Yas-winner

I know I won't be alone when I say that this year's Apprentice has been great. The contestants were all enjoyable to watch, some more so than others; what with Lorraine and her 'instincts', Debra and her terrifyingly arrogant manner, Ben and his harping on about his scholarship to Sandhurst and who could forget Nural and his tendency to not to very much at all.

My favourite contestant however, was undoubtedly James, the extent of his idiocy was incomprehensible at times but always highly amusing, I think he even made the unflappable Margaret have a good old chuckle. Here are some memorable James quotes....

You can get polyesters manmade?

One thing that is really important when you're breastfeeding is the mother needs to be happy. Because if she's anxious there's something in nature which switches off the tap in her breast.

The lid's open so the baby can jump out.

I’m skating on thin ice – and I think Sir Alan might be waiting for it to crack.

I wonnid to win this task. I really wonnid to. There's no point... That other lot are out there now riding round on horses and I'm sitting here having to look at you and I didn't mean that disrespectfully.

The thing that I enjoyed most about tonight's episode was the interview with Sir Alan himself, he turned out to be quite nice in real life, and commented on the media's ability to turn on the contestants and write slanderous things about them, treating them more like Big Brother contestants than serious business people (apart from Lorraine... jokes), which should cause tabloid journos to sit up and *shock-horror* understand that they can't just publish anything in order to promote their own want.

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Loose ends

I've been pretty busy over the past week or so, but I haven't neglected the world of the blog, no no. Many photos taken at (some not so) poignant moments, enjoy.....



So we had a Masquerade Ball t'other day and I got all dressed up and stuff, don't usually get my hair done for this sort of thing but I thought it was worth making the effort... and the quiff stayed in for about three days!! Defo got me money's worth there.



My excitement at buying a new notebook and ten chunky fat marker pens was a tad on the geeked-up side but I do very much love a new notebook, this actually made my day better.

I had a little potter around the Cornerhouse bookshop after I finished work today and couldn't resist these beauties... The Independent Cinema book looked pretty interesting, and may be something that I base my dissertation on, good to read on the train. The Little White Lies mag is a must for any film buff, with excellent graphics on every page and quirky little interviews and quotes from directors and actors, really witty, honest film reviews, right up my street. And the final magazine is a present for my bruv's birthday, a bit pricey but it has that 'special' feel to it, like every page was hand crafted by a wise old woman from the depths of Peru then flown to the moon for a while so it glows all shimmery like.

My friend Dan looking a little bit silly in Pizza Hut. (My shades) (His beard)


I went to Alton Towers the other day. We stopped at a random car sales place on the way so my friend could be sick and I laid eyes on the most beautiful thing crafted by man.... drink it up guys...



The other day in my lunch break I wandered down the road from Cornerhouse, avoiding Sainsbury's and their meal deals, and I bought a sandwich from the most posh sandwich shop ever, on the corner of Oxford St in Manchester. I kept the packet as a memory of the amazing sandwich. (Brie and Bacon Baguette for all you sandwich fans out there)

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Amazing Grace

Recently I've been made aware of the incredible work of the 'Invisible Children' charity. The charity was founded by three young filmmakers from California who visited Uganda in 2003 and were appalled by the situation they found surrounding the northern part of the country's children. They discovered the tragedy that is the Lord's Resistance Army, a terror organization fronted by Joseph Kony who kidnap children and train them to be killing machines. The three young men have since become involved in a global campaign to create awareness of the so-called 'Invisible Children', in an attempt to gain political support and raise funds to care for the children and put a stop to the injustices that are happening in the country.

Their marketing campaign is driven by people's personal stories, stories which us in the Western world can empathize with and that may lead us to make a stand for these desperate children. The story that came to my attention is that of a young woman called Grace. I bought a bracelet from the website and received with it a DVD of her story, which is tragic but also signifies a new hope despite the terrible situation.

Here is an extract from the booklet...

"Grace, the story of a child mother... Abducted from her home at 10 years old and forced to fight as a soldier, Grace was beaten repeatedly for three years, and at 13 was forced to become a sex slave to a 40 year old commander in the L.R.A, After her narrow escape from the bush, with a gunshot wound to the leg, she discovered she was pregnant with the commander's child.

Once rescued, girls like Grace are taken to a rehabilitation centre where they are given just three months of psychosocial therapy, before they are returned to the family they may or may not have.

Due to the severity of Grace's medical condition (a shattered tibia, and her approaching birth), she remained at the centre for over a year.

But returning home will not be easy. With an absent father, she will live with her uncle, left to care not only for her own child, but for her own disabled mother as well. Grace is a child, but she is a mother.

The idea of Grace is about choosing to forgive when others have done nothing but hurt and let you down. Grace has a smile bigger than the size of her pain."

The question I ask, is this. How can we sit back in our comfortable, over indulgent lives, and hear these children's stories and not do anything to help them? It disgusts me that we are so stinking rich and stupidly ignorant in the 'better' part of the world while our fellow human beings, our fellow brothers and sisters are being treated horrifically and we do nothing about it.

Buy a bracelet, make a difference....

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Jeremy Deller

I feel a bit smug writing this post, as I do believe I have landed the best work placement that exists (well, in Manchester anyway). For those of you who don't know, I work at the independent arthouse cinema at Cornerhouse in Manchester, as a marketing intern, as part of my film course. Yesterday I trotted down to the Whitworth art gallery - beneath the stormy Manc skies - with a few of my colleagues to listen to a talk given by Turner prize winning artist, Jeremy Deller.

He was speaking in a lecture theatre at the gallery, and was introduced by some arty geezer with a German accent and long hair in a ponytail, who announced that Deller's work partner, Anne, had given her presentation in high heels but that Deller was going to give his barefoot. Outlandish, I know. The young London born artist sat on the stage, pushing his floppy hair back from his face, behind his Mac and a desk littered with discs and bits of paper, and began to speak with an air of sophistication that told us he was from 'That London...'.

He is responsible for such works as 'Memory Box' - a documentary about George Bush's hometown in Texas, but as a rule tends to make 'rock-umentaries' such as the coverage of Depeche Mode fans in Eastern Europe (definitely watch this if only for the opportunity to see loads of Russians dressed like a young Dave Gahan). He told us that he was highly inspired by the Baroque art movement and especially its tendency to encourage audience participation (mostly religiously motivated) and that his break in the industry came when in 1986 he met Andy Warhol in a bar in London who offered him the chance to go and work in his factory in New York for two weeks.

Deller seemed most proud of the documentary about a brass band who played acid house music to an audience at a trendy London gig venue in 1997. We were shown an extract from the film, which was genuinely fascinating, and as Deller pointed out, was especially focused on the people, both in the band and in the audience. He took a back seat as the documenter, and let the action happen without intervention. Jeremy claimed that he was doubtful whether he would be able to achieve success with this piece as he was taking a huge risk in shaking up two very separate genres in such a way, but admitted that it turned out to be one of his best pieces of work.

Oozing with charm but also capable of appearing to have his feet firmly on the ground, he expressed his passion for northern cities and the people who make them so interesting. He told us of the plans for an international procession that will take place in the summer throughout the streets of Manchester, in which he hopes to create a memorable occasion, which will really draw people in and generate a lively new atmosphere in the city.

For a chance to take a little nosey into the creative mind of Jeremy Deller, click your mouse on this part here > http://www.jeremydeller.org/

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New Beginnings and Happy Endings

Finally, a film that isn't so sickeningly transparent that you feel like Alice in her wonderland; stuck in a dark rabbit hole. Last night I watched The Holiday with my favourite girl friends (minus a few), thinking that I really couldn't muster the enthusiasm to watch another drivelling rom-com with predictably dopey characters and a distinctly unimaginative plot that makes you feel like you're going to do an Elvis. (Get a stonking great gun out and blast a hole in your TV screen... then die on the toilet).

This little beauty entered my eye space last night and I absolutely loved it. I'm the hardest person to please when watching a film; as a film student I subconsciously analyse everything, from the depth of the characters to the continuity of the shots, my mind ticks over the whole time. (Probably why I'm such a miserable old git about most Hollywood films) But this one stood out like a snow drop on a moor covered in heather.

Jack Black, Kate Winslet, Cameron Diaz and Jude Law provided an odd combination, but work brilliantly with the storyline. The driving force of the plot comes about when Iris (Winslet) and Amanda (Diaz) have troubles with the men in their lives and need some way of escaping their own disaster. They meet online, after Iris puts her house in Surrey on a house swapping website, and decide to swap lives for two weeks over Christmas. They each need to rediscover something about themselves to get out of the hopeless mess their in; Amanda is a big shot movie trailer producer who lives in a huge house in L.A, but has no capacity to fall in love or feel real emotion, she can't cry. Iris is still in love with her ex boyfriend who cheated on her three years ago and she still hasn't moved on. These problems, which do sound rather trivial, are dealt with in the most honest way, with Winslet admitting that she needs to move on but just can't let go and Diaz doing anything just to feel some real emotion.

Although this is a love story with inevitable outcomes, the most beautiful relationship is platonic, shared with Iris and Arthur - a ninety year old film writer whom she meets in L.A. Their friendship is just delightful, and she spends time at his house, helping him out with everyday things while he imparts wisdom and anecdotes from his days in the film industry.


The characterisation is sublime, with the charming Winslet playing a true English rose, someone whom I really connected with; her honesty at her own problems is refreshing and her recovery from her case of unrequited love is inspiring. She blossoms into a new woman, captivating and beautiful.

The combination of English and American actors, locations and situations work superbly and the outcome of the story is just lovely. I think I'm gushing a little too much but I was quite excited at the discovery of a real, honest film. Definitely a must see.

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Leave well alone

Watching old people with anything more technologically advanced than a pair of nail clippers is - hilarious. Here I am, on a train from York to Preston, presented with both ends of the spectrum within a matter of of inches from one another. There is a man to my left fully eqipped with a tiny laptop, wired into an ipod, bashing away at his keyboard, occasionally glancing out of the window to glean some inspiration, then quickly back on with whatever he's doing (don't want to look too closely... bit weird)

In comparison, there are two women sitting opposite him - both over the age of fifty, trying to work out how to send a text message. They both appear fairly professional with freshly pressed Marks and Spencers trouser suits and neatly filed nails. They look as if they would be perfectly suited to holding meetings or pitching an idea in a boardroom but as soon as a mobile phone is placed in front of them they rapidly regress back to stone age creatures. Pressing buttons here and there and laughing (loudly) everytime they've been outfoxed by something as complex as predictive text, I can't help but wonder if there's a gap in the market somewhere; a phone especially for the over 50s. Dragon's Den here I come.

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The Island Of Inspiration...

I've always planned to go and visit my Aunt in Tasmania, but never thought it would become a reality, always been tied down with one thing or the other... but due to a recent change of circumstances, it's actually going to happen and I'm very excited.

For those of you who don't know much about the country, here's a bit of background... (nicked off Wikipedia)

Tasmania is an Australian island and state of the same name. It is located 240 kilometres (150 mi) south of the eastern side of the continent, being separated from it by Bass Strait. The state of Tasmania includes the island of Tasmania, which is the 26th largest island in the world, and other surrounding islands^[update]. The state has an estimated population of 500,000 (as of December 2008) with almost half located in the greater Hobart area, and an area of 68,401 square kilometres (26,410 sq mi), of which the main island covers 62,409 square kilometres (24,096 sq mi).^[4]

Tasmania is promoted as the Natural State and the "Island of Inspiration" owing to its large and relatively unspoiled natural environment. Formally, almost 37% of Tasmania is in reserves, National Parks and World Heritage Sites.^[6] The island is 364 kilometres (226 mi) long from the northernmost point to the southernmost point and 306 kilometres (190 mi) from west to east.

The state capital and largest city is Hobart, which encompasses the local government areas of City of Hobart, City of Glenorchy, City of Clarence and generally included is the satellite town of Kingston, part of the Municipality of Kingborough, into the Greater Hobart area. Other major population centres include Launceston in the north and Devonport and Burnie in the northwest. The subantarctic Macquarie Island is also under the administration of the state, as part of the Huon Valley Council local government area.

I'll be staying near Hobart with my Aunt who lives in a random jungle, with an outdoor shower (arghh) and will hopefully go and stay in Melbourne for a while too!

I'll keep you updated :)

PS. The picture is from google images of St Columbia Falls - WOW. It won't be long before I get some of my own pics up!

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