light my fire
If there's one candle that I'd like to melt and rub all over my body, it would have to be Diptyque's 'Essence of John Galliano', named after a collaboration with the avant-garde designer himself. I discovered it yesterday during my outing to Notting Hill. Diptyque make gorgeous candles, and I had popped into their shop on Westbourne Grove to pick up 'Baies' (blackcurrant leaves and Bulgarian roses) to replace my beloved L'Occitane Honey candle. Call me fickle but when I stumbled accidentally across 'Essence', it bowled me over.
It's a strange mix, a dark blend of leather, dried leaves, iris, vanilla, and intense musk. It needs to be smelled to be understood, as the unconventional blend of notes is a shock upon first sniff. When burning, it releases a scent that's strangely ecclesiastical, warmly soothing, but very sexy, feminine and masculine all at once. What I love about the blend of notes is the contrast the scent imparts - it feels comforting, but also spooky; it smells woodsy, church-like even, but also kinky. All of this in a little glass jar, God bless its soul.
prolonging the hols
I registered for my courses yesterday. Thus far, my timetable is alright - I have got Tuesdays off, provided my lecturers don't decide to schedule seminars/tutorials then (and let's hope they don't).
To my pleasant surprise, lectures don't actually begin until Thursday, so I am going to be spending the first of my two last days before the hols are over, in Notting Hill.
At the weekend I went to the Design Museum in a part of London I've never really ventured into before - Shad Thames, under Tower Bridge. The Museum itself was wonderful, and very interesting (and I was amused to see that the Apple iPod has made it in the upper echelons of product design) - but it was the location that blew me away.
The scary part of it was that I could actually see myself living in that district, and I've never felt that way about any other district in London. It had the perfect combination of artsiness combined with restraint, and was a place of contrast, which I love: old, cobblestoned streets and new, strikingly modern buildings silhouetted against the skyline. There were green spaces, benches, and lights strung upon the trees lining the Riverside Walk. It felt
comfortable. And the view overlooking the river Thames - it was to die for. I could have sat there all day, drinking it all in.
suggestions?
I haven't fed my iPod in a long time, and it's starving. Today I've gone download-crazy, obtaining the following albums: Snow Patrol's 'Final Straw' (brilliant - am in love), Franz Ferdinand's self-titled debut (makes me want to dance), and am downloading The Streets' 'A Grand Don't Come For Free' as I type. Any song recommendations? It would make my iPod very happy.
london fashion week-end @ duke of york's square
God, I'm knackered. Knackered from shopping. I did my part to support London Fashion Week today, at the annual London Fashion Week-end sale, during which the majority of runway items previewed on the catwalk earlier on this week are sold to the public at heavily discounted prices.
When one hears 'heavily discounted', they ought to ask 'discounted from what amount?' as 40% discounted from a £700 item is still a disgustingly large sum. What was frightening was the rate at which these items were being snapped up. As much as I'd kill to have a Temperley tea dress, I would still not pay £275 for it, even if it used to be £770.
I figured that to make my £10 entrance ticket worthwhile, I ought to buy
something, even if it wasn't a Temperley dress (sigh). Instead, I settled for three gorgeous FrostFrench knickers - heavenly and totally adorable - as well as a shimmery charcoal satin pleated skirt from Lo and Cabon. Beautiful. The best part was that my purchases were all excellent buys, thankfully. This makes a girl very, very pleased indeed.
Afterwards I managed to catch a showing of
Wimbledon at the Odeon on Tottenham Court Road. It was quite enjoyable and well-paced, albeit rather sappy. Very British. I was rather shocked to see Bernard Hill in the film, however - especially during the scene where he beat his chest like a gorilla, whilst making related noises. Somehow an image of King Theoden doing this crept into my mind, and I couldn't stop giggling afterwards.
lord of the rings symphony @ royal albert hall
For somebody who has been classically trained in music, it is shameful that I have never attended a proper symphony before. Until now.
The Lord of the Rings Symphony was last night at the Royal Albert Hall. Although I left my flat an hour in advance to get to a venue that was a mere four tube stops away, my train got stuck in the underground for 15 minutes. Half an hour before the concert was due to begin, I was sitting in a train with hundreds of harried-looking passengers nervously cracking their knuckles.
I also did a slight miscalculation of distance whilst planning. What I had reckoned to be a 10-minute walk from the station turned out to be a 20-minute
run. The security guard at the Hall said, 'Honey, you'd better run for your seat, otherwise you're not going to be let in.' Although I figured a few eyelash bats could have done the trick, I scurried off quickly, making it to my seat with exactly a minute and 37 seconds to spare.
The run was worthwhile, to say the very least, and not just for the cardiovascular system either. It was utterly amazing. I was 15 feet away from Howard Shore to the left, fifth row from the stage, in front of the string and horn section. There were over 200 musicians, a female and male choir, and a young boys' choir (of which the soloist, a boy no older than eight or nine, was spectacular).
Of course I expected it to be grand. But not quite like this. I had listened to the soundtrack so many times, thinking of the music as a whole. Seeing it live makes you realise that it really is a sum of hundreds of parts, individual voices, singular instruments. The sheer magnitude of realising this is spectacular. From the first chord that sounded, chills were travelling down my spine. I was sat there drinking in every face, every instrument, every motion that Howard Shore made. The voices in the choirs were so ethereal that you had to remind yourself that there were people behind those voices. It was otherworldly; surreal.
The performance was in six movements with all key pieces being played, some in a medley. Highlights included The Prophecy, The Bridge of Khazad-Dum, The Riders of Rohan, The Steward of Gondor, and The Grey Havens - to name a few. There were moments when the full power of all 200 musicians would be unleashed, and it was unlike anything I've experienced before. I lack adjectives to describe the effect it had on me, and superlatives don't seem to be enough. It was so moving, breathtaking, powerful - that the audience was open-mouthed throughout. By the end of Into the West, I was in tears. I wasn't the only one. When Howard Shore came onstage for the fourth time to a standing ovation, I'm quite sure I saw a little tear glistening in his eye as well.
the saatchi collection
I visited the Saatchi Collection at County Hall yesterday, and it left me gobsmacked. I love art that leaves me rattled to the core.
I knew it would be good, but not quite like this. (The Saatchi Collection houses much of Charles Saatchi’s collection of contemporary artwork by ‘Young British Artists’, or ‘YBAs’, as known in the industry.) Many of the works aren't for the faint of heart - mutilations, genetic experiments gone horribly awry, children with genitalia for facial features, mutations...the list goes on. The viewer is left half reeling in disgust, half wanting to see more. As I love artwork that pushes boundaries, I was fascinated. I left the gallery wishing I had my kit so that I could start some artwork again.
There was also an extraordinary installation involving an angular steel walkway leading into the centre of a seemingly normal room. Entering it, you find yourself surrounded by 2,500 gallons of engine oil. The reflection in the blackness of the liquid both reduces the space of the room, and yet paradoxically doubles its volume. If it's possible to experience the feeling of standing on a ceiling, it's here. I'm not sure what gets to you first - the head-spinning odour of the liquid, or that worrying sense of peace and foreboding - standing on that walkway, a mere step away from vertigo.
bbc personality test
Summary of Mentors
-Warm and lively people who focus on the needs of others
-Bring people together and encourage group participation
-Think of themselves as intelligent, outgoing and sensitive
-May become overbearing in their quest for harmony
More about Mentors
Articulate, lively and enthusiastic, Mentors spend time and energy fostering relationships and encouraging personal growth in others. They are extremely sensitive to people's needs and play a central role in families and social groups.
Mentors have changed jobs least since leaving fulltime education, according to a UK survey. Mentors love to bring people together in harmony and enjoy busy, active lives. However, their warm nature may mean they have trouble making tough decisions that affect others negatively. In situations where they can't use their talents or are unappreciated, Mentors may focus too much on the needs of others. Under extreme stress, Mentors may be troubled by unusually critical thoughts about themselves and others.
Mentors readily see the best traits in others, but may have trouble recognising personality faults.
Mentor Careers
Mentors are often drawn to jobs where they can help people develop their potential.
Hmm. Thoughts? Or take the test for yourself.
I met my landlord a few days ago. Judging from her self-serving requests and irritating e-mail correspondence, I expected her to be a wanker. I also expected her to be a Sloanie* with not much between her ears. Anyways - what I expected of her was not exactly anything very lovely.
Luckily for both of us, I was wrong.
She wasn't entirely a Sloanie, nor a wanker/sod/etc. Surprisingly, she was quite lovely, albeit slightly scatterbrained - with a facial structure that reminded me of Bette Midler, strangely enough - and a penchant for jetting off every weekend to somewhere exotic, such as Antwerp, with her boyfriend. (Note re: boyfriend - when I first saw him, I thought he was her father, or something similar.)
I did my inventory check and noted that two pots had rusted considerably, and that I was missing a bath mat. Noting this on the inventory, I left it in the hallway for her to pick up. That was the day that we had done the mini-break to Oxford, Stratford and the Cotswolds. Upon returning late that same night, I discovered two brand-new pots from Habitat with translucent sky-blue lids (very colour-coordinated) as well as a blue bath mat that felt like little anemones under your feet (minus the stinging), a welcome card, and a small box of chocolates. Goodies, how lovely!
I'm currently having an early afternoon tea - bad habits start here in England I suppose. Clotted cream is delicious, but I have just discovered that every 100g contains over 60g of pure fat. Disturbing.
(*Sloanie: Term to describe resident of posh Sloane Square area, often characterised by stuffy accent, latest shade of society-blonde hair, buttery highlights, pearl necklaces, Mont Blanc pens. Frequents Harrods and Harvey Nichols; has lifestyle clearly not of any ordinary mortal being.)
on my own
This week has felt strangely long and short, all at once. So much got done, especially at the beginning, when I had just moved into my flat. Only seven days later my parents have flown back to Toronto and I'm sitting here staring rather glumly out the window and doing my laundry.
I miss them already, and the flat feels very empty right now. Last year it was different - although they had helped me move in, they stayed at a hotel and came over occasionally during the week that they were here. This time, however (and considering I'm now living on my own) we were together 24/7, and they stayed at the flat instead of a hotel. It felt like they were truly a part of the flat; it feels strangely empty now.
That being said, although I very much enjoyed and appreciated their help and company, I am looking forward to having some space and quiet to sort out my life. My mum said that she felt it was time to leave - she even admitted to feeling the 'onset of cabin fever'.
There is still much for me to do in this week that remains before lectures begin - I still have loads of paperwork to sort out, but most of all I would like to have some peace and quiet, pop in a DVD, and curl up on my bed. Today was busy though - after leaving Heathrow, I popped down to Oxford Street and did a load of walking (and shopping). Items of note: Molton Brown lotion, Fresh Lychee soap, iPod remote control, mini kettle, and oyster mushrooms.
Speaking of which - dinner awaits.
back again
How lovely it is to feel settled in and at ease in a city I love again.
For the past few days I've been secretly surfing the internet on someone else's wireless broadband connection, as I haven't been able to set up my own connection yet (stupid BT), and I'm also feeling a wee bit cheap these days. After arriving at Heathrow on Sunday and witnessing a somewhat rattling argument in the Customs & Immigration area (which ended with one of the perpetrators of the row walking past us, arms locked behind his back by security officials, blood running down his face and arms), we have been spending our days unpacking, decorating, and getting things sorted. Thankfully, it has been a very productive three days.
The remainder of the week will be spent in a more relaxed state, hopefully. Tomorrow we are off on a mini-break in the English countryside, including a visit to Oxford, Stratford, and the Cotswolds. Friday I'm planning to hoard some groceries from Sainsbury's. Saturday I'll be visiting 30 St Mary Axe (a.k.a. 'The Gherkin'), if all goes as planned. I can't wait.
God. I love this place.
london calling
Yesterday was my last day of work - it's unbelievable how quickly the summer has flown by. I'm consoled by the fact that I'll be in London in a matter of hours and still have two and half weeks before my final year starts.
I enjoyed my work term but am glad it's over. Every summer I entertain the idea of not working, and after a particularly disastrous year, this summer seemed the perfect time to sit back and relax. Surprisingly this was also highly encouraged by my parents, but I didn't like the thought of a chronological gap on my CV.
The flat has been in my possession since yesterday, but I will not be moving in until Monday morning. I can't wait to settle down and enjoy London. I ache when I'm not there - it's as if a part of me is missing. Since I've been back in Toronto, I've been restless and ill at ease. I reckon I don't do well when I'm not living in a city that makes me truly happy - I only wish my family and friends could be with me there, but such is life.
On that note, I ought to get back to packing. I'm not sure when I'll be able to update this site as I don't have broadband in my flat yet (bloody BT) but it should be within a week or so - keep checking back. Take care - I'll miss you loads. Catch you on the flip side. xx
iPod update. I love it, the sound quality is crystal clear, and it's stunning - a work of art. But...the battery life is questionable.
Quite questionable. I haven't had it for that long, so perhaps it's too early to tell. I have heard that it takes three or four full discharge cycles to calibrate the battery (but am quite sure that lithium-ion batties don't have 'memory').
I'm skeptical. Apple advertises that the battery is good for 12 hours worth of music; in actual fact, it seems like 6-8 hours after two full discharge cycles. I'm not sure if this warrants a nasty letter and demand for replacement as Apple's 12-hour claim is probably tested under (very) unrealistic circumstances; i.e. no scrolling, no shuffling, no backlight, no EQ, moderate headphone volume etc. In reality who
doesn't scroll or shuffle songs when they listen to music on a portable player?
Statistically speaking - and for those of you who know me, I can see you rolling your eyes - Apple's claim really ought to be something like 'we are 95% confident that the iPod's average battery life lies in the interval [8, 16] hours'. That might not do so well in Apple adverts, however...
Many people have been asking whether I've managed to obtain the telephone number to my flat. I have indeed, and thank you very much for asking (I didn't think it would be the most exciting topic of conversation, you see). A saying that I tend to live by more and more these days is 'If you want things done, do it yourself', and the telephone number situation is of no exception. I gave up on my landlord and rang BT myself. What took six e-mails was resolved in a minute flat, and that's the way it ought to be.
Long weekends are rarely long enough, but I managed to get a few things done. We went to the CNE on Sunday with C, which was quite a decent day, although I now have a rather obvious scoop-necked tan line on my chest. I was reminded of how much I love petting farms (I wanted to take the plump white goose home with me) and winning cute little toys in the midway. We won four: Oscar the Grouch (complete with rubbish bin), Cooooooooookie Monster, and an adorable little duck and piglet. Now is the time to remind me that I'm 21, and not seven, as this post suggests.
Upon clearing out my closet last night, I stumbled upon 36 issues of old Cosmopolitan magazines that I'd smuggled into my bookbag during junior high. In retrospect I do not know
why I read so many Cosmopolitans back then - that could be why I have such a warped female mind nowadays - as they really were poorly written and utter rubbish. Loo material, perhaps, but nothing more. I suppose the allure of those magazines was more to do with the fact that mummy and daddy would not have approved very much of them, but the only reaction I got from Mum last night was a roll of the eyes. Flipping through an issue last night, I did find an incredibly delicious full-page photograph of Tobey Maguire circa August 2001. Yummy.
broken telephone
As a self-confessed broadband addict, I have already been making arrangements from Canada so as to ensure that there is an enabled broadband/telephone connection in time for when I move into my flat in less than two weeks.
Problem #1: the lack of telephone number.
A telephone number is a standard piece of information needed to set up a broadband connection, as it works in conjunction with your phone plan. Simple, right? Obviously the next step would be to contact someone who might have the telephone number for my flat. Who would that be? How about the lettings agent ('J'), or perhaps the landlord ('C')?
So I promptly e-mailed the lettings agent.
Hi J,
Please provide me with Flat 2's telephone number. I would like to set up a broadband connection now so that I have an internet connection in time for when I move into the flat.
Many thanks,
A
Simple, really. I expected to obtain an 11-digit telephone number. Here is what I obtained:
Dear C,
The tenant would like the telephone number for the above property in order that she can apply for broadband. I would therefore be grateful if you could forward this number to her. A copy of this email is being sent to A at [A's e-mail address].
Many thanks,
J
And the reply from C:
Hi J,
Do you know no-one ever had the number as they all had mobiles and never watched TV or such, BUT, I believe that for £39.oo per month, Telewest does the whole thing. TV, broadband and phone. This is a good deal. Upstairs has this package. A plain old BT connection I think is £19.99 for broadband. The socket is a BT one, and can be re-connected right now if [the tenant] just calls 150 immediately.
C
Dear A,
Please see e-mail received from the landlord of the above property regarding the telephones.
Many thanks,
J
Problem #2: I don't really bloody
care what the other tenants require, whether or not they watch the telly, whatever. I'm wondering if the sentence 'Please provide me with the phone number etc' was too difficult to comprehend in the first place.
Problem #3: 150 is the UK version of, say, 411. Which means that I cannot dial the number '150' from Canada. If the landlord had actually read our agreement, perhaps she would have noticed that I have an international mailing address. I'm also wondering if perhaps 'Toronto, Canada' has become internationally unrecognised.
Problem #4: I begin to wonder if the landlord has not heard of the function 'Reply To All' in e-mail.
I wrote:
Dear J,
Thank you for the information regarding the broadband plans that C suggested. However, I still require the ACTUAL telephone number for the flat. In case it hasn't been made clear, I am currently in Canada and will not be in London until next weekend. I would like a broadband connection to be established BY the time I move into the flat, and it takes at least a week to do so. As I am making these arrangements from overseas, the telephone company requires that I provide them with the flat's telephone number.
I would greatly appreciate obtaining the actual telephone number for Flat 2 at [the landlord's] earliest convenience.
Many thanks and kind regards,
A
J's reply?
Dear A,
I have been informed by the landlord that the last two tenants insisted on using their mobile phone and did not re-connect the landline telephone in the property.
J
Problem #692:
Do I
really care what the
other tenants bloody well used?!
Problem #943: Why should obtaining a bloody
telephone number require such an extensive ping-ponging of information back and forth, only to result in such blatant stubborness/stupidity/laziness (delete as appropriate), and lack of said phone number?!
Problem #1274: I am beginning to wonder who the one with the issues is: J, who would most likely have the flat's phone number in her files if she looked a wee bit harder; C, who somehow would like to dictate what methods of communication her tenants use
as well as withholding a telephone number from a tenant who is just about to move into her flat; or me, for being so phone- and broadband-addicted in the first place, for (obviously) not being able to speak clear English, and for being so gobsmacked that I've lost all ability to count sequentially.
what's new
A heads up on some new little changes on this site:
1.
Words that might stick with you all day. (Much like that song that always gets stuck in your head). Green box, upper right hand corner, updated frequently;
2.
Wishing you were here. An image that I will endeavour to update every so often, usually my own work. Please don't hesitate to send me links to your images and I'll post them here;
3.
Keeping it current. Watch out for an evolving 'currently' section;
4.
Something totally random. '...muse finishes it' is a little space for random chatter about irrelevant topics and inspired by John Intini's column in Maclean's. Use the 'get in touch' text box to post me your own sentence beginnings, questions etc and I will post them here;
5.
The life of a socialite in the making. Only joking. A total space-filler really - some major up-and-coming dates in on my calendar;
6.
Oh yes, I value your input. The aforementioned 'get in touch' box - for comments, suggestions, questions etc. Send anything you'd like.
Keep your eyes open for more in the upcoming weeks. Enjoy.
