Lady Felicity Katherine Hainge

The funniest thing that has ever happened to me actually happened to my friend, the Lady Flic. I will tell you what it was, but it's  really not possible to appreciate the comic effect of this incident without having been there, so expect to be disappointed by what actually happened. 


I was in Flic's bed (as you do) whilst she sat on the bed moisturising her feet. We were both in pyjamas, and there were inevitably large glasses of wine involved somewhere, somehow. It's also worth pointing out that at this point in my life and for reasons I can't be bothered to re-visit, I hadn't found anything particularly funny for quite a while and was in a bit of a thought-bog regarding life in general. So - the scene is set. And for reasons that are no longer clear to me (perhaps due to the large glasses of wine ...?), Flic got up and jumped lightly off the end of the bed (perhaps to get more wine. Yes). However, having just moisturised her feet, they kept moving once they hit her carpet and she disappeared from view with a massive crash and failed to reappear - at least, not from my vantage point under the duvet. This simple accident was enough to catapult both of us into absolute hysterics. I was, for the first time in weeks, laughing so hard I was simultaneously crying and finding it difficult to breathe, whilst Flic, conversely, was laughing so hard she was unable to cry despite the fact that was what she really wanted to do. Have you ever laughed like that? When you just can' t stop, even though you know you should because your best mate is lying on the floor with a sore arse and a bruise like a plum growing on her elbow from where it hit the bed frame on the way down? When just the merest hint of a thought about the thing that's just happened makes you double up in hysterics because it's so funny, and the thought that actually she might need some help, an ice pack, or at least a chug of wine and a fag is just irrelevant because you're so busy laughing? That is how humorous that incident was. I am actually laughing to myself now. Hahahaaaaahaha. Hahaha. Oh Christ. I told you you wouldn't understand.


Now the reason this story was brought to you is basically because the Lady requested an entire post all about her. I don't want you thinking that she is self-obsessed and vain; she isn't by any stretch. She just likes my writing for some reason, or at least when I'm on form (her words). There are many things that she can do that I can't, or (more annoyingly) that I can do but not quite as well, such as flute-playing, lager-drinking and child-rearing - her little boy is definitely my favourite, and would definitely have grown up to be a ragamuffin had it been my maternal skills being put to use. But I can write, especially when it's about something completely un-academic and something as enjoyable as writing one of my best mates. And without sounding foolish and happy-clappy, one of the few people who know absolutely everything about me and can tell me I'm being a knob jockey without receiving a cold stare like most people would. (I'd love to be able to say 'punch in the face' but I'm not the violent type. I fight with WORDS, man.) She knows what is good for me and isn't afraid to tell me - which I appreciate very much, as do all of her mates (and I really do mean that in a good way!). She's also the only person I know who, when asked for a random suggestion of something for me to write about, says "ME". So hopefully I've risen to the challenge! And, yes, I know it's been a while since we talked about it... about 4 months, actually. I wrote the first draft pretty much straight away and then sort of got distracted... I'd like to say I've been busy, but whilst this definitely isn't a complete lie, I have found time to watch an awful lot of shit on YouTube and even an entire episode of Antiques Roadshow since the suggestion came up, so - sorry. It's no excuse really.


So this is my present to her, and to you - if you find the Story of the Slippery Feet as entertaining as we do. If you don't... well, never mind. I hope she will. :) xx

I Got Love For You... If You're Hated By The Daily Mail

Last time I sat down to write a post it was when the Pope was in town. I was all set to write a critical piece (with a brilliantly humorous, sardonic take on things, of course), throwing in some references to the letter in the Guardian by Stephen Fry and companions expressing their distatste for the Pope's visit being funded by the public, and a smattering of the complete - and hilarious - irony of the Daily Mail lecturing anyone for having any form of so-called prejudice.


And then Stephen Fry wrote this. http://www.stephenfry.com/2010/09/16/dailymailhate/


The most brilliant piece of writing ever. I may be wrong, but it reads as though he's just gone, "Fuck it, I am voicing my opinion here and now. Someone pass me an iPad, I will blog it!" Maybe in the back of a black cab on the way to a QI rehearsal... anyway, there was no way I was going to follow up that. I refuse to compete with Stephen Fry. It wouldn't even be a competition, it would just be the literary equivalent of a Christmas roast turkey with all the trimmings beside a cold leftover turkey sandwich from a garage. But do read the article. Especially if you think the Daily Mail is a sanctimonious, out-dated pedlar of bollocks that, if it - oh, the joy! - stopped circulation, could save a vast portion of rainforest that instead of becoming tiresome droning about immigrants in print form could support a bountiful reserve of beautiful and probably dangerous wildlife in a foreign country, something it is to be hoped Paul Dacre would go into hiding to avoid.


Anyway. That is all for now - I just wanted to share the love momentarily, and I'll write something proper very soon. xxx

I Bought A Hardback Book

I have been negligent, tardy and downright rubbish at blogging in recent times, and for this I am excessively sorry. However, the impending school term (or, for those of you who are aware of the eccentricities of my old high school, the term that began today, on a Friday, for some reason) seems to have put me in an academic sort of mood that has provided me with some motivation to write. Or, more precisely, to transfer the meandering stream of whimsy from my brain into something understandable and interesting (though hopefully not particularly useful).

Yesterday I did something insanely geeky and somewhat ridiculous. After discovering through The Guardian a man on Twitter masquerading as Dr Samuel Johnson reincarnated into a modern world, I then followed this genius's tweets, which as well as putting a seventeenth-century vernacular spin on current affairs provides us with original Johnson-style definitions of decidedly 21st-century phenomena such as Facebook, Will Ferrell, Britain's Got Talent and my personal favourite, MySpace - "a barren electronick Tundra haunted by lost Souls in Search of whiter Teeth or unsign'd Minstrel-Acts". These are actually now part of a book, the publication of which was yesterday and a day waited for in anticipation by me. Then I went on to Amazon and bought it in hardback. Now, waiting with unbridled impatience to buy an inconsequential book IN HARDBACK on the day of release is an activity that I normally reserve for Harry Potter books alone. I am not entirely sure what persuaded me to give in to such frivolities, except that in my new-found freedom as a graduate without a compulsory reading list I have gone slightly overboard with excitement about reading whatever the hell I like; last week I involuntarily spent £36 in Waterstone's on American Psycho, Dara O'Briain's Tickling the English, a fabulous history book called The Time Traveller's Guide to Medieval Britain, which is a lot more interesting and humorous than it sounds, and the entire works of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes in one volume (prompted, no doubt, by Benedict Cumberbatch's excellent turn as Sherlock on the BBC recently, something that could clearly only be achieved by someone with such a bloody brilliant name). I didn't even know I had a particular yearning to read Sherlock Holmes - or, indeed, to learn more about the Middle Ages - but there's something about the 3-for-2 offers at Waterstone's that sends me into a sort of frenzy of literary focus as I search for that elusive third book that I get for free. I am now waiting for Dr Johnson's almanack of modern stuff (I cannot be arsed to look up its long-winded title at this time) to arrive, along with a Doctor Who boxset, safe in the knowledge that I am a massive geek, albeit a massive geek who's got a parcel full of enjoyment arriving on my doorstep any day now.  

And so back to the afore-mentioned new school term. I find it strange to be at the beginning of September with no excuse to go out and buy a new pencil-case, folders I won't bother to fill and an academic diary. So far I've managed to deal with this, but it's only September 3rd. There has been a small pang of longing and upset already, involving a Roehampton Freshers' Week event on Facebook on which I can't (and really shouldn't anyway) click ACCEPT. But dwelling on the past helps me in no way at all, except perhaps the bit of the past that taught me to appreciate literature in all it's glorious forms (something that will get me through the current habit of sluttily thowing money at people in return for books) so I'm going to pretend for the next few weeks that there is no way in hell I'd like to be back in halls, eating toast for living and ticking 'student' when asked for my occupation on forms and suchlike. I am, as Fayeski informed me recently, a Young Professional now. And if someone would like to tell me what I'm supposed to be a professional at I'd be hugely grateful... Thank you, and good night.


Also - the link to the Guardian article on the book I bought. It's entertaining, I promise! http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/aug/14/guide-feature-twitter-book-johnson