Things my parents gave me

Yesterday I was popping to an area of West London I've never been to. I strolled out of the station and walked for ten minutes in the wrong direction. Because, like my Dad, I always get my left and right mixed up. Constantly. Do not ask me for directions if you're driving. Unless it's in a straight line, I'll get it wrong (or be asleep five minutes after we set off). I can read maps, but 9 out of 10 times if I say right, I mean left.

But there's lots of things we get from our folks. Little things that we don't even realise. The bump in my nose is from my dad, my absolute refusal to believe that I can't do something is most definitely from my mum. Both of my parents are fiercely stubborn, it's safe to say that I get an extra dose of that.

I'm so much like both of my parents. When I'm at my strongest, I'm like my mum. This isn't always a good thing - sometimes I'll be having an argument and catch myself in a reflection and there's a realisation that I'm turning into my mother. But when I laugh I look like her too. And when I'm being silly. But my mannerisms, the way I doodle when I'm on the phone, and all the little bits of me that are seemingly of no consequence are from my dad. You might not see them all the time, but they're there.

And then there's the stuff I amuse myself with. I drink juice right out of the carton because it used to annoy my dad sooooooo much. I eat cereal when I watch films because I never understood why my mum wouldn't let me. All the little things I can do that are still a little rebellious.

But it's more than that. My parents are such awesome people, on their own and together. But together they work. They make sense. They've been married for almost 30 years. My parents gave me a complete and utter belief in love, and marriage. I'm really lucky to have that, even if I'm going in the wrong direction sometimes.

Flickr image from Eggybird's photostream.

Why London Nude Tech is a good thing

London Nude Tech Calendar Teaser from Leapanywhere.com on Vimeo.

I've been watching a debate gather around London Nude Tech and I still can't help thinking "what's the problem?" For those of you who don't know what I'm on about, a group of people (both men and women) amongst the tech scene are getting their kit off for a calendar to raise money for charity.

But (of course) everyone is up in arms about this. Because women in tech can't take their clothes off! Women should never ever ever take their clothes off if they want to be respected ever again. And actually, I can kinda see the issue with that. I can't imagine it being very easy to have a business meeting with someone who is thinking "there's a picture of you naked on my office wall". But here's the thing: Its their choice.

And that choice has got fuck all to do with anyone else.

The people doing this calendar aren't stupid. They wouldn't do it if they thought in any way it would damage their careers. And yes, there might be a small amount of narcissism involved, but hasn't it occurred to anyone that they're looking for a novel way to raise money for charity?

We're not donating to charity as much as we used to. Those direct debits are being cancelled because we can't afford them. We're getting more irate with charity muggers. But we haven't stopped caring. Alicia Navarro has already set up Good.ly (the charitable version of Skimlinks), is it really so hard to believe that the people involved might be doing this for a good cause?

Of course it is. Because that's the easy option. Everyone embraced the Calendar Girls story because it was new. Sure, this is jumping on the bandwagon, but the end result is the same. People raising money and awareness for a cause that matter. Because until this calendar, I didn't even realise that the charity Take Heart India existed. Half of the blog posts I've read bitching about this project haven't even mentioned the charity. Missing the point.

I think the choice of charity says a lot about the project itself. Every year, male celebrities get their kit off in Cosmo for charity (prostate cancer, I think). And it's gratuitous and a bit tacky (like the rest of Cosmo) and it just doesn't ring true. This does. It makes sense. People who can raise money for something that matters to them. Yes, they could have just donated their hourly rate, but charity is much more about awareness than it is about money. It's about long-term investment. That's important. A monthly reminder that the £10 you fork out for a calender is doing something.

Do I think the women are demeaning themselves by stripping off? No, actually. Not every type of stripping is demeaning (having been a nude life model for a photographer, I can say this with some confidence). Women are lucky. A wise women once reminded me that at least we have the choice to take our clothes off if we want to. And if we can turn a stereotype on its head and do something good, then what the hell is wrong with that? Don't try and turn this into a row about women in tech. It's not about that at all. It's not like they've decided to have a "go to work in your underwear" day. This is something different. As a women, your position in the industry isn't damaged because Hermione Way takes her shirt off. Go stand on another soap box.

We have such double standards when it comes to nudity. It's OK if it's men doing it in our magazines, it's OK for a burlesque dancer to do it. It's even OK for the WI to do it. But if a professional woman does it then she's unprofessional? Why is the focus on the women? Why not the men. Some of whom I'd quite like to see naked as it happens.

Can we get some perspective here? A group of people had an idea to raise some money for a charity they believe in. Anyone who thinks they're damaging their career, or the tech industry or women in tech clearly hasn't met these entrepreneurs. And if you have, then you're seriously underestimating them.

Fateful endings

Last week, I was reminded of that film Sliding Doors when I stopped to help a tourist who was lost buy a ticket (he must have been lost, we don't get many tourists in Charlton). I missed my train, despite my good deed. How much did my life change because I missed that train? Probably not a single bit. I watched Sliding Doors again at the weekend, it's one of my favourites. London looks amazing in it (so does John Hannah for that matter) and I remember having an argument with my brother about whether or not Gwyneth Paltrow was British. Her accent is flawless.

But the very thought that everything is fated it still something that I'm undecided about. Because it's very convenient isn't it? Something great happens and you really believed it would, so therefore it must be fate? I'm not buying it. But I do believe there's sometimes more to something than chance. Because sometimes it feels different, doesn't it?

I just don't know if I believe that things are "meant to be". When I broke up with the boy earlier this year, I was exhausted. But because things were so difficult, I'd convinced myself that there had to be a relationship at the end of it because if we could get through everything then "it was meant to be". Like we deserved to be happy or something. Truth is, I do deserve to be happy, just not with him. But I always convinced myself that it didn't matter about how we met. As long as I could convince myself it was meant to be, it didn't matter how we got together. It's the most selfish (or the most blinded) I've ever been. Believing it was fate was so much easier than the truth. I don't think being in love is an excuse for being a bad person.

Believing in fate isn't a get of of jail free card.

Fate is the get out clause, isn't it? It's the thing that a flimsy rom-com hangs on. It's the "it doesn't matter how unlikely it is that things work out - we have fate on our side!" bullshit that pisses me off (which is why I actually like Sliding Doors - the couple actual work). That all important 'meet-cute' that makes you think anything can happen. That one day you'll be walking down the street, throw your latte over someone and the next day you're in love and shagging like rabbits. Most people you threw your coffee over in London would be really fucking mad. And have minor burns that would need seeing to. Love doesn't happen like it does in Notting Hill. It's not real.



I don't buy fate, even though it's a nice idea. Maybe that's the problem. It's too convenient isn't it? I love that because I'm single, people say "you just haven't met the right guy yet" and they're right, but I don't think I'm going to find him bumping into every guy who happens to be holding a cup of coffee. The dry cleaning bill would be very expensive for a start. And I have a habit of walking on the wrong side of the road (I get bored if I walk the same way down the same street all the time). Maybe that's where bad relationships come from - you've just ended up in the wrong place talking to the wrong person, while the right person is in a queue in Starbucks on the other side of the street.

See how stupid that sounds? I don't think people work like that. I think there's a lot to be said for chance meetings but there's more to a relationship than that. There's more to anything that that. Every choice you make in life is your own. Am I writer because it's fate? No, I just realised what I wanted to do. And I'm single because I realised that I would be happier on my own. Sometimes a chance encounter can lead to a wonderful opportunity, but if that's the case, it's very rare you didn't put in the groundwork first.

I think we make our own luck, and our own fate. I think our lives are very much a product of our own actions. Sometimes things work out or go a different way, but that's all there is to it. It's those decisions you make that shape your life, not those chance meetings you have with people. We have chance meetings with people all the time, it's the ones that last more than a second that are the important ones. Because that's when the people you meet change you. Whether it's a kid on the tube who is laughing at your shoes, or someone you're going to spend the rest of your life with. The things that make you stop are the things that matter. And those things happen all the time. I just don't think we always pay attention to them. Sometimes small things are bigger than we realise.

Imagine if fate did exist, but most of the time we're so caught up in our own lives that we're too busy to really see it. Talking to strangers and people we don't know makes life more interesting, whatever the reason for it. And it's always funny when kids laugh at your shoes. Even if you don't realise it at the time.

Fate's a nice story in a pretty box, but you could offer me all the meet-cutes in the world and I'd still rather I was in control of my own happiness, instead of waiting for it to come along.

My new diary project

Not that there's anything wrong with this here blog (although now it's a bit colder the green is annoying me rather a lot), but I realise that I don't really keep a diary anymore. I scribble down thoughts in my notebook if I'm having a hard time (that's generally why if you touch my notebooks I get a bit mad), but I try and maintain this blog as my "happy space". Sure, I'm still honest, but I don't think a blog is the place for personal ranting (really, it's not). So I had a thought about how to keep a mini diary.

I'm going to send postcards to myself. Now, that might sound stupid (especially when my housemates pick up the mail before me on a Saturday morning), but I think it'll be a good way to really catalogue what I'm up to, how I'm really feeling about certain things, and where I've been. A bit like Postsecret, but just for me.

I love postcards. They're pretty, perfect little things that make me smile. I buy them when I'm abroad just for me (although I lost the Marlene Deitrich one I bought from the Wintergaarten in Berlin) I'm going to just buy one every time I pop into a newsagent, or gallery and then scribble some words. Whatever I'm feeling, thoughts about my day, where I've been. I'm not very good at scrapbooking so it would be cool to have a few more images to go with my thoughts. I think sending little postcards is the best way to do this. Besides, they're bloody everywhere in London. Someone should buy them, they're mostly pretty.

And then I'll post it. And while it might not mean much to me at the time, in a few years it'll be really nice to remember where I was when I bought the card, how I was feeling and what I was up to. There's a lot to be said for being succinct when you're writing down your thoughts. It's great sometimes to do a massive outpouring, but I think there's something to be said for being concise. Because you have to really think about what's important. What's actually on my mind? What's bothering me really? What's making me happy?

I'm excited about this new project. I'm on my way into central London to meet Mel in Selfridges (yes, on a Saturday, we might never get out alive). There's all sorts of thoughts in my head, and all sorts of postcard shops along Oxford Street. I have no idea what my first postcard will be, or if the mood I'm in will affect the card I choose, and I don't really know what I'm going to write, but it's gonna be kinda fun finding out.

It's nice to have a new writing project just for me. I'm excited.

Flickr image from Abby Lane's photostream.

Happy things

An extra long list because it's been a tough week:

1. Dave Haste for being supremely awesome.
2. Clip-clopping horses going past my house on match day. Clip-clop, clip-clop.
3. Being a grown-up.
4. Faircake London cupcakes.
5. Green & Blacks milk chocolate.
6. Exciting new plans.
7. Not drinking.
8. Me time.
9. Getting excited about books again.
10. New client happy with my work.
11. Smiling a little more than the start of the week.
12. Making friends.
13. Listening to the good stuff, phasing out the bad.
14. My new camera.
15. Hanging out with Sam.

:-)

My favourite books in the whole world

I've been asked what my favourite book ever is more than once this week. And most of the time you'll get a resounding answer (the one that's kicking off this list), but as I studied English Literature at Uni, I'm not sure it's as cut and dry as that. Because asking me what my favourite books are is like getting a music fan to name their top ten albums. I'm going to find this just as hard, but here are my favourite ever books in the whole world:

The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver

This is my favourite book in the world. It's the most beautifully written story and if you're after a book to read, expect me to badger you until you buy this. Everyone I know who has bought it after I banged on about it has loved it. It's an epic family saga that spans across Zaire over three decades. It honestly makes me doubt every single thing I've ever written. I don't think I'll ever be able to play with words as well as Barbara Kingsolver does in this book. I read it at least once a year. If I buy you this book it's safe to say I'm actually in love with you.

Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

I adore Jane Eyre. After taking the opportunity to read it five times at Uni, I've read it more since finishing (but in fairness I left five years ago) and it just gets better. There's something about Jane Eyre that stands out from all other female protagonists of her time. She kicks ass. Charlotte is my favourite of the Bronte sisters and I'm so pleased I read this again after uni. Best rest under blankets in winter (but if you're not going to read it, you could do a lot worse than catch the most recent BBC adaptation).

Rebecca's World, Terry Nation

I have an awful amount to thank this book for. It's the book I read as a child that made me want to write. Something changed when I read this book. I'd always written stories, but this book flipped a switch in that childish little head of mine and made me want to be a writer. Four years ago, I nabbed an out of print copy on eBay for about £20 (although I've just looked on Amazon and four years later they're selling for £100 - awesome) and when it arrived I took the day off work, curled up and read the whole thing cover to cover. There was only a few bits I could remember before I started, and I knew there was a really scary bit, although I couldn't remember why. But when I started reading it, I knew it was the bit that scared me as a kid. There's something really exciting about a book being able to stay with you for 20, 30 even 40 years. That's why I want to write. Because words stick with people.

To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee



This book was great when I read it at school for my English GCSE, but every time I've read it since it's got better. Is there a better, more noble man in literature than Atticus Finch? There's something so precious about seeing the story through the eyes of Scout and Jem that really turns this book on its head. It wasn't only a very daring book for its time, it was also a damn good story. And, a bloody good film for that matter. It's very rare that a film will be as good as the book, but for me Gregory Peck will always be Atticus Finch.

Birthday Letters, Ted Hughes



I think this book surprises even me. Because I'm not a huge fan of poetry. I've tried to get on board with it, but it's not something I usually enjoy. But then I watched that Gwyneth Paltrow film Sylvia. And instead of getting all excited about Ms. Plath, I was much more curious about Ted Hughes (until I watched that film I had no idea they were married). I wanted to know about this book he'd written after her suicide, something that had so entirely consumed him that he wrote such a huge body of work about it. It's somehow bigger than writing a novel about it. It's like every thought he ever had after her suicide was about that one act. And that fascinates and saddens me at the same time.

There are lines from his poems in my novel and Fulbright Scholars is still the most romantic thing I've ever read. When I travel, this book always comes with me. I don't read it all in one sitting (seriously, who would do that to themselves?), but I dip into it every now and again and always find something new and exciting. I picked up my copy in a £2 bookshop in Greenwich. It's one of the only books I don't lend to people.

The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy

This book was the best thing I read at uni. I was halfway through a tough course and if I remember rightly I'd just finished reading The Cement Garden. That's a very short, but very tough read. I needed a book like this. Wonderful, imaginative and totally escapist. Heartbreaking too. I started it at 9am, curled up in bed. I didn't move until I'd finished the whole thing 7 hours later. I was crying so much at the end. It's a beautiful book very much in the same vein as The Poisonwood Bible (family tragedy, misunderstanding, foreign ground).

It's a wonderful story and my essay question about it was one of the things I remember most from Uni. I talked about inanimate things as characters, in this case, the house in the book. I remembered that essay question halfway though my novel and realised that the tree in my book needs to have the same amount of character. It needed to become a character itself. I didn't realise a Monday morning English class at uni would teach me one of the most important things about writing my novel. Reading books makes me a better writer.

The Time Traveller's Wife, Audrey Niffeneger

This book is wonderful. And a lot of The Root of the Root nods to it as well. It would be impossible not to nod to the most successful magical realist novel in recent years. Of course, my novel is hugely different, but the playfulness with what's real is there, and considering I read this around the same time I started my novel I think it's when I realised just how much you can play with language. It's fun to do that. Want to do more of it.

I bought my copy two days before I flew to China (for those of you who didn't know, I lived there for a month or so teaching English). It took me 100 pages of going "what are you on about? This book is stupid..." before it finally clicked. Strangely, it always takes 100 pages before I get immersed in it. I gave my copy to my friend and teaching companion, Jon. He gave it to his friend in Australia and so on. It's one of those books I like so much that I give it out to people all the time. I don't expect it back and if I'm in a second-hand book shop and spot a copy I'll buy another and start reading it again. I just want more people to read it. It's a happy book that reminds you that books can be beautiful, tragic and fun, all the while still being well written. That's everything you want from a book really, isn't it?

There are more books that probably deserve to be on this list, but I've always found that once you get to this bit of a list, you're scrabbling around for stuff to get to ten. This is enough for now. I hope to add to it more, it would be sad if this list still looked the same in three years. But if you're looking for a new read, you could do an awful lot worse than those. What's on your list?

Stop plagiarising ideas, start growing your own

Yawwwwwwwwn.

Yet again, reading another website that appear to be ripping off my ideas. But not my actual content. Terms and conditions, the odd sentence, or a featured product here and there, but not actual word for word content. Just little things. But here's the thing: You know when it's not just a coincidence.

Because you get that sinking feeling when you read it. That "I can't believe I'm reading my own work on someone else's website" feeling. Most of you know the one I'm talking about, don't you? Because it happens all the time. And it's horrible. Not long ago, Domestic Sluttery had a copycat blog. Nothing specifically lifted from our website, but every time we featured a specialist shop, this website would feature the same shop (sometimes only an hour later) and soon the layout and style were becoming the same (although not as good). And after a while it really started to piss me off.

I'm not stupid. I know when someone has ripped off an idea. And y'know, sometimes I've seen a question for a competition and really want to ask the same one because it's really really good. But you don't. Because it's just not on. You're taking something that someone has spent their time and energy on and you're palming it off as your own. That's not right no matter how much you dress it up with your own fluff. I've had to ask people not to print discount codes without crediting Domestic Sluttery, and questioned websites over their choice not to credit posts we wrote first. It's exhausting. For the record there's nothing passive aggressive about this blog post - if you're ripping me off you will know about it. I just wanted to write more about the topic of plagiarism.

Of course sometimes it's about learning. If you don't know how to blog, or you haven't been doing it very long you're bound to emulate a style of another blogger you respect (I'll actually hold my hand up to that). But you credit them with the initial idea. Always. And if you're only inspired by one blogger, well you're either blogging about the wrong thing, or you're just not reading enough blogs.

But sometimes of course it's a coincidence. Blogging is as much about trends as anything else. Of course that bright blue table from John Reeves is going to show up everywhere (not written by me though - I actually hate cobalt blue). And occasionally, as has happened to me, you even end up posting about something the same day as someone else. It's not deliberate, it's actually quite amusing. And most of the time your blogs have a different enough style to write the posts in entirely different ways. But if you're copying a style, copying an idea and copying someone's passion, that's worse. Much worse.

Because your idea will never be as good. It'll never be better than the one you're reading. Because it's not you. That's one of the things that makes an idea brilliant - it's personal to you. If something isn't your passion, find out what is. (In case you were wondering the Domestic Sluttery copycat stopped blogging a few months after they launched).

It used to really upset me when I read blatant copies of my work. There's no way I can prove that someone took an idea from my site and I think that fucks me off more than anything else. I know. But I couldn't ever pull someone up on it. But the stupid thing is, the person doing the "work" knows as well. And that kinda makes me sad. Because while I'm working my ass off, trying to find the next new idea or the next fabulous new designer to get excited about, they're busy chasing my tail. And that's a bit pathetic really. Because if you're chasing someone else you're never going to be successful in what you're doing. Even if you are, that success won't be real. That's why I'm bored of it. The yaaaaaaaaaawn at the start of the post summed it up really. You're wasting everyone's time. Including mine.

I guess I just don't understand why anyone would put so much effort into ripping off someone else. Why not put that energy into coming up with your own ideas? And making something that you can call your own? When you have something that works, and it's something you can call your baby, then it's exciting. If it's not 100% your work, then you really have to ask yourself why you're bothering. If you're ripping off someone's style, don't think they won't notice. Of course, no one will ever be truly original, but if they have their own style they still truly stand out. If you're being unoriginal in what you're saying and you haven't even got your personal style down, then you're wasting your time. That goes for everything from copying your mate's haircut or ripping off a professional blog. If it's not your style it'll never feel right.

The only person you're fooling is yourself.

Flickr image from Digirebelle's photostream.

Happy things

1. The terrifying meeting I had last week was all kinds of brilliant.
2. I've seen the Eiffel Tower now, that was all kinds of brilliant too.
3. Making my friends smile.
4. Bangers and mash.
5. One Tree Hill.

Pareeeeeeeeee!

On Saturday I'm going to Paris for the first time EVER. It's only for the day but I'm so excited. In my head, it's in black and white and has lovely music. Yes, whenever I imagine it Paris looks like a lovely little film. But that's kinda fun. In reality I think it'll be a lot like London, but with more street cafes and those annoying little dogs. And hats. I bet people wear more hats.

I can't wait. So looking forward to it.

Flickr image from Ai Ianni's photostream.