Addiktion #41 - It's a New Year and I'm glad to be here.

So it's a little early, and a little predictable, but I've spent all week in bed and am forbidden from joining The Sister, The Bezzie, The Boy and all my other darlings in revelry tonight at The Social because it turns out that The Sniffles are full blown flu and I've been in a state of delirium all week. No fun at all.

I'm going to be spending my evening in with The Parents, arguing over the meanings of Inception (ULTIMATE FUCKING MOVIE, JUST INCREDIBLY LOUD) and whether we have time to watch Jools or not.

It's going to be amazing.

However, this song, and this particular performance will never cease to beat the traditional Auld Lang Syne in foretelling what the future's for. If you know it, please turn it up as loud as possible and go wild, and if you don't, listen close and listen hard. Every word is true.

Happy Fucking New Year, have an amazing one y'all.

Home Town Delightz #5 - Swish Swash.

Sometimes there is nothing nicer than chillin' with Pa in the early morning after a sleepless night thanks to the pleasure that is The Sniffles etc etc.

Having woken before everyone else, attempted to read one of my many course books (I'm still working my way through Glassco's Memoirs and loving every word), listened to a mixture of beautiful addiktions from my NightNightLife playlist, eaten a few perfect post-Christmas tangerines and drunk a fair amount of peppermint tea to try to ward off the inevitable headache, I ended up helping Pa do the washing up from the past couple of days (our dishwasher decided to pack in mid-wash on Christmas Eve Evening. And yes, I know. Ugh).

We have the bigger version of
this. It's too lovely.

Now that that's all done and dusted (I'm not allowed to touch the plates in case, God Forbid, I drop one) and the Aga is layered with Le Creuset pans and the cat has settled, I'm back to bed with my various course books and a desperate need to get rid of this God-Damned Headache.

Have a beautiful day y'all.

A Concise Response To SellyOak's Finest, The Community Police.

Pity

Not to be confused with Empathy, Sympathy, or Compassion.

 

Pity evokes a tender or sometimes slightly contemptuous sorrow or empathy for people, a person, or an animal in misery, pain, or distress. People who have previously experienced the pain or misfortune in question may feel greater pity.

Addiktion #5 - All of life's secrets.

Here is the perfect selection of noises for a rainy train journey after a shift that began far too early this morning.

Sheer beauty.

Smokin'.

So this morning I had a doctor's appointment, one I hadn't previously been treated by, and despite being there for a variety of minor things (I often worry I'm a hypochondriac), the main thing I went away with was: YOU NEED TO QUIT SMOKING, NOW. IT WILL KILL YOU SOONER RATHER THAN LATER. YOU ARE A FOOL.

Pretty standard politically correct medical advice right there... But then, fuck it.

I know the risks. And, as pretty much ANY smoker will tell you, no matter how many scary images and horror stories you see in the paper, with the word CANCER blasted about everywhere, I won't quit until I want to. It's a fool's habit, I know that, so do you, but sometimes there is nothing better that long-awaited niccy rush after an extravagant Nandos binge.
I don't need another lecture. Anti smoking propaganda and health warnings don't work.
I'll get over how cool they look eventually. Promise ;)

But this doctor's advice, where she described it as stupid and dangerous, made me think about the ways in which cigarette and tobacco brands are perceived by us all. There's certainly a subtle judgement made by fellow smokers - whether you've splashed out on a 20 pack of Marlborough Golds, only smoke Lucky Strike Reds, or are dragging on Cutters Choice Rollie's, it says something about you. There is definitely a latent sense of hierarchy present in every designated smoking area in the country - whether this is left unsaid or openly discussed, your fag can (if desired) be interpreted as a form of status symbol in modern culture.

Just now, I Wikipedia-ed a couple of my preferred cigarette brands - which include Camel Blues, Golden Virgina with slim filters and licorice Rizla; when feeling super indulgent, I splurge out and purchase Vanilla Black Devils.
From this pathetic attempt at 'contextual research', I have learnt that Golden Virginia is produced in my home town, Nottingham. This is quite a cute little fact for me, along with the knowledge that my much-loved uncle, was in his youth, randomly spotted in the street by some excitable ad men and cast as the billboard model and face of the brand!
I gotta represent the family history, right? Or is it wrong for me to feel sentimental about a world-wide money-minded, soul-destroying, cancer-promoting tobacco company?
Answers on the back of a post card please...

POST SCRIPT
In no way are the above views expressed by anyone but Me, I don't claim to be at all representative of other smokers, tobacco companies or related parties. I also have no intention to encourage the habit, nor to promote a positive view of smoking. In fact, I recommend no one to start smoking, I encourage any smoker to quit, and I'm well aware that I should. I spent the first 18 years of my life DESPISING the habit - the above is just an expression of my personal view of a smokers' mentality, as a smoker. Please don't take offence, or, take it up on yourself to lecture me on it. I get it, I just don't care enough right now.