Sunday 27 November 2011

Chicken for Thanksgiving

In case you didn't know, it was Thanksgiving last Thursday. Embracing our American heritage, my family always enjoys celebrating it. The crispy roast potatoes, corn, sweet potatoes, butternut squash with marshmallow topping (alas my mother refuses to put the marshmallow topping on now), jelly (yes, literally on the plate, all mixing in with the gravy), honey glazed carrots...oh, and turkey.

Except this year we didn't have turkey. 

We used to have a big box freezer, but after moving house and leaving that one behind, we got a normal shelfy kind. Unfortunately, the measly little shelves don't fit a twelve pound bird. Shame, I really like turkey.

At least we celebrated it on the right day though. A few years ago, I skipped to school merrily, and wished 'Happy Thanksgiving' to my friends with a grin that could put the tro-lo-lo-lo-lo guy to shame. (If you don't know who this beauty is, I've linked the sing along version of the song here.)

The next day, I trudged in and mumbled to my laughing friends that my mother (not I, just for the record) had got the date wrong, and subsequently we had celebrated Thanksgiving a week early. My mum had only realised when she phoned her mum in America to wish her a happy thanksgiving, only to hear laughing down the phone for the next fifteen minutes. She hasn't made that mistake again.

I love Thanksgiving. To be honest, I love food in general, which is why I am thankful for my friends and our dinner club.

I, along with a few of my friends, have had a little dinner club for the past year or so, eating various impressive dishes at each others houses. Last night we had another amazing meal of various types of pasta, garlic bread and homemade ice cream with hot fudge sauce. 

After eating, we have gotten up to quite a variety of things, including carving Mary (as in Jesus' mother) in butter, dying Richard's hair brown and going into hysterics when it came out ginger, and going on Omegle dressed with headscarves and sunglasses. Love you guys.

Oh, for the record, Children in Need went well. Children froze in terror as we swept past them with our capes billowing behind us. We definitely went all out, compared to some that dressed up. We literally studied the characters down to the last detail, which included the dark marks, and in my case, a winge. 

You may not be familiar with winges. Basically, they're clip on fringes. I wore a dark brown one as I was Narcissa Malfoy. For those who didn't know who I was, shame on you. Go read the Harry Potter books. Like now. Well after you finish reading this. You won't regret it.

It was pretty funny walking home dressed like Narcissa Malfoy though. You know when you usually are walking and as people drive past you, they quickly glance at you and then look forward and keep driving? 

People were not glancing. They weren't even staring. They were glancing at me, having a double take and then turning in their seat, straining to see the weird emo girl with the black fringe. Actually, the crazy weird emo girl, as I found this so funny I was laughing to myself as I walked home. 

On a parting note, I was in England recently with my dad. After we passed someone, briefly smiling, my dad told me that that was probably the last time we would ever be in contact with that person. Ever. Mind Blown.

Sunday 20 November 2011

Hair


I have had quite a few different hairstyles over the years, varying from the formidable bowl cut to an I-wish-I-could-do-my-hair-like-Princess-Leah type. Of course, changing hairstyles means a trip to the hairdressers, of which I have had many over the years.

I’ve look up some interesting but useless facts to do with hair for you to impress your friends with. I guarantee that when you tell them these you'll be Mr Popular.

-  The average person gets 6 haircuts a year. That means that if you live the average life-span of 72 years you would have 432 haircuts. 

- The average person grows 6 inches of hair a year. 

- The average person loses 100 hairs a day.

- The world record for the longest hair is 18 feet long. I find it hard to comprehend length, so I imagined how long three 6 foot people would be lying down in line. That's long.

I've always loved having my hair cut, since I was very young. I was always the angelic child, which was easy to play on having Philip as a brother. When we went to get our haircut, because Phil would kick up such a fuss, my mum would buy us a pack of crisps to pacify the whinging. 

'Crisps as a treat?!' you say scathingly? Well yes, my dear friend, I lived in Nepal where people look through rubbish for valuables as a job. So yes, crisps were a treat.

I've had many memories in the hairdressers. When I was 8, a new hairdressers opened in Kathmandu called 'Cinderella Beauty Parlour'. Naturally, being the blonde haired, blue eyed stereotypical little girl I was, I was hooked, and after much begging, was taken by my mother as a treat. 

Some treat it was. When we got inside, after much scrambling as I seemed to be the first customer that had entered their doors in a while, they sat me on a wooden chair, and my mother explained that I wanted a wash and cut.

"Okay, no problem" said the young woman "but we haven't got any warm water. But the cold wash will be very refreshing?" She smiled hopefully, but my mum being the savvy woman she is told her that I would just have a trim and forget the wash. 

Have you ever referred to someone as 'scissor happy'? I suggest you go to them right now and tell them that you're sorry, because you don't understand the meaning of scissor happy until you have met this woman.

She chopped away at my hair like there was no tomorrow, until finally my mother stepped in and assured her that my length was perfectly fine now, albeit slightly uneven. Then onto the fringe she went with just as much vigour, snipping away while my mother looked on with worry. The woman finally stepped back to admire her masterpiece. 

My fringe was wonky.

So wonky and short that I looked like I had been in an argument with Beth Ditto (who FYI scares the living daylight out of me.) My mother let out a cry of horror, and snatched the scissors out of the woman's hands and finished the job herself. 

That was the first and last time I ever went to Cinderella Beauty Parlour. It closed down shortly after. I wonder why...

More recently, I had an interesting experience with my current hairdresser, who comes to my house to cut my hair. She was checking to see if my hair was even, and asked me to stand up. 

As a brief introduction, I have had a history of light headedness from standing up for too long. Weird  I know. 

Anyway, there I was standing up whilst my mother was checking my hair from behind (she doesn't take chances with haircuts anymore), when I started to feel dizzy. I ignored it, but carried on feeling worse and worse, when suddenly everything started going black. 

The next thing I knew I was lying on the kitchen floor, confused. It honestly felt like I had had a really nice long sleep. I later found out I was only out for a few seconds. Fainting's weird. 

On a parting note, I love hair. Imagine if there was no such thing as hair? We'd all look pretty egg-like. So be thankful for your hair. Deep, I know. 

'You can't part the skin of a sausage,
Or a dad from his fond son and heir.
And you can't part the hair on a bald-headed man,
For there'll be no parting there.'

- Billy Bennett


Sunday 13 November 2011

Tea, Death Eaters and Clair De Lune

I love tea. You may have realised from the title of this blog. Tea, however amazing it may be, is not what I created this blog to write about all the time, although there will be frequent references, let me assure you.


My friends and I are dressing up as death eaters for Children in Need this year. You may think 'Meh, that's easy! All you need is a cape and you're done!'


Alas, I am friends with the thespians of the school. So when I say dress up, I don't mean just putting on a cape and smiling for a camera. I mean buying a wig, hand sewing a velvet cape, making an exact replica of the character's wand of whom you are portraying (Narcissa's Wand, in my case) and creating a secret Facebook group to discuss costume and make up ideas.


Although this may seem over the top to those of you who have purchased a costume to show as much flesh as possible, I would much rather it this way. Dressing up is MUCH more fun when you make passersby cross to the other side of the road in fear. 


On a different note (no pun intended) I have conquered Clair de Lune! If you do not know what the heck Clair de Lune is, please educate your uncultured mind and listen to it. There's a link at the end of this post. It's amazing. 


Coming from a family where classical music has always been playing in the house and car, my parents will probably be horrified for me to say that I do not enjoy alot of the classical music that I hear. I enjoy some, particularly those involving piano, as I play piano, but others as well. I think it is ignorant, however, to say you enjoy classical music and never express your dislike of a piece. I like pop and acoustic music, but I don't enjoy EVERY song that comes on the radio. Just because it's pop or acoustic, it doesn't mean I like it. (Dad, if you're reading this, this is directed at you.)


Rant over, I love playing piano. I started having lessons when I was around 8, after coming home from a friend's house and feeling determined to learn after hearing her play 'Mary had a little lamb' which she had learned in her first piano lesson. She quit about a month later. I persuaded my parents to buy a second hand little yamaha keyboard and a ragged looking beginners book. A month or so later, they hired a friend's 17 year old son to teach me. My style of learning definitely didn't suit his teaching style, however, as he made me play the same piece week after week until I had played it perfectly. I can still see the pages of the songs about snorkelers and astronauts. I think he gave up in the end with the perfection idea. He was probably just as sick of hearing the boring 5 note melody as I was.


5 teachers later, after many years of plodding through book after book, I have reached a point where I play piano for enjoyment, and although I am preparing for my grade 8 exam, I am loving the freedom of being able to play so many pieces that I have heard over the years and only dreamt of playing. 


I'm also a piano teacher now which I really enjoy. It definitely has its perks above other jobs; I choose the hours I work, good money, great little kids (mostly!) and a skill that I have been convinced by Debz, the careers counsellor in school (Ha!) that will look 'fab' on my CV. 


Tonight I made a list of ten random facts about me, my tea addiction being one of them...


1) I love the taste of Colgate toothpaste.

2) I wear sundresses all year round, whatever the weather.
3) I have a slight obsession with Taylor Swift.
4) I am the only person below the age of about 40 that I know that reads the news every day.
5) Once a llama spat in my face when I stroked its nose.
6) I have read the Harry Potter books through about 9 times and I am still in love with them.
7) My favourite word is mellifluous. Go on. Say it. See, you feel instantly happy. You're welcome.
8) I'm addicted to Twinings English Breakfast Tea.
9) I grew up in Nepal, live in Wales, have an American Mother and a British Father. I have no idea where I come from.
10) I love playing piano, especially pretty pieces like Clair De Lune. I know I mentioned it above, but it seriously is amazing. Listen to it, it'll make you happy. In fact, listen to it and say mellifluous as well. Bam. I should be a counsellor for depressed people.

I'll leave you with this to ponder over: If you ate yourself would you double in size or disappear completely?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZIsQPdC9YnY&feature=related