I’ve started a lot of blogs in the past but none that have really hit it off. Yet today I started this blog a Scottish Lassie and It feels like I’ve hit the nail on the head Finally. I thought about making a blog on a lot of things books , music , leftism but they all seem very generic and I’m not sure if I’m an outstanding enough reviewer to survive against the hundreds of blogs on these topics out there. So I thought whats close to home? what is there about me that isn’t dull that I would like to be defined by? My culture of course! I come from Scotland and our culture isn’t something you could run out of writing about quickly for such a small population everyone knows we are a power house when it comes to the arts , sciences and recipes. America may have burgers but it will never beat a fried mars bar , England may have Easterners but can compete against Harry potter , Sherlock homes , and Doctor Who …… I think not !!! Music they can have Justine Bieber any day we have Biffy , Twin Atlantic , Frightened Rabbit .And our language is the brawest of them all. Should I go on ………
- Tunnock’s Tea Cakes
- Andy Murray
- The telly
- oats – We conquered hunger.
- Aileen Paterson
- SQUARE SAUSAGE – HOW CAN WE NOT BE THE BEST COUNTRY WHEN WE LITERALLY INVENTED SAUSAGE IN THE SHAPE OF A SQUARE !!!!!!
OK you get the picture ,
other country’s may have their riches but it will never beat our whisky. 🙂
If I am being brutally honest with myself I would call myself a failure. I dropped out of school aged 16 which in some peoples eyes makes you only useful for collecting bins or scrubbing toilets. My grammar isn’t up to scratch my writing misspelt and disorganised. Would I preach to the gods that this is the best way to live your life. No I wouldn’t. Poverty is brutal and takes its tole on you. If you want to spend your life on the couch watching Come Dine With Me and Primark hauls and hanging around the bus station all day filling your lungs with god knows what to numb your reality out then by all means follow in my foot steps.
If you want to drive around in a BMW and go shopping for fruit in Waitrose. Then maybe stay in school. However I suppose our experiences make us who we are. I for example am probably a chav who roams the streets in a hoodie and leggings. I am the definition of slipping through the net. Although I’ve made good friends and art from the depths of hell which would never have happend if I didn’t make the choices I did…. I suppose.
Perhaps In some ways failure is good for us It makes us more humble. It gives us a different perspective. You look at a homeless person on the street and instead of judging them your like Jesus Christ Im one away from being them !! And hastily hand them your months benefits (Jks)
Just go easy on yourself If you find yourself at the job centre your among thousands of people in the same boat. Dont live alone with your fear of failure.
A Letter TO 21-Year-Old Me!!
I previously on this blog did a letter to 18-year-old me when I was 17. I’ve actually succeeded in accomplishing some of my goals (Like yes losing my virginity) . I am also probably now a border line alcoholic so I’ve completed the drinking goal (Damn those cocktails) However some things such as my health improving or going to a music festival have stayed the same if not gotten worse. The answer to that question are things overall better? No there not. They are WAY WORSE!! Anyway, lets begin a letter to 21-year-old me.
- How’s the blog have you reached lets say 300 followers we’ll aim high. That’s 200 followers in two years that’s reachable.
- Have you sat your Higher English yet? Please say yes
- Are you in your own place? If not I feel very sorry for you
- A sinister one but have you killed yourself yet? I hope not you weak piece of shit.
- Are you pregnant I’m not sure if I would be happy or sad for the answer to that?
- Are you working do you finally have a Job ?
- Is the psychosis and low mood any better?
- Are you overall more content?
That’s it folks for my letter to 21 year old me. Please like and follow.
The Woman In Black. I studied the novel by Susan Hill at school. I thought what better film to do a review on as the autumn nights draw in and we are all looking for a good horror film to snuggle up and watch. The Woman In Black has to be my favourite film. We follow Arthur Kipps a young lawyer as he ventures to Crythin Gifford and Eel Marsh house to sort out a deceased women’s affairs. Little does he know the town is being terrorized by the Woman In Black who takes people children as her own child was taken from her.
The film starts with three girls jumping out a window. Cheery I know. Then we move onto Kipps story. Different from the book the start of the film has his wife dying in childbirth. We see a grief stricken Kipps and the death of his wife looms over the whole film. Kipps is told in order to save his career he must go to Cryfin Gifford and sort out the affairs of Alice Drablow.
The main themes of the film are Isolation. This theme comes through in the setting of the film where Eel marsh house is isolated surrounded by marshland. Kipps also finds himself isolated not only by his visits to Eel marsh house but also his interaction with the residents of Crythin Gifford who are hostile towards his because of his work at Eel Marsh house. Another theme in the film is revenge. Since losing her son Jennef Humpray(The woman in black) seeks revenge on Crythin Gifford by killing their children. Many children die in the film. The girls jumping out of the window, a girl who drinks lye , and another girl Mr Jeromes daughter who dies in a fire that Arthur Kipps tries to rescue her from. A final theme in the film is fear. Crythin Gifford is steeped in fear. They fear their children will be taken from them because Arthur Kipps has disturbed the Woman In Black by visiting Eel Marsh house. There are also a lot of scenes where we see Arthur Kipps suffering from fear when he is alone at Eel Marsh House. When he is at the house he sees the woman in Black numerous times once in the graveyard and once at a bedroom window. There is also a lot of jump scares in this film and a lot of things that build tension. For example the nursery of the boy who died in the marshes surrounding Eel Marsh House is kept like a shrine. There is a rocking chair that starts rocking by itself and echos around the house. There is also many banging doors. All of this builds tension and fear in the viewer.
Samual daily is the only one in the town who is welcoming to Arthur Kipps. He takes him under his wing and lets Arthur stay at his house and is not scared by the town’s superstitions about Eel Marsh house.
At the end of the film Kipps son is lured onto the train tracks by the woman in black. Kipps notices this and jumps onto the train tracks to safe him. Unfortunately it is too late and they both die.
Thanks for reading and dont forget to like and Follow 🙂
You might recognise the title from the book love on the doal (Which I admitedly have not read) Currently Im living on benifits. I am poor. I think being a poor woman in The UK. Is probably the worst thing that can happen you. We fear poverty. We get nervous in exams because of it we fear being titled a
“bum” we fear drowning in what is the uks class system. Far from the life of oliver twist modern day poverty is maybe a little less brutal but still FUCKING AWFUL !! Its something you wouldnt wish on your worst enemy. Here are some points on why as much as much as the middle classes idelise our life of doing nothing all day and long lie ins why poverty in the UK is still the closest you will get to a living HELL!!
Not being able to drive – This is the first thing that makes life impossible. Having to hang around at bus stations is not something youd want to bring your children into. Aside from the dismal scottish weather. The whole situation of not having a car and having to travel on buses is very degrading and alienting.You somehow feel less. You are the underclass they label us as in the sociology classes at prestigious universitys. Somehow we are not human because of this fact.
Poor Housing – It seems that accedemics who have escaped their council houses which they were born wear it like a badge of honour. “I’m a working class acedemic” For the rest of us left on the estates of hell its not so cheary. Small cramped houses , damp coming through the roof and the constant lingering smell of ciggeretes for all us low class people who still smoke. I think in Britain we focus on becoming middle class too much.We forget about making life for the “working classes” more bearable in an attempt to maybe move up the ladder.
Money – Ah the thing that devides this country. Money. Living on the doal. Is practically a death sentence. I mean to the extreme right we are baisically useless burdens and may aswell be burnt at the stake like witches. We are all mennaces to society who didnt try hard enough at school and go around spending the countries money crowding up pubs and enjecting heroine into our veins , because of this somehow we “deserve” to be poor. Like the money guzzling tax evading , probably cocaine taking rich deserve to live in mansions. Right?
Food – I read an article recently on a couple who spent all their benfits on take aways A.K.A me. Why this made the news I do not no. I think it is just to make us look like fat useless burdens who should be living off gruel and packets of potatoes powder. Like let them spend their money on what they want. Theres not articles about analysing how middle class couples spent their money on shoes and wine and a car they cant even afford. Most of us “poor people” realistically live off cheese sandwhiches and thats a fact.
So the next time your about to judge someone on the doal think about theses things 🙂 We are suffering and it needs to end.
1.sometimes people are wrong. Wither its your parents or proffesionals sometimes it better just not to listen.
2.Stay In School No matter how hard it gets. When people say you’l regret it you honestly will. Dont give in to opression. As the quote goes education is our greatest weapon.
3 Avoid psyciatric hospitals at all costs. You know when you hear about writers being depressed its kinda a sterotype.Honestly being admited to hospital will make your health so much worse as no one wants to be degraded and treated like shit the way they do in hospital.
4.Its ok not to be ok- Sometimes you have to give yourself a break. No ones perfect and you probably are doing your best. Minus the breakdown.
5.Remember who the real enemy is – You may have had a bad experience in life that turns you bitter. You may look for someone to blame your family , your friends , yourself. You have to remember that its not these peoples fault. Its just the fascist society we live in. If anything its moneys fault because the world revolves around it.
6.Go easy on the chocolate – As nice as it is. You will gain weight.
7.Smoking isnt always bad – All you see over the packets of ciggerettes are warnings not to do it. Honestly though I think smoking has helped me. It helps mask panic attacks , gets me to go outside more which elievates depression , helps me mentain my weight and can be used as inspiration. Most of my ideas for poems and prose pieces have happend over a fag. To be honest I wish Ide started it sooner.
8.Its hard being a young woman – I know. Its hard being a woman. Its hard being second best. If your poor and a woman its hard being like 10th best. Try and do things that empower you and help convince you your not just scum of the earth. Read books by female authors watch films with female actresses , listen to music sung by females. Go to clubs with other woman. Just know that we all feel the same.
9.ts Natural to worry about the future – Will I ever get a job? Will I be a bad mother? Will my partner leave me ? Its natural
10.Dont let other people bring you down – This kinda ties into my first suggestion. Dont listen to nasty people. Dont listen when your called a bum , dont let it get to you when people at the Job centre look down their snots at you. You are great, you are you!!!
Ann lay with the sheets pulled up to her noes so that it covered her cheeks which were numbed from the cold. The darkness hung around her the silhouettes of what little objects she possessed lit up by a stream of pure light that slunk through a gap in the lace blinds that covered her window. She reached out running her slim fingers over the shaped holes in the yellowed material. A musty smell cast off them filling her lungs and making her splutter her throat burning. When she was little she’d had, the same sounding cough a great whooping one, one that made her father awaken from his sleep in the dead of night and run through to her bedroom to see if she was alright. Coughs weren’t the same when you were a child, it could have been scarlet fever or polio it sent her father into a state. If she ever had one he would run himself down accusing himself of not feeding them well enough, when in reality it was never the fault of an individual. Now her cough came from the city smog, the pollution off the factories that stuck to your skin and hair or the damp that grew from the walls where she was housed.
She rolled over, turning her back to the light and staring into the pitch black. She could feel the cold nip at her legs as she lay in only her thin vest, the thick blanket over her shoulders the only thing covering the vulnerability of her bare flesh. Not that long ago she had lay in this bed with another body whose strong arms had wrapped around her chest and whispered bliss into her ear with his warm sweet breath. She had caved in, in those moments safe in a gentleman’s arms. Just outside had lay the cruelty, poverty, decay and the selfish desperation of her fellow humans. Survivors only at the expense of another. No. She wasn’t good. No number of acts could make her pure. As no human was. We are simply animals run on fear and instinct, poisoned and diluted by intellect. No one individual was evil. Only a society could be that. A facade of the masses that hid the cruellest acts of torture, oppression, and evil in plain sight.
That night had been a one-night stand with a high ranked man in the forces. Not a working man from the pit or the site. He was not one who would be drinking in a pub around her bit. He wasn’t their “kind”. He had fair skin and hair along with clean manicured figure nails, and polished boots. A white-collar boy. He’d lured her to him. Slid up to her at the bar and made her laugh easily. Had her in the palm of his hand from the first sentence. It made her feel special that he’d picked her. She was nothing. He’d paid for her drinks and joined her at her table filling her with lager shandes after a Friday shift. They’d chatted and laughed for hours about the cold weather, his work and politics. She wasn’t very aware of politics. She’d heard rumours of the suffrage movement going on in the cities although had not seen much in the newspapers they tended to ignore it, didn’t like to give it the attention even if it be negative treated it as a disease they feared would spread. Here in a small industrial town most woman lived in the dark over the topic. She knew her older brother voted liberal the party in power at present. And whenever he talked about it he would swear a lot. This man was a member of the conservative party and said for a fact there was to be a war. She’d dismissed it as guff. They’d never be a war. Not now with all the new technology, bombs and artillery they had nowadays. They weren’t that stupid. They’d kill us all. At eleven the pub was closing up and they had been thrown out by the barman with the other late-night stragglers. A group of men from the pits, a lone chubby man, and a thin ragged alchy. Outside the rain had been pissing it down and they’d made a spur decision to seek shelter at the bookies. He’d placed a bet on one of the horses in her name chucking on ten pound the equivalent of three months’ wages. “It will win” he’d announced. He’d a confidence and asserted way to him she’d marvelled at. He held himself up straight. There seemed to her no doubt that plagued his mind. Not like them here where they doubted themselves constantly wither they could put food on the table or heat their frail bones, constantly straining to not sink to the bottom.
I’ve never done a TBR before and I thought perhaps now would be a good time to start as where getting into autumn and can get excited about so many horror stories. So get your cup of tea and cosy blanket and curl up with some really good books.
The first book on my list is :
THE WOMAN IN BLACK – I studied this book at school and would love to reread it and do an analysis of it for you. The story follows Arthur kips a soliciter who goes to settle afairs at Eal Marsh house. However he does not know that the house and town is haunted by The woman In black who lost her son and now kills other peoples children to seek revenge.
DRACULA – This is just a clasic that I would love to read as I know so little about it.
JANE EYRE – Im currently in the middle of reading this book and just like dracula it is a classic. It was also written by the greatest woman author of all time. Ive read it once before and cried at parts thats how muich emotion it stirred up in me.
Thats it for my autumn TBR. reveiws of these books should be going up on my blog soon !!
Before I begin this reveiw *cough slaughter* I must point out that I have never watched the original 1996 Trainspotting film which (yes is a classic). However overall I felt it’s predocessor was pretty dire. First thing that struck me about this film was it’s 18 raiting , which I was quite dissapointed about as I was planning on seeing it at the cinema .(Yes my expectations of it were THAT high I was prepared to pay an arm a leg and probably a kidney knowing the price of cinema tickets to go watch it) Now I wouldn’t personally class myself as someone who could be easily taken aback. I curse every second sentence so it would probably make me a hypocrite. Yet even for me . this film is VERY crude. A little bit I can handle and was expected but taken to the point that you have to close your blinds otherwise your neighbours will probably think your watching porn , I felt was too much. This film had a lot of sex scenes (extreme sex scenes) in it as it was about them getting back together to set up a brothel business.
The main theme of this film is the underclass / drug /crime / Violence I couldn’t actually work out the theme as it was so bad it didn’t really have one. The film starts off with the main charcter spud trying to commit sucide. Yet dont worry he gets rescued by his best friend Mark Renton (who is clean from heroine). However spud is not happy with this and tries to baisically hammer Mark for leaving years a go and giving him money to spend on life running drugs. Another main character in the story is simon. Who now in his thrities runs brothels and a failing pub with his partner Veronica and takes cocaine. When Mark meets Simon an intense brawl breaks out over money Mark stole from Simon years ago.
The last character in the film is Franco who is serving time in the jail. At the start of the film he manages to escape Prison by getting someone to stab him. From there he runs home to his wife and son Franco Jnr. Franco Jnr tells his father he has inrolled in college to study Hotel Managment. His father is disgusted at this and more voilence breaks out. In the end Franco Jnr is forced to acompany his father in robbery. Later in the film Mark starts to fall for Veroika Simons girlfriend and they begin an affair.
“Why was I always suffering , always browbeaten ,always accused , for ever condemned ? ” – Charlotte Bronte
In this post ide like to touch on my experience of a Scottish psychiatric hospital. I have been in hospital twice. The first time so awful I can barely write about it and the second a more pleasant ride. The first thing to note is there is not much difference from a prison. You get dished out the same food for instense some kind of mash potatoe , and lumpy custard washed down by weak diluten juice. Maybe you would get more freedom you would say ? Nope you are trapped behind locked doors with the only entertainment some badly written detective novel and some worn out game of snakes and ladders. Overall the hospitals are pretty dire and could be used as a method to increase suffering.
In the morning you line up for your medication like queing to be served in Primark. Except a lot more drained and fatigued. You get dished out some yellow anti psycotics and nausating tasting anti depressents and swallow them down heavily with luke warm water. Then you go through to the “lounge” to get your tea and cold toast and settle down to watch a nice channel four drama made Before Christ. At around ten ocklock you slump back to your bay pull the curtains and collapse into a mid morning nap. To wake two hours later feeling like your mouth is some African desert and the only thing you have to quench your thirst is some stale jug of water from the night before.
At this point you pull out your granny pants and leggings and some oversized pink t-shirt which is supposed to make you look sexy but instead just makes you look like a giant marshmallow , and brave the shower. Only to discover the hot water is not working yet make the wise decision to keep quiet convincing yourself a freezing cold shower might just be the cure to bring you out of your deep depression.
The rest of the day is a blure spent doing crosswords very badly and using up all your mobile data watching YouTube videos on pointless items people have bought out of Home Bargains. All this of course is disturbed by patients swearing and shouting in distress and doors beeping as smokers ferry in and out. Then after your evening meal. It hits you. The reason your in there. Thoughts of sucide. It seems that putting yourself in such a vulnerable uncontrollable position of being a patient in a psychiatric ward takes it’s toll on you and makes you just want to end it.. Overcourse you can’t cause your supervised twenty four seven by nurses and your probably too much of a chicken anyway. Then your mum comes in to visit and all is resolved. As you realise no matter how bad your problems are your mum’s always top them.
They called it the death hospital
No distance between then and now
No time at all
Empty days filled
With game shows and
chicken pie with peas and lumpy mash
In the hallways nurses walk lightly up and down here and there
Patients sob ,scream and swear
A poor house
For the “sick”
To sleep restlessly in a bed of sky blue
With the curtain pulled
Pills are dished out like sweeties
To the fella , the drunk , the lady in red
A solution to all.
Trapped in by the heavy stone walls.
From there our dignity is whiped
But where else to go to escape the cold night.
The nurses voices soothing but tired
Some are brutal
Their eyes have seen
Too many faces
Too many life’s