Easter

Over the past few days, I have consumed a spectacular amount of wine. I personally think that's what Jesus did over the original Easter weekend: after the Last Supper he went on a bit of a bender and finally re-emerged on Sunday morning having recovered from his hangover.

On Thursday, I finished university for ever. Now only 18,500 words stand between me and the real world. HELP.

Thursday evening was spent in the pub with various Doctor Who types. The lovely Jonny lent me a select choice from the BBC Shakespeare collection, prompted by a discussion over Facebook I had completely forgotten about. Aren't my friends brilliant?

On Friday I ventured south of the river, where the equally lovely Simon and the Dr fed me hot cross buns and tea and showed me the dinosaurs. This was followed by getting lost in a maze, Simon giving me lots of advice about how to become a successful writerly-type (see, my friends are brilliant!), before retiring to the pub for wine. Then back to their house for much more wine, aubergines, and being glared at by their slightly evil-looking cat. I even returned home with another Shakespeare DVD and a free book. Although a North London girl at heart (what can I say? I like the Underground!), I'm now thinking I may have to venture dahn Souf more often in future. And, thanks to the new East London line finally opening next month, it'll finally be straightforward to get there from Hackney.

Saturday was, of course, Doctor Who day! A review of the episode shall shortly follow - I'm currently in the midst of another wave of job applications. I joined various friends in a giant Wetherspoons to watch Doctor Who on a giant screen, organised by the wonderful Jeremy Bentham.


Not this Jeremy Bentham.
Other than the episode, my favourite part of the evening was probably Helen's gingerbread Doctors. Must have taken so much time and effort, and they tasted as good as they look.

I got the last Gingerbread Matt!
Gingerbread Docs!
We didn't know each other at all, and it was only due to mutual friends on Twitter that I got to relay my thanks. This is one of the many reasons I love living in the twenty-first century. (In addition to technology, another major plus point is the fact I can do things such as vote and work and go to university. Huzzah for feminism!)

Through reasons unexplained, the pub the party was held in closed just after 8pm, despite still having several hundred people still there. So a large group of us headed to my beloved Shakespeare's Head and gave them all our beer and food money instead.

Essentially, my weekend can be epitomised by wine, Shakespeare, Doctor Who, dinosaurs and friends. I want all weeks to be like this (though I'm not sure my liver would agree).

'Tower' Hamlet

Off to the theatre tonight, for the first time this decade! I'm very glad about this, as I've been suffering withdrawal symptoms.

In fact, I was getting so antsy about how long it's been since I visited the theatre, I sat down and worked out I went 23 times in 2009. This starts to explain the ever-increasing negative balance of my bank account, though thanks to the wonder of the Arts Council, I've not spent nearly as much as I should have. Multiple shows, and £5 stall tickets for the RSC. Wonderful stuff. And all I have to do is be under-26. For now, that is incredibly simple. Loving it!

Besides, I think a theatre addiction is probably cheaper and more rewarding than a crack habit.

I blame Shakespeare, personally. I hate reading plays, and love Shakespeare, so am on a mission to see every one of his plays performed on stage. So far I've reached 20, with eight more planned this year - Measure for Measure at the Almeida, King Lear and Antony & Cleopatra at the RSC, and, somewhat wonderfully, Macbeth, Henry VIII, Henry IV part one, Henry IV part two and The Merry Wives of Windsor at the Globe. Words cannot express just how much I'm in love with the Globe for putting on Henry VIII. Is this how most people feel about football?

Anyway, Tower Hamlet is a (slightly odd sounding) re-interpretation of Hamlet, which I absolutely adore. And as it's quite literally at the bottom of my road, I thought I should show my support.

Though, as it's supposedly a "public arts education initiative for Tower Hamlets", I do have to wonder why it's being performed in a theatre on the border of Hackney and Islington.

Dream dinner party

The following is inspired by one of those 'top five' things on Facebook - dream guests at a dinner party, dead or alive. Though I added an extra couple of people to make it an even split of men/women. Because it's my blog, and I can. (I've also watched enough Come Dine with Me to know how these things should be done properly).

1) Stephen Fry
Because it's Stephen bloody Fry. He'd be witty, erudite, charming, and when he wasn't looking I'd drop his iPhone in the soup.


2) Mary Wollstonecraft
She had affairs, she liked sex, she had kids outside of wedlock. Pretty subversive for the 18th century - and A Vindication of the Rights of Woman is a groundbreaking book. (She also had a friend called Fanny Blood, which - immature as I am - makes me laugh).


3) Richard Armitage
Because every dinner party needs something pretty to look at. Though if he wasn't able to make it I'd happily accept an Aidan Turner-shaped replacement.


4) Jesus on a dinosaur
He'd be brilliant if we ran out of wine. And if you're going to have Jesus at your dinner party, he may as well bring a dinosaur. ("Holy Jesus on a Dinosaur!" also makes a brilliant expletive).


5) Shakespeare
The greatest writer who ever lived. I'd also ask him to bring along a few spare copies of Cardenio and Love's Labour's Won.


6) Marilyn Monroe
I find her fascinating. Somehow she's become stereotyped as the epitome of the 'dumb blonde', but she read Ulysses. That's impressive. I haven't read Ulysses and I'm an English Lit student who focuses on the modern and contemporary. Respect to her, and it'd be fascinating to find out what she was really like (and I could get the goss on Arthur Miller)


7) Dorothy Parker
She makes me laugh. A lot. "This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force."

A Brief History of Brackers

One of my earliest memories is telling my mum that when I grew up, I wanted to be a writer. At twenty-one, the same holds true. (I am not 'grown up', nor do I think I ever will be). That's mostly why I'm starting this blog – I’m hoping that it’ll inspire me to actually get some writing done rather than merely having the best intentions.

So, me. Feels a bit odd introducing myself as I suspect the only people to read this will be those I already know, but I can live in hope that complete strangers may stumble across my ramblings and find them oddly amusing.

I live in Hoxton, which isn’t as trendy as most presume. While there are multiple trendy media types wandering round the place, they don’t tend to reside in Hackney’s infamous council estates. Though our house does the job. We all fit in, and it keeps the rain out (well, mostly).

I’m in my final year of an undergraduate degree in English Literature. Books are quite possibly my favourite thing in all the world. So while I may be digging myself into an ever-deeper pit of debt, I’m enjoying myself while doing it. It is, however, getting to the point where my books are taking over my room. One of us is going to have to be banished to the cupboard, and as they outnumber me something like five hundred to one, I suspect I may lose the battle. One day, when I’m rich and successful (a girl can dream), I want to have a house full of books. I can’t bear to part with any of mine. I can’t stand libraries because having to give back a new friend after just three weeks breaks my heart a little.

I’m originally from Loughborough, one of the dullest towns on earth. Seriously - its proudest claim to fame is having the "world's largest bell foundry", and is the only place in the Western world I know of that doesn't have a Starbucks. (This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but proves it's about twenty years behind the rest of modern civilisation). We also have a statue in the town centre of a man naked, except for a sock and a fig leaf. The most famous Loughborian is Roy from Coronation Street. I thankfully managed to escape out into the big wide world. Many never manage it. Though while I ran away to the big city, my dad did the opposite and now lives in a lighthouse on the most remote inhabited island in Britain. We’d have called it a mid-life crisis were he not a bit too old for that.

I have a tendency to anthropomorphise things. I’m a vegetarian. I like things that glow in the dark, dinosaurs and red wine. I hate tomatoes and people touching near my eyes. I’ve been dying my hair since I was thirteen. I prefer Pepsi to Coke. I’m just over halfway through a mission to see every Shakespeare play performed on stage. I watch Doctor Who and have put a Dalek on our Christmas tree. I want a pet cow.

The title of this blog is a lyric from a Dresden Dolls song. I’ve never been particularly graceful and seem to have a more tumultuous relationship with gravity than most people. I walk into things and fall over things – more often when sober than not. I’m the only person I know who has actually injured themselves by "walking into a door." More than once.