Biscuits by Emma Furniss-Roe (by Charlotte Furniss-Roe)

She thought I wouldn’t retaliate to the Christ poem. But oh, she was wrong. While mini me was contemplating the nature of Jesus Christ, love, Christmas and other clearly sublime issues, Emma was wrestling with her own young and developing thoughts. “But what could be more important than Jesus, especially for a girl who is now confirmed?” I hear you ask.

Well. The answer, of course, is biscuits.

For her, guys. Don’t say no.

Image

 

I think what I like best is the careful consideration of the different types of biscuits – a Buzzfeed author in the making, clearly.

The burning question : Why are biscuits after a run not fun?

We shall never know.

Advertisements

3 A.M Thoughts on Existential Angst AKA What The Fuck Am I Doing With My Life?

Dear Ashley,

I liked your post, and it got me thinking about time and school. This was just meant to be a short post but words just kept coming so I just kinda kept going and see where it took me, and before I knew it it was 4 am and well this is what came out:

Sunday afternoon. The last remnants of a roast dinner are cleared from our places as the sun falls lazily onto the table. The chatter and laughter that accompanied the food have died away and people slowly drift away from the kitchen until there are only 3 teenagers left in silence. There are no need for words; each already know what the others are thinking. I don’t want to get on the train. I want to scream, to cry, to refuse to pack, and to lock myself in my room and never come out, but I don’t.

The 24 hours at home I have snatched like an ungrateful child are drawing to a close and, as always, they only made the prospect of returning even harder. I am seventeen, stuck in the limbo between child and adult. I outgrew boarding school years ago, the bitchiness, the mean girls, the teachers, rules and vitally, the lack of individuality.  My only consolation is my two partners in crime, the Ron and Hermione to my Harry. My twin sister’s controlled face shows none of the underlying emotion as she cracks a joke with my boyfriend sitting beside me.

It’s a familiar scene; maybe we catch our train and stubbornly sneak one last cigarette, a last act of rebellion on the way from the station to our boarding houses. More often than not, we’ll miss the train, stealing an extra night at home before making the same journey bleary eyed but with triumphant smiles slightly breaking on our faces the next day.

Maybe its because its 3 am and the ghost of Janis Joplin is caressing me from my itunes library, calling to me with words I’m only now beginning to understand for their true meaning. Maybe (probably) its because I’ve been watching Gossip Girl on Netflix almost religiously for almost a week now, but your post got me thinking about time, and now somehow the rose-tinted glasses are making their way out from a pile of shit flung on them by 8 years of boarding school.

At University, and in ‘the real world,’ a thing that I have only heard stories of from incense-scented travellers cloaked in Indian silk, the rules are more ambiguous. I find myself almost longing for those simple acts of harmless teenage rebellion, whether that’s smoking in a coffee shop in the afternoons or cautiously sneaking up to my boyfriend’s room (sorry mum if you’re reading this..). School was the first book in a series; Harry, Ron and Hermione are having adventures within the safety of the walls of Hogwarts under Dumbledore’s watchful, paternal eye. Peeta and Katniss are rebelling within the structure of the Hunger Games that the gamemakers have planned for them. But then University is the final book; Harry, Ron and Hermione have fled Hogwarts and are hunting death eaters and Voldemort on their own terms. Peeta and Katniss are advancing on the Capitol, and the structure of Panem and the Hunger Games lies dead with the unsuccessful tributes.

I’m not saying that I miss Cheltenham College, on the contrary, I wouldn’t go back if you paid me thousands of pounds. I love University, the freedom and the friends and memories I have made here. But I miss my friends, my boyfriend, the familiarity and the feeling of safety within the ‘bubble.’ As humans, we instinctively make rules for societies and situations everywhere because the reality is that the world is scary. It’s terrifying. There are monsters under the bed, and we don’t even know what they are. And of course, just like a child, these monsters scare me; sometimes a lot, sometimes not, but they’re definitely there. In the real world, if I fuck up, it’s on me. My problem. If  I am going to handle the real world, I’m doing it alone. Forget gender roles, societal values, what my friends, parents, teachers and magazines tell me I should be, in the words of Bob Dylan ‘All I can do is be me, whoever that is.’

I was once given some advice that most people expect to be happy all the time, when in reality life isn’t like that; most of the time we aren’t happy, and we should accept this to have any chance of being satisfied with our lives. Maybe I’m still naïve, unencumbered by a job, a house, a family and a mortgage, but my first reaction is ‘Why the fuck not?’ Why can’t we be happy most if not all of the time? Good or bad, shit happens in everyone’s lives, often stuff we can’t control. But we can control our attitudes, you can choose whether to be a victim or not, and most importantly, you can control what you choose to learn.

I realize it’s too late to not sound like a cliché, so I might as well go all out. In the words of Henley, ‘I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul’. And yes the world is terrifying and new and just about inconceivable, but this makes it exciting, breathtaking, and worth living for. Yes, there are the unknown monsters, but monsters aren’t necessarily bad, case in point:

Untitled-1

I guess just like Eminem and Rihanna, weve just got to remember that we are friends with these monsters, and then its all happy days.*

http://zenpencils.com/comic/william-ernest-henley-invictus/

*I make no apologies for the copious cliches

Mary-Kate Olsen

Things I Have Learnt From Refreshers Week

Dear THE BRAIN

 

Whaddup. Its ten to 6 in the morning and for absolutely no reason I have been awake since 3 am, so I thought I would tell y’all what I’ve been up to. This past week has really flown by, and although I am (unsurprisingly..) already behind on uni work, there are some (arguably) more important life lessons i feel I have learnt ;

 

1. Lectures can be useful! ‘New year, new me’ as the saying goes, and having pretty much already been to more lectures than I did the whole of last term, I can say that not all of them are a total waste of time. Some are even (dare I say it) interesting! Who would have thought.

 

2. Pictures of people in the bathroom, are rarely attractive (although they do tend to get a lot of facebook likes)

ImageImage

Im a pretty classy gal.

 

3. Some of your best nights are nights you don’t drink.

Picture the scene. Saturday night after a long week of going out. Knackered, 8 freshers decide to order dominos and to play some quiet card games instead of braving the big cheese (student union). Racing demon is suggested and as if by magic, everyone comes to life. Seriously, around 3 hours of racing demon later, it really was one of my best uni nights.

Image

 

as Ben Howard would say ‘I’ve come to know that the friends around you are all you’ll always have’

4. Despite what people tell you, if you shake a vending machine hard enough, a ton of food will come out. Just be careful you don’t hit your head. 

5. Shiny disco trousers are the shit. Seriously, they are just so cool. Image( photo from http://thekidinlondon.blogspot.co.uk/2011/02/get-your-disco-pants-on.html)

Admittedly they look less cool on me, but the ones in the photo are £70 and mine were £3 from primark) But hey, Grease is the word.Image

 

6. Miracles are possible.ImageImageImage

By this I mean that my floor is visible.. Jesus lives on!

 

So that pretty much sums up my refreshers week. It is now 6 23 and I shall have to find some other procrastination to fill my time before my 10 am lecture!

 

Shoutout to Olivia

Image

Dont know what goes through this girls mind sometimes.

 

Love Pinky

 

P.S. I like this whole Pinky and the Brain thing, quite fitting it appears:

You

ImageImageImageImage

 

ME

Image

ImageImageImageImage

 

Bit of casual stereotyping there but hey ho, on the theme, this reminded me of you:

Image

So to finish…

Image

 

 

Pinky

Things You Probably Already Know About Charlotte (By Emma)

(To be read in a David Attenborough voice)

Cloaked in mystery, the Charlotte is a curious creature seen by many but understood by few. Having spent the past 18 years, 5 months and 10 days (and a debatable 9 months) living and interacting with her, I view myself as somewhat of an expert in this little known area of ethology. In her natural habitat, as a member of Murray Edwards College in Cambridge, the Charlotte is a quiet, book-loving creature. However she should not be taken at face value; she has evolved a quick wit and biting sarcastic nature. Here, therefore, is the definitive list of things you should know about her, set as Lies that Charlotte Will Tell You:

1. She Has Blood In Her Veins. This is not true. Charlotte lives on coffee and coffee alone. It is said that Jesus could walk on water, and all credit to ya Jesus, thats impressive, but Charlotte can run on Coffee, which frankly, is a bit cooler.

2. She is a Gryffindor (Shes a Hufflepuff when shes being nice, Slytherin when not.)

3. ‘AHHHHH I HATE WORK’ ( Also untrue. Classics is her life, she wakes up for one thing and one thing only, and that thing is Roman and Ancient Greek Poets. Honestly.)

4. ‘I slept really well last night’  Somewhat connected to the first point, this is also a lie. Charlotte does not sleep. Ever. True story.

And some lies she would never, ever tell:

1. ‘I’m not weirdly in love with Stephen Fry.’  Ahhh Stephen Fry, lusted after by teenage girls everywhere. Oh no wait… Perhaps hes the thinking girls heartthrob? I dont understand it and I dont expect you to.

2. ‘I dont have any embarrassing nicknames.’ Some people collect stamps, some people collect cats. Charlotte is somewhat of a accumulator of nicknames, here is just a selection in roughly chronological order: Chuchy, Loot, Charblob, Tot, Fab Spazz Chazz, Craig, and most recently (Ididntknowthisone?) Penelope.

3. ‘I love Taylor Swift’. My favourite singer. Perhaps the reason that she (irrationally- that girl is a goddess) hates her so much. If I were you, I’d steer clear of this topic with her.