like, three times. I guess the over priced cinema should also get a mention. But that’s all I can think to say about it. I love going to the pictures but I’d rather save money and go to a cinema in any other town but Yeovil. I hear Dorchester’s deals are perfect.

The Nolasco

5. Ninesprings is the location of summer in Yeovil. It’s a rite of passage in childhood because the park is ace. You’ve got ducks but don’t let your kids go near the swans. They’re feisty buggers, as one of my  younger sisters learnt when I told her to go up to one, when we were kids. For many teens, it’s where you go for the odd cheeky sexual encounter away from the parents, or just a lovely date if you’re more Yeovilite than Yeovilian. Ninesprings is lush though. It’s the place in Yeovil that could still be described as natural.

6. I’ve put Wyndham Street down as the last one. For some reason, Wyndham is broken up all over the place. You’ve got Wyndham Park, Wyndham Hill, Wyndham Street , Wyndham Court but it reflects one side of town. Wyndham street it just around the corner from takeaway alley and all kid of stories are generated on this one part of town. Due to the grotty secrets that it hides, it’s not really considered a part of the town centre, despite people local to Wyndham Street wishing it was. For now it’s just home to Domino’s, a polish shop and a notorious brothel, which, despite the police repeatedly shutting it down, comes back like a weed. I’d love to one day see this road become integrated with town life again.

So that’s the 7 wonders. I didn’t tell you they’d be pretty, or ugly. I just told you they were wonders. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading and if you’ve got any thoughts on what your own 7 Wonders of Yeovil are, pop them down in the comments! Cheers for reading! x

 

How’d you write about Yeovil?

First things first: take advantage. When you title your work, be sure to use a shocking title to highlight the absence of education and sensibility. Refer to words such as ‘chav’, drugs’, ‘immigrants’, ‘over populated’, ‘criminal’, ‘beat up’, ‘charity shops’, ‘teen pregnancy’, ‘traffic chaos’, ‘Yarlington’ and ‘ugly’. When referring to ‘The People’, you must distinguish clearly between those raised and born in Yeovil, although, those in other areas of Somerset may be included, except Chard and Bridgwater (those areas don’t count) and foreigners, most commonly Polish folk.

Do not feature an intellectual on the cover unless they are popular and have in some way, tried to better the living conditions in Yeovil. By no means should it be a councillor or a local politician; book burnings would be frequent. Instead, you must go with either the working class hero that is known for their thick, homely accent or a hugely famous and widely loved celebrity that has visited Yeovil, such as any actor or actress of ‘TOWIE’.

In your text, you need to talk about Yeovil as if it were the only place in Somerset, because it is. Nowhere else is worth mentioning, and Bath and Bristol aren’t really in Somerset so there’s no need to worry about them.  Taunton rivals Yeovil so it’s best not to mention them unless you’re ready for a civil war. Just close your eyes and hope they go away. Yeovil is developing. It’s all consuming. Soon all of the surrounding villages will become one with Yeovil. It is Somerset’s mother. You must mention its deep history: its glove factories, its place in the War. Take car not to mention the deteriorated state of the ‘stink’ factory though. Nobody needs to know that it’s a drugs den. It’s a big town with a population of more than 45,000 and it’s rapidly increasing. We’re close to being a city. You must include the football team but leave out the unnecessary description of the stadium and bad parking in residential areas every Sunday due to these battles that Yeovil can never win. Paint the people as ambitious football fans.  Your reader won’t care about the particulars, as long as they know that there are lots of big, strong athletic people, that should be enough to keep them reading. You must begin your research with the Facebook pages: ‘Yeovil ‘Real’ News’, ‘Yeovil…A Trip back to the Past’, ‘Buy and Sell Yeovil’… the places you will find true, factual information about Yeovil and its inhabitants. It’s a booming economic success and The Quedam is its shopping capital. Yeovil is far enough away from the levels to avoid any threat of flood although all weathers that hit are considered unsavoury. These are all good things to include in your writing.

Construction Gold
An actual image of Yeovil’s expansion. It’s happening. Be afraid. 

Make sure you inform the reader about the night life and the warrior lifestyle that the youths of Yeovil endure every weekend. Neo is the academy for youth, where they will dance until they are pouring with sweat, upon poles above the ordinary class of people. It is where they will drink liquids you could only dream of, from a simpler time. It is where they attract their mates, after an extensive period of pluming themselves at home and walking in shoes that make walking on glass look comfortable. Neo is the end trial of a number of tests, including Wetherspoons and Karma. If your characters make it through all of the trials, a trip to Charcoal Grill will be the ultimate reward, other kebab shops will do though. You must reflect on how delicious their kebabs are to those poor souls that have endured such a night of tests and trials. Yes, Yeovil’s youths are the strongest of Britain’s young but they are modest and therefore, will not acknowledge their strength. Those that do are not worth mentioning unless you are looking to create a villain for your story. There are plenty of villains worth bringing up in your story set in Yeovil.

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A group of young Yeovil warriors embarking on their final trial, Neo, after barely making it out of Wetherspoons alive on a Saturday night.

Taboo subjects would be showing appreciation of the road works which are wrecking havok through the town, the lack of independent businesses operating in the town centre and UCY (University Centre of Yeovil). UCY is a forsaken ground that is frowned upon by any respectable, ambitious young person. To talk of higher education is not generally done. Assume that everyone has dropped out of education as soon as they were legal to do so, although the juiciest stories come from those that dropped out long before legalities.

Include a love story, perhaps that develops between the single young parents of a baby or between two drugged up lovers that declare their hatred of each other loudly in the bandstand because they have been banned from The Quedam. You may also include a battle between parents and teachers over pupil illnesses, holidays, general scruffiness and rudeness. Your readers will love to hear about the treachery committed by teachers to their pupils at one of Yeovil’s local youth prisons.

You must talk sarcastically and discuss how much you hate Yeovil and can’t wait to get away from it because that is that your readers will expect from you. If you oppose this tradition, your writing will fail. Yeovil is not a place where the sun is always shining. Despite the lack of floods, it is not a pleasant place. It would take a true visionary to change the opinion of masses. You should probably explain early on whether you are right wing or left wing but do not state ideas that are too radical. ‘slightly’ will be the key word to use here. Otherwise you may attract a readership that you do not want and many of your potential readership will not understand a word you say. Regardless of political intention, you must talk about Yeovil’s failures and how the new generations are ruining it. You must talk about how nobody wants to live here but no one ever really gets out; unless they move away up north, because the people are southern and southerners have issues adjusting to any lifestyle that includes removing oneself from bed.

Journey Through Love

At first I looked for a dream.

 

Aspiration,

Inspiration;

But the dreams soon became ‘marish,

A deathly reflection.

 

Then I looked for laughter,

A clown,

Comedian,

Eyebrows;

Until the laughter turned to tears

In disarming silence.

 

Later, I sought only romance,

Which I found meant:

Psychological chains,

Deep discipline,

Dark demands.

No, I did not want that.

 

Last I found an angel,

A knight;

That had a dream,

That had laughter;

That had me.

 

But the angel broke his wings,

And fell far below the ground;

Unsure of himself,

His world;

Of me.

 

Another thing lost without intention,

Did I do this?

Do I break the stars that shine,

And curse them to a sorry fate?

Do I have the Devils hand,

That smothers the ones I love?

Am I the cause of all this suffering?

 

But now I search for a different dream.

Not a musician,

Not a clown,

Not a waiter,

Not a knight.

Only a man.

 

A man who loves without bounds,

A man without fear;

A man that knows what he is;

And who he wants to be-

With me,

Happy.

 

And I swear with my life:

I won’t break you.

The Age of Loneliness

This is so relateable and I feel like I really need to watch this programme.

An author's Life

age of loneliness

When I was first asked if I would consent to being featured in a documentary about loneliness, I was pretty nonplussed.

Although my wife and I had just split up and I was spending at least part of the week living on my own, I still hadn’t come to terms with my own feelings, let alone being ready to talk about them on camera.

Could I really go on the telly and tell people how bereft I felt?

Who would want to hear my tales of woe anyway?

What would my kids say?

What would my mates think?

Come to think of it, I knew the answer to that last question.

Eventually, after some back and forth with the producer about how my story would be handled, I agreed to mull their suggestion over.

That night, I talked to my boys about the documentary.

‘Are you really lonely?’ Joe asked.

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My Experience Of The Wedding Industry Pt 1: Maid Of Honour Duties

Hello my loverrrs! So, mum’s getting married next year. I’m the maid of honour. Recently, I have had the honour of accompanying her to the dress shops. I’ve had my first taste of what is to come for me in a few years time. I’ve not been overly impressed. It seems that dress shopping is actually rather difficult. I turned up in simple clothing and no make up- easy to take off if I needed to try on dresses, and the dresses remained clean and make up-free after they came off. Others clearly hadn’t had the same idea. Some of the dresses on the rails were dirty. Expensive and dirty. I didn’t find this impressive. Some of them were broken, with beading falling off and it was just remarkable. Of course, these things could be fixed but it makes the browsing experience a bit more difficult. Especially when other shops took better care of their goods: ie, putting them all in dress bags or hanging the trains up with the dress.

Another incident is service. I’ve been to four shops now in my local area. In the first, people were very helpful in showing us where to look but they also weren’t too intrusive. It was good service. In the second shop, there was no service at all. She sat at her desk pretty much all of the time and didn’t attend to us at all, despite the fact we were the only ones in the shop. the third shop was delightful, the woman guided us round and helped us a lot, which was necessary because all of the dresses were in bags to keep them all lovely. In the last shop, the woman attended to us for half of the time but she was not at all helpful and suggested mum wore a bridesmaid dress as her wedding gown. Neither of us were pleased with the suggestion. So, if you happen to be going to dress shops unless you are a size 8, and getting married for your first time, and with less of a refined taste, but with lots of money, service for you may be difficult.

Finding out that the sizes of wedding dresses were inaccurate and pretty much just all lies didn’t shock me at all. The whole clothing industry is unreliable when it comes to sizing but, I won’t bore you with the details, I’ve done an article on those frustrations already.

me in my first dress from the back

Another thing: I’ve realised what the maid of honours job is and I recommend to anybody being elected to take this role: Work out your arms or the dresses will do it for you. Wedding dresses are not light and they can get packed together pretty tightly. After all that heavy lifting, I felt like I was half a stone lighter and could sleep for the next 5 days. I always knew that shopping could be a good bit of cardio but wedding dress shopping is the next level on. There was speed walking to dodge the rain, pulling and lifting of the dresses and non stop standing around. It really was a long day. A 9-5 kind of deal.

in bridesmaid dress

Anyway, this was just a short update on things. You’ll hear more about this soon! Cheerio! xx