The End.

The year has finished. I have penned my thoughts. Now what...

After a few days of 2010 I have decided not to continue as a diarist. Sad I know, especially after dedicating myself so committedly over the past 12 months to my '09 effort. However, this doesn't mean that I haven't learnt a great deal, or that I will stop writing. Instead, I think this choice will drive me to write more. To further indulge in certain topics, controversies, feelings, and emotions...

I doubt anyone will ever see what was written about them, good or bad. Or what I have done, perhaps shockingly(?!) I don't know. Primarily, my diary was set as a challenge to myself. I thought I would fail to complete it, but it became important, integral. A secret place to confide in. I have a newfound respect for people who annually dedicate time on these daily write-ups...

But for now my book will sit as a point of reference. '09 was a fun and interesting year for me. Thanks to everyone who made it pretty cool...

Show me your money...

So... The Yuletide holiday's bring people together(?!), everyone gets merry, and generally we all over-indulge heavily right... (This year, chill out on the sherry Nan, please!) O, plus debauchery of some sort usually takes place too! God love Christmas!

Back to debauchery...

The meaning: 1 a : extreme indulgence in sensuality b plural : orgies 2 archaic : seduction from virtue or duty.

I met up with some mates the other day. We took some time out of the pre-Xmas craziness to enjoy some un-festive pints, and discuss what has been going on in our lives... (As none of us ever stay in touch throughout the year - leaving me at times wondering if any of us actually like one-another...)

Well, anyway, everyone has a 'lad' mate, and ours did not disappoint... I mean I knew he had gone to Spain this summer, like Ibiza or somewhere, but the story he had created for himself was quite genius!

We all know the agenda when visiting these Spanish 'Party-Isles' - sun, getting shit-faced, and most importantly sex, check. After infilling with details from some of the more 'mediocre' nights, my mate decided, that on his next conquest he would refrain from any gawdy-looking British birds (the sort with the crispy-fried bikini lines) and instead, take on the might of a Spanish whore-house...

He said, that week he had been eyeing the place up (prices were competitive at between €80—€100) Suitably gassed up, he went stumbling towards the noted district and ventured in... It was grimey, dark, and seedy... Two old blokes sitting in the corner getting dances!

The conversation:

"Oow much?" my mate asked.

"€80..." replied the whore-secretary...

"Deeal" came the reply.

He was taken to a little side-room, lowly lit, crimson walls... (so all the clichés are true...) He had half and hour to have his way...

He had lined up a Hispanic-Latino, and claims he 'strapped up' - but became a tad sheepish when asked this question?! When she turned round, apparently she was startled by the size of his rager (I am skeptical of his cock-sureness, as he is only a small guy...) He reckoned she rarely got any young and feisty lads, just the usual old spunkers... Eurgh!

Once there though, he said any thought of coming-quick left his mind. To quote, "I drilled the shit out of her, she was loving it!" - her head smacking against the headboard, screaming! But, in spite of his determination to see-out his 30-minute filling, he failed! 12 minutes! Poor...

Hats off to the boy though! I mean sitting in a local pub, at Christmas, surrounded but fellow punters, but also some families trying to have a nice Crimbo (I hate this expression) meal, and we're louting about roaring at each detail from his adventure, tearing some bird to pieces... So lads, Magaluf in the summer...

Cigarettes & Sofas

Whoa, this image is nuts. I really can't explain how the hell I did this... I think it must be something to do with shutter speed?! It literally looks like a painting! Well, pretty glad I ran out of Ash's flat to grab my camera... Luckers.

Bruv... Chek ma bare rude kicks!

We have all been there... You walk past the garish Soccer World sign, the shit type of sports shop that you only ever find in bad Malls, which incidentally always sell rogue Rubin Kazan footy shirts from 1992, and store footballs in big football bins! Basically, they are terrible, yet you always seem to find yourself going in... brilliant!

I am there, in front of the wall of trainers, Chavs either side of me eyeing up the Air Max. Sore thumb doesn't even cut it! Anyway, I look down the wall of Reeboks mentally selecting the ones I would and wouldn't wear... I turn around, there they are, a classic pair of black Fila trainers! Boom. I am literally thinking "too good to be true".

The sneaks in question have everything. A comfy inner-sole, a thick enduring heel. They are the type of shoe you find stacked up in boxes with one demo-shoe on top. All this for the small sum of £10. Crazy. They even had my size too. So, I suppose what I am getting at is that although Soccer World's look, and genuinely are bloody terrible, you can unearth a retro bargain!

On a side note, you always get some heavily made-up Chav-bird cashier. You know, the type of girl that wears gold doll necklaces, and have terrible chat. Always a laugh. On a serious note though, I do think Chavs have the right idea. Their aesthetic, all about comfort and warmth. They are no mugs. Joggers, hoodies, beanie hats, shock absorbing trainers. These are guys that like to take care of oneself!

Sir Patrick Moore would think...

As I stare out my window (with my ears), into the shoegaze-y sky (keep with me here...), I become distracted and infected by a certain constellation - a musical one, known as Washed Out. Or more specifically/scientifically, it shall be named The Ernest Greene constellation, whose lo-fi chillwave (yes, it is being touted as that!) has proved thoroughly engaging.

My reason for drawing spatial euphemism’s in this post is necessary. The vast topic of space and the universe has a sort of synonymous link to this genuine, homemade, 80s-sounding dreaminess. Floaty synth repetition in track "Belong" bought me to two things, being lost in the thought of space in the early hours, coupled with being whisked away to a desert, standing in front of a mirage thinking why the fuck is my vision all blurred?!

This is why I like it. Greene's tracks provide an escapism, confusion, and have a general incomprehensibility about them. It is probably best to just sit back and let "Feel It All Around" and "Good Luck" take you.

Drift away...

Washed Out

Really...

Florian’s jewellery aims to ‘set its wearer free from the bonds of banality, to explore new dimensions of fantasy, imagination and physicality.’ Ok, well I am a young, fashion-conscious, modern man, yet I am really struggling here... Ropes? As a fashion accessory? Jewellery... Seriously? 

Born in 1967 in Austria, designer Florian Lastaetter graduated in Advanced Metal Design from the University of the Applied Arts in Vienna and also achieved a Degree in Philosophy at the University of Munich. His work represents a combination of his cerebral and material interests, evident in this collection, and has won him great international acclaim. 

This range of rope-wear is truly engaging, mainly because what are you going to be thinking when you see a guy wearing one of these glamourised dog-leads? They possess the qualities of a piece of abstract sculpture, which admittedly is cool! But, that said, I just can't see such fashion catching on, especially not for £150+ a pop?! 

Although, that said, the subtle colour contrasts used make the pieces desirable and appealing, whilst the malleability and creative, playful nature of the ropes add an element of fun, a mischievous sexualness. 

Florian. Beautifully outrageous, but not for me! 

A disgusting sport.

In a court of law, if evidence is found that could change the outcome of a verdict it is generally listened to, adjudged, and then a suitable conclusion is made accordingly. Right, so with this basic grasp of judicial practice in mind, why are such processes, vital to decision making, not replicated more so in everyday life? In this instance, it would appear that football is the culprit of a crime...

I am not a obsessive football fan, nor am I any percent Irish, but I was disgusted and appalled at how the Republic of Ireland were left helpless last night, to crash out from their opportunity (a rare one at that for Ireland) to participate in the World Cup finals next June.

The story. 1-0 down from the first leg, Ireland at least needed a goal to stay in the tie away from home at the Stade de France, Paris. This was always going to be difficult. However, Robbie Keane got said needed goal after about half and hour. Ireland looked dominant within themselves on the pitch, and agonizingly pushed for a second goal during normal time, whilst France (with there abundance of megastars i.e. Benzema on the bench) offered up nothing creative.

So, with 90 minutes up, the tie headed for extra-time, with a somewhat expected conclusion to be drawn from the penalty spot 30 minutes later. Not if Thierry Henry had anything to say about it. I mean this is a player who has been about the game influentially for a good decade, always in my mind, as a prolific and honest striker. His skill alone has tormented defenders and goalkeepers alike, and has meant that he has played for important teams in both England and Spain. You could say he is an ideal ambassador for the game...

Well, this reputation, for me, has been left in tatters (which I no Mr. Henry will not give any sort of a dam about). He worked within his gamesmanship means to help blatantly cheat France to the World Cup by handling the ball, keeping it in play, from which he cut back to Gallas to head into an empty net! Outrage! I hear you cry...

Yes, it truly was outrageous. You could say Ireland should've done more, but they were robbed. With no consultation of the linesman, the referee asserted the legitimacy of the goal, which ultimately condemned Ireland to a highly undeserved loss. Two post match comments read like this:

Dunne (Irish defender) said: "Henry admitted afterwards he handled it, but it doesn't make me feel any better. We were cheated."

Henry: "I will be honest it was a handball, but I'm not the referee."

From a personal point of view I am thinking this:

1) If Thierry Henry has made this admission straight after the game, then why did he do it in the first place?

2) Seriously, why are there not replays offered if there is a suspicion that something has been allowed to take place illegally?

3) Why were Shay Given and Damien Duff penalised when protesting their point that they had blatantly been cheated?

4) What sort of an example does this set to anyone who looks up to Henry as a honest professional player?

5) And ultimately, why is the result allowed to stand?

Unsurprisingly, the Irish manager, Trapattoni, maintained that it was sickening to not qualify for the World Cup in such a bizarre and unjust manner: "We are angry. It is a bitter evening for me".

But, for me, I think that the wider disappointment of the manor in which the winning goal was scored infects fairness. "I am upset for fair play. We talk many times about fair play, I go to schools and talk to young children about the importance of fair play, and this happens" said Trapattoni. Truly baffling and simply unfair!

Enjoy.

Ronnie Wood.

Anything but a boring bassist!

Me. Ha. Humor.

^ Gorm right! Ha. I suppose what I am saying is, matching the Winter theme in my previous post, big woolly hats are definitely not a fashion faux pas! Warm heads are far more important!

Humor Clothing have the best bobbles around in my opinion! Humor’s philosophy is to create a style which through materials, designs, and colours creates an overall look that is both new and long overdue but mainly wearable and warm, which is the most important detail right!

I would tell you where to get these beauties from, but...

I already have both colours. Sorry.

Not Philippe Petit. Better.

I woke up at 8:00 AM this morning. It was misty and uninspiring outside, but intriguing all the same as I lay there looking out of my window. Whilst being entertained by the charisma of Kelsey Grammer, my main thought was that it certainly feels Wintery now. I mean any weekend that entails one of the key Autumnal definers, the garden-gracing bonfire, kind of indicates that we are now Christmas-bound!

Reflection aside. I picked up the Culture magazine, a regular Sunday supplement that I divulge in, and headed to the music section for some inspiration... Maybe this could kick-start my day! The only warming salutation I received was seeing that the latest Robbie Williams (drug-fuelled?!) effort scored a lowly 2 stars, which at least reassures me that The Times critics are still on the ball. The other reviewed albums featured were all equally as unimpressive. Take That! Ha.

Thinking "Oh, once again Culture magazine how you have failed me". Alas, turning to the start page of the music section I was saved from another weeks audio drought! If (devoted readership) you're unfamiliar, there are usually four short summations of potentially enchanting new singles. For me, one stood out! Faith restored.

The band in question are called The High Wire and hail from the British capital. Yep, they be Londoners and... they be bloody brilliant. Not being able to find them on iTunes, I then discovered that they haven't yet released the single in question 'Odds & Evens', which is due out at the end of this month. Shame really. It is a proper trip to the psych-pop. A chilled out track perfectly suited to Summer lazing!

In essence, the track reminds me of hanging out in a park with a pretty girl. Well hmm... At November now, I suppose at least I have a few months to try and find one! A girl that is, not a park.

Soul searchers...

Wimple Winch - one of the finest British Freakbeat/Psych combos ever!

Lily Allen.

Love & Sexuality - Francis Bacon

1965. Julian Jebb (w/ David Sylvester and Richard Cork) interviewed Bacon about his contemporaries in the art world, his working practices and his personal philosophies, such as his belief that true abstract painting is nothing more than 'lyrical, charming and decorative'.

For me, it was his philosophy on 'love and sexuality' that got me.

Bacon's thoughts on the subject, somewhat surprisingly, seem to truly resonate with me. I am unsure why, but I feel that his explanations are clear and seem familiar.

With relationships you attach, but not infinitely? To what strength? What commitment? What about marriage? There has to be a dynamism somewhere, but it is unlikely to be limitless?! Bacon captures this. Furthermore, he manages to deliver such frank and upfront words almost poetically... (hence why I will write his dialogue in verse form)

He states:

"How can you be satisfied,

because everything escapes you...

You know that even if you are in love with someone,

everything escapes you.

You would want to be nearer that person,

But how can you cut your flesh open, and join it with the other person,

It's an impossibility to do...

So it is with art,

It is almost like a long affair...

With objects, and images, and appearances, and sensations...

And passions.

You may love somebody very much,

But how near can you get to them?

Your still always unfortunately... sort of strangers"

Two figures lying on a bed with attendants (1968)

Don't mistake me for someone who is cynical about 'love', I mean I am only just coming to the end of my twenty-first year, I have not experienced divorce... yet, and I very much appreciate female company.

Looking inwardly for a moment. Sure, I have loved - and I think that is why I can relate to his words, due to the 'have'...

I believe that Bacon merely drives a penetrative reality. He addresses the conclusive nature of relationships - love and sexuality. You can love, and he asserts this favourably (plus I long intend to do so too!) But, it comes at a cost. An entwining of two figures will not last forever. A relationships terminus will bring ruin, leaving sadness to prevail.

So... live and love for now! Thanks all the same Mr. Bacon.

Strangely awesome.

Sic Alps are friendly.

The Portland Arms (Cambs) could not have been a more fitting venue for this U.S. grunge-fi band Sic Alps. It seems that grotty and gritty is quite fashionable at the moment.

Before solely divulging into the complexities/praise of the Alps performance, the only other notable band of the night were Internet Forever (naming crisis?!) who not only were fronted by a man in jegging's, therefore offering a lovely silhouette of his penis for about 30 minutes, but they also tempted me to part with £2.50 for a wonderfully kitsch tape containing their songs - 6 tracks on side A, 6 on side B. There were interesting/fresh/sort of new...

Sic Alps. This was the penultimate date of their 14-leg UK tour, which you would not have guessed from the energy that they exuded for about an hour on what was a very small stage, in a very dingy venue. They threw themselves through a heavy set of 19 songs. What really impressed was that all three band members switched and swapped instruments regularly, fully enthralling the 30 odd people in the crowd. 

For me, the gig was what music should be about... intimate venues, tiny gatherings, strong drums, and dirty guitars - not NME endorsements or mega-crowds! Post show, doubling up as a salesmen, I was sold a nice AA T-shirt by the freshly sweaty front man, that states "Give It To The Sic Alps". He even wrote me out a set list to what I had just witnessed (friendly right)! He then informed me that their last stop was Ipswich - good luck with that, I said.

Developing...

Unrelated pictures.

Top Road (Wootton Marshes, Norfolk)

Middle Church (Tintagel, Cornwall)

Bottom Trash (King's Lynn, Norfolk)

All taken 2009.

I painted Damien Hirst.

This is him. Well my interpretation. I don't in any way think that this is very good, and it is definitely not worth anywhere near the 125k photograph that I painted this from...

I suppose part of the reason I have done this is because I have recently become slightly infatuated by his decorated life. His new show of paintings at the Wallace Gallery look very Bacon-like, but with their own Hirst-ness about them! He has said that when he was younger he gave up painting because all his efforts looked like bad Bacons.

These 25 paintings could soon be seen as the defining works of his career... Especially the haunting, ghoulish Requiem. This seems important, although I am yet to see it physically...

I also had forgotten that he built his Shaker-style painting studio on the third series of Grand Designs. I wonder if he will bring back Fat Les anytime soon... Yep, that is him. Seriously. He seems to like pulling rabbits out of hats!

----------

Since the above post ^ I have visited Hirst at the Wallace. All I can say is this... I retract any excitement or intrigue that had been felt prior visitation.

It was a terrible show - from setting (the Wallace) to subject (skulls, dots, and darkness). He was right about only being able to produce "Bad Bacons". Plus Damien, you can't just re-invent historic meaning and association.

Career defining... sure, but for all the wrong reasons.

Here is a very comprehensive (and shared) review about Hirst's new work (as we attended it together) from my good friend Jian Wei.

I have just finished...

Yep, Animal Farm. Now I can say that, that is another classic off my list of must reads! What did I learn?... That pigs will eventually evolve into gaining the same mannerisms and greed that human beings have, and that no matter how 'equal' you want things to be, there will always be someone who has more! Fantastic. Communism you have no hope!

But, I suppose a point to ponder on... RE: Communism. If, as a Communist leader you are able to rally a vulnerable mass, and manage to indoctrinate and brain wash, well, then who knows... although, as a History graduate, when such ideals have been formulated and imposed under one man in one state previously, his legacy has clearly not been maintained - Hitler being a glaring example. Furthermore, we have all seen the failings between Lenin > Stalin - who despite converging under the same Marxist banner, did not share the same fundamental ideological beliefs, which ultimately led Stalin to become a power hungry psycho who could trust no-one.

A word of warning. North Korea, you may prosper now via your controlling repressive means, (incidentally, it is going to be interesting to see if any of their fans will be allowed to go to the World Cup next summer?!) but I am afraid to say that I can see you too will fail. History does have a tendency to repeat itself - just give it a little more time. Conversely, if North Korea, you may succeed, well, then I have probably just put myself on the list of people that you will come after first.

Next: Bonjour Tristesse by Francoise Sagan

Kane, and very able...

Bizarre I know, but yes I am going to have a go at blogging on women's fashion. I think this really is testament to just how great this collection by Christopher Kane for Topshop is - so much so that an uneducated bloke (well, only in terms of women's fashion) wants to write about it. (Hint, this maybe what other males might want to be chasing on nights out this Autumn!?)

Take a breath, and here it goes. Kane is a Glasgow-born London-based fashion designer who would appear to be starting out to great acclaim. As a Saint Martin's graduate I would imagine there comes a great level of expectation, but Kane seems un-phased by this - perhaps because whilst studying he won countless awards, and gained recognition from the likes of chief fashionista Donatella Versace.

This collection is playful, enticing, and even dare I say it, slightly industrial/tribal?! It is a very 'fitted' requiring a fluid figure, what with high-waisted skirts and tight bodycon dresses - (there is even an essential, in my opinion, short-shorts offering). Thigh-length dresses with an eyelet adornment would certainly draw any wandering glance.

Kane's excitable range highlights how Kate Moss is not a 'designer'. His creativity, coupled with controlled injections of colour, punching through a predominantly dark range make for a truly beautiful and elegant spectacle.

3 essential buys:

1. Navy Eyelet Mirror Baby Doll Dress

2. Black Eyelet Lace Dress

3. Black Croc Tee w/ Black Skinny Eyelet Jeans

Christopher Kane for Topshop

Maaaannn...

"I said No bacon in my tasty!"

Big. Deserved.

This is such a good song. It has been a long journey. Sweet.

LOVE

But in old English cream, and fully refurbished. Please.

Vacation?!

A yurt is a portable, felt-covered, wood lattice-framed dwelling structure traditionally used by nomads in the steppes of Central Asia. 

Traditional yurts consist of a circular wooden frame carrying a felt cover. The felt is made from the wool of the flocks of sheep that accompany the pastoralists. The timber to make the external structure is not to be found on the treeless steppes, and must be obtained by trade in the valleys below.

The frame consists of one or more lattice wall-sections, a door-frame, roof poles and a crown. Some styles of yurt have one or more columns to support the crown. The (self-supporting) wood frame is covered with pieces of felt. Depending on availability, the felt is additionally covered with canvas and/or sun-covers.

The frame is held together with one or more ropes or ribbons. The structure is kept under compression by the weight of the covers, sometimes supplemented by a heavy weight hung from the centre of the roof. They vary regionally, with straight or bent roof-poles, different sizes, and relative weight.

A yurt is designed to be dismantled and the parts carried on camels or yaks to be rebuilt on another site.

I am going to stay in one.

I will repost stating how good the yurt-ing way of life is...

The precious cat...

Right. To start with, this image is repulsive and harrowing. I can hear questioning along the lines of "Why use it then?" Well, the picture, if you have not yet figured it out is actually of a dead cat, and I have used it because... why the hell would you load a picture up on the internet titled "Dead domestic cat". In addition, why when searching google images for "cats" is it one of the first images you come across?!

So... image aside... cats, domestic cats. What is the point? Recently, our cat Polly, our childhood cat died, to be replaced by a ginger nightmare called Monty. Sympathy and arrr's are definitely not necessary. I personally don't get on with cats all that well, but I didn't mind Polly. She was like most cats, only came to you when she wanted attention, or when you were doing something, would demand feeding, and then bugger off for four days or so... This is common as cats go right! (And incidentally, Polly was actually quite sweet once or twice) 

Problem. Since the introduction of Monty to the household, not only has the dog (Mabel) had to start walking to the tone of his tune, after a few weeks or kitchen floor stand offs. But also he has somehow manipulated the mind of both parents of mine, who treat him like a child - the good egg, surrounded by a golden glow! They answer his whims, call him in at night, let him eat leftovers from the table etc... They find this cunning felines behaviour so endearing and delightful. 

In reality however, all he is, is a menace. A complete pain. I can see straight through him. I mean for instance, he brutally murdered a poor pigeon the other day, and recently had a good few hours on the operating table (patching up a hole in his leg) after coming off worse in a back yard brawl.

I struggle to understand what is so attractive about having a domestic cat? I mean in European countries, and some North African, cats are not greatly received, and are left to stray. Brits comparatively love 'em. Nothing can beat the image of a big flat fluffy cat sprawled out on a poofy in front of a fireplace. I personally will never have a cat. 

Another beaming example why not to have a cat is my Nan. God she loves her cats. I mean she gets full on angry at them if they don't do as they are told, and she will even not come and do things like visit family sheerly because "What about the cats..." Well, what about them? God give me strength. Back to the image. I am not necessarily saying that I want cats dead, no, certainly not. But I am not a fan, and find them unnecessary. Instead, please do the right thing and get a dog.

The Beatles

Just beautiful...

Been a while.

God! Sorry to blaspheme, or to use the Lords name in vain, but so much has happened recently and I annoyed that I have been cataloging my various doings. I have graduated, which was a truly rewarding experience - the ceremony was also led by eminent historian, and UEA's some-sort-of-chancellor/vice-chancellor, Edward Acton, which was totally cool from my historianised point of view!

After (a couple of hours later for precisions sake) came Latitude, as I shunned the Grad Ball and all its bull-shitness. Amazing. Festival equalled great people involved leading to an awesome experience. There were some tantalizing new bands there too! Met some well cool little kids, the sort that you think I want my kid to be like that if/when I ever have 'em! I was kind of left in charge of during Thom Yorke. Musically they were crazily talented (they could play like 3-4 instruments each!), at only the age of like 8 0r 10. It made me think... I have done little with my life yet... But hey, every cloud.

A brief respite, and then on to Paris. It had been a while since my last encounter with the grandeur of this great European city. A truly wonderful place. All the sites were seen, again! But this time with more appreciation! Furthermore, bumping into to fellow Lynn-ites was truly unbelievable, at the bottom of the Sacre Coeur! Paris does smell though! O, and then there was the pace and excitement of the Tour de France! A fascinating spectacle.

All in all, been very busy. More to come I am sure. Trains have been a summer friend of mine, lending to offer some excellent book reading time. My attentions have been taken by a book called 'God's Own Country' by Ross Raisin - a very witty, yet disturbing read. Peace muscle.

Festival fever!

What is it about us Brits and festivals! We just bloody well love 'em don't we! I myself had no plans to dig out my tent from the back of the garage this summer, but last minute I have been wooed into attending Latitude (the decision made easier by finding a cheaper ticket on eBay!)

This decision I feel is going to be an excellent one! Festivals are made by the people you go with - and the bunch that I am tagging along with (experienced Latitudors) are sure to make it awesome! This coupled with the fact that Latitude promote the arts, as well as the token music, means I get some culture going on as well! Excellent!!

Above is the carnage that ensued from my last festival outing, Leeds 06 (... I think) - to say things got messy is a bit of an understatement, and unsurprisingly the tent et al. did not make it home... R.I.P. Well, I will try and be more respectful to my temporary dwelling this time round!

Bring on Joe Gideon and the Shark, The Phenomenal Handclap Band, and Local Natives (personal recommendation). Sssswwweeeeetttttt!!!

All good things come to an end... sadly

It appears that my time is up at Esquire (sob) - what a fantastic experience. Interning here as been great fun, and I have learnt a lot of insightful and hopefully beneficial things to take away with me... (and got published) Plus, living in London has been amazing - so much cool stuff has happened with the pinnacle being to see Blur at Hyde Park tonight, can't wait! (Although it does look like it's going to bucket it down with rain?!) 

Whilst here I have also gained my good 2:1, which I am totally chuffed with! Hard earned I feel! And spent an awesome time chilling in parks, and paying my respects to Princess Diana. Cycling round London is fun (even if you do nearly get mauled by a double decker bus)! I hope that this is just the start of greater things! There is a potential placement with designer David Collins in the pipeline, so fingers crossed!

Bring on summer now - a bit of Latitude, Paris, and Cornwall are well deserved I feel!

Latitude '09

and,

David Collins

hopefully...