Writing Challenge

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Write about something that someone told you about yourself that you never forgot.

 

Now, there are two things that instantly spring to mind. One negative and one positive. I’ll cover them both.

  1. When I was in school, we’re talking probably about age 14, a girl in my class told me she hated my face when I laughed. She actually said those words, she ‘hated the way I looked when I laughed’. Now, I already hated my smile and had done since I was about 8 – there is a reason I don’t smile in photos; it’s a life-long trend. So, I have since covered my face when I laugh.
  2. The other thing that someone has told me is more recent, like within the past month. My friend had said that he and one of his friends (whom I’m only an acquaintance of) had been talking about me and this guy came out with,
    “Anna is the girl that if she was your girlfriend and you showed someone a picture of her and said, “this is my girlfriend”, they’d say “fuck off mate” and call you a liar”.
    I think that is perhaps the weirdest, but coolest compliments I’ve received.

 

 

 

10 facts about me (I can’t promise they’re interesting)

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  • Magic runs in my blood. My Grandad was a magician and quite high up in the Magic Circle. He created new tricks, shuffles, and could manipulate cards in a way that would make your eyes bend.

 

  • I celebrated my 17th birthday up a mountain in Nepal whilst trekking the Langtang Valley. In the summer between AS and A Levels I went to Nepal for a month or so on a trip organised by my school. We spent just under a fortnight working in a school; painting murals in the classrooms. Following that we trekked for another two weeks, walking through landscapes which looked like they were straight out of Lord of the Rings and camping at the foot of a glacier. Finally, we finished off with a few days in Kathmandu and a day white water rafting.

 

  • Elephants make me cry because I love them so much.

 

  • I am a qualified BASI Level 1 ski instructor. After having been strapped into a pair of skis since I could stand up, I gained my instructor’s qualification a few years ago and did a stint teaching at Sheffield Ski Village.

 

  • I have an IQ of 157. Despite this I still try to get out of the car before taking my seatbelt off and ask questions like, “where is Lincoln castle?”.

 

  • I LOVE dinosaurs and when I was little I was obsessed and dreamt of being a palaeontologist, that was after I realised that being Boba Fett wasn’t an option.

 

  • I struggle to keep my eating disorder in “recovery” mode.
    If you know, you know. If you don’t, wish to keep it that way.

 

  • The first thing I ever drove was an army Land Rover. It was on the ranges at Beckingham camp and considering I’d never been behind the wheel of anything before I did well! I didn’t stall, crash, or roll it. I even managed to successfully navigate the gearbox, if you’ve ever driven an army Land Rover you’ll know what I mean.

 

  • I know how to take the wheel off an artillery gun, but do I fuck know how to take one off a car!

 

  • I just want to go to Disney World in Florida. That’s all I want in life and I want to go soon, before I’m too old (outlook not looking hopeful).

 

 

 

 

 

Some of my favourite quotes.

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You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you– J.M. Barrie.

I love this quote so much and every time I read it it makes me cry, I am genuinely welling up just typing it.

 

“In the beginning there was nothing, which exploded” – Terry Pratchett.

That’s basically what happened, it’s as ridiculous as that!

 

Hell is empty, all the devils are here – Shakespeare

The world is an increasingly more malevolent place, it worsens at an exponential rate.

 

I sing in Greek, I pray in Latin, I ache in a language so old that even the earth no longer remembers; so dead that is has returned to dust” unknown source

Love of old and archaic things holds a certain loneliness that is hard to understand, but it is also special; you can understand the old magic

 

The thing is Howard. It doesn’t matter how old you are. Bouncy castles are still genius.” – Vince Noir

Well, he has a point.

 

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you – Nietzche

Cliché to have this quote in a list of favourite quotes, but it’s so true and it sends chills down your spine just reading it.

 

The biggest coward is a man who awakens a woman’s love with no intention of loving her.” Bob Marley

Just don’t. I’ve encountered more cowards than I care to remember, and each have torn their own shred of me away with them.

 

All every boy wants is a girl to protect from dragons – Atticus

I accept both real and metaphorical dragons to fit this idea.

 

My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you” Fitzwilliam Darcy

Why don’t people speak like this anymore?

 

Beauty fades, dumb is forever!” – Bianca Del Rio

Age terrifies me, genuinely!! I can’t wait for when I have some spare cash, then I can shove some botox in my face! At least I have brains as well as moderate looks.

 

“They’ve promised that dreams can come true, but forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams too” – Oscar Wilde

Sadly, I don’t ever remember my dreams. What I do experience is sleep paralysis and it is the most legitimately terrifying thing ever, and it doesn’t get easier, it’s equally as distressing every time it happens. I do have dreams though, (well, hopes) and I’ll wait and see if any of them come true; or maybe I’m stuck with the nightmares.

 

“And for in that moment of pure darkness, I see your soul shining brighter than it ever has. I love the weirdness in you and the gentle way you make me go insane” – Gomez Addams

Basically, anything Gomez says makes you weak at the knees. He and Morticia are the true relationship goals and the way he expresses his profound love sets the bar painfully high, sorry guys. I’d kill for what they have.

Fashion; the fabric that binds it all together.

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Try and tell me that fashion isn’t important.

Go on, I’ll listen…..

Tell me how it’s “just clothes” and taking an interest in shoes, different types of fabric, and fashion designers is just girly and stupid.

The fact is that fashion is vitally important, but not everyone realises it (or at least not to its full extent)

Most people see clothes as just necessity and don’t have strong opinions with regards to what they wear, or don’t see what they wear as holding some form of deeper and intelligent statement.

“Just jeans and a t-shirt will do, maybe a hoodie if it gets a bit chilly.” That seems to be the approach of many. Convenience and simplicity, the choice of t-shirt might be one branded with a particular slogan or symbol; which is still a conscious fashion choice. You might want to wear a t-shirt with your favourite band’s logo, characters from a film or tv show, or maybe it’s just a shirt that does nothing more than tell us where you bought it from e.g. Lacoste or Lyle and Scott.

There are a lot of people who will always purchase the latest fashion trend, they MUST have whatever the media and the celebs tell us to wear, and god forbid should they wear anything that was in fashion more than 12 months ago! However, despite these people always being ‘on trend’ and appearing to be fashionable, they’re not always the ones who truly appreciate what they’re buying into. They just want to make sure they conform and look good, fearful of not being cool and having the piss taken out of them. Clothes are easily expendable and fast fashion is their bitch! Wear something once and throw it away because people have seen you in it now, it’s already been used in an Instagram post so, can’t wear that again!187D66CF-F694-4286-9B7D-F09332DC8692.jpeg

Finally, there are those who really love fashion, they appreciate true style and the timelessness of certain pieces. They know where influences come from and can see how we have got to where we are by respecting history. These people will embrace new trends, but not let go of the past, because it’s the past which made the present. They can spot a Dior silhouette and would give their left ear for a Philip Treacy hat.

True appreciation for style means that you will present yourself according to your own personality and using the archives of fashion you can create unique beauty.

Taking an interest in fashion and fashion designers isn’t a non-subject.

Coming from an old public school and classical education background I know a “Mickey Mouse subject” when I see one. Going to college or university to study subjects like kite flying are not *real* subjects. Fashion on the other hand is a subject, it’s art history. It encompasses design, culture, creation, art, politics, sociology, and history (lots of history).

Let me briefly (but not quite so briefly) give you an insight into what I am failing to get across to you….

 

History

Fashion tells a story; it’s the past and the future. We all know it goes in cycles. I was born in the 80s and I am now seeing the big high street shops sell styles and clothing that I wore as a kid. The current trend of ripped jeans, a t-shirt, Converse,and a plaid shirt tied around the waist is highly reminiscent of the Grunge movement in the early – mid 90s. The only thing that grinds my gears about the modern variation of this look is that a lot of the band t-shirts are being worn by people who’ve never heard of The Ramones (but they’ll wear the shirt because Urban Outfitters told them to).

The history of fashion is known to us all. If I say Tudor Period to you I guarantee you think of men wearing tights with short poofy trousers, and a ruff around their neck, you’ll picture Henry VIII or Shakespeare. You know that the 1920s gave us Flappers and there was once a time when bullet bras werefashionable (yikes).

Throughout history (but more importantly the past centurypop culture, music, and fashion have all moved in the same circles and occasionally they get together to make the next fashion forward love child.

In the 1960s there were the MODs who were massively influenced by bands like The Who, The Rolling Stones, and Rod Stewart. Their fashion was a departure from the Teddy Boy look of the 1950s which came over from America; instead they turned to Italian, slim fit suits, parka jackets, and polo shirts. They shunned branded clothing, had attention to detail, and an eye for classic design.

The 1970s gave us hippies, punk, and disco. We are all familiar with huge afro hair, bell-bottomed trousers, bright colours, and platform shoes. Similarly, we are also aware of the mohawk, bondage trousers, monochrome, and army boots. When it came to hippies and disco the silhouette was tight on top and loose on the bottom. Due to a shift in women’s rights there was a change in what the market and our new society were asking for. Yves Saint Laurent was one of the designers who embraced change and designed stylish trouser suits purposefully tailored for women.
Punk music was the anarchistic child of MODs and Rockers. Bands like the Sex Pistols, Blondie, and The Clash came onto the scene in the latter part of the decade and their followers were a fashionably hostile gang who screamed on the battlefield of style. Clothing was mainly torn and shredded. Safety pins were a popular accessory and often used to purposefully hold together ripped garments, but they were also pierced through the ears or nose. Offensive slogans and images were printed on t-shirts; including swastikas. Savage music bred savage fashion, these kids were angry, and the establishment was their punchbag. 01A4A564-95FB-4C95-BD2F-3C027E10EC0E.jpeg

They were sick of the perceived excesses and pretension of mainstream culture. The gender boundaries were sometimes blurred as women shaved their heads or kept their hair short. Bondage trousers, fishnets, and spiked dog collars also became part of the punk movement; items which would be picked back up again by Jean-Paul Gautier and the goths of the 1990s.  

The punk movement did continue into the 1980s, but it was dominated by 80s FASHION!!! I love all things 80s, everything was big and that is never a bad thing. Huge shoulder pads, big hair, lose fitting clothing, mohair jumpers, jumpers with gawdy designs that are so awful they’re amazing, and leggings (I legitimately don’t know what I would wear if we didn’t have leggings, I can’t even remember a time before leggings!). Music at the time was Madonna, Duran Duran, new romantics like Boy George and Adam Ant gave a huge creative boom to artistic expression and androgyny. Style emphasised excess, expensive clothes, and heavy accessories. Costume jewellery and large faux gold earrings were popular, coupled with garments dripping in sequins. The colour scheme of the 80s was very bright and the whole decade seemed vibrant. Women were now no longer an unusual sight in the workplace and power dressing was born. Ever seen the film Working Girl? That perfectly showcases the 80s woman who has finally found power and equality (or even dominance) over men, Sigourney Weaver’s character is iconic. The New Romantics used individualism and creativity and presented flamboyant androgyny. Popular items across both genders would be dramatic makeup, ruffled poet shirts, hussar jackets, waistcoats, crushed velvet, and Regency era fashion.

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I was born in 1985 which means that by the late 1990s I was only just starting to become self-aware with regards to clothing and as time went on I could start to make my own fashion choices as opposed to the Laura Ashley filledwardrobe my mum would force me to wear. As a 90s kid we were influenced by boybands, grunge and goth. We saw the rise of the tom boy (me) and denim found its resurrection moment; reaching its final form with double denim! Style wasn’t as outlandish as it had been in the previous decade, we’d tried to smarten ourselves up a bit, but also make ourselves fitter. The revolution that was boy and girl bands forced the image into the media of super fit, skinny (in the case of the girls), and very muscly (guys). Continuing the 80s aerobic fashion trend, the 90s included sportswear, tight vest tops, ANYTHING with Calvin Klein written on it, six packs, and those Adidas poppers (yes, I had a pair)! The 90s gave us the size zero body, an unhealthy must-have which is a painful subject for another blog.

As previously mentioned there was the darker side of 90s fashion. Grunge music was a remnant of punk, but also had relatives in rock music. Nirvana were the main grunge band, until the untimely death of Kurt Cobain in 1994. Following them we had Soundgarden and Pearl Jam. Grunge then evolved quickly and the next thing to come along was Metal and all its subgenres (of which there are loads). Slipknot, System of a Down, Marilyn Manson, KoRn, and Linkin Park are just a few bands I could mention. In the fashion world this rekindled the shock factor of Punk trends and we were back to wearing all black, tearing our clothes, being offensive, and wearing clothing that doubled us as weaponry. I belonged to the goth/alternate crowd and I would either wear black bondage trousers or enormously baggy jeans, a tight t-shirtwith some form of slogan on it, elbow length fishnet gloves, a green army shirt with a German flag on the arm, a spiked dog collar, and a miserable face. I have since lost the German army shirt and bondage trousers, but still own the rest (and more). I happily still wear the things I can still fit into; I wonder where by baggy jeans are……

From about 2003 onwards fashion and music don’t seem to have such a close relationship anymore, they don’t work in tandem as much. It’s as if they’re on a running track where one is sprinting and the other having a casual jog; occasionally they cross paths, but mainly it’s music which is moving too fast, it’s fickle and ever changing. Fashion will now tend to pick up trends from individuals in the media andpop culture derived from film and TV instead of music.

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TV shows such as Peaky Blinders have had a direct influence on men’s fashion (including their hair). The popularity of beards and that ‘peaky blinders haircut’ had already begun not long before we were introduced to Thomas Shelby. Shops like Master Debonair are taking off and finally giving us well dressed and, let’s face it, sexily dressed men, thank you!

Even more recently we are seeing a huge movement by way of abandoning fast fashion and breathing life into second-hand clothing; a drive which, when you investigate it, flies the flag for the environment and political rebellion (and our pockets).

Now, I know I have so far stuck to the correlation between music and fashion throughout the decades, but that is important to demonstrate the importance and effect fashion has on society, culture, and you can pinpoint a period by looking at what someone is wearing.

Fashion history does go deeper, obviously.

If you watch the documentary films which have been made about Alexander McQueen, Vivienne Westwood, and Manolo Blahnik you will see that these designers don’t just blindly design without the inspiration of centuries gone by at their back. They know the tight engineering that goes into making a corset, they understand what differences can be made according to the structure of a shoe, and they appreciate the reminiscent beauty in a powdered wig. Alexander McQueen looked deep into his Scottish heritage, the “ethnic cleansing” carried out by the British in the mid-18th Century, and thefabrics and styles of the time and region in preparation for his Highland Rape collection. Whilst heading up Givenchy he took inspiration for his first collection from Ancient Greece and Rome. Inspired by the Givenchy logo he was automatically drawn to graceful white and gold garments draped elegantly to create pieces that could have come from Mount Olympus itself. These people know their shit.

These artists and creators can turn swathes of fabric into whatever they want, they are gods!

Their work can touch you on numerous levels.

Self-expression and Identity

Fashion is personal identity and a way of letting people know who you are from a distance; they can merely walk past you in the street and get an impression of who you are.

Even in work where we need to conform to corporate dress code and look like we all came out of the same smart casual zombie factory; people still let their personal fashion show. You might choose to always wear fabulous shoes, coloured shirts instead of white, or you could pick a sexy tweed number with elbow pads over a plain black suit.

You subconsciously think about fashion more than you realise.

Even for someone like me who has a mixed self-image that changes with the seasons and my mood, fashion is still my way of expressing who I am on that particular day. I still have my spiked dog collar, New Rock boots, and Marilyn Manson hoodie; they are the solid foundations upon which my “goth wardrobe” is built on.

To see people who go against the curve and dress how they want is so heart-warming. It’s so refreshing to see, in an oceanof people all wearing the same thing, someone stand out. I applaud that person who has the balls to wear what they feel.

Why should we be afraid to dress how we want and work our look on the catwalk that is life? We don’t do the same when we open our mouth; we openly discuss our hobbies, interests, opinions, and things we love. If you like something, wear it. Why should we be subdued and follow the herd when it comes to what we wear?

Fashion is a double-edged sword I guess. We are all sold the same thing from numerous shops, they all peddle the same trend with only slight variation. We want to fit in and be accepted by everyone which leads us to buy the latest pair of trainers or cry profusely because crop tops are in, but you’re a fat mess.  

We have an unshakeable need to be part of the in-crowd, whilst simultaneously screaming “Nope. I am my own person.I’m a grown up human and I do what I want”. So, then we go for an outlandish fashion choice, maybe it’s something still bought in a high street shop, but it’s garish (for you) and you’ve no idea what to wear it with, but you try anyway. You scamper confidently out of your front door, proud of the fact you have chosen to wear something that made your personality feel all warm and fuzzy. Fingers crossed it all goes well, and your new outfit is met with positive responses and it just snowballs into a beautiful confidence that inspires you to continue wearing what you want because it’s who you are.

That’s how it should be.

“the worst fashion faux pas is to look in the mirror and not see yourself” – Iris Apfel

Politics & Anarchy

I remember being stood outside a Vivienne Westwood shop when I was about sixteen just in awe at the most beautiful suit I have ever seen; a white high collared shirt, shiny orb buttons, a red tartan asymmetric skirt with a jacket to match – the whole thing went together perfectly and held itself almost without the need for a mannequin – exquisite. I looked like the last person in the world who would appreciate and be moved by high fashion, dressed like something that just crawled out of Azkaban, but don’t forget that Vivienne Westwood was a huge part of Punk history and therefore a huge influence on myself and the pop culture I was embodying. 3F8179C4-C38B-4497-B12A-D858E659A29F.jpegEven though her designs are now far removed from the clothes she made for the Sex Pistols back in 1977 I still adore her style; the tartan, the non-conformity by using asymmetry, the tight and perfect fit of the jacket, the fact that even though this is something you could wear in a board room it still screamed “fuck you!”. I’m confident in saying that a lot of people who know the name of Westwood, maybe have one of her bags slung over their shoulder, or just wear a t-shirt because it cost a lot of money and want to show off are totally ignorant to the incredible woman behind it all and would never think that her current work is in any way related to where she started; rising to fame by defacing the image of the Queen and then becoming a Dame.

“I’m bored with fashion and much more concerned about the health of the planet. We barely have a generation to change things before it’s too late!”

Vivienne has now handed over design of her house’s fashion to her husband and long-time collaborator, Andreas Kronthaler in order for her to focus more on her furious campaign for our climate. She fights global warming and keeps a blog called Climate Revolution.

“We have an enormous global problem; our politicians are not listening to our scientists. We have barely 20 years to stop things, otherwise we shall reach a tipping point and we can draw a line across the earth and everywhere below Paris will be uninhabitable”

Westwood also works via the Cool Earth Movement, helping to save the rainforest not by buying it, but helping indigenous people to get legal documents to own their piece of forest; a campaign that could save the land for mere hundreds of thousands of pounds (not that much when you think about it).

She has even gone so far as to say that we should buy less, choose well, and make it last. Or even better, don’t buy at all! A revolutionary stance for a fashion designer, but she is that concerned over the state of our planet, the toxic mass production of items, and the throw away attitude of cheap, fast fashion that she has even said “I wish they wouldn’t” when asked in 2012 whether she wanted people to buy her latest collection. She promotes art and culture over spending and waste.

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It takes a certain type of person to not just wear Westwood, but to wear it and evoke the emotion and history she puts into her work. She is one of my biggest heroes and I love her.

Another personal hero of mine is Alexander McQueen. He could create things that will literally make you cry. Flawless pieces which came from a mind which seemed to have a higher level of vision and imagination. If you can find a spare 90 minutes to watch the McQueen documentary film on Netflix I urge you to do so!

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McQueen was often branded as a misogynist, but he was the complete opposite. He worshipped women and put them high up on the biggest ivory pedestal he could envisage. The reason so many critiqued his work as anti-women was because his shows made the audience feel uncomfortable, and that was the point! He constantly seemed to focus on the victim, in his Highland Rape show and Jack the Ripper Stalks His Victims his aim was to actually make women look powerful, turning them into menacing creatures. He wanted people to fear the women who wore his clothes. He confronted violence against women, something which he had witnessed his sister be victim of.

His collection simply entitled No.13 challenged the limitations of conventional beauty and we saw Paralympic athlete Aimee Mullins walk the runway in a pair of hand-carved elm wood prosthetic legs.

Bringing forward the issues of mental health, insanity and questioning the boundaries of normality McQueen gave us his Voss show. The audience were sat in a threesided auditorium, so that they surrounded the area where the models would be walking, with mirrored glass separating them from the performance. He made everyone wait an hour before the showbegan and the audience had no choice but to sit there and stare at their own reflection in the glass before them, uncomfortably looking into their own being whilst waiting for the lights to come up. Models like Erin O’Connor mimicked inmates of a mental institution and interacted with their reflections in the mirrored wall of their stage. O’Connor wore a razor clam encrusted dress and McQueen had instructed her to break the shells off, she left the stage with blood dripping from her hands. The grand finale saw a glass box (which had been present centre-stage during the entire show) break open to reveal a voluptuous nude in a gas mask reclining on a chaise longue, covered in moths. Glass shards and moths flew across the room in a dark and chilling scene inspired by Joel-Peter Witkin’s work Sanitorium (1939).  

McQueen’s work is something I find hard to put into words, it’s more of something you feel. He manages to make you feel strong emotions through his work. Something that sounds so strange if you say it simply, “look at this dress, it’ll make you cry”. This level of talent and the issues he brought forward were controversial genius at its finest.

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Other instances where fashion has been more than just clothes

During World War 1 women were prompted to work in factories for the first time and therefore required to wear trousers. This was revolutionary in introducing not only trousers to the female wardrobe, but introducing the military cut to a realm outside of the battlefield.

In 1998 supermodel, Iman interviewed fellow model Waris Dirie to bring attention to the issue of Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) for Vogue Magazine. The pair are both from Somalia and Waris is a victim of FGM. They were photographed beautifully dressed in bright colours and traditional Somali inspired dresses, looking strong and regal.

 

In his Spring collection of 2016 Kerby Jean-Raymond used fashion to highlight the Black Lives Matter campaign and also addressed the problems of police brutality.

 

John Galliano is a visionary and sparks debate beyond the catwalk by using social and historical issues as his weapons. The Dior couture collection of 2000 was inspired by homeless people and Galliano dressed his models in baggy clothes with torn linings, accessories like whiskey bottles and safety pins. New York times famously commented on the collection by saying, “which is worse? A Paris fashion designer who wants to look at the homeless as aesthetic objects, or a New York mayor who doesn’t want to look at them at all?”. I have an inkling that Galliano’s collection inspired and was parodied by the film Zoolander when the character, Mugatu delivers a show called Derelicte.

 

Demna Gvasalia brought raw chic to the catwalk using bold cuts and non-conventional design in the collection created for Balenciaga. The show was reminiscent of post-Soviet 90s evoking economic instability, political uncertainty, and disappointment in Soviet ideals. The oversized handbags alluded to shuttle traders and the IKEA business model, turning the democratisation of fashion on its head.

Fashion allows even the most unpolitical of us to join a cause in our own pedestrian way.

After all of this waffling on, and let’s face it, if you’re reading this you have survived just under 4,000 words of absolute twaddle (I applaud you), but no, after all of this rambling about I hope that I have somehow managed to convey the importance of fashion, even if it’s only slightly!

I wanted to touch more on how designers are experts in their craft and the deeper history of fashion and how they bring it all forward to us, but maybe another time.

I suppose the point I am trying to make is that day-to-day fashion, what we all throw on before leaving the house, doesn’t have to come from fashion houses like Gautier and Chanel, you don’t have to shun modern trends and ignore popular high street brands, I’m not telling you to deny yourself of what you like. What I am saying is that fashion is often cast aside without consideration as being unimportant, but there is a deeper meaning to it.

Wear what you want. Appreciate where it comes from. Learn your pop culture history. Show everyone who you are. But try to heed our lady Westwood’s words and make it last!!

“Aaawwwwwwrrrggghh what’s in the box?! What’s in the fucking box?!?!!”

Brad Pitt knew not to look in the box, but one girl didn’t……..

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Our story begins with two Titan brothers, Epimetheus and Prometheus. In the run up to the impending battle between the Titans of the old world and the Olympian gods of the new era these two had sworn allegiance Zeus and the gods of Olympus. The reason why they had turned against their Titan brethren was that Prometheus possessed the gift of foresight and he knew who would come out on top. Zeus’ reward to Epimetheus and Prometheus for their tactical betrayal of the Titans was the gift of creation.

Epimetheus created the beasts that walk the earth. To protect his little fur babies he gave them each a special skill or form of protection; claws, sharp teeth, venom, the ability to wake you up at 4am just to remind you that you are slave to a fuzzy, four legged creature that meows endlessly and begs to go outside, but then once the door is actually opened it just sits there and looks at you like you’re a complete mug!!

Prometheus was tasked with molding mankind, but since Epimetheus had used up all the claws, talons, and cool bits to protect the animals there was nothing left for the humans. Realising that man would not last long at all, bumbling about with little more than an infantile brain and a sharp stick, he decided that fire would be the perfect gift! Zeus refused to allow this, fire was for the gods and it was too powerful and destructive for mortals to possess, they’d only fuck it up. Prometheus went ahead and gifted mankind with fire regardless of what Zeus said. He does what he wants #YOLO.

This did not go well.

As punishment for his hubris, Zeus had Prometheus bound to a rock high up on the Caucasus Mountains, far away where nobody could find him. Every day an eagle was sent to feast upon his liver and every night it grew back again, just to be eaten once more the following day. He didn’t see that coming did he?

Zeus didn’t stop there. He decided that man was also deserving of punishment, they shouldn’t have accepted the gift of fire. He created, Pandora; a woman created in the image of Aphrodite and possessing the gifts of wisdom, kindness, beauty, and generosity.

Pandora was to be given to Epimetheus as his wife. Despite being warned by his brother not to marry her, Epimetheus went ahead and did so anyway. As a wedding present, Zeus gave Pandora a box, but warned that she must never open it. He could have given them a slow cooker or a set of wine glasses like a normal person, but he gave the most curious woman on earth a shiny box and told her not to look inside.

Pandora couldn’t understand why someone would give her a box, but forbid her from opening it? What’s the point in that? What could possibly be inside?

She couldn’t resist any longer. She simply had to open that box!!

“Babe, don’t open the……oh….never mind….”

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Pandora opened the lid and out flew the most terrible things. By opening the box she had unleashed all evil into the world; greed, envy, hatred, pain, disease, hunger, Donald Trump, poverty, war, and death. All of the misery and suffering that the world was previously oblivious to was now out gallivanting and stirring shit up.

“uh-oh…….” gazing open mouthed at the black cloud of malevolent torment that was spewing out of the box*, Pandora panicked. “Fuck! Make it stop, MAKE IT STOP!”

“Make it stop?!! HOW??!” bellowed Epimetheus “Too late now, it’s all flown out of the window! What are you doing?…..What good is that going to be? Oooh let’s put the lid back on because that’ll help loads won’t it!!”

Desperate to try and reverse what she had done, Pandora slammed the lid of the box shut, but it was too late.

There was only one thing left inside the box, one tiny little thing which never escaped, and that was hope.

It is argued that hope was left in the box to torment man, to make him suffer more. Rather than throw his life away due to the suffering of all the evils in the world, Zues wanted man to endure and be tormented further by the promise of hope still being out there, somewhere.

It was Nietzsche who said that, “hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torment of men.”

It is true that hope does eventually make things worse when you finally realise that life really is a mire of misery. This is why a pessimistic outlook is probably more healthy; if you expect things to always go to pot it’s a pleasant surprise when they don’t.

Pandora, being the first woman, set the trend for the rest of womankind and we now have the eternal reputation of not being able to keep our shit together around shiny things and the ability to always fuck things up!

 

 

*I am sure that a few other things crept out of that box. Giant spiders and all manner of weird critters scuttled out and found home on a small continent you and I now know as, Australia.

Remember, remember the fifth of November. Gunpowder, treason, and plot…..

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Why am I writing this in March and not November? I don’t know. Fuck it, I do what I want. Anyway…..

I often forget that the 5th November is only a special day for UK; I have found myself at the receiving end of a very baffled look when asking friends in the US what they’re doing for Bonfire Night.

So, for those of you who do not know why the 5th November is so special, here is why.

The Gunpowder Plot of 1605 was a failed assassination attempt on the life of King James I. This disastrous venture was carried out by a group of Catholics led by a man called Robert Catesby. Their plan was to blow up the House of Lords during the state opening of parliament.

So, why did the Catholics have their medieval knickers in such a twist? Well, misogynistic fat mess King Henry VIII (1491 – 1547) had famously separated from Rome and took control of the church in England. This newly formed Protestant Church of England was a knee jerk reaction after Henry was refused the Pope’s blessing when he said he wanted to divorce his first wife in favour of his new bitch, Anne Boleyn. The Catholic Church is against divorce and views marriage as being a lifelong contract. This royal tantrum led to a new religion which enabled Henry to then go on and have six wives. So, the next time you don’t get your own way all you have to do is tell the Pope to “shove it” and create your own religion where you can do whatever the fuck you want.

When Henry’s daughter, Elizabeth succeeded the throne in 1558 she made it so that anyone appointed to a public or church office was to swear allegiance to the crown and recognise the monarch as head of both church and state. Anyone refusing to do so incurred fines and in some cases execution – we all know Elizabeth’s first words were, “off with their heads”. As a result of these changes Catholicism became marginalised and many continued to practice their faith in secret.

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King James I

James I was already crowned king of Scotland in 1567 and succeeded Elizabeth as king of England and Ireland in 1603. His attitude towards Catholics was slightly more relaxed than that of Elizabeth. Instead of a “heads will roll” approach he would rather see people exiled. Despite his tendency to not favour capital punishment, James was still a target for zealous Catholics.

The plot to blow up the House of Lords was an attempt at killing many birds with one stone. Not only would the King be present, but many other senior members of state including relatives of the monarch, members of the Privy Council, senior judges, and bishops of the Church of England.

Details of the plot were exposed by an anonymous letter which was sent to William Parker, 4th Baron of Monteagle, on 26th October 1605. At the time the letter was received the King was at Butlins enjoying a mini-break, but upon his return to London on 1st November he was made aware of the dastardly plot to kill him. When reading the letter James picked up immediately on the word “blow”, whether this was an observation of a Freudian nature we don’t know, but he assumed that this hinted toward there being weaponry of an explosive nature involved.

A midnight search of the House of Lords on November 4th leads to the discovery of Guy Fawkes, a member of the Catholic conspirators’ squad. Fawkes was found in the company of thirty-six barrels of gunpowder and the means to set them alight.

“Ooh how did these get here? I’m just chillin’ gov’nor. You slag.”
Guy Fawkes 1605

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As news of the plot’s discovery spread throughout London, Guy Fawkes’ co-conspirators began to flee the city. Many of them died fighting against the Sheriff of Worcester at Holbeche House. The survivors, including Fawkes, were put on trial on 27th January 1606; they were found guilty of high treason and sentenced to death.

Sir Edward Coke, Attorney General, declared that each would be dragged by horses, with their head near the ground, and then put to death in the traditional method of the time for such crimes; hung, drawn, and quartered. The condemned would first be hung by the neck, but not to the point of death – more like extremely inconvenient discomfort. They would then look forward to having their genitals chopped off and burnt in front of them. After their slap-dash and primitive gender reassignment operation they would have their bowels and heart removed. Finally the condemned would have their heads removed and the remains of their bodies cut into quarters and displayed across the four corners of the Kingdom.

Fawkes’ three accomplices all suffered this terrible execution, but Fawkes (who was to be executed last) was a sly bastard and managed to wriggle out of his torture by climbing too high before being hung and therefore breaking his neck. Nevertheless, his body was still mutilated and quartered.

To celebrate the King’s success in avoiding assassination November 5th was declared by an act of parliament to be a day of celebration and people were to light bonfires to mark this occasion, but that they were to be done so “provided that this testimony of joy be carefully done without any danger or disorder”, even in the 17th Century people were already suffering the restrictions of Health and Safety.

Guy Fawkes has become a modern icon, symbolising political anarchism and resistance against bodies that may enforce or promote unfair treatment, oppression, and terrorism. The image of Guy Fawkes has turned from terrorist to activist, and his image has become the mask of underground hero V in the graphic novel V for Vendetta in his fight against the dystopian, fascist English state.

For those of you with a keen attention to detail and clever references, you will have also noticed that in the Harry Potter series Dumbledore’s pet phoenix is aptly named Fawkes.

So, next time you’re at a bonfire party stuffing your face with toffee apples and watching the fireworks, just remember that you’re celebrating a failed assassination attempt on the monarchy and the gruesome death of the men behind it, but hey who cares? Big bangs and pretty colours, that’s what I’m all about haha!

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The Battle of Hastings – fish and chips Vs wine and cheese.

 

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To mark the anniversary of Harold Godwinson’s coronation on this day in 1066, here is the story of how he came to gain (and lose) his crown.

As we all know, families do not come without their little squabbles. The royal families of medieval Europe were known for being quite combative with one another on account of them having all married one another. Inbreeding not only lowers the gene pool and creates some odd looking characters, it also lowers the IQ and thus rendering those further down the inbred family tree closer to a cabbage than a human being when it comes to the powers of logic and reason.

Their royal bickering wasn’t to do with who spent more on who for their birthday, or who wasn’t invited to so-and-so’s wedding, instead they fought over the thrones of Europe. It was a family rift such as this in the 11th century which lead to a slight altercation some people refer to as, The Battle of Hastings.

When king Edward the Confessor died in January of 1066 there was nobody left to officially succeed him because he had failed to produce an heir – too much time spent in the confessional and not in the bedroom methinks.

Edward was married to the only daughter of Godwin of Wessex, the most powerful family in England. With his dying breath, Edward announced his brother-in-law, Harold Godwinson (Earl of Wessex) as his successor. This caused problems almost right away because newly crowned King Harold II’s brother, Tostig and the Viking king Harald Hardrada also had their greedy little eyes on the crown.

It was at the Battle of Stamford Bridge where the dreams of a crown and potential Viking-English unification were squashed when Harold defeated both Tostig and Harald. Thus ended, as he thought, the fight for the crown, and also the confusion people were faced over being understood as to which Harold they were talking about – people felt stupid having to over pronounce
Har-O-ld and Har-A-ld; it was only after a few people were wrongly killed for treachery before the penny dropped. “Oooohhhhh, he meant the other guy….oops!”

Harold kicked back and thought that his troubles were over, but little did he know that at the same time a Frenchman was throwing all his toys out of the pram and making his way across the English Channel. The Frenchman in question was William, the Duke of Normandy. He was extremely perturbed because on one drunken night back in 1051, after a successful day playing in the England V Normandy la boule tournament; King Edward had promised William the throne. It was this verbal, albeit slurred, contract (and that they were distant cousins) which cemented William’s claim to the throne.

In September 1066 William landed in England and after securing the city of Pevensey he marched north to Hastings to pick a fight with Harold. On October 14th 1066 Harold and William (now known as ‘the Conqueror’) faced off on Senlac Hill.

William and his forces stood proudly in their ranks; infantry, archers, and cavalry all trained to the highest standard and equipped with the latest weapons. Harold’s army was a slight contrast. He stood lead a herd of poorly trained Anglo-Saxon peasants; some of them were facing the wrong direction, their helmets were often on the wrong way around, those who had swords had most likely already cut themselves with it, and the ones armed with a bow and arrow couldn’t hit a target from half a millimetre away.

Battle commenced at 9am – nice early start, they didn’t want to waste the best part of the day – and the Normans sent a constant bombardment of arrows before charging in. The Normans had to attack uphill which put them at a huge disadvantage and the English threw spears and rocks down at them.

William sent in his cavalry, a little sooner than he should have to be fair, and soon enough the left flank of his army collapsed soon retreated. In the chaos some of the English chased after the Normans and scattered themselves like mindless, bumbling sheep across the battlefield.

A rumour that William had been killed spread amongst the men. Pissed off, William removed his helmet and rallied the troops.

“erm…d’uh. I’m here, Bon-jooouuur!!!”

William led his cavalry forward and they trampled Harold’s forces which had strewn themselves about aimlessly. It became clear that due to the English army mainly being comprised of blithering idiots it would be easy to entice the rest of them out and to break rank. Pretending to retreat in a “chase me, chase me” fashion William was successful in drawing out the English like moths to a flame. Soon enough he had won the battle and gained Norman control of England.

The story goes that Harold was killed by getting an arrow through his eye, as famously depicted in the Bayeux Tapestry. In the chart topping song of the time, ‘Song of the Battle of Hastings’, it says that the Norman knights tore off Harold’s limbs and disembowelled him.

William then marched to London, where the city submitted to his rule. On Christmas Day in 1066 at Westminster Abbey William was crowned King William I of England.

 

 

 

 

 

Mental health patient saves France and becomes a saint.

Joan of Arc is considered a French heroine for her role during the Lancastrian phase of the Hundred Years’ War, and has since been canonized by the Roman Catholic Church as a saint.

Our story begins when Joan was about thirteen years old, it was at about noon on a summer’s day and Joan was in her father’s garden when she heard her first voice. In her own words she describes having heard a ‘voice from God to help me to govern myself’. She was apparently visited by this celestial spectre many times before she decided it was the Archangel Michael. Her story then takes a Dickensian turn when Michael told her she would also be visited by two other righteous phantoms; Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret. Sure enough the two spirits visited her. Joan had been told by the voice of Michael that she must believe and obey everything the spectres told her “for it is our Lord’s command”.

Joan reported that she continued to hear these voices counselling her for the next four years, guiding her in the mission to free her country from occupation. The female voices would instruct her on how to govern herself and primed her for ‘the greater mission’. Joan also confessed to having been visited, although not often, by the Angel Gabriel.

At the age of seventeen the tone of the voices turned to one of a more pernicious intent. The voice of Michael visited her more often and began outlining a scheme which involved the young Joan liberating her country. Joan’s response to the suggestion that she makes a militant life choice is not too dissimilar to the ‘virgin’ Mary’s response when she was told she was with child. Joan claimed that she was ‘a poor girl who knew nothing of riding and warfare’ just like Mary ‘knew not of man’. Joan came to the same natural conclusion we all would after four years of hearing conniving voices in our heads and that is that it must be the will of God. Joan said that if ‘God had commanded me to go, I must do it. And since God had commanded it, had I had a hundred fathers and a hundred mothers, and had I been a king’s daughter, I would have gone’. Yeah, alright luv.

Now, this is where we take a little step back and think about what we’ve just read. Just think about it. Someone hears multiple voices in their head; controlling their actions over a period of years which eventually climax with the demand, not suggestion, but demand, that they go out into the world with the purpose of killing a named group of people. Yes, there was already a war being waged and this order from on high was for her to join said war and liberate her country, but you can’t say that killing isn’t implied as a result of these actions. Hearing voices can point to mental health diagnoses such as psychosis, schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. Joan of Arc’s reports of hearing voices telling her to do things come just over 100 years before women were being wrongly accused by the church of the same thing, only they were being hunted and burnt at the stake for it instead of an entire country pandering to their ramblings. Whether you keep or remove the religious context of the voices in Joan’s head it is still a tad unsettling.

Joan’s situation reminds me of the Euthyphro Dilemma – a philosophical question which asks, ‘is something good because god wills it, or does god will it because it is good?’ This question on its own can be enough to addle the brain, but if you throw in a case like Joan’s it makes things a little harder. Things become even more complex when you start to also consider similar cases of divine voices such as that of Pedro Alonzo Lopez who was apprehended in 1980 for having raped and killed three-hundred young girls across South America. Pedro spent his time in prison professing his love for Jesus, reciting scripture, and carving the Lord’s likeness on any surface he could find. Lopez would praise God and thank him for bestowing this ‘great fortune’ upon him and claimed that killing these girls was ‘the work of the Lord’ and that Jesus himself had given him the power to give life and take it away. Similarly, Peter Sutcliffe “The Yorkshire Ripper” murdered thirteen women and said that he was ‘on a divine mission’ and that he had ‘heard the word of God’. You may think that these are a little extreme and nefarious comparisons to make, but they all have one thing in common, they all claim to have received the word of God instructing them to act, unkindly shall we say, toward one’s fellow man. Just because Joan of Arc went to war in the name of God and her country, does that condone her actions entirely and render her totally free from sin compared to Pedro and Peter? Neither does it declare her at completely sane. It’s worth a thought.

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So, after receiving her heavenly orders Joan petitioned the local garrison commander, Robert de Baudricourt, for an armed guard to accompany her to the French Royal Court at Chinon. She gave the very convincing argument of, “I must be by the King’s side, there will be no help for the kingdom if not from me”. You can appreciate why the commander initially refused her plea, how can a young girl make such a claim. But he didn’t know that Jesus was her homeboy. Finally she was granted an escort and arrived at the Royal Court for an audience with Charles VII. Joan asked if she could tag along on the relief mission to Orléans, but not before she received full armour, a banner, a horse, and a sword – to help forcefully enlighten her enemy with the word of God.

Not long after her arrival in Orléans she managed to turn the well-established Anglo-French war, which started off as a bickering over the rightful ascension to the French throne, into a religious conflict. Charles’ advisers warned that unless Joan’s belief could be recognised without a doubt, and that she was neither a heretic nor a sorceress, then the allegation could be made that Charles’ crown was a gift from the devil. Remembering a quote from one of his favourite films, “if you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball”, Charles ordered a full inquiry and theological examination to confirm Joan’s moral standing – he can deal with losing a few more battles, but the accusation of his crown being fought for by an instrument of evil was much worse. In 1429 the inquiry declared Joan to be, ‘of irreproachable life, a good Christian, possessed with the virtues of humanity, honesty, and simplicity.’ Theologically speaking there was no evidence to support the claim of divine guidance, but at least her morals were sound (erm….ok).

In March 1430 there was a truce with England and Joan became bored from not getting what she wanted. She decided to occupy her time by dictating (because she was illiterate) threatening letters to the Hussites. The Hussites were a rebellious group who had broken away from the Catholic Church over one or two points of doctrine. They believed in such atrocities as freedom of preaching, Holy Communion in both forms (bread and wine), poverty of the clergy and the expropriation of church property, and punishment of notorious sinners. This group had come under numerous attacks and so far managed to defeat all crusades against them. Joan’s letter was warm and from the heart, she promised to, “Remove your madness and foul superstition, taking away either your heresy or your lives”. She also sent a letter to the English, which seems a little unrealistic in the terms she lays out. She demanded the English leave France, but that they also join forces with her and march on Bohemia to destroy the Hussites. The English did not respond. “new number, who this?”

Joan was a zealous Catholic who hated all forms of heresy and also Islam, not very nice if you ask me *religious extremism alarm bells ring in the distance* she sounds like a frenzied young lady, a true Christian, and full of the religious love known as Agapé (sarcasm intended).

Surprisingly, the truce with England came to an end. Joan hopped straight back on the militant bandwagon and traveled to Compiègne to defend the city against a siege of English and Burgundian troops. In 1430 she was part of a group who tried to attack the Burgundian camp at Margny, but unfortunately this preachy teenager and her friends were ambushed and captured, Joan agreed to surrender.st-joan-of-arc

Joan remained in custody until her trial for heresy in 1431. The trial was offiated entirely by pro-English and Burgundian clerics and commanders including the Duke of Bedford and the Earl of Warwick. Bishop Cauchon owed his position to his biased support of the English crown and under ecclesiastical law he lacked authority over the case. With minimal to no evidence against Joan the court had no grounds take her to trial, but they did so anyway. The court also broke a few more rules by not allowing impartial clergy to be in attendance (a requirement in heresy trials) and neither did they grant her legal counsel – perhaps they thought her seraphim advisor might show up to support her instead, but alas no such supernatural being appeared.

Trial records contain astonishing statements from Joan. Known to be illiterate and uneducated she somehow managed to escape the theological bear traps laid out before her; the most famous trap being a subtle one. When asked if she knew she was in God’s grace she gave the answer, “if I am not, may God put me there; and if I am, may God so keep me.” This seems like a simple question, but the scholarly trap lies in the reasoning that Church doctrine dictates that no one could be certain of being in God’s grace. If Joan had answered with a resounding yes, she would have been found guilty of heresy, and if she had said no, she would have confessed herself a liar.

The illiterate girl signed a document renouncing her claims under the threat of immediate execution. The court however were still not satisfied and wanted to obtain further justice. Heresy was a capital offence, but only for repeat offenders and therefore more fuel had to be added to the fire. Multiple offences of cross-dressing were added to the accusations, humorous considering the men at the time wore tights, elaborate tunics with enormously flared sleeves, and a Chaperon (type of hat) which was mega fancy. Joan had been wearing military clothing throughout her entire campaign and had reportedly been wearing the same clothing whilst in prison. She defended her wearing military clothing in prison through fear of being raped, a woman’s dress offered zero protection whereas her uniform enabled her to fasten her hosen and tunic together into one piece making access to her nether yaya. After signing her confession under the threat of execution she had briefly gone back to wearing women’s attire, but had reported that some of the prison guards had tried to molest her and went back to wearing military clothing. The court considered this a relapse of her cross-dressing heresy and added it to the list of offences. These accusations were later appealed when the court case was reviewed after the war. It states in the Summa Theologica by St Thomas Aquinas that necessity would be a permissible excuse for cross-dressing; this would include the use of clothing to protect oneself against rape.

Joan of Arc was found guilty as charged and sentenced to death. On 30th May 1431 she was tied to a tall pillar at the Vieux-Marché in Rouen and burnt alive. Joan had requested that two clergymen stood before her and hold a crucifix. After her death the English cleared away the coals and debris to expose her scorched remains to eliminate any claims that she had escaped. Her body was then burnt twice more to prevent anyone from collecting any relics and her ashes were cast into the River Seine.joan-of-arc-19th-century

In 1456 Pope Callixtus III authorised an enquiry into the trial and officially declared Joan innocent and a martyr. In 1803 Napoleon Bonaparte announced her as a national symbol of France and in 1920 she was canonized.

So, Saint Joan of Arc – French heroine, religious zealot, or fruit loop? You decide.

The Great Global Pissup!

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The New Year is observed on January 1st, the first day of the year on the modern Gregorian calendar as well as the Julian calendar, and there you were thinking the only type of calendar was the Boys of Hollyoaks.

In pre-Christian Rome, before all the significant artwork was destroyed and things were cool, they used the Julian calendar and New Year’s day was dedicated to the god Janus, god of gateways and beginnings, the month of January gets it’s name from the god of “new year, new me”.

As a date in the Gregorian calendar of holy and oppressive Christendom, New Year’s Day ritually marked the Feast of the Naming and Circumcision of Jesus, which is still observed as such in the Anglican Church and Lutheran Church. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather celebrate new beginnings in the Roman tradition rather than get drunk, and suffer the subsequent hangover, in the name of a child having the end of his penis chopped off.

Today, with most countries now using the Gregorian calendar as their means of tracking what day it is, New Year’s Day is probably the most celebrated public holiday. Commonly observed with fireworks at the stroke of midnight, health and safely risk assessmet permitting of corse. Other global New Years’ Day traditions include making New Year’s resolutions, calling one’s friends and family, and there is usually an argument thrown into the mix at some point.

It was way back in 2000BC Mesopotamia (that’s modern-day, U.S. Armed forces playground known as, Iraq to you lot) that the idea of celebrating the new year first came about in mid-March at the time of the vernal equinox. Sticking with this time of year the early Roman calendar assigned the start of the new year to March 1st. At the time the Roman calendar ony had ten months, the first of which being March. To those of you with enough intrigue to have noticed, this would explain why the names of the months are a little skew-wiff; October is the tenth month, but doesn’t octo mean eight? You know, like an OCTOpus? This is because our modern day ninth to twelfth months were originally seventh to tenth – septem is Latin for seven, octo is eight, novem is nine, and decem is ten. The months of January and February weren’t invented until 700BC when the Roman king Numa Pintalis thought he’d shake things up a bit.

The new year was shifted to January 1st in 153BC for no reason other than to streamline things a little. The beginning of the civil year fell on January 1st, this was when the two newly appointed consuls would start their tenure. It’s kind of like us deciding to move the new year to April 1st because that’s the start of the tax year (and when your annual leave in work gets renewed). Having said that, this new year date was a little unruly and wasn’t always celebrated as universally as hoped, some people who “don’t like change” still clung on to March 1st as the start of their new year.

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After Julius Caesar reformed the calendar in 46 BC, what is known as the Julian Calendar, he was was famously assassinated. A murderous act brought about following a bitching session between vexed members of the Senate who no longer knew what day of the friggin’ month it was. Later, after the new calendar had been explained and understood, the Senate made the the decison, most likely driven by awkward guilt and regret, to deify Julius Caesar on January 1st.

In 567 AD the Council of Tours, a Roman Catholic council who brought you popular limitations such as the rule that priests and monks shall never marry or share the company of a member of the opposite sex, also decided to abolish January 1 as the beginning of the year. At various times and in various places throughout medieval Christian Europe, the new year was celebrated on Dec. 25, the birth of Jesus; March 1; March 25, the Feast of the Annunciation; and Easter. The Council of Tours took a universally agreed day of celebration and fucked it so now, again, we didn’t know our arse from our elbow with regards to when the new year actually began.
Staying with the theme of religion we turn our attentions to the pagans of Flanders and the Netherlands in the 7th century. They would enjoy celebrating the first day of the new year and exchanging gifts with oneanother, but this happy and innocent custom was condemned by Saint Eligius who reprimanded them by saying they should NOT set tables, exchange gifts, or “supply superfluous drinks”. Party pooper!

In England, up until 1752, the first day of the new year was recognized on the 25th March on the Feast of the Annunciation, also called “Lady Day” (not to be confused with ladies day when you put on a big hat and a nice dress and go to Doncaster races to drink enough Prosecco to sedate a racehourse). After 1752 January 1st was yet again reinstated as the first day of the new year and was officially baptized as such by Pope Gregory.

There are of course some alternatives to January 1st, Chinese new year for example is celebrated on the first day of the lunar calendar and falls between 20th January and 20th February. Similarly, the Islamic calendar is also based on the lunar cycles and the start of the year changes each time around. Ethiopian new year is celebrated on September 11th at the end of the summer rainy season. In Thailand the new year begins on April 13th or 14th and people traditionally celebrate by splashing blessed water on one another. Finally, we come to Gwuan Valley, Pembrokeshire, Wales who have decided to give a big “fuck you” to the rest of the British Isles and extend the limbo time between Christmas and New Year by over a fortnight and celebrate on January 13th.

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The first day of the new year is a time for us to reflect on the year that has just passed and to look forward to what lies ahead. Many people will make a new year’s resolution, but not all will stick to it. A lot of people stride through the doors of their local gym to (yet again) strike up a membership contract whilst reciting the affirmation, “new year, new me”, only to leave the gym never to be seen again. For the majority of us new year’s day is spent crying into a McDonalds burger whilst watching nature programs as the cumulative festive period hangover begins to kick in.

Around the world there are various other traditions, which all sounds a little more exciting than what us Brits tend to do. In the Philippines a lot of noise is made using fireworks, horns etc to drive out the evil spirits of the previous year and to prevent them from dragging their bad luck into the new one.

There is something called the Polar Bear Club who’s members will revel in plunging themselves into ice-cold waters in order to wash off the old year and embrace the new year with shivvery vigor.

2016 has been a challenging year for us all, and with the forboding inauguration of Donald Trump, I am not too certain 2017 will be much better, but let’s try and kick it’s butt anyway.

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The black death part deux; Inferno of death!! Side note: no rats were blamed in the destruction of seventeenth century London.

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Just when the people of London thought they could breathe a sigh of relief at having survived the Great Plague of 1665 some more shit hits the fan. Much like 2016, just when you think things can’t possibly get any worse a dumb, racist, misogynistic, fucktard muppet gets elected as president of the United States, it just doesn’t get better.

1666 was going as well as it could be considering two hundred thousand people had died from plague the previous year. The optimists, who thought that things could only get better, should have taken the advice of those suffering from hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia (fear of the number 666) because the year of the devil really was going to live up to its name.

On the night of September 2nd a baker called Thomas Farriner had been up all evening practicing his Fougasse as he was planning on entering Great British Bake Off. After a few failed attempts and cursing Paul Hollywood the baker went to bed. His maid stayed up to clean away the flour covered kitchen, but neglected to put out the oven. The heat of the oven caused sparks which ignited and set the wooden home ablaze. In a guilt ridden panic the maid tried, and failed, to climb out of the window and became one of the few victims of the fire.

With the city of London being made predominantly out of wood at the time and with the recent summer having been very dry it made perfect kindling for the fire. Spreading quickly from one house to another it travelled fast. Three hundred houses vanished in no time and a strong wind carried the flames even further.

Fires were quite common back in them olden days and the fire brigade were quite well equipped, but not enough to tackle this. When the Lord Mayor, Sir Thomas Bloodworth, was roused from his beauty sleep to be told of the devastation unfolding in the city he apparently came back with “A woman could piss it out” and went back to bed with zero fucks given.

Chaos spread through the city as people tried to escape the fire and make their way to the opposite side of the river. As with any disaster many people also flocked towards it, if the iphone had been invented that shit would have been trending all over the internet in no time at all.

Samuel Pepys, who was a clerk to the Privy of the Seal, scampered off to inform King Charles II. Because he was super cool and cared for his country, except for that one time during the plague when he ran off to the country to avoid contracting bubonic plague, Charles immediately ordered that all the houses which lay in the path of the fire be torn down in an attempt to create a ‘fire break’. Alas, the fire continued. Fire fighters, now with the help of the King himself, continued to fight the blaze. They tried using gunpowder to blow up buildings and create an even bigger fire break, but that didn’t work either and it also created additional drama, the sound of the explosions lead the already panicked citizens to believe the French were attacking!!

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Good guy King Charles II

On the contrary, when news of the Great Fire reached the French court in gay Paree a week later, King Louis XIV publically ordered that he would not tolerate “any rejoicings about the Great Fire, being such a deplorable accident involving injury to so many unhappy people”. Aaah that’s nice of him! The Venetian ambassador in Paris declared that this accident “will be memorable through all the centuries” – yup, got that right! Louis also offered to send food and provisions to ease the suffering of those who suffered as a result of the blaze. This was all kind of cool of Louis considering that he had been dragged into the Anglo-Dutch war (allying themselves with the Dutch) due to a treaty he accidentally signed back in 1662, despite him having neither the inclination nor the navy to come out and play war.

For four days the blaze ravaged over half of the city and despite the worst of the flames now extinguished some parts of the city would continue to burn for months afterwards. The fire came to a halt after the wind, which had previously been responsible for aiding the fire’s speedy advance, changed direction and turned the blaze back on itself and therefore leaving it nothing more to burn.

More than thirteen thousand houses, eighty-seven churches, and fourty-four livery halls were raised to the ground, the historic city gates were severely damaged, but luckily the Tower had remained unscathed. St Paul’s Cathedral was also lost the the blaze. The heat of the fire was so intense that the lead roof melted and reports tell of the streets flowing with molted lead. The loss of the cathedral, and pretty much the whole city, opened up the opportunity to redesign and replan it from scratch, like a phoenix out of the ashes our beautiful capital rose under the guidance and design of Sir Christopher Wren, and the jewel in his crown was the new St Paul’s Cathedral (completed in 1711).

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Dramatic Hollywood reenactment of the Great Fire of London.

There is one report from the Great Fire which is a little odd, and as bizarre as it sounds I am lead to believe it. Apparently the main bulk of fatalities belonged not to citizens (records show only five people died in the fire), but to pigeons. Yep, you read that correctly, pigeons. Those fuckers were apparently too stubborn to leave their nests and when they finally decided to evacuate their feathered were singed and burned and they tumbled down into the world’s biggest BBQ.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom however, the inferno had successfully cleansed the city and totally eradicated the remnants of plague. The Fleet, which was basically an open river of disease and poo that ran through the streets and into the river was literally boiled and sterilized. No more slums, no more problems.

To one small group of parliamentarians, led by John Rathbone and William Saunders, the Great Fire  has saved them a job. Earlier that year in April there was a plot to assassinate the King, overthrow and government and wipe the city off the face of the earth by lowering the portcullis and burning it to the ground.

Another side story from that year was that of a lady called Elizabeth Styles, you know, Harry’s great great great great nan. She claimed that five months previously a Frenchman had approached her and predicted that there “would not be a house left between Temple Bar and London Bridge.” I’m not too sure how reliable this story is, she might have been pissed up on Pinot Grigio one night and misinterpreted a Frenchman’s broken english when he was trying to ask for directions to ze local maison de whores.

So, yeah we had a pretty shitty time with another bout of plague and then a fire of biblical proportions, but out of destruction comes new life and London is one cool-ass place.