The 7th Wonder of Yeovil

Many of you may have been wondering why I had only mentioned 6 out of the 7 wonders of Yeovil, and I promise you it was not because I had forgotten how to count to seven. It was in fact because I wanted to write about the 7th in a completely different post, of course! Yes, this 7th wonder has made many locals awestruck, and I too find it quite astonishing.


Ta da! Yes, the 7th wonder is the brand new and exciting ‘traffic flow solutions’ that have been introduced to roundabouts about Yeovil! The police station roundabout has cost a bomb and they’re now throwing money on the next roundabout. £14M on the next roundabout according to the Western Gazette. Wonders in Yeovil don’t come any more expensive than this one. The Bowling Alley could learn a thing or two.

See, I haven’t been home that long, but I have been around to pick up bits and bobs and for the amount of money, I expected a massive change to the landscape. The most that I have noticed is a few extra unnecessary traffic lights and some bike paths. The question to be raised though is: will they get used? Do Yeovilians  have the capability and fitness to cycle? Can they afford bikes on top of their fuel guzzling cars? Eh, or maybe that’s just me.

What do you think? I’m no motorist, not for a while anyway, but has it made a difference? I hear people complain, still, but is it because it’s really not made a difference or because we’re British and love a bloody good moan? Cheers for reading! X


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


Journey Through Love

At first I looked for a dream.




But the dreams soon became ‘marish,

A deathly reflection.


Then I looked for laughter,

A clown,



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,



And I swear with my life:

I won’t break you.

Home Is Where The Heart Is, So They Say

Heyo, so it’s approaching that time of year when students start panicking about where they’re going to move over the summer. After already moving several times since coming to university last year, I hoped to settle down here. I found a house I like. It’s not dirty of messy like the last one. I’ve got nice house mates unlike the first one. I have lots of space, George can come over whenever he’s able to, and it just feels perfect. However, I’ve been told I’m going to have to leave because the landlords have given my house to another group. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this because I was told current tenants would get priority. I’m a current tenant and I didn’t not get priority. So it looks like, what’s left of us, will be looking for a new house. I’m a little bit peeved, I know how manky and tiny students houses can be. I’ve looked round enough of them. I’ve come to the conclusion, from the three landlords I’ve had now, that none of them are any good.

If you are a fellow student I have some advice for you:

Make sure you know what you’re mates are like before you move in with them. If you’re like me, messy but considerate, it will drive you insane if one of your group leaves your communal areas in a mess frequently. At my previous house, this drove me insane. because it was all the time. It’s not so bad every now and again but living in a mess all the time is a nightmare. How are you supposed to organise your work if you can’t even organise your kitchen? If you’re unlike me, and doesn’t understand how to use a bit of Fairy and a sponge, I suggest you learn how before you get slaughtered, or alternatively, if you’ve got one, use a dishwasher. But, make sure you rinse stuff off first. My house mates and I found out far too late. I don’t want you to be susceptible to the same fate as ours.

Mould is a problem I didn’t even realise existed. I mean, in my last house, don’t get my wrong, my windows were grotty as hell when I first moved in, but I didn’t realise walls got it too, until this house. If that’s a problem you’ve got, I suggest a few things: First, wipe it all off with an old flannel and some Dettol Mould spray. That works pretty well for any new mould However, it will take some of the paint off of the walls, but that’s your landlords problem, not yours, hopefully. Secondly, when you have the heating on, unfortunately, you will need to open the windows a little. You’ve got damp problem and you need to heat that water up and waft it out of your house.

Food can be expensive and 99% of the time, I bet you can’t even be bothered to cook. You’re tired, you’ve been working hard (or not) and cooking isn’t even in your vocabulary. Nor is food shopping. But guys, you’ve gotta eat! If you’ve not thought of it, try doing a house shop. Each chip in £5-10 a week. And do house meals, that way, you’ve got at least half the week where you’re going to be eating something good for you. Neither of my two previous houses did this. Well, the first one did, with my other house mate, but not with me and the second well, the living arrangements were as messy as our kitchen! In this house however, we did this and it was cool. it was nice to get to experiment and you got to try new things. Like, I’d never eaten lemon chicken before and my house mate’s was weird and delicious and while I didn’t like it, I really did and I wanted to stop eating it but I couldn’t… you get the picture? Keeping a house together is about team work. Your house mates need to be people you can depend on, work with and have fun with, of course.

I think that’s all of my student housing advice for now. I next want to talk about home. Home can be really subjective. When I say home, I can be talking about 5 different houses and yet none of them are really my ‘home’. My uni house can’t be considered home because I’m getting kicked out of it in 5 months. It’s a temporary solution. Home is something permanent. When I go back to Yeovil, I stay with my fiancé and we move between his mums and dads houses. Neither of these feel like home either, because like my uni house, they are temporary. I move between the two regularly and then I’m off again to Falmouth. I recently realised that moving in with your boyfriend (or in my case, fiancé now) and his family is an odd experience. I call it coming home, because I get to be with the one I love. However, it’s not quite home because I still feel like a guest; I don’t have a history there. It’s a new setting halfway through my story. I felt like that when I lived at my grandparents. It wasn’t my house, but someone else’s. they had different rules, different ways of doing things than I was used to. Then there are my parents houses.

My dad’s house is the one I grew up in as a child until about 14. That one doesn’t quite feel like home any more because: A. it has gone through many changes, B. The rest of my family aren’t there any more and C. It feels like so long ago since I lived there, I was just a kid. It’s got history, I’ll give you that, but it lacks something present, something now. My mum’s is the most like home out of all 5 houses. My mum’s there, my sisters are there, my dog’s there. I lived there very recently, before kind of moving in with George and I still go there a lot. It’s got more of a history and I’ve cooked there. That’s what I have decided the criteria for making a home is. Permanence + Memories + Being able to cook and clean comfortably + Family presence = Home. Family Presence can be taken out of the equation and still mean home, if you live by yourself, you can still be at home. You might have pictures of family or some kind of trace still around of them, they don’t necessarily have to live there with you.

I’ve been thinking about the idea of home and what it means to me personally, for a while. I wondered why I just couldn’t quite feel comfortable anywhere. I began thinking that I just didn’t belong any where and this made me feel very sad. I know now though, that all of these places are what makes up my home. I’m a bit of a traveller at the moment, moving from place to place, and I’m not quite feeling settled, but I know I will soon, once all of the temporary places get replaced for one permanent place. What’s your idea of home?


I Have Returned!

Hello everyone. After a long spell away from WordPress (unfortunately, not from the keyboard) I have returned. I have a whole bunch of new topics to write about and moan about ect. ect. hopefully, for your enjoyment.

Where have I been?! I hear one of you rhetorically ask, well. That is a very good question and I’m glad one of you rhetorically asked it. My being away has been down to a number of this: Struggling to cope with being me, university life and life in general. I’ve found it difficult to stay motivated and happy. The next thing was Christmas. Coming home in it’s self is a massive rukus. I had lots of arguments with relatives (which didn’t help with the moods), I shopped like a hard session at the gym, I poorly attempted to study (which I shall return back to) and I got engaged! Yes, Sam Wiltshire shall, at some point in the hopefully near future, shall become Sam Clarke.

What’s that reader? How did this happen?  Well, It was Christmas. We had a whole line up of places to go and people to see. In the morning we went to my dads and we all had a lovely time. George was acting a little strange in that he refused to take off his coat, despite it not actually being cold. His words were ‘you know what I’m like’. Yes, I do know what you’re like Mister, and you were being weird. But hey, it was Christmas, I wasn’t going to question it. Anyway, we then went to Dorchester to have dinner at his aunts house with his dad’s side of the family. It was an amazing dinner, I must say. Everyone worked so hard and the results were absolutely delicious. So, I told my mother that we would be joinging then at 3.30pm-4.00pm. It was 3.15 but the time we finished dinner. Yes, I was panicking a little. It was going to take 45 minutes to get back to Yeovil. George was dwardling and I was panicking.

He pulled me out into the hall way and asked if I was happy with him. Well, of course I was! I love him so incredibly much and it was Christmas. How can you be mad at anyone on Christmas? Anyway, I was confused. He took me back into the dining room with everyone else, asked how long I wanted to be with him. Forever, of course, was my answer and BOOM. Clarkus gets down on one knee and whips out the box. Overwhelmed all I could do was try to pull him up and kiss him. At this point I’m sure I could imagine the words that were going through his head: Get off me you crazy bitch and just let me propose to you. So naturally, I had to try and compose myself and try to listen to what he was saying and doing and I was just so shocked that the whole thing is a bit of a blur now. I remember seeing this ring glistening in this little box and I remember seeing his face full of happiness and pride. I remember looking like a complete twat in front of his relatives. Somehow, I managed to say yes and he slipped the ring onto my finger. Rose gold ring set with diamonds and an oval cut stone. “It’s something different and it felt like you.” And I agree, it’s perfect.

What I can never forget it all of the pictures his uncle took of us, and how everyone was crying, including me, of course. I was so glad I refrained from putting make up on because if my screwed up facials didn’t ruin those pictures, the running make up would have. Everyone gave us cuddles and, George’s aunt, seeing how I was quivering like a loose leaf in the wind gave me a glass of champagne to wash it all down. I felt like I needed a lot more than just one glass, however, I had a large in take of sherry through the dessert so it was probably best I didn’t over do it. George took everyone but his mum by surprised and I was glad that everyone was as happy as I was. And at least I had a valid excuse for turning up to my mums so late on Christmas day!

natalie hiding

By the time I got to my mums, we’d announced the situation, everyone was chuffed as punch. My step dad ordered me not to plan the wedding the same year as my mums. I of course, like the angel that I am, promised I wouldn’t even consider upstaging my guardian angel. Upon returning to my sisters in the living room they came together as a choir to sing me the chorus of Goodbye My lover by James Blunt. I think that’s probably been the happiest day of my whole miserable existence. I joke, I’m only miserable on, usually, from Monday to Thursday. Luckily, Christmas was on a Friday.

Anyway, I promise this wasn’t just a post about my engagement. After that, in the New Year, I had to return back to reality (turned out I’d been trapped in some kind of  fairytale) and I had a week or two to complete five pieces of work that counted towards my final grade. This, naturally, did not leave any room for enjoyment and leisure. Leaving behind my fiancé was awfully tough. While the work helped to take my mind off of it, it also stressed me out even more than I needed to be. I saw a counsellor during this point. I said I would get myself booked in last semester and I did. It helped a lot to work out what I was feeling and I booked another for next week. All of my deadlines are done now and its a case of writing as much crap as I possibly can, paint stuff, plan ahead for the next semester so I don’t have this womb ache ever again and spend time with my lover man and the family, because I miss them all like hell too. And Pagan Society stuff. Actually, that’s a point. I’ve made quite a bit of progression with that now and we’re planning to take it even further. I’m very excited.


Thanks for reading, see you in the next post! xx

My Birthday!

I turned twenty yesterday. Twenty years ago, I was born. I was a baby and I’ve grown up to be a 5″8, 12-and-some stone woman with long hair, and slightly crooked teeth, despite having all kinds of mouth mechanisms as a teenager. Thinking about this seems mind blowing. Life is madness.

I woke up and opened my two cards from my pal Holly and George’s mum, as well as presents from Holly. I had an essay hand in that day so I rushed into uni not long after, to hand in that monstrosity through tired eyes and a ridiculous lack of coordination. I’m surprised I functioned at all. I had to ask a friend for assistance at one point because my brain was not ready to even be alive. When I got back, I had just enough time to tidy my room and hoover most of downstairs by the time he arrived.

After opening my presents, I was a pretty spoilt daughter, he kindly went into town so I could have a phone call with my boy, who had texted me a lovely message to wake up to. When my parents came back, we went to Truro (Cornwall’s attempt at a city) and we attempted to find a place for dinner. We decided on a pub after walking the entire centre, and I recommend their Steak and Ale pie highly. That steak was melt-in-your-mouth delicious. If I remember the name of it, I’ll let you know. After that, dad decided he wasn’t very impressed by Truro and we went back to Falmouth. Dad thought, some how, that Falmouth was bigger.

Before heading back, dad lit me a ‘candle’ in my birthday hot chocolate in Wetherspoons. I Skyped everyone when I got in, as you do, and my dad and Ker (dad’s girlfriend) went over to their ‘hotel’ in Newquay. Later that evening I grabbed a couple of my pals and went down to a bar called ‘The Games Room’ where we played cocktails over a game of Scrabble. It was a particularly different experience.

So, in the end, I’d had a pretty good day. I missed George and my family like hell but I was real glad my dad came down. He hadn’t come down last year to visit so it meant a lot that he did this time. I’m back in Yeovil now, being spoilt by George and my sister Rach. Will be seeing my mum and other sisters tomorrow so I’m pretty excited. Got a shit load of work to do and it’s currently 2.45am. We’ve spent pretty much all night watching Grimm, which I recommend you all watch if you don’t already. It’s bloody fantastic.

Cheers guys, see you soon xx

In The Act Of Missing

I miss the chaos that I took comfort in.

I miss those nights that the crickets would sing.

I miss his dorky humour. I miss planning our future.

I miss feeling scared watching supernatural with her.

I miss knowing everything will be ok.

I miss her excitable runs. I miss the carefree.

I miss the drunken tears.

I miss his warmth, like sun.

I miss Fall Out Boy playing in his car.

I miss the fresh Somerset air.

I miss the predictably unpredictable weather.

I miss their arguing. I miss her jibes.

I miss his temper. I miss the connection.

I miss the parties.

I miss following her development.

I miss following their development.

I miss her howling at the post. I miss her laugh.

I miss the town’s gossip. I miss their accents.

I miss her madness. I miss their mess.

I miss his touch, his lips against mine.

I miss their warm smiles and kindness.

I miss his eyes. I miss the zombies.

I miss the danger of feeling safe.

I miss playing with her hair.

I miss her cheekiness.

I miss his hiss. I miss her hugs.

I miss his craziness. I miss his guns.

I miss my safety nets.

I miss his crude jokes.

I miss the uncertainty.

I miss pool on Sundays.

I miss the walks.

It’s in the act of missing that I miss everything.

Refugees? Immigrants? What do we do?

Ash-sha`b yurid isqat an-nizam

Bit of a deep article this evening on a touchy matter. The current refugee situation caused by the Syrian civil war needs to be addressed and acted upon. I have heard so many different arguments about what we, the United Kingdom should do. This article is going to look into these different suggestions and ideas. It’s going to explore the facts and the figures and hopefully get down to business.

This war has been going on for about four years now. The Middle East has been a mess for longer than this, as each country has it’s own revolution, just as we in the West have. The people are rising up against their repressive regimes that the Islamist State (their non-democratic, dictatorship) have enforced and are seeking truth and freedom. Everyone should have a right to democracy. When this war first broke out, I like many other people, I’m sure, was ignorant. I had no idea where Syria even was and I’d even got it confused with the small Eastern European country of Serbia. I read many of the tabloids to try and gain an understanding of what was happening but my knowledge was still minimal. Many that have an opinion on this matter seem to lack facts of some sort. Syria lies between Turkey and Iraq.


As I read about this, there is so much more to the story than the average Tom, Dick or Harry is taught about. Iraq, due to owning most of the oil industry in Syria has helped to fuel the fire and have established themselves as being against the people rising up. They brought over their ‘ISIL’ Islamist State of Iraq and Levant’, which developed into what we know as ‘ISIS’ the Islamist State of Iraq and Syria. ISIS are the tyrants that are trying to run their country against the peoples will. ISIS also have presence over in other North African and South Asian countries. This is a group that, in it’s early days, pledged allegiance to Al-Qaeda. What people fail to realise is that these groups are only the extreme side of Islam that the media use to make good stories out of. It incites hatred in to the hearts of the average reader or viewer. We are not extremists. We don’t need that kind of hatred in this world and I’d kindly remind people of that. These groups are going through what Christians had around five hundred years ago. Difference is that the Christians didn’t have the internet, good transportation links, or the serious weaponry we have today. What we need to think about when we think of the war and ISIS is the Free Syrian Army and the Muslims that are fighting to put ISIS on their asses. Civility is lost there. It was only a matter of time before Europe had a large amount of refugees knocking on it’s door. They’ve struggled to go elsewhere, considering that ISIS are still very much influential in it’s neighbouring countries.

You don’t have to be reminded of how many Civilians have died in this war already, since 2011. More than 4 million have fled. In 2013 it’s recorded population was more than 22 million. These millions of people need somewhere to go. The issue is, where? I’ve heard many say that we, The United Kingdom, need to open are gates, particularly after the Calais incident. We need to show compassion and empathy. There is no place in this world for the heartless.  I’ve also heard many people retaliate about how we should be helping our own out before we can help others. Then I’ve heard other points such as where will we find the room, the money? We already have an immigration problem. I’ve heard people suspect the refugees. What if there are terrorists hiding amongst the civilians looking for solace? I’ve heard all kind of suggestions as well. Why not build villages on our green belts for the refugees? It’s unused land after all. Why not buy an island for the refugees to live on and work? Why can’t other countries take them in?

The main problems the West have are greed, corruption and a lack of good decision making. Because peoples opinions and decisions are subjective. This is where democracy can be a bit of a nightmare because there are so many different options that the UK could take. I do, whole heartedly, believe we should help these people. We can’t leave them all to die. They are fighting a worthy cause. How we help these people is the real question. This is where the worlds, or at leasts Europe’s leaders, should be getting together. The UK, on it’s own, can not decide this. We can not put the world on our shoulders. We are, after all, one small island. Yes, we are one of the wealthiest in the world, but we don’t have our shit all figured out yet. Yet, if Greece, for example, a country wriggled with debt, can accept refugees, then so can we. No, I’m not saying that we can take them all. I’m not completely away with the faeries.


Their situation will have to be monitored. We won’t be able to keep them here after their war is over. Which is what I think some of you are worried about. I too, have been thinking about this. Taking in refugees is meant to be a short term situation. You take them in, look after them, then let them go home. It’s not unheard of, however, of refugees wanting to stay. In Yeovil, we have had that very situation of two brothers not wanting to go back to their country and a large petition was signed to keep them. The problem with that would be, at what stage do we say no? At what stage do we shut our gates for good and not take in any more immigrants? Because refugees wanting to stay in the UK would be a problem for immigrancy. People complain about immigrancy but countries need it. The UK has benefited so much from the migration of people. Most of my best friends have come over from different countries and I am so glad that they have because I would be so very lonely with out them. Think of how much different your local foreign cuisines would be, for example, if English people ran them? Think of all the crap the immigrants put up with in terms of claiming the lowly jobs that no one wants and racism, particularly from groups such as Britain First- barely a step up from ISIS in ideology.

I don’t have all the answers and I can’t claim I do. I’m not a politician, I’m not an activist. I got most of my facts from Wikipedia. I hope that from reading this article, you too will go and seek the facts. You’ll knowledge up. You’ll help to answer the questions, instead of ask them. As a country, we need to come together to find the solution, whether that means sharing our homes with the Syrian refugees, sending them aid, helping them to find a temporary solace elsewhere. As a human being to other human beings, you have a moral obligation. This situation is bigger than any individual but there are enough of us to make a difference and each one of you counts.

Thanks for reading guys, I hope this is made you think about the world and the people in it and I hope this helps to influence an action. You have the power to change the world. Don’t forget that. See you soon x

Let Music Take You There

Music is a translation of what we think, what we know, how we feel. We communicate with complex strings of sounds which make up words and symbols. Music goes beyond our usual method of communication. It seems to have a direct link to our memories. One song can tripper thoughts and feeling that had long since passed, or give way to knew ones we didn’t think we had.


Bastille’s first album Bad Blood, for example, is a summary of my entire trip to New York. When I was seventeen, my auntie and uncle had given me the fantastic opportunity of visiting them in America. I’d only ever been abroad once before, to France with my grandparents, and had never been on a plane. I had mixed emotions about the journey, which I had to take alone. I was upset about leaving my family behind. I was excited about going somewhere entirely new and seeing my cousins again. It had been so long. I was a little scared about flying. I was happy about finally having some time off after working pretty hard over the summer. I was sat on the plane, probably about half way through my eight hour journey when I’d finished watching two films. I was ready to settle down now so I was looking through the planes album list. I didn’t really see anything I was interested in but Bastille was the latest thing so I thought I’d try it. I fell in love. I listened to that album for about… the next three hours. I listened to it while I was in New York. I listened to it on the way back. These songs became a comfort to me. Now whenever I hear the album, it’s a symbol of my journey. It’s my travel music.


Another example of music marking my life would be 1989 by Taylor Swift. My boyfriend, George, bought me this for my birthday. I am an avid Taylor fan. I needed the album so badly, and like the darling he is, he got it for me. While I was at uni I’d listen to this album and I’d think of him. This album reflects my relationship and the journey I made to get to uni. It’s all a ‘state of grace’, so to speak. When I felt sad about George having to leave, or when I felt lonely and missed my family, I’d switch on my CD player and I’d listen to a bit of Taylor. I moved house twice last year so this album is the symbol of my change. George stayed through all of that, just like, despite the huge changes of sound Taylor has gone through, she’s still Taylor Swift. Despite all of the changes I’ve gone through, I’m still Sam Wiltshire.

Music makes up our identity. It interlocks with fashion and hobbies and our personalities. in a way, a person’s taste in music makes them who they are. You often know pretty quickly after finding out a person’s taste of music, whether or not you’re going to like them or not. You have a point over which you can bond. George for example, is so very different from me but when I looked through his small CD collection the other day I realised that he was exactly the kind of boy I would have pined over at school, if we’d gone to the same one. Someone who listens to a lot of techno and house is often not going to give someone who listens to Papa Roach religiously the time of day.

In my eyes then, music is magick that holds physical evidence. You can hear it and you can see the effects it has on people. It can make them sad, it can make them happy. You can move people with a good song. You can change the world. Good music isn’t help back by language barriers. Everyone can understand sound. Music, in my eyes is something that everyone should be able to access and create if they wanted to. I grew wishing I could learn an instrument but my parents couldn’t afford it. My learnt to play the recorder for a few years in primary school and in my last two years, I had the pleasure of playing the flute. I adored it. The flute is a beautiful instrument and I wasn’t actually too bad. It was such a shame when I had to leave it all behind. These days I play the guitar, not very well, but I am self taught and I love to sing. I have sung since I was very young. These are skills that I would love to pass on to my children in the future. You don’t need to cling on to the charts to hear good music. It’s all around you.

I was a little outraged by Taylor’s move to make people pay to listen to her music online. I buy her albums because I adore her music, but I usually can’t wait long enough to buy her deluxe editions, nor do I usually have the money to afford such luxuries. So therefore, I can’t listen to her extra songs. It’s elitist. Music has become a gigantic industry for the elite. What has happened to the ‘lower’ forms of music? The local gold mines and community spirit? I have instead chosen to listen to other people’s versions of her deluxe songs and I thoroughly recommend it. No, they do not have Taylor’s beautiful voice, but they do not need it. Music is music. It doesn’t need to have a stamp of ownership. Everyone knows the song belongs to her. She makes a lot of money. Give people a break and try to remember what it’s all about.

So, I guess what I’m trying to get across in this article is that you should take advantage of what you can listen to. Experience all that there is to experience. Let the music take you there. And if you ever get the chance to make your own- do it. Music is the language our memories choose to speak.

Thanks for reading guys, see you soon! x