Short thoughts 

Does anyone else get it where you’re super into a piece of work (for me my English coursework) and you’re loving planning and researching it.  But you’re so invested in it being great that you don’t want to write it.  

I’m scared that my work won’t be as good as I know it can be so that deadline is racing towards me and I’m stuck in limbo waiting for it to hit. 



I’ve been writing a lot recently, just not on here (sorry about that).  I’ve been writing my personal statement, history coursework, English coursework, short stories, my uni application and blog posts. 

I want you guys to know that I love you all and I will get better at writing on a daily/weekly/hopefully-not-annually basis.  

Love and hugs for you all,

Grace xox

The pocket thing

When you start noticing gender inequality it’s a shock.  Girls aren’t allowed to play football, boys can’t play with barbies. On the radio you’ll hear about the dreaded ‘pay gap’ although at seven you won’t understand what that means.  Next you’ll notice how few women you see in positions of power on tv.  The women are always the assistant, the side-kick there to ask a question and wear a miniskirt.  Then you’ll start looking, you’ll see unfair gender roles- boys can’t wear dresses or cry, girls can’t be heads of state.  The king has more power than the queen, the father more than the mother.

By seventeen they have become an everyday part of life but there’s one that always gets me.  Pockets.  Women have smaller pockets and it’s a problem.  Here’s a short list of things I can’t in my jeans pockets: a phone, a wallet, my hand, some change, sometimes anything because there aren’t any.

Men design clothes for women.  They make it so we have tighter clothes and smaller pockets because it’s more aesthetically pleasing.  We can’t hold things in our pockets so we buy their bags and then allow men to ridicule us for carrying bags.

As you may have suspected I have a bigger point to make: women have had less opportunities than men to be great.  When a man says to you that women have not been as important in society, have not been in positions of power show them your pocket, say: ‘we were not educated but we learnt, we were not mighty but we were still great, we may not have fought in wars but we did not cause them.”  Show them your pockets and then tell them to fuck off.

I’m calling it

Today I had an idea as I have done on many days.  Actually idea may not be the word, maybe it’s more of a flickering beacon of real thought.  Basically, it hit me that words are just noises and so names are jumper specific noises assigned to things in order for everything to make a little bit more sense.  This struck me as I was listening to my Italian friends talk (I’m so cosmopolitan) and I realiased that they were using words to describe things, same as I do, but they used different noises to me.  That’s all language barriers are, differences in noises.  And I don’t know whether your following this strand of thinking at all but really it’s quite a simple concept.  So why is it then that within one language, one configuration of noises is correct?  I don’t have an answer to that I just wanted your opinions.   

You look tired 

Today I didn’t wear any makeup to college which is not unusual for me but is also not an everyday occurrence.  Yesterday I wore pretty much a full face of makeup and no one commented on my defined eyes or how purple my lips were but today I was told several times that I ‘looked tired’ and asked if I was ill.

I think what they meant to say when they asked me that was ‘why is your face different to normal and less aesthetically pleasing? Why is your skin not all one colour?  Why are there bags under your eyes? Why can I see the blemishes on your face? Why are your cheeks red? Why are your eyebrows less defined? Why do your eyes look smaller and less blue? Why do you look less beautiful?’ 

But you know what? I am tired.  I’m tired of you judging me not for who I am but how I look.  I’m tired of you pointing out my flaws as though they are new, believe me I know they’re there.  I’m tired of having to live up to your standard of beauty everyday.  Why should I have to wear make up to learn and have fun? Why should I bend who I am to fit your mould? My face may not be airbrushed and I may not have foundation but I have a healthy body, a sharp wit and a hand with which I will bitch-slap you if you don’t shut up.  

And tomorrow when I come in wearing makeup it isn’t to hold up a patriarchal view of feminine beauty, it’s not to silence you, it’s not to be confident it’s because I want to.  It’s fun, it’s different and its a non-permanent way of highlighting aspects of my face.

In short, I am tired.  Aren’t you? 

London Spy- A review 

The BBC’s new five part series London Spy started last night and I must say that I wasn’t sure.  My parents and I had seen the main actor Ben Whishaw in Skyfall as ‘Q’ and he became a bit of a family favourite so obviously this series was put on ‘series record’.   

I was cooking when it started, extractor fan on full blast, so I missed the first few exchanges.  However I saw the shots and you have to give the BBC props for their wonderful cinematography. Every BBC drama I’ve watched, be it anything from Wolf Hall to Sherlock, has been beautifully set and the camera work has told the story along with the acting.   London Spy was no acception to this rule with sweeping views of the Thames coupled with close ups of eyes or hands or cigarettes. 

The actual content storyline wise was slow but it suited the scenery, it was only at the end that the real intrigue began to be layed out.  The writing showed Tom Smith’s agility at handling complex and confusing circumstances delicately and like a genuine human being might.  There its some strong language but that corresponds to the life which Danny the protagonist lives.  The only slightly confusing part of the plot was the jump in time from a few weeks into the relationship to seven months.

The acting was pretty on point.  Alex the love interest (played by Edward Holcroft) who we as a family have knicknames ‘cheekbones’ for obvious reasons, was very convincing as a genius with OCD tendencies.  The two make an odd but endearing pair and the sex scenes were done tastefully as though it were a straight couple for which I was glad.  The expression of love from both was moving, with a hand touch symbolising everything we see grow between them.

Regardless of Danny’s penchant for V-neck t-shirts it as a genuinely enjoyable experience and if you’re into a little gore and a lot of tasteful gay love then give it a watch! 

A bad teacher 

A bad teacher is like a bad egg, You shouldn’t eat them.  

I’m not sure what I meant by that but right now I feel it’s appropriate to use that saying (can I call it a sayings if I just made t up?).  

Anyway that was just something I was thinking about today in my free as I was battling my way through Market Contestability homework.

Hope you guys have a good day today,

Much love Grace xox

P.s. I’m feeling a little weird, can you tell?